Chapter 28 – The Pieces

I have lived many different lives. Son and Brother. Subject and King. Murderer and Wanderer. The last I lived the longest. In the ages I wandered my heart filled with emptiness. But now I feel it again as if for the first time. Hope. It shattered inside me long ago. The pieces are many, sharp and scattered, but they can be gathered again in time. And I finally understand. Here in Valinor, time is all we have.


Valinor
Fourth Age

Ionwë spotted the ellon immediately, a hooded figure seated on an outcropping along the cliffside wall. There was nothing to give the elf's identity away, no insignia on the cloth to mark his house. His features were hidden, but despite the shroud, Ionwë had a firm suspicion of who it was that awaited him. His suspicion was confirmed when the ellon lowered his hood. Their eyes met briefly before the other looked away. Ionwë took that moment to gather himself before taking a seat beside him.

"I wondered when our paths might cross."

There was no malice in Ionwë's words. The prince of the Teleri had always been a calm, peaceful soul, but much had changed since the old days. Maglor had no way of knowing what manner of reception he would receive. He had expected worse, maybe even wished for it. Ionwë's anger would have given him reason to walk away. He had no reason now.

"I thought you would pass this way sooner or later," Maglor said.

"You were correct." There was a long silence in which Ionwë marked the troubled lines of Maglor's face and he voiced what he had been wondering for many years. "How are you?"

Maglor laughed, a harsh, unhappy sound. He met Ionwë's eyes for the second time and tried to decipher the emotions he saw there. He could not convince himself he read them right. "How can you ask me that?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

A reason? Maglor could give him a thousand reasons – or one. "I killed you. Right over there." He gestured to the bend in the road where Ionwë fell, though he was certain the ellon had not forgotten.

"That was a long time ago."

He said it so simply, it almost sounded true. But the words rang hollow in Maglor's heart. "Not for me," he said. "I've watched you fall ten ten-thousand times from that day to this. Sometimes I fall with you. Often I wish I had."

"Makalaurë..."

"Maglor. And please, allow me to say this before the words escape me."

Ionwë nodded and a silence followed in which Maglor gazed at the cliff's edge. The events of that night long past played over and over again in his mind. "I was never first at anything in my father's eyes until he handed me that sword. I was the first to master it, and the first to kill with it, and you were the first to die, the first of so many. But despite the countless lives my hands have taken, it is that night that continues to haunt me. It is only recently I understood why."

Maglor eyes clouded as his mind replayed the events of that terrible night. The argument. The struggle. Maglor's blade sliding into Ionwë heart. And then... "You asked the Valar to forgive me."

"What else could I do?" said Ionwë.

"You could have cursed my name."

Ionwë shook his head. "I knew Makalaurë. He was my friend and he needed my prayers that night. He needs them still."

"I am not Makalaurë. He died here, with you, ages ago, and he deserved no one's prayers."

Ionwë dismissed Maglor's argument with a shrug. "Then I shall pray for the ellon beside me now."

Maglor wanted to continue the argument, tell Ionwë he did not deserve such mercy, but before he could do so Ionwë stood and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Come tour the docks with me. I'll show you my new skiff. It is the fastest little ship I have ever built."

Maglor stared at the prince of the Teleri with a mixture of shock and disbelief. Upon first returning to Valinor he fled the docks as quickly as his legs would carry him, putting as much space between him and the memory of burning ships and dead friends as he could. Today he was being invited to visit as an old friend.

Maglor drew in a trembling breath. It caught in his throat but he managed to choke it down. He rose from his place on the bench and gazed out towards the shoreline and the ships, their sails dancing in the breeze. There was something else he needed to say, something he had debated and argued over for far too long, two words with too much meaning, and not enough.

"I'm sorry."

Ionwë acknowledged Maglor's apology with a nod and nothing more. "Are you coming, then?"

At the same moment the question was asked, the wind shifted. A gust out of the West pushed Maglor forward a step, one step towards the sea. The second he took on his own.


