A/N Maglor is Elrond's adopted father, Earendil and Elwing are Elrond's blood parents. Maitimo is Maedhros' quenya name and Maglor's older brother.
Excerpt from a healer's tome in Lindon, as per request by Círdan and Elrond to monitor the condition of the Fëanorion...:
Maglor is a much craftier evader than anyone, orc or elf, can ever hope to achieve. If he does not want to be found, he will never be found. He utilizes his learnings from Irmo Lord of Dreams to his benefit, to conceal himself, to instill emotions and thoughts in others, or to confuse and confound them...
Many wondered the wisdom of Celebrimbor when he created the three elven rings. In hindsight, it was known to all the elves the grandson of Fëanor was a fool to trust Annatar, allowing the enemy to teach the great lord forbidden knowledge in an attempt to change the fate of the elves.
None exactly knew the cost that would be paid when those rings were used for what they were designed to do, and what would happen if their wielders succumbed to the power and responsibility.
Imladris was finding out with the loss of Celebrían, and Glorfindel despised it. Although the lady was still alive, she was gone nonetheless, and Elrond reacted as if she had perished. He became withdrawn and morose, and his hold over Vilya wavered. The ring reflected the mood and thoughts of its master.
It was with great gratitude to Eru from Glorfindel that the One remained lost, but it made the dealing with this turmoil no less easy to bear.
Rain nonstop, ranging from light showers to lightning storms was a fact of life in recent weeks. It did not help either that Elrond's children also left their father as they mourned the loss of their mother. Arwen departed for Lothlórien and the twins were constantly hunting for orcs. The monsters did not need to be affiliated with Celebrían's tormenters to be slaughtered. They merely existed, and that was enough for Elladan and Elrohir.
They did not consider the lasting effects of their hunting. They were not aware of what it was doing to their mind and souls. They were being consumed by their bloodlust, and their absence further drove Elrond to heartbreak, for the elf-lord knew what would become of them. If they were not held back soon, they too would be lost.
Glorfindel did not want to imagine the destruction and despair that would follow if the twins perished. Thus, with no leave nor request, he equipped himself with his sword and bow, readied Asfaloth, and road out the gates and out of the valley. This day was full of lightning and thunder.
Glorfindel glowed despite the clouds, ignored the wind and heavy rain. He pushed his mount as quickly as he dared without risk of the stallion slipping and falling. The reborn elf doubted he would encounter any wild beast or creation of evil with the environment like this and his light.
Being alone left Glorfindel to his thoughts, and he cried in frustration and grief: all the events that led up to now and the pain of the life past came to the forefront of his mind. "Thou mayst not have intended this Celebrimbor, but this thou wrought with these foolish trinkets!" He seethed. "And we were foolish to continue to entertain the idea that we could defy that which must come to pass for our race!"
Glorfindel raged and lamented before looking up at the sky; the rain and his tears intermingling. He then composed himself with a deep breath and looked forward through the forests, plains, and the mountains of mist. "Elrodan, vengeance unending is not the answer. You have slaughtered enough."
The former lord of the golden flower continued his pursuit.
He found the twins' trails, but before long it was washed away by the rain. He would then find another, and that too would be washed away. Glorfindel settled into his mind to return to Imladris, defeated and without the people he hoped to bring back. Then beyond the hill, he saw something bright. Not firelight, but light like a star.
Perhaps…
Glorfindel rode closer to it, and he heard with ears sensitive to the Unseen, music found only in the halls of the Valar…specifically, what he recalled hearing in the Halls of Mandos, as that rested near the edge of the World.
Without warning a shout interrupted the music. Asfaloth stopped and nickered.
Glorfindel did not appreciate that this person made Asfaloth halt but weighed the consideration that they were not a threat, if the animal obeyed. Glorfindel gave pause, and his heart thumped a tad harder once he thought he recognized the voice.
He dismounted, staying by the great horse, the wind still blowing harshly. "It was not deliberate I stumbled upon you, Makalaurë, if it is you!"
A mist settled across the land while Glorfindel came toward the light, whether that was a result of the storm or Maglor's poor attempt to disorient the golden elf long enough for him to escape, it did not matter. Maglor may have been a mighty singer, but thousands of years wandering and isolated would diminish his power. A reborn elf sent by the Valar would be much stronger than a self-condemned exile
In time Glorfindel made out the image of the elf. He did not desire to see Maglor in his real state, as the sight of the fëa while looking in the spirit realm was sad enough. Maglor too could see Glorfindel in the same way, and the minstrel tried to retreat from the blazing purity of an elf sent back from the halls of the dead. An elven fëa undimmed was a beautiful thing to those who could see it. Even a chained and broken one was terrible to witness like Maglor's was. He looked like the prime in his youth and might, eyes ablaze while he wandered and drifted between the Seen and Unseen, being led to wherever the harmony and melody of the Song would lead him. The only things that dampened the light were the chains and scars.
Glorfindel did not get closer. The two ancient beings stood face to face, Glorfindel unwavering while Maglor held his sword out protectively, settling into a stance allowing him to bolt at any moment.
Glorfindel knew he could get lost in the melancholic yet still beautiful music if he did not stay focused. "You know the cause of this. I know for certain you do. If I am bold to say you linger around Imladris for a reason."
