A/N: I am touched beyond all words because of the wonderful support I have received for my story. Thank you one and all for your kind words. Once again I want to thank Colleen, Oh Great and Glorious Canon Nazi, for her amazing Elvish words and Stasey the Wonder Beta Geek for his comma killin' blue pencil.

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns it all, except the little that is mine.

Maedhros' End by Ceana

Chapter 4 – The Truth

The passage of time means nothing to an immortal. The only perceptible mark of its passing is the changing seasons that surround them. The gift life gives to other men is the comfort of these seasons as they flow one into another. Summer heat gives way to the chill of Autumn. Leaves fall from their trees and are renewed as new buds in the Spring. But there is no comfort in this rhythm to an immortal who is unforgiven. To a heart burdened with the knowledge of its black deeds, the endless days are an unwanted gift. There is never enough time to ease the guilt that eats away at your soul as you journey down that long dark road of remorse. For those who are bound to their memories, time is a harsh penance.

As Maedhros watched Elizabeth, he knew time was not his friend. Like the different phases that change the face of the moon, time was altering her. One minute, much as an awkward colt, Elizabeth's arms and legs seemed to grow twice as fast as the rest of her body. Then suddenly, she grew taller, and began to walk with the grace of green reeds swaying in the gentle breeze. Each step drawing her closer to the woman she was destined to become.

Elizabeth was growing up and her curiosity was maturing. She still enjoyed the tales he told of the warriors of his world. But her eyes that once had been filled with childish wonder were slowly changing, becoming more questioning. Although she regarded him as her own private secret, she began to probe why he had been sent to her world.

What could he tell her? He could tell her that he was there to learn about her world so he could return to his and tell others. Would she believe that lie? Or could he risk her disgust with the truth? What would her hazel eyes say as he told her about the Oath and what he and his family had done because of it? It sickened him to even think what her response might be. Her regard was now more precious to him than even the Silmaril.

No…time would never be his friend.

*****

Ailsa was still in bed hours after she normally rose. Her sleep had been deep, filled with strange dreams weaving themselves in and out of her slumber. Dreams full of soft moonlight reflecting off mirrored surfaces, a beautiful song filtered through dark trees, and the wind carried her in its arms as she listened. She woke with the previous night still fresh in her mind. She lay quietly wondering, hoping really, that it might have been one of her dreams after all.

A chill ran through her as she remembered the glow of the moon on his face, first walking through the trees, and then entering the clearing. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel the night air on her skin; she still heard Maedhros as he sang. The entire ethereal splendor around him as he sat so still beside the pool, all the while singing those beautiful words with his rich incredible voice. No, she knew she had experienced those things with her eyes wide open.

Sitting up, she drew her knees up to her chest along with some of the bedcovers. Hugging the bundle she tried to reason it out. Her eyes stared absently at the bedspread as her fingers slowly made circles over the pile. Why was he in that clearing last night? How was he able to sing like that? She would never forget the raw grief hanging from his youthful face. Regret echoed in every unknown word he sang. It had hurt to even listen to them. What could have possibly happened to him that he would grieve so?

She had teased him about being a man of mystery. But that's exactly what he is…a mystery. As she laid her cheek on her knees, a scowl creased her brow and a deep sigh escaped her lips. He was such an integral part of Egla Tir. The effortless way he handled the staff and the estate. The way her father always deferred to him, and the way Maedhros always seemed to expect it. No mere servant had that kind of power. How could she possibly begin to make sense of such a man?

Mrs. Whitehall has to know something about him. Ailsa's face brightened. That's where she would start. She got out of bed, quickly showered, and dressed.

As she left her room, she found Colleen with her cleaning caddy in her hand coming out of Maedhros' bedroom. The housemaid was closing the door when she spied Ailsa. "Good morning, Miss," she smiled.

"Good morning, Colleen." Ailsa smiled back at the girl. "I feel like such a slug sleeping in so late. Are my father and Maedhros around?"

"I think Maedhros said they were going to the library. I just finished his room. I'll do yours next if that's all right?"

"That'll be fine. Go right ahead." Ailsa looked past Colleen; Maedhros' door hadn't closed completely. She stepped aside giving Colleen access to her room.

Ailsa walked quickly toward Maedhros' door, ready to slip down the staircase if she needed to. Pausing for just a moment, she looked down at the hall. It was empty. With one more glance towards her doorway, she quickly entered Maedhros' room and leaned against the door as she closed it. She stood listening for any approaching footsteps. Hearing none, Ailsa allowed herself to breathe again. She knew she would have to be quick as her eyes darted around the room searching for anything that would help her.

The room was bigger than hers was, but sparsely furnished. The walls were paneled in unpolished oak. Strangely, some of the panels still bore hunks of bark, still fresh as on a living tree. Ailsa raised her eyes and discovered a border of real ivy vines trailing around the top of the walls. What an odd touch.

A large bed with an ornately carved head and footboard was positioned lengthwise in front of the French doors leading to the balcony. Two large bookcases stood against one wall, a dark mahogany desk and chair sat between them. The shelves were filled with books and neat piles of National Geographic magazines. Ailsa quickly scanned the titles of the books: mostly biographies and some reference books. Maedhros must be a man who would rather glean information about the world around him than lose himself in popular fiction or fantasy novels.

Large windows on either side of the French doors allowed the sun to bathe the room in its golden light. Carved tree branches held the panes of glass in place in the frames of the closed doors. Shear white panels of silk hung down their front, and there were two huge pots of ivy on either side of the doorframes. Ailsa followed the trail of ivy as it climbed around the doorframes and continued up the walls forming the border.

Ailsa's lips curled into a smile. Maedhros' bedroom reflected the same mixture of natural and elegant comfort that made up the entire house. She shook her head as she imagined Maedhros sleeping with the French doors open regardless of the weather like a child in a treehouse high above the ground.

