Chapter 3 – Exile
One can be alone in a crowded room. All it takes is for others to look away.
Valinor
Fourth Age
Curiosity was a curse. Maglor was certain of it. He tried to keep it at bay, but like his temper, Maglor's curiosity broke free, tearing him from the safety of his rooms, leading him to a perch high above the banquet hall. It was the perfect place to observe the festivities without opening himself to danger.
Maglor did not come upon this clever lookout by chance. He knew the spot well. It was once a favorite hiding place of Fëanor's sons, when they were yet too young to attend the festivals. A family secret, passed down from older brother to younger. Maglor was no longer a child, but the width of the pillars was still great enough to offer him some cover.
They would see him, of course – those cautious enough to take account of the shadows, but he trusted that those watchful few would ignore him, as the servants did. There was a celebration underway, after all. Why would anyone bother with a shadow when the hall was filled with such light?
Such light!
Maglor could not tear his eyes off the crowd. The sea of beautiful faces shone like stars and he sought first the familiar constellations. His cousins and their descendants mingled with the other guests. They looked just like he remembered them, laughing and dancing together in the hall as they had before the Darkening of Valinor. Their joy was both a comfort and a knife to Maglor's heart. He wished he could laugh and dance with them.
It was not possible.
There were other elves in the crowd below. Ghostly faces shining once more with life. Elves he hurt, elves he killed. Maglor's gaze passed from one face to another until it fell upon a trio of silver-haired elves – two ellyn and an elleth laughing merrily together. A wave of nausea hit Maglor at the sight of them. There were three faces burned forever into his memory. If only he could forget.
If only…
The spectacle of the Ringbearer's Feast was overwhelming. The great hall of the palace was all alight. A thousand or more glittering figures filled the room. There was music. There was dancing. It was truly a sight to behold, and Eruanna drank in every last detail. She planned to capture the memory of the Feast in ink when the night was over, though she doubted any rendering by her hand would do the night justice. She marveled at the beautiful people, studied every light and shadow.
One shadow in particular caught her eye.
Eruanna's gaze was drawn by a movement high above the room. For a moment she thought the candlelight played tricks on her, but then she saw it again – movement on the arcade. A figure sheltered in the shadow of a pillar, and there was only one ellon she could think of who might hide himself from the light of the joyous crowd.
Maglor
It was no secret that the King had offered his nephew a home Tirion. What remained a mystery was the nature of the Valar's judgment, and the Lord's current whereabouts. He seemed to have vanished into the ether after his arrival – and most in the city thought it best.
Eruanna was not one of them.
She found her way to the far corner of the room and walked along the tapestry-adorned walls, searching for a camouflaged passage to the balcony. She found it, hidden from view by a silk drapery. She slipped behind the hanging and found a stairway. She climbed the winding steps, and upon reaching the second floor, peered out onto the walk. An ellon with black hair stood behind the third pillar, peering down upon the crowd. His attention was rapt on the people below, and he made no note of her as she stepped out into the light. Eruanna mirrored the ellon's posture, moving quickly behind a pillar so she would not be seen.
Eruanna watched Maglor silently for a time, though he continued to ignore her. Something below held his attention firm. She followed the direction of his gaze. It rested on three elves. One of the ellyn wore a crown. She did not recognize him or his companions, but by their silver hair Eruanna guessed they were members of the Royal Telerin line. Why Maglor watched them so intently was something of a mystery. There were others at the fete Eruanna would have thought more powerful draws for Maglor's gaze – Elrond, his grandparents, uncles and mother, for a start. In that moment, Eruanna had to concede the fact that she knew nothing at all about Maglor, save for the larger part he and his brothers played in the history of the First Age. The three elves he watched could be old friends – or enemies more important to him than to history.
There was so much she did not know.
