Maglor departed from Amon Ereb and did not return for a month.

Lily grew restless. Something was at work within her, something slow and warm and undefinable. She liked her rustic, quiet life in this rich, ancient land. A year had passed since her first arrival and she'd developed a comfortable routine.

The upkeep of Amon Ereb fell to her shoulders - as a Noldorin bride, it was her duty to attend to its maintenance, upkeep the grounds and monitor the kitchen's influx of supplies. Melieth had lengthily informed her about her new responsibilities, and seemed to believe the girl was capable in managing a frightfully heavy role.

Lily was overwhelmed, at first, but took on the workload with little complaint. If Maglor and Maedhros weren't going to show their faces, she'd best lace up her bootstraps and do it herself. Amrod and Amras provided her with cheerful, rambunctious company. Nestariel remained angry.

The wedge in their relationship saddened her, but Lily's stubbornness rivalled a dwarf's. Her pride outweighed her sorrow and she refused to acknowledge her friend in return. If the elf wished to come and apologise for her nastiness, Lily would forgive her. Nestariel, however, clung onto grudges like a hamfisted goblin.

Lily would let her stew.

It was on a lovely summer's day when her husband returned. Lily and Melieth were beside the river Gelion, washing mountain loads of filthy laundry. Amrod and Amras had accompanied them on their outing. However, the boys abandoned the mind-numbing labour. They duelled heatedly amongst the grasslands. Their swords glimmered beneath the sunshine. A bright streak of flame against fire.

The water of the river was cool and clear. If Lily watched closely, she could spot schools of fish swimming against the current.

"Look," she said, pointing. Melieth lowered her scrubboard and followed Lily's gaze. Her eyes lightened. "Ah," she hummed, "perches." She continued scrubbing, the grates of her board creaking against the pressure. "They come upstream when it is warm. It is their time of mating."

"Oh," Lily replied. A strand of hair fell across her sticky forehead. Blowing a breath, she swiped it away. "Do they lay their eggs here?"

Melieth shook her head. "No. Further north, where the current is less strong."

"Right." She watched the fish disappear into the darker depths, beneath the rocks and the sunken, rotting tree logs.

Melieth glanced over at the girl. "The sunshine does you well, child. You're glowing like a wild rose in the spring."

Lily laughed. "You really think so?"

She hummed. "Yes. You've recovered fetchingly well, indeed. Your husband made the right choice in marrying you."

If she didn't feel flushed before, she certainly did now. "Melieth, don't start."

The she-elf grinned. Squeezing out the water from a bundle of sheets, she yanked out another wash load from the billowing basket and dunked it into the stream. "I am only speaking the truth."

"And pigs can fly," Lily snorted.

Melieth laughed. She bent back down to the stream, running an old petticoat through the fast-flowing water.

"It is good weather for a swim," Lily spoke up, watching her. Her fingers were red and raw. She could see wrinkles beginning to form.

Melieth hummed in agreement. "Maybe we will have the time this evening."

The women worked hard under the blistering sun. Whilst Lily adored the sunshine, the intense, scalding heat was making her job intolerable. Sweat trickled down her forehead, running a path to her neck and sticking to her bodice.

Bored and lacking the attention they wanted, Amrod and Amras returned to the fortress. Before they slinked off, Lily made them promise to collect kindling. She had discovered the fortress' woodshed was running critically low.

Finishing their chores early, the women slung their clean, fresh laundry against low-hanging branches and stripped down to their chemises.

Tossing their kirtles carelessly aside, they waded into the river. The icy water bit Lily's flesh, but she didn't mind. It was a delicious feeling. Her bare feet tiptoed over the slippery, shallow rocks to the murkier depths. Fallen, floating leaves stuck to her chemise, and she dunked herself under the water to free herself. When she came back up, she gasped from the cold.

Melieth let out a small laugh. "Feeling refreshed yet?"

"Ah," she shivered, her hair a sopping mess, "that was delightful."

"Delightful. Right," she laughed, "try to be a bit more convincing next time."

Lily began floating on her back, swaying softly against the river's current. Her enjoyment was interrupted by the distant clopping of horse hooves against dirt. Melieth peered up over the bankside. "Ai," she said, "the boys have returned."

When she heard those words, she hastily splashed to her feet. "What?" She began to panic. Flashes of her wedding night came to her, unbidden and unwanted. "Where?"

"They're headed right this way," she said jovially.

"Gah!" Lily cursed and slipped against the muddied riverbed. "Ah!"

Melieth glanced at her. Her laugh was light. "Be careful, my dear."