In Maglor's childhood memories the eastern slopes of Tirion were sparsely populated. The paths leading down into the valley wound through fields of wildflowers. Over the ages, the city grew, and though it had been years since Maglor's return to Valinor, he'd had no reason to venture here before. He knew which road to take. It was his duty to manage the city's growth and construction. He knew the most direct path from the palace to his destination and arrived before dawn.

The young servant who greeted Maglor at the gate was flustered by his appearance, just as Maglor knew he'd be. Maglor asked the way to Elrond's study, for he knew from conversations with Eruanna that he spent his early mornings there. Elrond's servant was so shaken that he did not consider protest. He led Maglor to his destination, but the Prince stopped the young ellon from announcing his arrival and dismissed him. The servant hurried away and when his footsteps finally faded Maglor knocked twice upon the door.

"Come in."

Maglor opened the door to find Elrond seated at his desk. He did not look up immediately but when he did Maglor watched the blood drain from his face. Elrond's expression morphed quickly from surprise to something unreadable. Maglor remained in the doorway, but when Elrond failed to bid him enter or leave, Maglor chose to enter and shut the door behind him. He approached the desk. It was the same one he stood across from at the palace when he gave Elrond the lament. This time Maglor moved to the seat opposite and sat down. He waited silently, feeling the weight of Elrond's eyes upon him. He waited for Elrond to throw him out, but the order never came. The silence lengthened and in that silence Maglor found permission to speak.

"You and Elros were the only joy in Middle-earth I ever knew. In the ages I wandered, my thoughts would ever return to you. I betrayed you and I pray one day you will forgive me, but I don't believe you should. I only wish for you to know that every day of my life, from the night we carried you from Sirion to this very hour, I have wished I could alter the course of history to spare you both the pain we caused you."

Maglor watched Elrond's eyes for any sign he would respond. When no answer came, Maglor rose. Having said what he'd come to say, he would not force Elrond to suffer his presence further. He turned to the door, but Elrond's voice stopped him.

"Wait."

Maglor turned back to find Elrond staring hard at his own steepled hands. He could only imagine what Elrond saw there. He was soon to find out.

"I don't remember Sirion," Elrond confessed. "I have tried. I know the memories are inside me somewhere, but they have ever refused to see light. Elros remembered. When we were small he would speak of things that happened before. Whenever I would accuse him of making up tales he'd grow angry and rub his scar."

Maglor's thoughts returned to the first age, to Elros as a boy, tiny fingers absently tracing the raised line Maedhros' blade left behind. "I remember. If ever he was troubled his fingers would linger there."

Elrond could not halt the torrent of childhood memories that washed over him. One, above all others pushed to the fore. The last argument he and Elros ever had. It pained him still, three ages hence.

"Elros remembered Sirion. He remembered our mother and what you and Maedhros did. I know in time he grew to love you, but he never trusted you. I don't think he trusted any elf again, save for Anira. That is why he chose to be counted among men. He tried to explain this to me ere he departed for Numenor, but I could not understand, for I could not remember. He told me he understood. He forgave me my forgetting and my anger at him for choosing the mortal path."

Maglor remembered well the distance Elros kept between himself and others. It was not the child's fault, it was Maglor's, and Elrond suffered for it still. "I thought once that he chose to remember, so that you could forget."

Elrond's eyes rose from his hands to meet Maglor's, seeking answers. "What else did Elros remember that I do not?"

Maglor sighed, the weight of the past weighing him down. "Maedhros," he said. "He was unwell long after Sirion. And Elros, young as he was, understood that my brother was a danger to you both. He understood, and was ever watchful when Maedhros was near. I watched too, and Arandur as well, but twice I know of Maedhros found you alone. The first time Maedhros shoved your brother hard enough to knock him to the floor, the second time…"

"He struck Elros with a belt," Elrond finished.

Maglor startled, surprised. "You remember?"

No, he didn't, not exactly. The searchlight of Elrond's mind lit the memory from a different angle. He remembered only his own anger at his brother. "I remember Elros knocking me off my chair to the floor and pushing me under the table. I remember being angry with him for that … and I ... I recall the sound of the lash, but he did not cry out."

"No," said Maglor. "He barely shed a tear when Arandur bandaged his back. Anira believed he drew Maedhros' ire to protect you." Maglor came to recognize it, too, in time, how Elros would place himself between Elrond and danger. "Man or elf, Elros was one of the fiercest, bravest souls I have ever known."