She quickly moved over to the desk, and sat in the chair. There were neither drawers nor any little nooks to poke in. An onyx Monte Blanc fountain pen with gold accents lay all alone on the immaculate green blotter. She picked the pen up and rolled it between her fingers. The fat barrel was designed to fit a man's hand and she decided it suited Maedhros. She put it back on the blotter. A small brass carriage clock sat near the left corner of the desk. As Ailsa looked at the beautiful timepiece, she found there was something odd about it. She picked it up, and gave it a quizzical look. The face was mother of pearl, but lacked both an hour and minute hand. Why would Maedhros have a clock that was obviously broken sitting on his desk? She positioned it back in its corner and looked at the green shaded banker's lamp on the right corner. Ailsa pulled its small gold chain; it lit up. Well that works. There was nothing else on the desktop.

Sitting in the chair, she looked at the immaculate desktop. Ailsa realized there was something missing from it and in the room in general. It was obvious once she looked around the bedroom again. There weren't any photos scattered around or on the walls. No pictures of vacations, family members, friends, the odd girlfriend, not even a pet.

There was only one thing on the far wall. A long oddly shaped shield hung on the wall with a long sword and dagger mounted on it. The shield was metal and was shaped like a long leaf, tapering to a point at both ends. Nothing else was on the walls; just this mounted display. Maedhros must have an interest in antique weaponry.

As Ailsa approached the shield, she could sense a deep desire growing in her to hold the weapons in her hands. She easily dismissed it as harmless fancy, and couldn't help an admiring smile as she ran her fingertips along the finely embossed scabbard of the long sword. Such detailing made the sword more like a beautiful piece of art. Ailsa had some knowledge about ancient arms, however there was something unique about these weapons.

The fittings around the opening of the scabbards were made of polished brass and there were engraved brass tips at the ends. The long grip of the sword was leather-covered wood. An inlay of gold oak leaves spiraled around the handle and into the flat piece that acted as the counterweight at the end. Ailsa pulled the sword easily from its scabbard. The weapon was about five feet long and must have been wielded by a very tall warrior. It had the elegant shape of an elongated S. The handle was half its length in proportion to the sharp edged blade. She stood with both hands around the hilt and was amazed at the balanced lightness of it. She took a few amateur swipes, and smiled at the fluid curve of the weapon as it sliced gracefully through the air. She could actually feel the sword's reassuring power running up her arms, as if it was confirming…I will protect you.

Along the ridge of the blade was etched an amazing design of long tailed O's and scattered dots. An eight-sided star with eight accent spikes was engraved near the hilt. The end of the sword came to an intimidating tempered point. Ailsa imagined that when used properly, this was a weapon that could do some serious damage. She quickly sheathed it and pulled out the dagger.

It was about a foot long, but was just as deadly looking as the sword. This smaller weapon also felt very natural in her hand. It had similar decorations around handle. The triangular blade was etched with the same type of design as the sword. A smaller version of the star was engraved at the base of the dagger. Ailsa ran her finger over the etched design of the blade. The steel felt warm and the light reflected off the polished metal like a mirror. She reluctantly returned the dagger to its leather scabbard. Both weapons were in excellent condition, and obviously special to their owner.

Time was running out; she had to finish and get out of there before she was discovered. Besides, a feeling of guilt was starting to grow in the pit of her stomach that kept nagging at her…she really shouldn't be there.

Maedhros' dressing room was just that, a room to dress in. Several suits of various dark shades were hanging neatly from a pole. Closer examination found they were in the familiar style she had often seen him wear. There was a row of open shelves down one side of the wall with shirts, and other bits of clothing. Two pair of polished boots, one black and the other deep brown, stood pitifully alone on the floor below the suits. Ailsa shook her head; Maedhros was definitely no clotheshorse.

She walked over to the French doors and opened them. Stepping out onto the balcony, she stopped abruptly. "Wow!" She breathed out the word. Maedhros' balcony did have the best view. The forest behind the gardens stretched out before her and followed the coastline for some miles in either direction. The intense cobalt blue sky above her stretched out forever. There were only one or two wisps of clouds near the horizon to mar its perfection. The cliff and the sea were hidden behind the tall trees, but the wind brought with it the fresh salt scent of the breaking waves as it caressed her senses. What marvelous sunsets he must see from here. She found herself standing at the edge of the balcony, her body pressed against the railing. Ailsa ran her hand along the balustrade. She laughed; the stone was carved to resemble tree bark.

Ailsa closed her eyes and drank in the moment. The feeling of being part of the wind and the sea swept over her. Awareness of all the sounds of water and air, the far off call of birds, the rustling of the many trees around her. These things nourished her in the solitude of the balcony. But it wasn't her solitude. This was supposed to be his balcony, she was trespassing on his solitude. She quickly opened her eyes. What am I doing? This is crazy…I have no right to be here. It was definitely time to leave.

She opened the bedroom door a crack and peered into the gallery. No one was there. Ailsa left the room quietly closing the door behind her. As she descended the staircase, she breathed a sigh of frustration. Well, that was…useless. All she had discovered was Maedhros was very neat, he liked ancient weapons, he wasn't a clotheshorse, and he had expensive taste in writing implements. And oh yes, he had a strange attachment to clocks that couldn't tell the time. Good one, Ailsa.

There was only one thing left to do. She still had Mrs. Whitehall as a possible source of information. There was also a growing need inside her for a big cup of coffee. As she walked into the kitchen, she found the housekeeper making blackberry jam. There were several jars already made on the counter. Tammy, the other housemaid, was helping.

"Can I get you some breakfast, Miss?" Mrs. Whitehall smiled wiping her hands on her apron as she noticed Ailsa.

Ailsa nodded her "good mornings" to the women. "Don't bother Mrs. Whitehall. I'm the one who overslept. Toast and coffee will do me just fine." The smell of the cooking jam made her mouth water. "However, I could be talked into some of that jam for my toast," she suggested, her eyes twinkling mischievously. Mrs. Whitehall was eager to oblige. Ailsa found a large ceramic mug and poured herself some coffee. She sipped the wonderful dark brew as she walked towards the kitchen table.

