Chapter Twenty-Nine: Namárië

Legolas found her half asleep in the sun a little less than an hour after Glorfindel left to find Galadriel.

'Azshar,' he said, amused. She opened an eye.

'Hm?'

He grinned down at her. 'Get up. Where's Glorfindel?'

'Gone to see Galadriel,' she said, getting to her feet with a sigh. 'What's the matter? Why have you disturbed my peace?'

His smile faded. 'We're leaving,' he said. Azshar blinked, suddenly alert.

'Really?'

'Aragorn gave the order this morning.'

She nodded slowly. She knew that the longer they lingered in Lórien, the harder travelling would be when they left – but it didn't stop her wishing for another day.

'I'll get my things,' she said.

The hobbits were glum and silent. Gimli was openly complaining to Legolas about having to leave, and Boromir could only offer Azshar a forced smile when she passed. She felt her heart sink in her chest.

It took her a dishearteningly short time to gather all her belongings, and then change from her dress to her tunic and trousers. She put together Glorfindel's things too, wondering restlessly what he and Galadriel could have to discuss for so long. Another hour passed before Aragorn came to find her.

'You're ready to go?' he asked in Sindarin, and she nodded.

'Legolas told me.'

Aragorn glanced at the two packs, side by side. 'And Glorfindel?'

Azshar got to her feet. 'I'll go find him,' she said.

'Thank you. Meet back here as soon as you can.'

She set off through the woods, shivering at a breeze that was colder than she'd grown accustomed to in Lothlórien. She passed the pool where Celeborn had taken her to wash, and a while later, finally saw the steps that led down into the clearing where she knew Galadriel's Mirror was.

She could see Glorfindel bent over the Mirror. His jaw was tightly clenched, and his knuckles were white as he clutched the edges of the basin. Azshar stopped at the top of the stairs, watching with concern and more than a little curiosity.

Glorfindel suddenly thrust away from Galadriel's Mirror, stepping off the dais, his hands clenching and unclenching. He was breathing fast, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

'I don't want to see any more,' he said unevenly. 'I remember it all.'

Galadriel stepped forwards. 'There might be –'

'I said enough, Galadriel!' he all but shouted. His face was white with fury or horror, Azshar couldn't tell. She had never seen him so utterly enraged. Galadriel stepped back, looking wary, and Glorfindel began striding back and forth.

'They had no right,' he spat. 'No right to take this from me!'

'You know why they did it, and you understand why I had to show you now,' Galadriel said in a low voice. Glorfindel whirled to face her, smacking a fist into his palm.

'I have been living half a life for thousands of years!' he shouted. 'They made me a ghost, a fucking shadow! They stole everything from me!'

'You were already a shadow, the second you found out she was gone,' Galadriel interrupted, but he didn't seem to hear it.

'They took everything I loved and expected me to just live!' he shouted, his fists balling. He seemed to vibrate with rage. 'For two thousand miserable years, I have wished I was dead – and for what?'

It was then that Galadriel caught sight of Azshar. Her eyes widened, and Glorfindel turned to see what she was looking at. When his eyes met Azshar's, he went utterly still. The remaining colour drained from his face, and he stared at her like the world was falling apart around him. Then he shook his head slowly.

'No,' he said quietly. 'No. No, no, no…'

He backed away, then he turned and ran from the clearing.

Galadriel stared up at Azshar, the light catching in her hair and making it look translucent.

'How much did you see?' she asked quietly, something unreadable in her eyes.

'I need to go after him,' Azshar said, descending the steps quickly, but Galadriel caught her arm.

'No, Azshar. You need to leave him alone.'

'What happened, Nerwen? What did you show him?'

'Glorfindel discovered that the Valar had been keeping a secret from him,' she said evenly.

'What secret?'

'That is not for me to tell.'

'You saw him, Galadriel,' Azshar said hotly, jerking her arm free. 'I need to go after him. He'll hurt something, or himself.'

Galadriel suddenly drew herself up to her full height, her eyes flashing. 'You are not to follow him,' she said sharply. Azshar fell silent, taking a step back, and Galadriel softened. 'Respect what he wants,' she said, a little more gently. 'He will deal with the news in his own way, and then if he wants to find you, he will.'