Elrond agreed. And it surprised him to find comfort in knowing another remembered his brother thus. The past was a bond he and Maglor would forever share. Elrond could no longer deny it. Nor could he deny how deep that connection ran. "We called you ada."

The word, spoken by Elrond, made Maglor's heart ache. "I remember."

As did Elrond. He remembered the love and trust he once had in Maglor and he remembered the day it was shattered. But of the rest? "What else have I forgotten?" It was a question directed inward, but Maglor answered him.

"I do not know, but I will recount each day you were with me if that is your wish. It will be awhile in the telling."

Elrond did not doubt Maglor would help him light those memories his mind kept dark, no matter how much it pained him or how long it took. And in that moment, the love he once held in his heart for Maglor awakened again, fragile, bruised, but not wholly destroyed. Elrond accepted Maglor's offer with a nod. "What do we have," he said, "but time?"


Eruanna organized the papers she planned to work on the following morning into a neat and ordered stack. She had been incredibly busy with Maglor away again so soon after his journey to his grandfather's house. She had quite a time catching him up on everything he missed over the weeks he'd been away. Maglor offered her few details of his journey, except to say that he met with many whom he long feared to face. Some spoke with him gladly, some with trepidation. Others, still, were not yet ready. They asked for time. Eruanna chose not to press him for more detail than he freely offered. He would tell her one day, when he was ready.

Maglor emerged from the archive adjoining the office with a heavy tome just as Eruanna completed her task. He placed the ledger on the edge of her desk. "We need to get you a step so you can reach the top shelf. I don't know how you do it when I'm away."

Eruanna shrugged. "I drag a chair over. It's not too bad."

Maglor frowned at the thought of Eruanna dragging one of the massive chairs across the room and even more so at the thought of Lord Erestor's reaction should she slip and fall. "I'll request a stair tomorrow. Your father would drive a spear through my heart should you be injured while in my company."

Eruanna was struck by Maglor's violent and utterly accurate assessment of how her father would react should she injure herself here. She wanted to defend Erestor to Maglor but she knew it unnecessary. "Maybe it is a good idea."

It was not often Maglor spoke so freely without thinking. He realized immediately that his comment about Erestor upset Eruanna. "I apologize for my careless words. It was not my intent to upset you, or to imply your father's anger would be unjustified."

"You are not wrong," Eruanna said. "About how he would react, that is."

Maglor's memory flitted past the hundreds of council meetings in which Erestor sat pointedly ignoring him, returning to the only time they had ever spoken, or, more rightly, when Erestor hissed at Maglor.

Keep your distance, kinslayer.

There was a moment on the ship when Maglor thought the strange elf would attack him, toss him overboard into the sea. "I remember the way he looked at me on the ship. I saw my death in his eyes…and then he turned away."

Eruanna remembered the encounter all too well. She, too, had feared Erestor's anger would break free, but he managed to rein it in. "He fears himself more than anything. He allowed another to teach me to wield a sword for fear he might hurt me. It was only after I came close to death that he allowed himself to train with me – but only with wooden swords."

Maglor was surprised by Eruanna's confession. He knew that Erestor mistrusted him but he had no idea how deep the ellon's pain ran. "Why wooden swords?"

Eruanna hesitated, her guilt at revealing her father's secrets at war with her want for Maglor to understand. "He fought to defend Sirion when your armies attacked. He watched you…" Here Eruanna paused, not knowing whether revealing this part of her Erestor's past would help or hurt him. "He watched you cut down his father. It haunts him still, everything that happened there. He fears even now that he might be overcome by the anger within him and cause another death or injury."

"I see," said Maglor. "And do you still spar with him here in Valinor?"

"Yes, we meet every Thursday at dawn." Here Eruanna caught a flash of something in Maglor's eyes, something she had seen before in another. Shaking her head, she sought to change his mind. "I have seen that look before, on Glorfindel's face, the day my adar nearly gutted him."

Maglor's eyes widened. "Now that sounds like a fascinating tale."