"You go into the dining hall and I'll bring you your toast." Mrs. Whitehall smiled.

Ailsa refused to eat her simple breakfast alone in the large dining hall. "No you won't. I can't let you go to all that trouble. I can easily sit right here at this little corner of the table." She plunked herself down in the chair. "I promise not to get in your way."

The older woman shook her head smiling. Tammy brought Ailsa a plate of thick slices of buttered toast and a small dish of jam. As she ate her jam-covered toast, Ailsa watched the housekeeper as she went about her business. "How long have your worked for the estate, Mrs. Whitehall?" Ailsa asked nonchalantly between bites.

"Oh, the mister and I've worked here for nearly twenty years."

"How long has Maedhros been here?" Ailsa hoped she sounded less inquisitive than she actually was. She took a deep drink of her coffee.

"Oh, he was here before I came." She said matter-of-factly.

Ailsa choked on her coffee. "He was here twenty years ago?" She asked as she dabbed coffee droplets from her chin. "He must have been a boy," she said incredulously. Maedhros didn't look much older than thirty.

"No, he was very much an adult." Mrs. Whitehall turned her hand on her hip. "Unfortunately, some men don't show their age," she chuckled and winked at Ailsa. "Some of the villagers even swear the people of Eglar Tir have had dealings with the fairy folk."

"Humph," Ailsa's only comment as she finished the last morsel of toast. Now she could add the fact that Maedhros was a lot older than he looked. She just couldn't leave it though. "Does he have much family around here? He's such a quiet guy; he never talks about himself. I don't think we even know if there's a Mrs. Maedhros somewhere."

Mrs. Whitehall looked sadly at Ailsa. "I know he can be rather stand-offish. And that will take some getting used to, Miss." She stepped closer to Ailsa. "He's a good employer and a fine man. But there's a great sadness in him. One time, he told me that he considered Egla Tir his only home. His eyes were filled with such a look of sorrow, I knew that he had some great grief in his life." Mrs. Whitehall sighed.

That would explain the reason why he didn't have any photos in his room. Too many memories. If what Mrs. Whitehall said was true, she couldn't help feeling sorry for Maedhros. She couldn't imagine being alone like that.

"And then there was that awkwardness between him and the last heir." Tammy quietly joined the conversation.

"With Richard Matthews?" Ailsa was surprised. When he was in California, Maedhros had been eager to return to Egla Tir because Richard Matthews was doing so poorly.

"Now don't be going spreading gossip like that." Mrs. Whitehall chastised the housemaid. "We don't know for sure that they had hard feelings between them."

Tammy smiled wickedly at Mrs. Whitehall. "All I know is that Mr. Matthews never had much time for Maedhros. I don't remember them having too many friendly chats."

"That's quite enough from you. Why don't you go find Colleen and give her a hand with the upstairs cleaning." Mrs. Whitehall's face was a bit pink. She was obviously upset. Tammy ignored the older woman's anger and slowly left the kitchen.

After Tammy was finally gone, Mrs. Whitehall looked at Ailsa. "Don't be putting to much into servants' gossip, Miss. Mr. Matthews wasn't a very happy person. And well…Maedhros is such a private man; he's a bit of a fertile field for speculation. You know."

"I guess so." Ailsa couldn't think of anything else to say. It seemed that Maedhros was on more minds than just hers. She wasn't going to be able to get anymore information about him; at least nothing to help explain last night and why she still felt so disjointed about what she had experienced.

Maybe Richard Matthews found it too hard to have a friendship with a man so emotionally barricaded against the world. Who knows, maybe she'd never get to know him better. She had plenty of time to try to crack that interminable façade of his. Maybe now, she'd do better to put her energies into something other than prying into Maedhros' life. "Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Whitehall. I'm going to the library to get some work done." She got up wiping her mouth on her napkin.

"Oh dear, I almost forgot. A delivery came this morning from your mother."

Ailsa looked up at the housekeeper. "Really?" Ailsa was excited. "Where is it?"

"I had the furniture put into the morning room. You can let one of the girls know where you want to put it. And the rest of the crates are in the back storeroom waiting for you to go through them." Mrs. Whitehall was very efficient.

"Does my father know the crates arrived?" she asked as she made her way to the back of the kitchen.

"Well, he's busy this morning and didn't want to be disturbed. Oh, and there's a note about someone named Earl?"

"My cat?" Ailsa couldn't believe her mother would send Earl to Cornwall. The English laws were very strict about foreign pets. There was a six-month quarantine before they were allowed into the country. That was the reason she had left Earl at home. Ailsa figured she'd be back in Berkeley long before he could be sprung from quarantine. Now what was she going to do?

She read her mother's note confirming Earl's predicament. "Nice one, mom," she said under her breath.

"I'm going to go through the crates, Mrs. Whitehall," she said. "Please let me know if my father comes up for air." She left the older woman chuckling in the kitchen.

She spent the rest of the day sorting out the stuff her mother sent. The furniture was easy, a piece here, a piece there. She even found a place in the library for one of the end tables. She wasn't surprised the door to the Archive room was closed. She'd tell her father about the shipment later at dinner.

The books were also easy. Most of them were her father's; the few that were hers she placed in her bedroom bookcase. There was a box filled with bags of her favorite coffee beans from Peet's Coffee. Way to go mom! Ailsa shook her head when she found a car survival kit at the bottom of one of the smaller crates, which included flares, a flashlight, a space blanket, and there was even the all important keychain sized can of mace attached to one of Ailsa's backpacks. Everything for every occasion.

She laughed out loud when she found the six cases of Napa Valley wine included in her mother's shipment. Three cases of Chardonnay, and three Cabernet Sauvignon. Leave it to her mom to make sure they had the correct wine for their meals. She had the bottles put into the small wine rack off of the kitchen.