'I don't like the way he deals with things,' Azshar muttered, looking down. 'And… I don't know that he'll try to find me.'

'Maybe it's for the best,' Galadriel said. 'Is it really a relationship if it's always you doing the chasing? Always you making him share what he doesn't give freely?'

Azshar stared at her, eyes wide and confused. Galadriel shook her head solemnly. 'I only mean that if Glorfindel pushes you away, it might be for your good as well as his. He is not a selfish person.'

Azshar swallowed. 'But we're leaving,' she said thickly. 'Today.'

'I know,' Galadriel said, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. 'Go back to your Fellowship, and tell Aragorn to take them to the river. He will know the way.'

Azshar ran back to camp, half hoping and half dreading that Glorfindel would be there. He wasn't.

'You didn't find him?' Aragorn said, glancing back at the assembled Fellowship, who was waiting for them at the edge of the clearing.

'I…' Azshar shook her head and changed the subject. 'We need to go to the river.'

'The river?'

'Galadriel's orders.'

'Very well,' Aragorn said.

Azshar fetched her pack and Glorfindel's from the tent they'd briefly shared. The mattress on the floor brought back the memory of earlier that morning, when they'd been together on it. What had happened since then? Where was Glorfindel, and was he coming back?

She fell into step with Boromir, who wordlessly held out a hand for Glorfindel's pack. She handed it to him with a strained smile, which he seemed too distracted to return.

They walked until midday, which Azshar knew because Merry and Pippin had started complaining about their empty bellies. It was then that she heard the growing sound of flowing water.

The river came into view. It was wide, and the surface was as smooth as glass, reflecting the gold of the trees. Despite this, Azshar could tell there was a swift current flowing beneath the surface. Her mouth went dry when she thought about what she'd seen in Galadriel's Mirror; Maglor had found her by a river, and it could well be this one.

Four small, white boats were moored at the riverbank, and before them stood Galadriel and Celeborn. Behind them was Glorfindel, his head bowed and his brow furrowed, but he didn't look as openly furious as before. Instead, he seemed forbidding, taciturn and grim. A hint of sadness touched his eyes.

He looked up as the Fellowship came to a stop, and his eyes found hers. He looked away too quickly, and Azshar's consternation grew.

'We must say farewell sooner than I would wish,' Celeborn said to them, smiling. 'But we cannot let you go without gifts.'

Elves emerged from the trees, bearing cloaks of a green-grey colour. Each of the Fellowship was offered one, and Azshar dropped her pack on the ground so she could fasten the leaf-clasp at her throat. She noticed with relief that Glorfindel took one too; he was still leaving with them, then.

They were given several small packages each, which Pippin sniffed suspiciously and opened to find, to his delight, bread. He immediately took a bite.

'Careful, young hobbit,' Celeborn said. 'That loaf is enough to sustain a full-grown man for a day.'

'And a hobbit for twenty-five minutes, give or take,' Pippin retorted with a grin. 'Try it, Merry, it's delectable.'

'I have something else for you, Pippin,' Galadriel said, stepping forwards. Pippin's grin slid from his face as she offered him a belt made of silver, with a clasp like a golden flower. She produced a second one and gave it to Merry. 'Warriors should hang their swords from proper belts,' she said gravely.

She gave Sam a grey box filled with soil from Lothlórien's gardens. To Boromir, she gave a golden belt with a buckle shaped like a teardrop, and to Legolas she gave a Galadhrim bow and fresh arrows. Azshar hid a smile at the way he was clearly trying to suppress his enthusiasm.

She gave Aragorn a sheath for Andúril, his sword, which he accepted with a bow. Galadriel waited until he was upright before she spoke again.

'You know that in High Elven tradition, the bride's family gifts a stone to the groom,' she said. Aragorn frowned slightly.

'I do,' he said. Galadriel produced a green gemstone that looked like the sun shining through a forest canopy, and his eyes widened.

'This is the Stone of Eärendil, the Elfstone,' she said. 'It was forged in Gondolin by Celebrimbor, a very great jewelsmith, and it was revered by the Noldor. Now it is yours.'