Eruanna thought that debatable. "Please, don't confront him in such a manner. If he cannot pull back it will haunt him forever."

"Or perhaps it will set him free?"

"Him, or you?"

Here Maglor fell silent. It was not an unreasonable question for her to ask, but his heart struggled to find the answer.


Erestor grew increasingly concerned by his daughter's lack of concentration during their sparring sessions. It was as if her thoughts were off somewhere else. They were certainly not on her blade or her opponent. It was clear enough to Erestor that something was troubling her but for weeks now she refused to tell him what it was. As their session drew to a close her blows and technique became more precise as the anxiety she carried upon her arrival faded and Erestor, having relaxed his own senses somewhat in response to his daughter found himself on the ground compliments of a clever combination that momentarily knocked him off balance.

Eruanna laughed at the sight of her father on the ground. He normally recovered fast but he appeared too surprised at finding himself amid the grass to rise quickly. She offered him her hand. "What happened? I didn't think you would fall for that move."

"I was distracted by your distraction." Erestor took his daughter's hand and drew himself to his feet. He turned to brush the dust from his tunic when out of the corner of his eye he caught movement of someone watching from the entryway.

Maglor stood by the entrance of the training field, one of many on the palace grounds enclosed by tall and well maintained hedges. Eruanna had confessed to Maglor that they trained here because her father preferred a spot that was quiet and secluded.

Maglor entered their sanctuary without asking permission. "You trained her well."

"What do you want?" Erestor snapped, caught off guard by Maglor's sudden and bold appearance.

Maglor crossed to Eruanna's side. "May I?" He gestured to the wooden practice sword she held in her hand.

Eruanna's heart pounded in her chest. She had been dreading this moment for weeks, hoping Maglor had forgotten their conversation about her father, fearing he had not. Her eyes flitted back and forth between her father and Maglor. She could not hand Maglor the sword. She couldn't do that to her father. In the end she didn't have to. Her panicked mind barely registered the moment Maglor took hold of the wooden sword and drew the weapon from her hand.

Maglor took the wooden replica in his hand and found Erestor's eyes again. "Care for a match against one you do not fear to harm?"

Eruanna could see the wave of fury rushing to the fore through her father's eyes. "Prince Maglor, please."

Maglor shook his head. "Go now, child. Play time is over. Your father and I need some time alone."

Erestor's eyes were fixed on Maglor when he spoke to his daughter. "Leave us, Eruanna," he said. "I will find you later."

Eruanna hoped to change his mind. "Ada…"

"Leave us. Now!" Erestor shouted.

Eruanna knew the anger in his voice was not meant for her. She turned to Maglor, her eyes pleading with him to walk away, but she saw no sympathy there. Instead the Prince motioned in the direction of the field's entry, dismissing her again. Eruanna was at a loss for what to do, the fear in her heart bidding her to stay put and at once to flee. She turned on her heals and ran from the field but quickly found a break in the hedge where she could watch from the other side.

Once Eruanna was out of sight Maglor returned his attention to Erestor. The anger and hatred he'd seen in Erestor's eyes that night on the ship burned brightly now. Maglor tested the weight of the wooden sword in his hand. It was a fine hardwood, blunt, to be sure, but in the right hands, solid enough to inflict more than a small amount of damage.

"I don't know if you can kill me with this," said Maglor, "but I'm sure you can make a fair attempt. Shall we find out?"

Maglor took a defensive posture. He would not attack first. Attack was not his intent. He watched as ages of pent up fury took hold of Erestor and without warning the ellon moved, a precise and deadly blow Maglor barely managed to parry which was followed quickly by several more. Maglor was surprised by Erestor's skill. The elf seated at Elrond's side in the King's Council these many years hid this side of himself well.

Erestor was skilled, but the sword still sang to Maglor as it had in ages past. He coolly parried each of Erestor's furious blows. Maglor hoped to wear the anger out of him, but Erestor's rage seemed only to grow. The emotion did not weaken the counselor. Indeed, it focused him, making Erestor a more formidable foe.

In all the battles Maglor fought against orc and elf, he could not recall facing an enemy so determined to defeat him. No, there was one. The memory of Fëanor attacking him in the courtyard of his forge so many ages ago distracted Maglor briefly. It was long enough.

