Since we'll be travelling a bit, just a few infos on Middle-earth in T.A. 2078 : Rohan does not yet exist (not before T.A. 2510) and Dol Gudur has been raised but Sauron fled it in T.A. 2043 (and comes back in T.A. 2460).

9. Roads

Maglor had had not idea what to expect.

It had been a few months already since he had chosen to seek Gilmith and during Spring he had traveled to Gondor, from the far South, assuming she would be in Dol Amroth. The seagulls had ever kept en eye on her, although he had not wished to be told everything, and all he really knew was that she had remained unwed and that her father had passed away a few years ago, from old age. Maglor had thought it was a strange coincidence that the only person bounding Gilmith to Dol Amroth had perished, just as some extraordinary event had lead him to believe things had changed for him too. And so he had looked for her and trailed her all the way to Minas Tirith, through lands he had never allowed himself to visit before.

He had been very little surprised, when he had discovered that Gilmith was about to leave Gondor, upon seeing her spend a whole night in one of the the stables located outside the city's walls, reading maps and making sure her equipment was fit. He had felt proud she had not given up on her dreams of journeying North and hope had sparked in his heart, for he too deemed it was the moment for him to undertake this journey throughout Middle-earth and to the Grey Havens.
It surely could not be accidental that they both happened to be ready at the same time. Was it not one more sign that suggested he should finally surrender and sail West? Ah, if only the Eagles would show him the way... he really did look forwards seeing one of them.

But, right away, he had other matters to deal with. He had taken a big chance in catching Gilmith unaware, in the middle of the Citadel, and on what seemed to be a feast night. She could have been angry at him, after all, she could have yelled, she could have slapped him even... yet all she did was crying, rather silently.

A frightful number of tears were rolling down her cheeks, as her shoulders were shaking, and she said no words, she did not even look at him. The shock was great, and totally unexpected, and suddenly fifty years of untold sorrows had risen - it was almost as if his appearance had caused more damages than good.

"Gilmith... Gilmith, I mean not to..." mumbled Maglor, gently leading her behind tall cypreses.

With his dark cloak and his hood hiding his face, no one would have suspected he were an Elf, unless they came extremely close to him - good thing Gondorians were a tall folk -, however he was cautious and he wished not be disturbed.

"Gilmith... would you rather have me go away...?" he asked, and he could not help but wipe away a few tears from her eyes, horrified as he was to have triggered such distress.

"I was convinced I would never see you again!" she exclaimed, between two sobs, and her pride gave in - she wrapped her arms around him, burrying her face against his chest.

"So was I..." murmured Maglor, heaving a sigh.

He stroked her hair, his fingers trailing her braids, and it felt painfully delicious to lose himself in her sweet smell. He was not entirely sure he had taken the right decision and he was even less sure Gilmith should be involved in his hazardrous assumptions, yet in that moment he was ridiculously happy he no more was alone.

"Why are you here?"

"I told you, I would like to travel North with you."

"Really? You would leave the seashore? You would give up on your wanderings?" Gilmith said, taking one step back to better look at him.

Maglor nodded, a small smile curling his lips. "Something happened that made me realize I should not be running away anymore."

"What happened?"

"Now is not the time to discuss this, and these gardens are not where we should do this either," he said, shaking his head.

Gilmith grabbed his sleeve, panicking. "But-"

"I only came to make sure you would expect me at dawn, in the stables," Maglor said and he cupped her face, putting a light kiss on her forehead. The touch of his lips on her skin seemed to appease her, for she closed her eyes briefly and her cheeks reddened.

"You would not be joking about something so serious," she said, in a weak voice, and tears were gathering at the corners of her green eyes.

"Do believe me, I will be there," he promised bending down to kiss her lips, before disappearing into the gardens.