Aragorn took it reverently, disbelievingly. Galadriel moved on before he could protest.

'Gimli,' she said. 'What would you ask of me?'

Gimli frowned. 'No present for me, then?'

Galadriel laughed. 'I could think of nothing in my possession that a dwarf would want, so I determined to ask you instead.'

Gimli hesitated, clearly at war with himself. Finally, he seemed to decide to speak. 'I ask… only a single hair from your head, to set in glass one day when I return to my homeland.'

Legolas looked away, once again determined not to laugh. Galadriel reached up without hesitation and plucked not one, but three long hairs from her head. Gimli took them with care, and he bowed so deeply his beard brushed the ground.

'It has been my very great honour to know you,' he said. Azshar wondered what Glóin would have thought to see his son now.

'Frodo Baggins,' Galadriel said softly, coming to the hobbit who stood beside Azshar. She offered him a small phial of water that seemed to shine of its own accord. 'This is water from my fountain, that I captured while the light of Eärendil's star shone through it.'

Frodo took it, examining the crystal bewilderedly. 'Thank you,' he stammered. Galadriel smiled.

'It is a very powerful light, Frodo. It is not to be underestimated.'

Azshar's hand drifted up to close around her locket. She was suddenly hyper-aware of the silmaril inside, the same jewel that gave Eärendil's star its light. She dropped her hand quickly when Galadriel came to a stop before her.

'Azshar, my friend,' she said quietly. 'I have something special for you.'

She offered Azshar a small crystal suspended on a fine silver chain. It shone with a mysterious, soft blue light, as though a blue flame had been trapped inside.

'What is this?' Azshar asked, taking it gingerly. It was beautiful in a strange, enigmatic way.

'It is a lantern crystal,' Galadriel said. 'It was invented by Fëanor, who gifted this one to you many years ago. It was the second one he ever made.'

Azshar looked back down at it in wonder. The palm of her hand was coloured pale blue by the light. 'How did you come to have it?'

'You gave it to me when we last said goodbye,' Galadriel said with a smiled tinged by sadness. 'Now I return the favour.'

'It isn't goodbye forever,' Azshar said earnestly, looking up into the bright blue eyes of her former friend. 'I'll be back, if I can.'

'I hope so,' said Galadriel. Then she turned to face Glorfindel.

'Join your companions, so I can give you your gift,' she said. Glorfindel shot her a reproachful look before walking over to stand with the Fellowship – as far from Azshar as he could.

'I have two things to give you,' Galadriel said, 'both of which already belonged to you. I hope you will forgive me for keeping them.'

Glorfindel nodded stiffly, and Galadriel offered him a gemstone. It was a small topaz, fixed to a fine silver chain like that of Azshar's lantern crystal. The topaz flickered deep gold in the midday sun.

But Glorfindel didn't take it. He merely watched it hang in the air before him, his mouth curving downwards. After a long moment, he looked back up at Galadriel.

'How did you get this?'

'It was taken from the ruins of Gondolin and given to me for safekeeping.'

'I don't want it.'

'It is yours, Glorfindel,' she remonstrated sternly, but he didn't blink.

'I will not take it. You can keep it, or throw it in the river.'

Galadriel pursed her lips and put it in her pocket. 'I will keep it, then,' she said. 'But you will not refuse my second gift.'

She held out a hand, on which were two simple, slender-banded golden rings, one slightly larger than the other. When Glorfindel saw them, he looked like he'd been struck across the face. Wordlessly, he took them from Galadriel, holding them in a fist clenched tightly by his side.

'I wish you each safe paths,' Celeborn said. 'I repeat what Elrond told you at your beginning: none but Frodo have been tasked with bringing the Ring to Mount Doom.'

Sam patted Frodo on the shoulder.

'The cloaks will help keep you hidden,' Galadriel said. 'Stealth is your best hope from here. Go safely.' Her eyes found Azshar's. 'Namárië.'

They climbed into the white boats they had been given. Aragorn went with Frodo and Sam, and Boromir with Merry and Pippin, each of them taking an oar. Glorfindel all but pushed Gimli aside to get into a boat with Legolas, leaving Azshar by herself and dumbfounded in the last boat.