She'd seen Maedhros only once during the day, and that was enough. She had taken a load of books into the library and found him sitting cross-legged on one of the window seats, writing in a leather journal. She watched him for moment. He was using the fountain pen she had seen in his room. She'd been right, it did suit him. She couldn't help thinking he looked like a little boy sitting in the sun doing his homework. She again remembered how differently he looked the previous night and a shiver shot down her spine. He looked up from his writing at that moment and their eyes locked. She could feel no sadness in those grey eyes now. Instead they seemed filled with curiosity. No words passed between them. She felt her face blush, and lowered her eyes. Ailsa placed the books on the desk. She could still feel Maedhros' eyes on her as she quickly left the room.

*****

Maedhros watched Ailsa's face as they're eyes met. He could feel the questions she longed to ask him. And for a moment, he thought she might speak, but her discomfort in his presence only made her flee the room. As he rolled the pen in his fingers, he knew some of her discomfort was due to her own secrets. His eyes slowly traveled to the empty doorway. There was a cheerless smile on his lips as he remembered Ewan's words. "She won't be satisfied until she learns the truth."

Maedhros drew in a deep breath and wondered if the truth was really ever satisfying.

*****

Days passed without any of the excitement repeating itself from the night of the full moon. Ailsa kept herself busy with odd jobs around the house. She explored more of the grounds; she even took a few trips into the village. Since she didn't want to terrorize the countryside with her American driving habits, Colleen graciously accepted her request to drive her to the village. Mrs. Whitehall had been right about the villagers though; they seemed politely intrigued by the new resident of Egla Tir.

Any questions Ailsa had about Maedhros took a backseat to her increasing worry as her father's growing obsession with the Archives took over his life. He spent long days and nights down there doing whatever it was he was doing. When she finally asked Maedhros, all he would say was that a particular scroll had fascinated Ewan. Ailsa didn't know if she should believe him or not.

The only times she saw her father was during meals, where he'd gulp his food down and rush off to continue his "research." She couldn't even convince him to tour his own estate. She was just about to call her mother with her concerns one morning, when she overheard her father already on the phone.

"I know Patrice…It may have been a stupid thing to do, but I've made my choice."

"Now you know you don't mean that…"

"Our life is here in Cornwall now…"

Ailsa sat on one of the stairs and listened. She couldn't believe they had upgraded their fighting to the transcontinental level. Her father held the phone to his ear for a long time without speaking. Finally, he lowered his head and said, "If that's what you really want Patrice, what can I say?"

Ailsa went to her father and touched his arm. He looked at her, disappointment filling his eyes. "Listen, Ailsa is standing here. Why don't you talk to her." He handed her the phone and left the hall. Ailsa watched him go into the library. Her hand trembled as she put the phone to her ear. "Mom?"

"It's just like your father to leave me with the dirty work." Her mother began sarcastically.

"What are you talking about…you mean closing the house?" Ailsa didn't have a clue what her mother meant.

"I've decided not to come to Cornwall." Her mother announced.

"You've got to be kidding." Ailsa felt as if she had just been punched in the stomach.

"Do you know what he did?" Her mother raved on. "He quit his job. Quit! He didn't take a leave of absence, he just quit without discussing it with me or anyone else."

"I don't care what he did," Ailsa shot back. "Long distance is not the way to deal with something like this."

"I've had enough," her mother started to cry. "I'm not putting up with any more of his crap."

"But how…when…can't you come here and talk it out?" She tried desperately to think of a good argument.

"No! I don't want anything to do with his damn inheritance."

"But mom…you're being so unreasonable," she argued.

"No, he's being unreasonable. I'm just trying to keep from losing everything I've worked so hard for here." Ailsa was speechless.

"I have to go Ailsa. I'll send the rest of your father's things as soon as I can. You take care of yourself and I'll be talking to you soon. I love you." Click! Her mother was gone.

Ailsa stood with the phone in her hand for a minute. What the hell just happened? Slowly, she put the phone in the cradle. She needed to see her father.

She thought for sure she would have to go down to the Archive room, but instead she found him in the upper library. He sat at one of the windows, his face full of dismay. What surprised her most was Maedhros standing close by, attempting to comfort him with just his presence.

Maedhros saw Ailsa in the doorway and gestured to her to come in. She walked over to her father and knelt down beside him. Maedhros lightly placed his hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed it. Wordlessly, he left them alone. She covered her father's hand with her own and waited for the words to come.

Ewan sat there numb to everything, but the sensation of Ailsa's welcome hand covering his. He still couldn't believe what had just happened. What had made him think that Patrice wouldn't find out what he'd done? All his hopes had hung on her coming to Cornwall and discovering the wonders of Egla Tir. What a fool he was. She's not coming! She wants nothing to do with Egla Tir…or me! The phrases repeated over and over in his mind.

After a while, he began to talk. "I knew Egla Tir was going to be our future. I honestly had the full intention of getting just a leave of absence. But by the time I was finished talking, I had quit my job." A brief sad smile came to his lips.

Ewan lowered his head further. "You know, it was inevitable." Ailsa couldn't bring herself to look at her father's face as he spoke. His voice was filled with such quiet pain. "We haven't been happy for a while now." He stopped, as if saying the words out loud suddenly destroyed any chance of salvaging his world.

Ailsa brought her arms up and held him close. "It'll be okay, dad." Unwanted tears blurred her vision.

Ewan sat very still. "Sometimes love's not enough." His voice sounded so small…so defeated.

Ailsa let go of her father and sat next to him, the touch of their shoulders the only connection between them. She kept hoping that this one incident wouldn't be the last straw for either of her parents. Father and daughter sat there for quite a while. She looked at his tired face as his eyes hung over the floor. "Well, I'm going to hold out for the 'she'll change her mind' approach." Ailsa set her jaw as she tried to sound convincing.

Ewan slowly turned and looked at his daughter. He genuinely smiled for the first time that afternoon. His hand came up and gently tweaked her nose. "If that makes you feel better, honey." He then took her into his arms and hugged her. Ailsa silently prayed her parents would be all right.