Maglor did not move.
Glorfindel pressed on, his earlier anger and grief resurfacing. "Adding further to that claim…If only you were near enough to help Celebrían to keep all this from happening! You know these storms are the result of your son's anguish. Are you going to continue your wandering, knowing he is on the verge of death? Know you that maybe seeing you can help strengthen him?"
Glorfindel thought he saw Maglor's demeanor change at the mention of Elrond, but the skittish exile remained unmoving.
Glorfindel shook his head. "You brought him to Imladris and saved many people, Makalaurë. You showed them the perfect place to hide from the enemy, and your son has built the most formidable home that parallels the strongholds of the First Age, small it may be. No thanks to your foolish nephew have we endured this long, and now Elrond is paying the price for taking on this tremendous risk. His soul could very well be lost if the Ring is restored to unfriendly hands."
Glorfindel knew his next words would be petty, but harsh words that could strike close enough for action may be needed for his plea to get across. "You kept him alive only for him to die as if he was one of you by blood: cursed to meet a cruel end, but this time he is innocent of all the evils your brethren committed to be undeserving of such punishments."
Glorfindel thought Maglor flinched…or it was a mere trick of the eye. Maglor indeed stiffened, and some emotion entered his face with each accusation and blame. Yes, it was a low blow, yes Maglor already has been beating himself and doing remission for his crimes by being an exile for thousands of years…
Glorfindel finally let up. "If your mind is not all gone, then please," he begged. "Do something. Find Elrond's sons for me, come back to Imladris, and be restored. Anything. Stop your suffering while easing Elrond's at the same time."
Instead of waiting to see what the minstrel would do, Glorfindel mounted and turned away. After walking a few steps, he turned around and peered into the fog, and Maglor was gone like a wisp.
Glorfindel returned to his resigned state and headed back to the Valley. He was weary and tired of being wet and cold. He was inclined to believe that this encounter was strictly by accident, and Maglor would do nothing but continue to wander in the misery of his past. Glorfindel did not help the fact by bringing up all the charges again…but he doubted pleading with gentle words would work.
Whatever the outcome, Glorfindel merely hoped Elladan and Elrohir would return, and stay home.
The welcome back was not grand, but Glorfindel was not expecting nor desiring one. He was given looks of worry and concern. All Glorfindel did was clean Asfaloth before going inside the building and washing the filth and mud of days' worth riding. After that, he, Erestor, and Tathardes did their best to manage affairs in the absence of Elrond.
The same pattern continued for days, the storm quieting at times, and at others, lightning and wind blew strong.
Then…it happened.
Elladan and Elrohir rode into the courtyard, messy and covered in mud from their long trek, but their faces were distressed and horrified, a stark difference compared to the coldness and hatred they possessed.
Glorfindel did not get in their way. He watched them enter the house and then waited. The clouds did not go away, nor the rain, but he felt a remarkable difference in the air, and sagged in relief.
Things were going to get better.
The next evening, now that everyone was not fearing for Elrond's life, Glorfindel heard music again. It was not from the Hall of Fire or one of the local minstrels. He felt the same he had felt when he found Maglor: his soul being tugged and lulled to the player's will. Thus, the golden lord knew who it was, and came out to one of the porches to see if he could catch another glimpse.
Maglor was tucked against a far cliff strumming as best he could his harp, also manipulating the strings of the Song that was playing as the world's life. Glorfindel felt guilty at that moment for his harsh words. He then wondered…how often was Maglor also aiding Elrond in keeping the Valley safe, between eliminating orcs and reinforcing the girdle?
'You may come home,' Glorfindel reached out telepathically. He got no response in return, but he would at least let it be known to the ancient minstrel that he was wanted here, even if that was only two people in this entire settlement.
Glorfindel went back inside.
His being was bent on playing the songs both physical and not, all thought bent into exerting his power that allowed none of his normal musings. Disjointed thoughts still trickled through, sometimes breaking the flow of the song, and weakening the effect.
What are these small acts of kindness compared to the sins he committed? These small acts could never cover the sea of blood on his hands, hands that actively or passively killed and caused untold suffering. All because he had no backbone, so his father and a few brothers would tell him. He could not stand up for himself.
The inaction killed Maitimo, the inaction brought him away from mother, the action killed and caused pain, the action spared the twins…
The action brought Elrond's twins home. But all he did was stir their conscience with the strumming of the harp and voiceless whispers while he remained invisible to their eyes, finding them only by the emotions they left behind. No storm nor rain could destroy that.
The action brought him back here, the haven his dear son made. The place he showed Elrond to at a distance, before whisking his presence away from Elrond's eyes. The cry for him to wait instead of disappearing was loud in his ears.
But not being there, not being a part of life…Elrond would not want him back, not after forsaking him as Eärendil and Elwing did. No one here would want him back, a stain on elven kind's existence and his cowardice.
It was better he remained an outcast and a ghost of the past.
But he was too tired to move, to leave, right now. Tears fell down his face, keenly aware of the emotions Elrond currently felt and felt in recent times. He did not do enough.
'I am sorry, my son,' Maglor thought, then leaned further into the cliff to rest, before he would leave to wherever his feet would lead him…