What had he seen in Galadriel's Mirror?

Gimli quickly blew it off, hurrying over to join Azshar in her boat.

'Excellent luck,' he said. 'I'd rather play chess with a dragon than put my life in the hands of Legolas on these treacherous waters.'

Azshar didn't reply, still staring after Glorfindel. Gimli clapped her on the shoulder, and she started back to reality.

'Let's go,' she muttered, and she pushed off.

They drifted downstream, Azshar guiding her boat with the oar. Twice Gimli had to remind her to watch where they were going, because she couldn't tear her eyes from Glorfindel. He looked angry in a way she'd never seen him look before.

I remember it all, he'd said to Galadriel. Remembered what?

She saw Legolas' lips move in a question, and Glorfindel answered briefly. Legolas said something more, his eyes flicking over to Azshar.

'Mahal's beard, Azshar, the boat!' Gimli said with exasperation, and she quickly adjusted their course to avoid a jagged rock.

'Sorry,' she muttered.

'Did you two…' the dwarf began, before trailing off.

'Did we two what?' she said shortly.

'It's none of my business,' Gimli said, shaking his head. Azshar sighed.

'Glorfindel looked in Galadriel's Mirror, and saw something… awful, maybe. I don't know, but it changed him.'

'From grim to grimmer?' Gimli joked.

'He hasn't spoken to me since he looked,' Azshar said, glancing back over at Glorfindel. 'He's barely looked at me. It's got me worried.'

'Would you like me to try speaking to him for you?' Gimli said unexpectedly. 'He's not avoiding me, that I can tell. Not that I'd know, though, since he's never been in the habit of saying much to me.'

'I'll speak to him tonight when we stop,' Azshar said. 'Thank you, though.'

'If you need help cornering him, let me know.'

She smiled. 'Thank you.'

The woods slipped by them as they floated south, the golden leaves slowly giving way to open, brown lands. Azshar felt oddly exposed, like she was being watched. She thought again of Maglor and his demise in Moria. Had he stayed in the mines? Or was he on her tail again?

The day passed sluggishly, and Azshar's legs grew stiff, standing stationary in the back of the boat and listening to Gimli's tales of life in Edoras. At long last, as the sun drew close to the horizon, Aragorn's arm went up, directing them over to a small beach on the western bank.

Azshar steered over and smiled faintly at the speed with which Gimli got out of the boat and onto dry land. She noticed, her smile fading, that Glorfindel moved with similar speed.

'I'm going to scout the area,' he announced emotionlessly. 'I'll be back by dawn.'

He strode from the beach with startling speed, and disappeared from sight. Azshar stopped short, taken aback. Gimli reached up to pat her on the back.

'Better try again tomorrow, I suppose,' he said.

Aragorn didn't want a fire, so they sat together and ate the waybread the elves had given them. The silence was heavy, until Aragorn cleared his throat to speak.

'There was a queen in Middle-earth once, called Melian,' he said. 'None but she were permitted to gift this kind of waybread, lembas, by the law of the land. But after she left, the duty fell to Galadriel.'

There was a short, awed silence before Merry spoke. 'What do you mean, after she left? Is that a euphemism for death?'

'You can tell us if she died,' Pippin said to Aragorn. 'We're all grown-ups here.'

'She didn't die,' Aragorn said, a smile tugging at his lips. 'She went west.'

'What, to the Blue Mountains?' Merry asked. Frodo, who'd been looking glum all day, huffed a laugh and shook his head.

'Across the sea, Meriadoc,' Aragorn said. 'Besides, in those days, the Blue Mountains were in the east.'

'Would these boats work on the ocean as well as they do the river?' Sam asked. As Aragorn fell victim to the hobbit's curiosity, Legolas turned to Azshar.

'What happened in Lothlórien?' he asked in a low voice.

'What did Glorfindel say to you?' she asked with equal urgency.

'He said that whatever had been between you was over, nothing more.'

Azshar jerked back, her heart twisting in her chest. 'What?'

Legolas looked shocked. 'You didn't – why would he say that if you didn't know?'