Ailsa didn't mind him going down to the Archive room to "do a little work" before dinner. Stepping into the hall, she looked around to make sure no one was around and quickly walked toward the great stairs. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. Refusing to be caught crying, she sprinted up the main staircase and almost collided with Maedhros. She stood motionless as his concerned eyes searched her face, and felt his comfort enfold her. Henion, tithen min. (I understand, little one.)

She swallowed hard trying to control her tears. "Thank you for what you did for my father." She said, and quickly continued up the stairs. Maedhros watched as Ailsa made her way to her room. She seemed so much younger, so alone as she tried to hide her tears. He felt helpless that he could do nothing to help either father or daughter. He hated that they had to suffer over this. Standing a moment more watching Ailsa's door slowly close, he knew what he had to do.

*****

A few days later –

Ailsa sat alone at the large dining table, a cooling bowl of stew sat forlornly in front of her. She had no idea where Maedhros was. And once again, her father had waved off the offer of a hot meal. Since his wife's call, Ewan had buried himself even deeper in the Archives.

Poor Mrs. Whitehall had gone out of her way tonight preparing his favorite dish, a hearty beef stew. To add to the enticement, she'd baked three small loaves of fresh white bread, and a blackberry cobbler was cooling on the sideboard. Nothing had worked. Ailsa stared hard at the glass of Cabernet in front of her. She took small comfort in the thought that her mother would cringe to know her favorite "Estate Grown Vintners Reserve" was being sipped with a lowly beef stew.

She sighed heavily, forehead cradled between thumb and forefinger. Even though she was still angry with her mom, Ailsa still missed her. As time passed, she missed California and her friends too. Heck, she missed her life! She missed poor Earl, still stuck in "kitty quarantine." She missed Kyle, though not nearly as much as perhaps she should. Picking up her discarded spoon, she slowly swirled it through the now thoroughly congealed stew in front of her letting her thoughts linger on her lack of concern about Kyle's absence.

"Good evening, Ailsa."

The spoon suddenly took on a life of its own as she started at the sound. It flopped out of the bowl and onto the damask tablecloth with a soft "flub," spattering brown bits of her meal across the place setting. The glass of wine also joined the party. Tapped by her elbow, it sloshed a good portion of its contents onto the cloth, spreading into a lovely red splotch.

Maedhros, standing in the doorway across from her, tilted his dark auburn head slightly to one side. The tiniest hint of amusement softened his features. "My apologies, I did not mean to alarm you…" He began, stepping nearer as if to help.

"Oh, no, no, no…really, it's fine… Oh, crap… I just…I didn't hear you…" Ailsa nervously tried to dab up some of the wine with her napkin, which was no help whatsoever. Giving up, she surveyed the mess she'd managed to make and made a small snort of disgust. "Well, this is nice." Blushing slightly she looked up at her now quite amused companion. He had grabbed a second napkin and held it out hopefully. "Would this…? No, perhaps not."

Ailsa decided to make light of it. "I don't suppose you'd like to try some?" she said, waving her spoon with its lumpy contents in front of him. "It's actually quite good, in the bowl, that is." Maedhros rewarded her with the tiniest of smiles.

"No thank you. I believe I will trust your judgement on that. However, I am about to take a walk along the cliffs. There is a beautiful path that leads down to an open-air theatre. I believe you have not seen it yet. It is a fair distance, but you can see the entire coastline from there. Would you care to join me? It is going to be a lovely clear night."

Ailsa looked up at him, considering his offer. He didn't seem so imposing now, with that slight touch of lightness softening his face. It took her only a heartbeat to decide. "Sure, why not. Just let me clean this mess up, first…"

Maedhros dismissed the idea with a slight wave of his hand. "Oh, I think Mrs. Whitehall will be able to take care of that. She is quite protective of her duties, you know. Shall we go?" With that, he stepped back and with a tilt of his head, informed her that the decision was made and it was time to depart. Ailsa walked round the table, and met his eyes briefly. "I could tell her that you did it," she teased, not wanting to loose complete control of the situation.

Again, an "almost" smile flitted across his lips. "She would never believe it."

"No, I'm sure she wouldn't." Ailsa smiled back.

As she walked with Maedhros, Ailsa's mind was awhirl with the thoughts she had accumulated. She couldn't get over the impression that he was just an observer, never quite willing to fully participate in their lives. He was kind, but so deeply guarded…so reserved. He seemed to know what she was thinking, but he never tried to talk to her about much of anything. Their exchange in the dining room was the first real conversation they'd ever had, and it had been about beef stew and taking a walk. Not exactly deep topics. This invitation was the first time he'd ever offered anything of himself to her since their arrival. True, he spent a great deal of time with her father, but even that didn't seem to be a friendship either.

She knew he took these walks each evening just before sunset. Clear or cloudy, each twilight he made the same journey. Why? Ailsa took heart, maybe this could be the beginning of her getting to know him better.

They walked for quite a while in silence. Maedhros led her down steps carved into the cliff face. Ailsa smiled as their destination came into full view. The large open-air theatre was perched high on a gully over a great black headed crag. Long terraced granite seats faced several small stages and the entire vista of sea and sky.

Ailsa slowly turned taking in the simple beauty of this strangely wonderful place. The rich orange gold of the setting sun played with the lengthening shadows over the granite seats. She walked to a stone wall overlooking the sheer drop into the sea and felt the touch of the wind as it played with her hair. She stood staring out across the circular bend of the high cliffs to her left. At their very tip, several dark fingers of rock jutted up from the sea floor causing the ocean to swirl and crash around them. The sun was slowly lowering itself into the waiting ocean. The sky was awash with blue and orange as the final rays of the sun painted the gathering clouds with its light. Ailsa stood mesmerized by the view.

Maedhros had gone a ways ahead of her, out to one of the circular points. Wanting to share the beauty of the sunset, Ailsa looked around for him. She found him sitting in profile on one of the wide stone walls, his hair once again unbound, his knees drawn up to his chest. As he stared moodily out to the darkening sea, the last light of the sun was casting a golden glow across the side of his face.