As if Maglor could sense the direction of Eruanna's thoughts, his eyes abandoned the Teleri. He turned his attention to her but said nothing – only watched her silently beneath the cover of darkness. Maglor recognized her as the elleth who offered him lembas on the ship.
"Good evening, my Lord," Eruanna said, once she realized Maglor was not likely to initiate the conversation.
"Is it?" Maglor asked. His voice was sharp as knives.
Eruanna did her best to brush off the ellon's cold reply. "You are not enjoying the party?" she asked.
Maglor ignored her question. "You should not be seen speaking with me," he said.
Eruanna eyes abandoned Maglor's face and flew to the guests below. "No one is watching," she replied.
"If you think so, you are a fool," Maglor sneered.
This time Maglor's words were too pointed for Eruanna to deflect. The pain of the blow flashed in her eyes. There were many insults she could abide, but being called a fool to her face was not one of them. She withdrew a step, instinct bidding her a quick retreat.
Maglor's expression softened slightly upon seeing the child flinch. She had given him no reason to lash out in anger, if anything, her earlier kindness to him was a debt he was bound by honor to repay. He tried to soften the blow with gentler words. "Their eyes never stray to the balcony because they know I am here," he explained. "Or do you think the half-elven have better eyesight than full-blood elves?"
Eruanna had to admit – she had not considered that tiny fact. She let her gaze pass over the crowd. Only then did she catch the fleeting glances others cast at the arcade. "So then, they see us," Eruanna replied, "it matters not to me."
Maglor's brow arched in disbelief, and then he turned away and went back to brooding on the crowd.
Eruanna wondered where his thoughts took him as he stared absently at the people below. She wanted to ask him. She had always been too curious for her own good. Curiosity was the reason she climbed the stair, why she stood in the shadows with a living ghost, instead of enjoying the celebration downstairs. There were so many things she wanted to know, but each time a question was about to burst forth, she faltered. Eruanna knew not if the ancient Lord would answer her questions, or if he would answer true. And if he did, would the truth be more terrible than the gossip passed in the street? Despite her many misgivings, the courage she carried with her eventually proved the victor over her fear. A question she had been eager to ask him since he joined them on the ship slipped past her lips.
"What made you decide to sail?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The quiet volume was deliberate – if he chose not to answer, she could pretend she had never asked.
Maglor heard her clearly, of course, but there was a long pause before he offered a response. "The Valar wished me to return," he said at last. "I obeyed."
Eruanna was not entirely content with Maglor's answer. After all, she knew the Valar had made the same request of him millennia ago. Why he should choose to obey now was the true mystery, but she bit her tongue. It was a question best left for another time.
Eruanna pondered the Lord's carefully chosen words. He blamed the Valar; their call, their will. He'd named them without a hint of bitterness … or fear. One might have thought an ellon called to account for his crimes before the great shapers of the world would tremble a bit when speaking of them. Maglor's voice never quavered.
"You were not afraid of the Valar's wrath," Eruanna said. It was not a question.
"No," Maglor agreed.
"But you are afraid of them," she said of the crowd below.
Maglor's eyes narrowed a bit as he considered her words. He studied her face, searching for something hidden within the depths of her eyes. "You see much, for one so young."
"So others have told me," Eruanna replied with a shrug.
Maglor seemed to accept this answer easily enough. He was not unaccustomed to the strangeness of the half-elven. "You knew who I was then, back on the ship?" he asked, a hint of curiosity coloring his voice.
"I suspected," Eruanna replied with a small smile. Her suspicions would never have been raised, of course, were it not for the odd behavior of her elders. "I have never seen the great Lords of the Eldar look so…shaken," she added as an afterthought.
Maglor smiled at the memory. "I was a surprise to them," he said.
"Very much so," she replied.
Eruanna watched a spark of humor kindle in Maglor's eyes, but it burned out quickly. She continued to ponder him in silence, wondering what it must be like to be reunited with kin after 7,000 years of exile.
No. Not united.