'He hasn't talked to me,' she said, feeling panicked. The world suddenly felt like it was closing in around her, walls of stone crushing her, making it hard to breathe. 'I don't know what happened. I don't know –'

Legolas caught her hands in his. 'Calm down. It's alright. When he comes back, you'll talk to him.'

'He saw something in Galadriel's Mirror,' she said. Her breath was still catching in her chest. 'I don't know what he saw. Maybe I did something horrible in my past that I don't remember, and he saw it, and now he can't face me –'

'Calm down, Azshar. You'll speak to him when he returns.'

She nodded jerkily, and Legolas let go of her hands.

It felt like the longest night of her life. She and Legolas kept watch while the others slept. Azshar kept her dagger drawn on her lap, watching for the blue glow that would alert her to the presence of orcs. It never increased beyond a faint glimmer.

When the first pale light of dawn touched the grey sky, Glorfindel returned. He was covered in black blood, and Azshar got to her feet the second she saw him, staring at him with concern.

'Orc scouts?' Legolas guessed. Glorfindel didn't look at them.

'Not anymore,' he replied. 'I'm going to wash.'

He went a little way from them to kneel by the riverbank, and began washing the blood from his face and hair. Legolas shot Azshar a significant look, and she nodded, drawing in a nervous breath.

'Call if you need me,' Legolas said in a low voice. Azshar steeled herself and left.

Glorfindel visibly stiffened when she stopped behind him. When she didn't move, he slowly got to his feet and turned to face her. His expression was terrifying in its coldness.

'You need to tell me what you saw in that mirror,' she said quietly. He stared at her, refusing her a reply. Azshar forced herself not to back down.

'Yesterday morning you wanted to marry me,' she said, the volume of her voice rising. 'Now you're telling Legolas that whatever we had is over.'

'I'm not telling you what I saw,' Glorfindel said coolly. 'But you're right. There is no longer any relationship between us.'

Azshar felt numb. She shook her head. 'Don't say that.'

In the darkness, his eyes looked black. 'It's done.'

'This – this isn't something you can just do,' she said, feeling tears coming as her panic rose again. 'You can't – throw me away without telling me why.'

Glorfindel just stared at her. Azshar could see that his hands were shaking, and she almost reached out to him.

'Open your locket,' he said quietly. 'Take out the ring.'

She obeyed, lifting the locket to her lips and whispering pirindë. It opened, and she took out the ring with clumsy fingers – the one that matched Glorfindel's, silver and embedded with a little topaz.

He held out his hand, and she gave it to him. He slid it onto his index finger before taking the other ring from his little finger and offering it to her.

'Put it on,' he said. 'I want you to wear it.'

With wide eyes, Azshar slid the ring onto her own index finger. It was warm from his skin. 'What does this mean?' she whispered.

'Nothing,' he said hollowly. 'That's it. We're done.'

'No,' she said.

'I want you to know that you are released from every promise you ever made me,' he said.

'Glorfindel – you cannot –'

'Don't speak to me again.'

'No,' she said, tears spilling onto her cheeks. She was so confused, so overwhelmed. She could feel a growing emptiness, an ache in her chest. Desperately, she stepped forward and grabbed hold of his arms.

But before she knew what had happened, Glorfindel pushed her back with such ferocity that she fell, landing hard, her shoulder glancing of a jagged rock. The air rushed from her lungs, and she gasped for breath.

Glorfindel stared down at her in horror, his hands trembling violently. His jaw worked, and she could tell he wanted to pull her up, make sure she was alright. He didn't.

'Stay away from me,' he whispered brokenly, and he turned sharply back to the river.

Azshar got to her feet and walked numbly back to camp, where she sat down silently beside Legolas. She was a shell, utterly empty, utterly hollow. She pulled her cloak tightly around her and stared unseeingly at the ground.


The days dragged on as they floated down the river. Glorfindel didn't speak to her, acknowledge her, look at her. Azshar had begun to feel physically ill. The weather worsened.

Their second day on the river, Gimli asked her whether she was alright. Aragorn asked her that night, and Sam the following morning. To each, she forced a smile and lied. Legolas watched her with concern, but she saw that he didn't dare raise the subject with Glorfindel as they drifted.