Ailsa studied him in that bath of golden light. For a moment he appeared not so careworn. She could see what he must have looked like before he worked so diligently to keep his true self hidden behind his thick impenetrable walls.

She drew in her breath slowly. His handsome face was a smooth golden alabaster in the waning sunlight. Bright copper threads were woven within the deep red strands of his hair. He was so…striking? Feeling her stare, the object of her musings turned his head slightly to look at her. No emotion was betrayed on his fine patrician features. He merely sat regarding her, his arms still wrapped around his legs. Ailsa took a few halting steps along the wall. She felt the need to speak, although the distance between them would have required her to shout over the loud rumble of the surf below.

Under normal circumstances she would have let her eyes slide passed him, embarrassed at being caught staring so openly. Instead, she held his gaze steadily. Everything around her dropped away from sight. Even the sea seemed to be waiting for something; it's rhythmic pulse dulling to a steady drone. She felt she was peering through a spyglass at some vision far away. Only the face of Maedhros remained in focus. His grey eyes appearing all but black in the last moments of the day as the sun began to slip behind the crisp line of the horizon.

Again, she felt that sense of pain radiating from them. Like a thunder crack, it came to her. A flash of wild grief ripped through her. This was not the pain of a victim. No, it was far worse than that. His eyes were filled with a soul wrenching inner darkness. Terrible guilt and sorrow overwhelmed the spirit of the man in front of her. He had committed some heinous act, something that he could never ask forgiveness for, even from himself. How she knew this, there was no way for her to tell, but it rang inside her head like some great gong smashing into her senses and sending shudders through her body.

Terrified, Ailsa tried to focus on something, anything else. She found her eyes would not respond, no matter how hard she tried to peel them away. Maedhros too stared back as if frozen. His dark eyes grew even wider, awareness flashing across their surface like ripples on water. He knew she could feel his shame.

Ailsa tensed, waiting for a blow. She was unable to move, unable to look away from the building waves of pain coming from him. She expected anger, even violence at her unwitting intrusion. Maedhros still did not move. He seemed as powerless as she to break the bond that flowed between them. The darkness of his eyes grew like a black cloud, consuming all else in her sight. The sound of the sea began its pounding rhythm again, but now with a menacing tone, growing louder with each new assault. Infinite waves of remorse continued to roll through her, each building upon the other as they pounded through her soul. It possessed her. It became her guilt, her obsession.

There was an oath. A noble gesture decaying into a loathsome burden. A horrible path lay stretched out before her. Unthinkable atrocities committed. The pounding of the surf became unbearable, pressing into to her ears in time with her heartbeat. If she were able to move, she would have covered her ears, but even that small comfort was beyond her now. This obsession had swelled out of control. Just as the unrelenting waves that now crashed into her were out of her control. Dangerous waves, carrying with them the thoughts of a killer. Dark and blood red, throbbing with fury, they were grinding her into nothingness like a pebble caught in the pounding surf on a beach.

Alone in the onslaught she could see nothing but the surf and the burning sky. Burning! They had burned all the ships! She could see the blackened skeletons of once elegant sailing vessels…foundered and ablaze in the waves. A sharp wind whistled around and through her, screaming in her ears. Screams that rose and fell, as they lost life, fading to sobs and then into nothing. Screams of immortals dying. She knew each voice, each face as if it were her own family. It was because of her. She had caused their voices to be stilled. So many, so fair, all to die for…nothing! For an oath, a dark oath that caused this affliction…this madness. Dear God, it was his madness! She felt sobs climb through her chest. She heard a scream and realized it was hers. "THEY DIED FOR NOTHING!"

"Nay, Ailsa, nay." A voice called softly, as a father would coax his frightened child out of a nightmare.

"Come back to this world, hini." (hini = child.)

The voice, soft and infinitely gentle reached through the darkness that consumed her. It was all she had to hold on to, and she clung to it with every shred of her sanity.

"Lasto beth nin," (Listen to my words) the voice becoming more intense. It insisted on being obeyed. Although she couldn't quite make sense of the words, she understood their meaning.

"Tere hi tier, avakhin nin." (Do not follow me over this path.) The darkness receded. She could put a face to the voice. It was Maedhros, gentler than she had ever heard him, but still she was afraid to follow his commands.

"Ve unalye caul gar, nino yelde." (It is not your burden to bear my daughter.) His gentle grey eyes filled her vision as sight returned slowly to her. She blinked, realizing her own eyes were filled with tears. She took a shaky breath, wondering vaguely how long it had been since she took the last one. Still, she felt disconnected from the world around her and clung to the soft voice and eyes that filled her dazed mind.

It was the sense of touch that returned to her next, tears wet on her cheeks, the cool night breeze drying them. His right forearm under her shoulder, his left hand firmly holding her jaw, keeping her eyes aligned to his. She staggered back from his touch, suddenly filled with fear as she remembered the dark waves and the screams in the wind. How could she reconcile the images and emotions that had just slammed through her with this gentle being in front of her? She stared wild-eyed at him, desperately trying to gather her scattered thoughts. Finally her voice returned. "Wha…My God…What? Why?" She couldn't begin to complete the sentence much less the overwhelming thoughts behind it.

Ailsa stood locked into Maedhros' gaze. She knew he must have been speaking to her because his mouth was moving. She just couldn't understand the words. Quite unexpectedly, he took his hand and pushed his hair behind his ears. Almost at once, his voice was clear and Ailsa eyes finally focused. "I am not what I seem." She heard him say. Ailsa watched what his hand was doing and her eyes widened in disbelief; instinctively she stepped back further as she looked at Maedhros' ears. Like some strange character in a fairytale, both of his ears came to a point.

Shocked, Ailsa began to laugh. "Oh no…no, no, no way." She backed away from him, hands extended in front of her, trying to make him keep his distance. She felt tears filling her eyes. She turned away, trying to control them. Maedhros stepped towards her. "Ailsa, I know this is distressing," he began.