Composing herself, Lily watched as her husband and his brother rode towards them, looking noble and strikingly beautiful upon their steads. Against her will, her heart fluttered.

"My lords!" Melieth called out happily. "Tis good to see your faces once more."

Maglor slowed his horse at the riverbank, nudging his boots tighter against the stirrups. The mare snorted, kicking up bits of dirt as she stopped. Maedhros came beside him, and his eyes immediately latched onto her own. At that moment, Lily wanted to crawl into a hole and die. His wicked glare told her that he knew everything, and he was not pleased in the slightest.

Maglor spoke up. "It is good to be back, mellon nín. I apologise for my sudden departure," At his words, Lily turned to face him. He stared at her, calm and collected. "A situation arose."

That was to be his excuse? Lily wanted to throw something at him. He'd left her aching and alone in his bedroom, because of some situation? God, she was angry. She was angry at him, and angry at herself for feeling such petty things.

He'd only married her out of compassion; in pity and kindness, for someone who was ill and dying. She shouldn't hold any contempt at all.

Maglor's gaze was consuming. "And how does my wife fare?"

My wife. Lily could see Maedhros stiffen beside him. Feigning confidence, she held her head back. "I am well, my lord."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said, coolly. Wrapping his hands around the reins, he steered the horse away. "We will see you ladies back at the keep." Nodding, he turned and rode south. Maedhros gave Lily a final, dark glance before joining his brother.

They departed as quickly as they came. A swift, thunderous cloud of virile masculinity.

Lily and Melieth trudged back to the bankside and packed away their laundry. She felt Melieth's shrewd gaze on her. "What?" She ground out, folding a bed coverlet a bit too aggressively.

"Is everything well between you and Makalaurë?"

"I…" Lily chewed on her lip. How could she say it? "I don't know. He acted strange after we, well…you know."

Melieth quirked an eyebrow. "In what way?"

"He left. As though he couldn't bare the sight of me," Lily felt stupid, "and now that I'm saying it out loud, it sounds completely ridiculous."

Melieth shook her head, her gaze warm. "No, no. Don't think that way, mellon nin. It is not a silly thing to feel desired, especially by someone who you've sworn an oath of marriage to."

Lily ringed her chemise dry. "But it's not like that," she said, "I feel confused. I'm not quite certain what he wants. At times, he is kind. But then he'll turn and act like a complete jerk."

"Jerk?"

Lily struggled to find a relevant elvish curse. "Orqu." Orc.

Melieth laughed. "Of course," she said. "Well, he is a man. And he is also his father's son."

"Right," Lily muttered.

"Don't be too harsh on the boy, my dear. He's not perfect," Melieth balanced her basket onto her shoulder, "reach out to him. Tell him of your needs and your wants and he will listen, I'm sure of it. Any good husband should learn to please their wife."

Despite being drenched to the bone, she felt warm. Melieth spoke wisdom. Despite her youthful appearance, the woman was ancient and wiser than a barn owl. Perhaps, Lily thought, she should consider her advice.

That night, the great hall was brimming with life. Roasted meats, baked potatoes and hot pies, mixed salads and kegs of ale. Food and drink spilled across the length of the long-table, looking mouth-wateringly divine to the Feanorian legion. They'd spent the month living off dirt and wild rabbits. They made merry in their luxury. There was laughter.

Lily watched the elven men from her seat at the table, and their easy delight warmed her spirit. She almost forgave them for the copious mud they'd trekked through the halls.

Her husband sat beside her. He talked stiffly with his younger brothers, who lounged opposite the table. Their eyes were bright and full of mischief.

"How's married life treating you, brother?" Amrod asked, piling his plate high with roasted pheasant.

Lily kept silent, using her fork to push beans around her plate. Maglor sipped wine from his goblet. "I cannot complain," he said. Lily watched as a muscle in his cheek tightened. The dim light of the room cast shadows across his sharp, noble features, making him look more intimidating than ever. "Lily is a good woman."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You exaggerate, husband." Her words were wry.

Maglor eyed her. "Not quite, I think."

As if sensing the tension between them, Amras grinned. "And does he satisfy your desires, Lady Lily?"

At those words, Maglor spluttered on his drink. Lily coughed, bringing a hand to her mouth to stifle her surprise. "My desires?"

Amrod laughed ribaldly. "Ai," he said, "your natural, physical desires as a reportedly good woman?"

Maglor, lowering his drink, glared at him. "What my wife and I do in private is none of your concern, Amrod."

"Oh please," Amras rolled his eyes. "Like we don't know all your dirty little secrets."