On their tenth day, they reached the Falls of Rauros, and Aragorn called them to a halt. They moored the boats at a pebbled beach, the roar of the waterfall dim in their ears.

'It is here that we must make a decision,' Aragorn said solemnly. 'We all heard what Celeborn said. No one is obliged to go to Mordor with Frodo, but it is here that the commitment must be made.'

'Come with me to Minas Tirith,' Boromir said. 'All of you. It's near Mordor, we can replenish our supplies, rest, find reinforcements.'

'We don't need reinforcements,' Frodo said stiffly. Azshar toyed with her locket disinterestedly, barely hearing the conversation.

'I think we'd do better to go across Emyn Muil than through Gondor,' Aragorn said, shooting Boromir an apologetic look. Boromir scowled.

'So you'll come with me then, Strider?' Frodo asked, looking heartened. Aragorn nodded.

'So will I,' said Gimli. 'And Legolas will too.'

'As will we,' Merry said, gesturing at Pippin. 'And I assume Sam's along for the ride.'

'Sure as day,' said Sam. Frodo glanced at Azshar, and she looked up and nodded.

'Of course I'm coming,' she said softly. Glorfindel said nothing.

'So it's only me,' Boromir said, glancing around. 'I suppose you all think me faint-hearted.'

'Not in the least,' said Gimli.

'Let's take an hour,' Aragorn said placatingly. 'We'll eat, rest, think. Then we'll part ways, if we must.'

Azshar sat and dug through her pack for a wafer of lembas bread. She chewed numbly, her mind far away. The sun was high in the sky above her, but there were low-hanging clouds shielding it from view. She felt numb, horribly numb.

Frodo was out walking through the trees, and Boromir had disappeared too. Merry, Pippin and Sam's heads were bent together in conversation about the path ahead. Legolas and Gimli were talking too, and Aragorn was sharpening his sword. That left only Glorfindel, who was sitting silent and alone.

Azshar looked away. He'd told her not to speak to him, so she wouldn't. Staying away felt like driving a dagger into her own heart. She forced herself not to cry.

'Where's Frodo gone all of a sudden?' she heard Sam ask a few minutes later. Everyone looked about, confused.

'He's been gone a while,' Azshar said hollowly. 'So has Boromir.'

'Oh!' Aragorn said, jumping to his feet and looking alarmed. 'We need to find them. Quickly.'

Legolas disappeared into the trees, closely followed by Gimli and Aragorn. Sam, Merry and Pippin put their hands to their mouths and started calling for Frodo. Azshar spared a glance for Glorfindel before setting off in a different direction.

The woods were empty, but she had the creeping, nauseating feeling of being watched again. With a dry mouth, she drew her dagger.

Its blade was glowing blue. Ice-cold reality broke through the haze.

'No,' she whispered, and she turned back to the direction of the camp. No one was with the hobbits.

At that moment, she heard Boromir's horn sound three times. Its third blast was cut off before it finished, and Azshar put a hand to her mouth in horror. Then she ran.

Leaves and branches whipped at her face as she flew through the trees. The last time Boromir had blown his horn, it had been in Moria when they'd been facing certain death, in the shape of thousands of goblins and a balrog. He needed help.

And the Fellowship was scattered to the wind, searching for Frodo. How could they have let him go off on his own? How could they have thought it a good idea to separate?

She was close, she could hear it. Any moment now, she would break free of the trees to find the battle. She braced herself –

'Lalaith!'

She skidded to a halt, not sure she'd heard what she thought she had. But as she slowly turned to look up the hill, he called her name again.

'Lalaith.'

He was there, his dark hair and haunted eyes chillingly familiar, wearing his black, hooded cloak. He'd escaped Moria, then, to find her one last time.

'Maglor,' she said unevenly, freezing in place.

'One last chance to choose,' Maglor said gravely. He was only ten yards away from her. 'Sleep or death.'

'I don't think so,' came Glorfindel's voice from behind her. Azshar turned to see him, ten yards away from her, his sword pointed past her in Maglor's direction. 'Get away from her.'

'One step forward and she dies, Glorfindel,' Maglor said, his voice still low and even. Azshar turned back to him.

'Stop,' she said harshly. 'Stop with the threats and the hunting. I've had enough.'