Ailsa whirled around and pointed an accusatory finger at Maedhros. "You can't…I mean you aren't…I don't believe it…no…no way." She covered her mouth with her hand, hoping to keep herself from screaming. There was only one way to escape the madness that threatened to consume her. She turned and fled. Up the cliff stairs, and back the way they came. She had to get back to the house…she had to see her father…she needed to talk to him. Hell, what she really needed was to get them both out of there and back to Berkeley. She focused her thoughts on her father. She had to find him; she desperately wanted him to tell her that she wasn't crazy.

Maedhros was rooted to where he stood as he watched Ailsa fly up the stairs, trying to get as far away from him as she could. What had he done? His heart felt in shreds; she had seen and felt far too much. Their bond had caused her to know more than she was meant to. Like a broken dam, everything had poured out nearly destroying the poor girl's mind.

He lowered his head. Too much! Turning toward the cliff stairs, he began to climb.

Ailsa didn't know how long she had been running. She just knew that she had to get back to the house. Her feet flew over the grassy cliff top and down the rocky paths Maedhros and she had casually walked earlier. Her lungs burned with the exertion. Adrenaline provided the strength to keep her going. She was coming out of the woods and about to sprint up the garden steps, when she saw her father at the top of the stairs. His familiar shape stood silhouetted in the light coming from the back of the manor house. She almost sobbed with joy.

She ran to him and the comfort of his fatherly embrace. "Ailsa, what's wrong? Are you all right?" Dry sobs made her body shudder.

"I was in the Archive room when I got the strangest feeling that something was wrong and rushed out here." He said as he held her. "What's wrong?"

Ailsa took big breaths and tried to talk. "I…Maedhros…at the cliffs…" She finally swallowed as she gained control of her breathing. "Dad, there's something wrong with Maedhros."

Her father roughly grabbed her shoulders. "What has happened? Is he hurt?"

"Ow!" She winced. Ailsa stared at him in disbelief. Concern was one thing, but her father's face was filled with fear.

"No, he's not hurt." She snapped back. "In fact, he's just fine. Right down to his little pointy ears." Ailsa's eyes smoldered as she glared at her father.

Ewan relaxed his grip on his daughter's shoulders after her sarcastic remark. Ailsa couldn't believe it. He actually sighed with relief. "Oh, I see." He finally said.

"You see?" She almost shouted.

"He was afraid you might be frightened by the fact that he's…different."

"Different? DIFFERENT! That guy's not human."

"You're right about that, Ailsa. Actually he's an Elf." Her father said matter-a-factly.

Ailsa stared at her father with her mouth slightly agape. She couldn't begin to understand what her father had just said.

"Wha...What?" Ailsa couldn't get her mind to work.

"Your father is correct, Ailsa" A familiar voice spoke from behind.

Ailsa whirled around to find Maedhros calmly climbing the garden steps. He reached the top, "I am of the race called the Eldar. I am an Elf. I've lived here for many years protecting my children, and their children's children of whom you are one."

Ailsa's knees began to buckle. Her father quickly took her arm and directed her to a lawn chair. He then sat next to her, his face filled with concern. Maedhros sat down across from them. Ailsa took a few deep breaths and stared at Maedhros. "At the risk of sounding disrespectful, what the hell are you talking about? I'm no Elf."

An ironic smile crept into the corners of Maedhros' mouth. "True, you are not one of the First Born, but you are a descendent of our race. The blood that flows through your veins is both that of my world and yours. There are many generations between you and I."

Ewan leaned forward and placed his hand on her arm. "Maedhros is our great-great-grandfather many times over." Ailsa eyes snapped to Maedhros' face.

"I am older than I look." He said in an embarrassed tone. "Elves…for lack of a better term…are immortal." Ailsa, shocked and pale faced, looked at Maedhros with a mixture of fear and fascination. Maedhros was upset to see her that way. "I regret you had to find out about this in such a manner."

Ailsa sat back, looking from one man to another. Well, from one man to an Elf. " So. You're…an immortal Elf?" She raised her hands in front of her. "Okay…I am SO not hearing this! This has to be some kind of a joke, right?" She turned to her father. "Isn't it?" Her eyes pleaded.

"It's no joke, sweetie." Her father paused. "There's so much we have to tell you. I don't know where to begin."

This is so insane. Ailsa tried to calm down; she needed to begin thinking clearly again. "I know where you can begin…how?" Ailsa asked as she looked at Maedhros, defying him to tell the truth.

"That is easier to ask, than it is to answer." Maedhros hesitated a moment. Ailsa sensed his reluctance to remember the past.

"Try." Ailsa pressed her lips together indicating her skepticism.

"We lived in a world that we called Arda in a land called Ennor or Middle-earth. It is… was… a world of surpassing beauty and magic. There are few places on Earth, as you know it that can begin to match it for it's pure splendor and majesty. Arda existed in a place that is separated from your world. In my world, our people, the Elves, were the oldest and wisest of the speaking races. And, within our race, the Noldor, my family was considered to be among the greatest and highest.

I was the eldest of seven brothers. We were the sons of Feanor. Our father was once considered the mightiest of the Noldor, a prince if you will. His temperament was very fiery and proud, but he was rich in knowledge and skills that no others possessed. His creations were a source of joy and wonder for all of our people.

But there were evil forces at work, and my father began to jealously guard his creations. Dark lies were spread, turning Elves against Elves. In his arrogance, our father believed that all others coveted his creations. When the dark forces arose and killed our beloved grandfather, Finwe, all of the precious things our father wrought were taken from us. In his fury he swore a most terrible oath. It was an oath to pursue and destroy for all eternity anyone who stole or kept our treasures from us. Because of the love we felt for our father, my brothers and I felt it was our duty to join him in the swearing of this oath. Had I but realized the cost of our loyalty…"

Maedhros stopped; there was no joy in the telling of this tale. No matter how many times he offered this version, the anguish never diminished. He saw again his brothers gathered around their father, standing proudly, before the gathering of the Noldor. Fire burned in their hearts and eyes, and with their swords drawn they made the Oath together.