Maglor missed the block and Erestor's sword struck his right arm with such force that he heard the bone crack beneath it. The wooden sword flew from Maglor's hand. The pain was blinding and he had nothing with which to defend against Erestor as the ellon struck the side of his chest. Again, Maglor heard bones crack under the sword, forcing the wind from his lungs. Maglor was driven to his knees by a hit to his back once, twice and again. And then nothing.

The rain of blows came suddenly to a halt. Maglor, gasping for breath and clutching his broken arm against his chest lifted his eyes to find Erestor standing over him; his sword raised in what Maglor was certain to be a killing blow should it fall. Erestor's entire body shook with rage even as he lifted the wooden sword higher.

A roar of anguish erupted from Erestor and he let loose the weapon from his hands. It fell to the floor. Maglor watched Erestor's eyes fill with tears before he turned away, hands rising up to shield his face. He took two steps away and fell to his knees as if some unseen force had struck him down. He moaned and wept with his head in his hands.

Maglor waited for the storm of Erestor's emotions to die down before reaching out to him. When the storm calmed, Maglor drew an aching breath and inched across the grass toward Erestor with what strength and courage he had left. He reached out his good hand and laid it tentatively on Erestor's shoulder. The counselor stilled at his touch and Maglor spoke. "You have allowed the memory of me to rule you, Erestor, to control your thoughts and your actions. I am not worthy of such power. I am nothing. Take it back. Do not allow my past to sway you any longer."

Erestor wiped his eyes with the hem of his sleeve. Trying not to heed the Fëanorion's words and failing. He had heard them before, from Glorfindel, from Eruanna and from his father as well. "My father said those same words to me, when I met him again on this shore." Erestor said. "You drove your blade into his neck as you rode out from Sirion. He was dead before I could reach him."

"Eruanna told me about your father," Maglor confessed.

Somehow Erestor was not surprised. "Did she tell you he has forgiven you?"

This, of all things, surprised Maglor. "No."

Erestor rested his forehead in the palm of his hands as if the pressure could soothe the ache there. "For millennia I waited to see him again, for millennia I carried this rage with me, only to find he bears you none. He has forgiven you. He tried to explain it to me, but I don't... I can't..."

"I do not expect your forgiveness, Erestor."

"What then?" Erestor asked, turning on Maglor, facing him for the second time, but now with pained and bloodshot eyes. "Why did you come here today? What was this for?"

Maglor withdrew his hand from Erestor's shoulder and regarded him sadly. Eruanna had asked him the same question, and he had chosen not to confront Erestor until he had an answer to give. "It was for both of us. For myself: to see if I could withstand the rage of those who live even now with the burden of my crimes heavy upon them. And for you: to see if one so burdened could set aside the past and move on. And one other reason, also."

A smile pulled at the corners of Maglor's mouth, an inappropriate expression of emotion for a conversation so grave. "I wished to thank you – for Eruanna – for permitting her to work with me despite your better judgment. For raising the most patient, kind," and here his gaze moved to the field's entryway, where Eruanna stood silently, watching, "… and willful elleth I have ever known."

Erestor's eyes followed the direction of Maglor's gaze and found his daughter watching them, tears streaming from her eyes.

"Ada?"

Erestor held out his hand to her and she flew to him. Before he could speak her name she had her arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Are you well?" she whispered.

"No," he replied, "but I will be. I will be."

Erestor hugged his daughter tightly before releasing her and, returning his attention to Maglor, assessed his injuries. "We must get you to the healers. Can you walk?"

"My legs are fine." Maglor tried to rise with the help of his one good arm but a sharp pain brought him down again. He lifted a hand to his side. "My ribs, however, seem to be a different matter."

"Eruanna, help me."

Erestor stood, drawing Eruanna up with him and the pair helped Maglor to his feet. They guided him as fast as he could walk to the healing hall. The two ellyn said nothing more to one another. No words of apology or forgiveness were spoken. But the hand that minutes earlier had been determined to beat Maglor to dust now supported his weight and carried him home to be healed. For both ellyn, it was enough.