'The silmaril,' Maglor said quietly. 'You know where it is.'

'I'll tell you,' she said. 'You can take it, and be done with it.'

He stared at her for a long moment, not seeming to understand. 'You would give it up?'

'If it ends all this, I'll give it up.'

'Only you would do something like that,' Maglor whispered, his eyes wide. He looked unhinged. 'You weren't like the rest of us. That's why everyone adored you. Lovely little Lalaith.'

'Enough, Maglor,' Glorfindel said sharply, taking a step forward, but at his movement, Maglor's face shifted into a scowl.

'I told you not to move!' he spat. 'You underestimate me, Glorfindel. You're fool enough to think I won't go through with my promises.'

'I know well enough what you're capable of,' Glorfindel growled, taking another slow step forward. 'I'm not looking to test you. But you heard Azshar. She'll tell you where the silmaril is, and you will leave us alone.'

'Azshar? You're still calling her by that dwarf name?' Maglor sneered.

'I said enough, Maglor!' Glorfindel half shouted, an edge of panic in his tone. Azshar let out a slow breath.

'Enough, Maglor,' she echoed. 'Do you want to know where your jewel is? Put the oath to bed?'

Maglor took another step towards her, holding her gaze with his wild eyes. 'There is something you don't seem to understand about our situation,' he said in a low voice. 'I hate the silmarils. I don't want to know where that cursed thing is, I just want you to forget. I want it to stay gone, and I never want to see it again. But you can't seem to keep your memories at bay.'

'You're not thinking straight,' she said, holding up a placating hand. 'Be reasonable, please.'

'Don't plead with me!' he yelled. 'This is on your head! It's you who has given me no choice. There's room for one more kinslaying in the history books.'

'I will kill you,' Glorfindel snarled, taking another step closer to Azshar. Maglor did too, holding out a hand in warning.

'You remembered everything you forgot, didn't you?' he asked Glorfindel tauntingly. 'That must have hurt. You must have hated yourself, thinking about how easily you let me take her away from you at the Lonely Mountain. Thinking of all the things you did while you thought she was just Azshar.'

Azshar's head whipped between the two of them.

'I will kill you!' Glorfindel growled again, but Maglor just grinned, half-crazed.

'You forget I don't need to touch her for her to die,' he said breathlessly. 'All I need to do is remind her of who she used to be. Isn't that right, Azshar?'

'Don't,' Glorfindel said, suddenly dropping his sword and holding up his hands. 'Please, I'm begging you. It will kill her. Please.'

Maglor paid him no heed. His eyes found Azshar's.

'Too late. Your father's name was Finwë,' he said. Azshar felt something momentous release itself in her mind, and she gasped, staggering. 'He was killed. So was your brother Fingolfin, and your half-brother, Fëanor. My father.'

'Fëanor,' she whispered hollowly, and then she fell to her knees. An overwhelming agony swept through her head.

'No!' shouted Glorfindel behind her, an arm held out. She'd seen that in Galadriel's Mirror: the two of them before her and behind her, and her dying in the middle. It had come to pass.

'You lived in Gondolin, but you escaped when it fell,' Maglor went on, speaking even more quickly, more loudly. 'Your nephew King Turgon was killed. And your niece, Aredhel, you watched her die. Your friends and family, nearly all of them. And your husband, Glorfindel, he died too. You used to call him Laurë.'

Azshar screamed, falling on her side and clutching her head. The pain was blinding, all-encompassing. It was a terrible way to die. Sounds and faces began flashing before her eyes, each more familiar than the last.

She could hear Glorfindel's voice, as if from a great distance, though he was kneeling, bent over her. 'No, no, no, please,' he cried. She didn't know if he was talking to her or to Maglor. She couldn't see anymore.

'Your father called you Írimë, but your mother-name was Lalwendë, because you were always smiling. You suffered a great deal, and when it came to it, I couldn't kill you,' Maglor finished. 'I'm sorry, Lalaith. I would have saved you a great deal of pain if I had.'

The world dissolved around her. The memories pulled her under, crushing her. She drowned in them, in who she used to be.

END OF PART TWO: TUILË