Dirty little secrets? "Secrets? What secrets?" Lily asked, hiding her smile behind the brim of her goblet.

Amras smirked devilishly. "Where do I even begin?"

Maglor glared at him.

"Ah, yes. How about that time in Tirion? When your attempts to woo the lovely Vanyarin lady Uilieth ended you up in a fountain?"

"Stop it," he warned.

Amrod cackled. "Oh, and how about the time he almost burned down Formenos because he was too busy mooning over some silly girl who didn't even know his name?"

Lily laughed. Maglor groaned beside her, putting his hand in his hands. He slumped back against his chair, "please stop, the both of you. Can I not eat in peace?"

"Never, Makalaurë," Amras grinned, "you must always be reminded of your most pathetic moments."

Lily looked over at the twins, and she smiled. Though they teased their elder brother, it was evident that they loved him. Fearlessly, unconditionally. What must it be like to have such a family? She'd been an only child - she'd always wished for siblings. It had been dreadfully lonely growing up in her papa's home. At the thought of it all, Lily felt a wave of sadness wash over her.

Sullen, she picked at her food.

Maglor glanced over, frowning. Beneath the table, his hand reached out, gripping her thigh. His touch was like fire. She felt a strange upswell of emotion; concern, irritation, longing. The suddenness of it all made her realise it wasn't her feelings, but her husband's.

She almost dropped her fork onto the table. How?

"Are you alright, little mouse?" He'd dipped his head down towards her, his own breath tickling her ear.

Lily felt flustered. "I'm fine." She poked at a piece of cabbage. "And don't call me that."

He ignored her. "You seem sad." Could he feel her emotions, too? "Is there anything I can do to help with that?"

The question was innocent enough, but made a warm, traitorous heat stir within her lower body. Lily flushed hotly. She looked at him, and saw that his eyes were sparkling; this time with something else. When did the infuriating man get so close?

"I," she began, "there's nothing you can do." Memories of him above her, his hard body pressing against her own, moving inside her, came unwilling and unwanted. She shovelled a forkful of potatoes into her mouth. "Get your hand off my leg."

"If you ask nicely I just might," he murmured.

Lily glared. He smiled sweetly down at her, feigning innocence. His fingers deliciously rubbed soft circles along her thigh. She almost jumped out of her seat. "Can you please remove your hand, my lord?"

"I'm only aiming to comfort my wife when she is in distress," he teased casually.

"Distress? I'm not in distress. Your touch is a distraction. So stop it."

Maglor's lip quirked. Eyes flickering, he turned back towards the table. "As you wish, fíriel," he murmured. He looked towards his brothers, who were watching slyly.

Eyes disinterested, he continued. "If you're willing, I would like you to come to my chambers tonight." He stabbed a piece of pheasant and brought it to his mouth.

Lily nearly choked on her food."Why, my lord?" She didn't dare look at the twins. She could already hear their snickering.

"There is an issue of importance I require to speak of." His voice held no lightness, nor laughter.

Oh.

"As you wish," she muttered cynically. She forked her tomato a bit harder than necessary. The rest of the night would be a trying one, indeed.

It was late when Lily finished mopping the lower halls.

Wiping her hands dry on her apron, she placed aside her broom and made her way to the third floor of the fortress. It was dark. The floors creaked and groaned beneath her, like an old man dying. Hesitating, she knocked on her husband's door.

"Come in," his voice was muffled.

Lily entered, then clicked the door shut behind her. The bedroom was the same as it'd been on their wedding night. She refused to look at the rumpled, inviting coverlets and sat down by the fireplace.

Maglor was casually undressing as he joined her. Unbuttoning the top rows of his white tunic, he slumped down onto a nearby wicker chair. He looked exhausted.

Lily held back the urge to comb mussed strands of hair that'd fallen over his face. Instead, she clasped her hands neatly in her lap. "What did you wish to speak of?"

"Lillian," he muttered, languidly eyeing her figure. "Lillian, you must know, that I…" He trailed off. Clearing his throat, he continued. "You must know that I am sorry."

Lily felt her old grievances bubbling to the surface. She frowned at him. "For what?"

"I should not have left you after our joining. It was wrong," he said, his dark, stormy eyes mellowed and withdrawn. "I was being a coward."

Lily felt his sincerity and her heart ached. "It's alright," she said, "I forgive you." And she did.

Maglor watched her, leaning his elbow against the armrest. He cradled his chin in his hands. "It's that easy, is it? For you to forgive me?"

Lily tilted her head. He looked melancholic and sad; vastly different from how he held himself within the dining hall. "Yes."

