Eternal Exile
So many places and people he had outlived. Most notable among those were his six brothers and father, greatest of the Noldor. Many ages had past since he had last walked among his own kin and only few since the last of the elves who remained had sailed. Witch hunts and the Church being the main reasons why many of them who fled. Aman was open to all Elves.
Except for him.
He could return and face the punishment most likely waiting him but he wouldn't. He had chosen exile and in exile he would remain.
Aman was no longer home. It was a place in distant memories of happier times. Aman was home to seven children who never grew up, who never had blood on their hands and whose family remained unbroken. Aman was where dreams were made and broken. It was not home. Home was a little house overlooking the beach in California. Home was where he could close his eyes and think about what tomorrow would bring with a smile on his face. Home was where his newest children were. Aman would never be home again.
He did not wish to walk among the Elder again; they would not know what to do with him and he would not know how to interact with them.
And so he stayed with the mortals. Mortals at lest were easier to understand. They lived and never stopped living. They could never live slow lives, taking centuries to do nothing at all. And Maglor liked this. He liked the constant rush of life that all mortals had. He understood why Elros chose to be mortal. He suspected though Elrond never did.
Elros and Elrond… his first sons and what wrongs he had done to them... He had many more throughout the Ages and some daughters too. He never married but he often found himself adopting children. Sarah and David were his youngest ones. Their mother had abandoned them at the local Church. Father Matthews, who would forever be Nicky to him, five years old with big blue eyes and calling him Ada with a wide smile, had asked him if he would like to take care of the twins.
Sarah had opened her eyes and smiled at him. His heart had melted at the sight. Nicky just watched with a big grin and gleefully took to spoiling his little siblings.
Mortals also understood forgiveness better than Elves did. To Elves slaying one another was a hideous crime that only few ever did. Men killed one another all the time. Also they did it brutally and horribly as well. And yet… they could forgive. They could accept the past and move on. Elves could not. Could never forget or forgive the wrongs done to them. After all when you live forever, you could truly hold a grudge.
He liked Men far better than he liked Elves these days.
He had only recently arrived in America, arriving in the late fifties. For thousands and thousands of years he had been content in Europe and Asia, occasionally wandering down to Africa but no more since the Second Great War.
He had been staying in Poland at the time, in a small rural Jewish community.
Some memories never faded.
He had certainly paid for his sins many times over but not even that would make him go to Aman. Never again would he walk among the Elves. Even if it meant giving up any chance of reuniting with his brothers and father, if they ever left Mandros's Halls.
Even if it meant never seeing his mother again.
Maglor, last of the Kinslayers, watched as the fireworks lit up the sky in celebration. Nicky was sitting with David and Sarah nestled next to him, exclamations of awe and 'pretty!' came from all three of them. He smiled and sat down so the twins were in between. Sarah squealed and nestled into his lap. Laughing at David's pouting look, Nicky placed him in his lap. Maglor grinned at his elder son who grinned back.
In exile he had gone and in exile he would remain for his was an eternal exile.
Besides, he had good company.