Chapter 15

In the Eye of the Storm

Maglor dropped his head into his hands. How could she not understand? How could she not look upon him with disgust? She sat there, hand on his knee, gazing upon him as if his story was a child's bed time story filled with adventures and heroes, not one of his own terrible past.

Elarinya knew Maglor was confused and conflicted, she felt the turmoil rolling off him in waves. They crashed into her, threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to break the contact, move her hand from his lap, but she knew to do so would make him think he had won, that he was correct, and she had finally come to her senses. Pushing his emotions aside, as she had long ago learned to do with her own, she spoke softly, "I heard you story, I listened to every word. I promise you, I understand completely."

"Then why do you remain?" he growled, lifting his head, letting his steely glare bore into hers.

"There is nothing for me in Dorwinion but grief."

"There is nothing for you here." Maglor spat, pushing away from her. Elarinya struggled not to let her hurt show, for in her heart she knew his words were not what he truly felt, that his words were spoken to drive her away.

"There is you." Her words were simply, her voice soft.

Maglor sighed, "I cannot love you, I cannot give you the future you want."

Elarinya looked at the dark haired ellon before her, giving him a small smile, "There is a difference between cannot and will not. What you meant to say is that you will not give me what I seek."

Opening and closing his mouth, he gapped at her like a fish on dry land. He was at a loss for words. He could not deny her statement, for it was true. However, he had not expected the elleth to call him on it directly. Though, he supposed he should not be surprised, she was a woman of few words and when she did speak it was exactly what she thought and meant. Maglor eyes her wearily, "You are correct."

For a moment she remained silent, working to choose her next words carefully. She was not usually one to speak much, she preferred silence, but experience told her that silence, for once, would be her enemy.

"You are not evil, as you would have yourself and others believe of you. Your past deeds are terrible and wrought much grief and anguish to others and your family. Many make horrifying choices, even more did so under the guile of Morgoth. While these deeds may be deemed evil, I do not think that necessarily makes the doer evil. Did you enjoy the pain and death brought by your actions? Did you relish in your destruction? We both know those answers. You have lived alone in a self-imposed exile for centuries from your grief and regret. Those are not emotions known to evil. Do you think Morgoth grieved and repented over his actions? I think not.

You know my past, I never hid it from you. Do you think my deeds do not haunt me? That I do not considered them evil? Killing in itself is wrong, it is against the Valar's wishes. I dream of that young boy's face, gasping for breath as he drowned in his own blood by my hand. Has I not been in a state of such blood lust, could I have spared him? No one that young should lie dead on a battlefield. I see the face of the ellon I gave mercy to on the battle field, even knowing not even the most skilled healer could save him. To this day, I feel his warm blood spurt on my face, seeping into my mouth as he died at my hand. We all have demons Maglor. When will you stop letting yours dictate your life? Someday, you will have to forgive yourself."

For the second time that evening, Elarinya had left him speechless. How did he respond to such a lecture? How did he respond when every word that left her lips were true? Words that he did not know how to accept. Could he ever leave his demons behind? He clung to them, like a frightened child clings to a parent or a comforting blanket. They had become his shield and his comfort, it was what he deserved. He was not sure he could, it was not so easy. Eventually, he was able to say as much.

Eyeing him, she kept her face neutral and simply replied, "No."

He paced, continuing to rub his face. She went from giving him the longest monologue he heard her speak to answering with one word. Maglor's gaze lingered on her, the fire casting a shimmering glow to her bronzed skin. The jewels woven into her hair glittered, the top portion of her weaves pulled back from her face, showing the feminine angles and her eyes. Her eyes took him back to lush forest that he remembered from his childhood. Had it not been for his doubt, he would have readily acknowledged, as exotic as she was, she was made for him.

She was an odd creature, raised with strange and unfamiliar customs. She had none of the prejudices other groups of elves did. She came from a culture developed around war, living on the cusp or Mordor and deep in Easterling territory. Battle hardened and scarred, Elarinya listened to his tales, accepted them, then let them go. No one let his past go. Maglor could not believe she could so easily forgive his wrong doings, accepting him as he was. Another part of him rejoiced, for the first time in many long years, he was not alone. He did not feel alone, and yet he did not deserve what she offered.

"I do not deserve to have you." He whispered, stopping his pacing, his anguish-stricken face locking onto hers.

"I do not care about what you think you deserve. I only care about what you want." Elarinya replied, standing from her seat. She stopped, standing directly before him and raised her hand to his cheek. "You are not alone in your doubts," as she finished her statement, she closed her eyes and let her barriers down. She felt Maglor flinch and stumble at the onslaught, but she maintained their contact.

Stumbling, emotions that were not his own bombarded his system. Grief, anger, fear, uncertainty, rejection…they swarmed his soul as he struggled to make sense of what was happening. It was painstakingly slow, but the emotions slowed and he realized they came from Elarinya, all the feelings she kept carefully schooled behind her mask and in her mind. He felt her grief over her past, discord with her father, her perceived rejection from him. She was angry. Angry at herself, her father, with him. Her fear surprised him. He had caught glimpses of strong emotions from her, but fear was never one. She was terrified of fading as she felt her spiraling towards the void she could not escape once again. The uncertainty of her future sent chills down her spine. Involuntarily, he shivered. Never had he felt such emotions, never had he guessed the dept of her emotions, nor that any could match his own. Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped and Maglor was left with a hollowness, icy tendrils clawing at his cheek as the warmth of her hand left him.

She turned away, so he would not see the lone tear that rolled down her cheek. He had a choice to make and she could help him no more. Her fate was in his hands. "I am going to retire for the evening."

Standing on the far side of the cavern, with the fire at her back, she began to pull off her fur lined tunic, regretting running off without her wolf pelt. While the fire would keep her warm, the cloak would have softened the hard ground. She knew better than to leave without adequate supplies, especially in such harsh conditions, however, she let her emotions get the better of her and she was not thinking clearly. Elarinya also had not planned for Maglor to follow her. Still it was a stupid mistake. In the morning she would be cursing herself.

Maglor stood frozen, staring after her, watching as she shed her outer tunic and laid it on the cave floor against a small outcropping facing away from him. His mind was in turmoil, knowing he stood on the brink of a choice that would forever alter both of their futures. He could let her settle down in her chosen corner and let it be, or he could go to her. His heart willed him to go to her, make her his and yet his mind objected. His mind told him he had no right to bring her into this life. In his mind he knew, this would be the most important choice yet to make.

She did not hear him approach, she felt his warmth behind her. He did not touch her, nor did he speak, his inner battle still raging strong. From the corner of her eye she could see his fist curled tightly at his side.

"What is it that you want?" She questioned softly, no trace of scorn or pleading in her voice. She would not coerce him into his choice.

His head hung in defeat, "You." His voice was gruff, coming out almost a growl, barely audible. A human would have only heard silence.

Elarinya stayed silent. Turning, she gazed upon his fair face, his grey eyes a storm, his knuckles turning white. Reaching out, she grasped his hands, uncurling his fingers and letting them fall back to his sides. Bringing her eyes back to his, she stood on her tip-toes and brought her lips softly against his own, allowing no other contact. The next choice would have to be his.