His kin danced and laughed below in the lighted hall, while Maglor hid in the shadows. He was still alone, an exile in the greatest Elven city in Aman.
Maglor shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Eruanna's gaze. "It is not polite to stare," he muttered.
"I know," Eruanna replied.
"Then leave me in peace," Maglor growled. "I have had enough company for this evening." It might have been a demand, but the weariness in Maglor's voice made his words sound more like a plea.
Instead of retreat, Eruanna slipped one pillar closer to Maglor. She rested her cheek against the cold stone of the column, gazing thoughtfully upon his weary face. "Were you?" she asked.
"Was I what?" Maglor barked in frustration. His patience with the elleth's questions was beginning to wear thin. This was probably the longest conversation he'd had with another elf, save for Fingolfin, in several thousand years.
"At peace," she replied, "before I bothered you?"
Maglor bristled at the child's impertinent question and he offered her no reply. He was quite certain she knew the answer already.
Maglor's expression darkened and Eruanna knew her last question was the cause. It had not been her intent to anger him. Still, if there was one thing she'd learned in her short life, it was that no good came from avoiding the truth, no matter how unpleasant. It only made life more difficult. In a flash, the absurdity of the present situation hit Eruanna with full force. Maglor was hiding on the balcony when all below knew he was there! Why did he not simply step into the light? Then all of the Eldar would have to acknowledge him and one way or another end this absurd charade!
"Why not come down and join us?" Eruanna offered.
Maglor laughed coldly at her suggestion. "I am not wanted," he replied curtly.
Eruanna could well understand Maglor's desire to hide, unwanted, in some secret room of the palace. What she did not understand was why he would skulk in the shadows where others could see. Why cause himself pain by observing a joyous celebration from afar? Was this the punishment handed down to him by the Valar, to remain forever at a distance? Or was this a torment of his own making, a way of punishing himself for past crimes?
"Then why do you watch?" Eruanna asked.
Maglor shrugged. He wasn't really sure himself. "There are elves I wished to see tonight," is what he told her.
"Friends?" she asked, thinking of the silver-haired Teleri.
"No," Maglor answered with certainty.
Eruanna cast her gaze once again upon the sea of beautiful faces. Many of the greatest figures in history were in attendance this night. King Fingolfin laughed with his sons. Lord Elrond sat with his grandfather Dior. Lady Galadriel hung like a merry child on her brothers' arms.
"They live again, so many who met an untimely end," she whispered. "Are they the ones you hoped to see tonight?"
Maglor offered no answer. A long silence fell between them as pained eyes searched the faces of the crowd. It was Maglor's obvious anguish at the sight of the living dead that drew the next questions from Eruanna's lips.
"Why did you follow Fëanor? Why did you do all those terrible things?" she whispered.
Maglor's face hardened at the child's insolence and Eruanna cringed, preparing herself for a swift retreat should he explode in anger.
"If you want a history lesson," he ground out, "I am certain there are lore masters in the crowd."
Maglor's response was decidedly less venomous then she'd expected and the irony of his suggestion was actually quite amusing. "I am a lore master," was Eruanna's smug reply.
That was not quite the response Maglor had been expecting, but he recovered quickly from his surprise. "Then what more can I tell you?"
Eruanna thought a moment on the question. "I can recite the history of the Elder Days in my sleep," she said. "I do not require a timeline of events."
"Then what is it you want?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
'What do I want?' The Lord's question deserved an answer, but Eruanna was not certain she knew what it was. A memory of something Erestor once told her sprang to the forefront of her mind.
'Only Ilúvatar knows for certain what dwelt in Fëanor's heart.'
It might very well be impossible for Eruanna to know Fëanor's heart – but perhaps there was a chance she could understand his son's.
"I want to know why you followed him," she said.
'Why?' Maglor's thoughts echoed the word. It was a deceptively simple question, and there was only one reason, one answer he could offer up.
"He was … my father."