"How do you do it?"

"What do you mean?"

"How do you forgive someone so quickly?"

Lily thought. "I do it because I must, my lord. My papa once told me that it does no good to fester on your own bitterness," she said, "however, just because I've forgiven you doesn't mean I'm not hurt. I still feel. I'm only human."

"Ai," he said slowly, "you're right, firiel." He drummed his fingers against the wood, turning his eyes towards the fireplace. "There is something to come, with which I do not expect you to forgive me for."

Apprehension swelled. "What is it?" She asked.

Maglor's eyes were bleak. He didn't look at her. "My men have discovered the location of a Silmaril. We will be departing tomorrow for Sirion."

His words were like a punch to the gut. "Silmaril?"

"Aye," he muttered darkly, "my father's creation. A cursed jewel. Akin to my brothers and our people, I swore an oath before Ilúvatar, that we should retrieve the jewel or suffer everlasting darkness."

Lily chewed on her lip. She was at a loss for words. Had this been the foul, stinking weight he carried upon his shoulders? "Where is Sirion?" She asked.

"It's an estuary located far west. There will be innocent people there. Refugees of Morgoth, most likely."

At those words, she grimly understood his implications. Her husband would ravage Sirion, and slaughter anyone who stood in his way. He would commit murder. She felt sick to her stomach. "Don't go," she said, her voice ashen. "Don't go there."

Maglor was aloof. "Ai, firiel. It is not that simple. I cannot forgo an oath sworn before the almighty one. It is sacred, unbreakable. Do you understand this?"

Lily didn't reply. She felt frightened. Despair clawed at her - she had to do something. Warn somebody. Lily looked at his hands, calloused and formidable. Dangerous. "How many others have you killed?" She asked bleakly.

Maglor was silent. His eyes were shadowed. "Too many," he answered. "I will not ask you to forgive me for this, Lillian. It is unforgivable. But I tell you because Nestariel and my brothers will be joining me. As will most of the men in this fortress." He looked at her gravely. "I do not know when we will return."

Lily swallowed. "Right," she said, shakily. "Will Melieth go?"

"Nay. She will stay."

Lily took little comfort in that. She looked at her husband sitting before her. Beautiful, angelic, hollowed-out.

"I cannot convince you to stay with me?" She asked.

He smiled bitterly. "No." The word was short, stiff. As if he didn't care at all.

Anger, hot and fierce, swelled. Lily couldn't - wouldn't - understand. She'd been a combat nurse during the War. She'd witnessed the brutality, the wickedness and the devastation wrought upon innocent lives. She'd cradled orphaned babies in her arms, she'd cared for shell-shocked bomb victims. During those times, she failed to comprehend how anybody could justify such violence.

In a twisted form of fate, she sat before a man who had killed innocent people and would do it again in a heartbeat.

And for what? An insignificant, meaningless little jewel? A small relic, reminiscent of his late father?

Lily remembered their conversation upon the watchtower, all those months ago. "We sought for something we are no longer worthy of." He had said those words, and she'd felt compassion.

Now, she felt ill.

On the brink of death, she'd sworn an oath of marriage to a man who was capable of committing atrocity. Who would willingly go and commit an atrocity.

And she was powerless to stop him.

"Your emotions torment you, little one. Tell me, what are you thinking about?" He sat before her, his long legs sprawled about.

Lily was grim. Her eyes flashed. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes," Maglor said darkly. "Go ahead and tell me, let's get your real feelings out in the open."

Lily glared at him, barely reigning in her temper. Her knuckles whitened. "I'm going to bed," she muttered, rising.

"I don't think so," he replied, "I'm not done talking with you. Sit back down."

Blatantly disobeying, Lily started out of his bedroom, calling him a foul name under her breath.

Maglor's own temper erupted. He caught up with her and swung her around. "Don't mutter it under your breath, Lillian. Come on! Say it to my face."

She yanked free of him. She screamed plenty of names at him. She knew plenty. She saw his anger and jerked her chin up defiantly. "Go ahead and hit me. Maybe it'll make you feel like the man you want to be!"

"Not likely. But that's what you want, isn't it? Some hard knocks, an excuse for you to hate me."

"Hogwash!" She bit back. He was right and she knew it. "I'm going to bed, and don't you dare disturb me!" She spun back around and marched away. The door slammed shut behind her.

Within, Lily heard him curse. There was a crash.

She ran back to her room and sobbed. Her wedding ring, jagged and rough, cut into her fingers.

What odious, bleak hellhole had she dug herself into?