Sadly, he shook his head. "We swore by the maker and all that is holy to us, that to break or fail this Oath would doom ourselves to the Everlasting Dark. And yet now, I would gladly accept that fate, if it could have stopped the events that followed. We had all been deceived by evil words, and in our rage we followed our father's madness. He…we were responsible for the doom of our own people. In the name of the Oath, unimaginable feats of cruelty, betrayal and madness were committed. Unable to break our word, my brothers and I were responsible for much of the destruction of our own realm and the deaths of our people. Our family became despised by all." Maedhros stopped and averted his eyes.

Ewan continued. "His father and brothers were killed one by one until only Maedhros and his brother Maglor were left. Remorse over everything they had done made them abandon the Oath and Maedhros was sent here as punishment never to see his world again. Once here, he was resigned to living out his punishment forever. In our world Maedhros began a different life and our family came to be."

Ewan was unaware of Maedhros' silence. Ailsa watched Maedhros face as her father spoke. Whatever he was feeling, he safely hid it behind a familiar wall. Maedhros' attention was once again focused on Ailsa. "Through the ages I realized that most of the myths and legends of your world were similar to events of my world. The names of the people and places were different, but the stories remained true. I began to collect them as memories of my world. When I realized that these stories must be preserved in their original forms, I built Egla Tir as a refuge for the pieces of your world that reminded me of Middle-earth. My children have been the keepers of this legacy. For centuries, I have watched over my family, keeping track of the different branches so when the time came, they could be made aware of their inheritance."

She stared into the advancing night unable to fathom what she was being told. Ewan reached over and touched Ailsa's hand jolting her into the reality that she was actually hearing this story. "Generation after generation came and went in this area. Maedhros' name slowly evolved into the Matthews family name. This made your grandmother's branch of the family the next in line to receive the inheritance," Ewan said proudly. "That's where we come in, Ailsa. We're the next generations to safeguard not only our past, but Maedhros' as well."

The two men had finished and sat looking at the young woman sitting so quietly beside them. Abruptly, Ailsa slapped her thighs, "Oooookaaay." Without another word she stood up, pointed to the house and stalked off. She opened the door to the back of the house, walked in and slammed it behind her leaving the two men staring at each other. Maedhros began to rise from his seat, but her father held up his hand. "Remember what we discussed before? It's better to leave her alone right now. She'll have questions later. Trust me." A nervous smile touched Maedhros lips as he sat down. Too much.

Once in the house, Ailsa walked straight into the kitchen and then the pantry. She came out with a large water tumbler and headed for the fridge on the opposite wall. She removed a half-filled bottle of Chardonnay, walked over to the kitchen table and proceeded to fill the tumbler nearly to the top. Although the tumbler was big, it wasn't large enough to hold the entire contents of the bottle. Ailsa looked at the small amount remaining shrugged, and putting the bottle to her lips, drained it.

Taking her jacket off, she threw it on top of the table. She took the tumbler and walked purposefully through the house and into the library. Without pausing, she strode to the secret door, and nearly ripped the green book from the shelf. She stepped back quickly allowing the door to open, being careful not to spill any of her Chardonnay. Reaching in, she flicked on the light and went down the steps.

Once in the Archive room, she made her way to the desk. Sitting in the chair, she kicked her feet up on top of the desk, and rested an elbow on top of a leather book. She glared around the room still trying to wrap her brain around what she had just heard. Putting the tumbler to her lips, she took a deep pull of wine.

Looking around once more, she began to gently shake her head. "Holy shit!"

She took another drink. What am I going to do now? Maedhros is obviously crazy and dad has had a breakdown of some kind. And I'll be just as crazy if I believe one word of what I've been told. What the hell am I going to do now?

Many minutes later, her tumbler was empty, but her mind was just as confused. The leather book she was leaning on had an embossed design on the cover and was pressing into the flesh of her elbow. It was at that moment; she noticed the book for the first time. Dropping her feet to the floor, she picked it up and recognized it. This was the book Maedhros was writing in the other day in the library.

She opened it and began to flip through the pages. There in front of her were page after page of the same delicate designs she had seen on the front gate and hall window. They were the same markings she had seen on the sword and dagger in Maedhros room. She shook her head as she realized they weren't designs. "Of course, they're words," she said sarcastically. "It's a journal or something." One more thing that wasn't as it seemed.

How can I possibly believe any of this? Ailsa wanted to believe Maedhros and her father. She wanted to know what it was she had experienced at the open-air theatre. She wanted to be able to look both men in the face and say, "Yes, I believe you." But then, it'd be too late. She'd be crazy too.

Glancing up, she looked at the room again, and noticed for the first time that something wasn't quite right. One of the bookshelves on the adjacent wall didn't line up properly with the others. Putting down Maedhros' journal, she walked over to it. Upon closer inspection, it became obvious that more than just the shelf was askew. The whole wall was out of position.

Behind the offending shelf, was an unusually wide dark gap from ceiling to floor. Ailsa could feel a definite moist draft coming from it. She looked up at the steps leading to the library and remembered the secret door that led down there. She shrugged. "Why not?" Testing her theory, she took the shelf with both hands and gave it a strong pull. Not surprisingly, it opened like the bookcase in the upper library.

Triumphantly, Ailsa looked into the semidarkness and could see a long stone passageway. There was an opening many yards down on the right and a flickering light was coming from it. Ailsa stood looking at the open doorway trying to decide what to do next. A thought crossed her mind and her eyes narrowed determinedly as she pressed her lips together.

She walked over to the stairway leading to the library above and listened a moment for any sounds of footsteps. Hearing none, she quickly turned around, and faced the opening. Feeling the reassuring affects of her Chardonnay courage, she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath to steady herself, and slowly advanced through the dark doorway towards the shimmering light.

To be continued.