Gilmith had not been able to sleep, neither to rest. She had only made a brief appearance at the feast, after having met Maglor, just long enough to congratulate her brother once more and to kiss him good night - and goodbye. And since she was back in her chambers, she had paced around the room till the sky had turned paler, eastward. Too many thoughts were whirling in her mind and, while she had already been quite fidgety at the idea of leaving behind her brother and the kingdom she had always dwelled in, the mere fact that Maglor - him, really! - would be waiting for her in the stables was enough to completely wreck her attempts at remaining calm.

She was so anxious, she forgot to switch her white dresses for plainer traveling clothes and it was a good thing she had at least put on a grey cloak so those few people awake before dawn did not notice her fancy attire. On her way down the Seventh Gate, Gilmith turned around once, to catch sight of the White Tree one last time, and then she hurried through the levels and the gates of the city, almost running for such was her restlessness.

The stables were outside the walls and at such an early hour, barely any of the grooms were there and they were too sleep deprived to bother with some zealous horse loving lady. And none had seen him sneak in, he who stood by Gilmith's bay mare, wrapped in a worn cloak, a harp strapped to his shoulder.

She, on the other hand, spotted him straightaway, and this time she did not hesitate, throwing herself on him, searching for his lips. Maglor had been hesitant to kiss her the night before, then it had not even crossed his mind he should try to, but he found he had been craving for it, way more than he would have liked to admit. For a while, that was all they did, kissing and hugging, and both were surprised nothing had changed - the same desires lead to the same caresses. Perhaps they had become a little shy, or perhaps they still feared there time together was short, and so they were careful and delicate in their embrace.

"When were you planning to leave?" asked Maglor when he could catch his breath.

"Before sunrise."

"We should hurry then, we have been delaying our departure long enough" he said, smiling fondly at her.

Gilmith blinked and she seemed to be suddenly remined she was in a stable. "You can ride this horse, he is one good fellow," she told him, gesturing at a dappling grey stallion who had been spying on them for quite a while already. "But I'm afraid I did not pack enough food for two..."

"Don't you recall I possess a certain talent at surviving in the wild?"

"Of course, you do... It's just... I still cannot believe..." said Gilmith, bewildered.

After that, it all happened quickly. Maglor needed no sadle, nor bridle, thus the horses were taken outside at once, for Gilmith's mare had been ready to go too, and in no time they were galloping towards Anórien, river Anduin flowing eastward, the mountains standing westward.

Gilmith was free to leave Gondor, no one would have denied her the right to journey. However, as she was speeding away from Minas Tirith, she had the strange feeling she was fleeing - at least, she was letting down her brother.

At dusk, they sought a place to settle for the night and since they had come in view of Firien Wood, they stopped at the edge of the forest, where it was easy to hide - not that they had to be afraid of any dangerous encounters, but they wished to be discreet. It was a surprisingly beautiful spot and glimmers of Minas Tirith's white walls were still visible, afar, and the moonshine gleamed on the water of the Entwash, while the river Anduin outlined the dark shape of Cair Andros.

Gilmith was weary from her day and, as she sat by the fire Maglor had lit, she could not quite process yet she was on the other side of the White Mountains - still in Gondor, but farther from home than she had ever been. Home... would it always be Dol Amroth, even if she were to dwell among Elves, for centuries to come? Or was a true home elsewhere, in Lórien, or in the West?

"Maglor, tell me, where is this place you call your home?" Gilmith asked, nibbling on a piece of bread, absentmindedly.

"My home? What do you mean?"

He had sat beside her, immensely glad to share a meal with someone - well, it was not just anybody, it was his dear Gilmith, of whom he had sung sadly for years - and it seemed their food was the most delicious he had ever tasted.

"You dwelled in many places, in the West and on this side of the Great Sea, you saw lands that no more exist... but where is your home?"

"Beleriand broke down, Middle-earth I never explored, aside from its shores, and further East I never ventured," Maglor said, thinking aloud. "The West... I suppose the West has not changed, for these lands are everlasting and on the green hill of Túna, white Tirion shines still, that I do not doubt... yet my home, where would it be? I'm afraid you will have to make do with a very vague answer, Gilmith, for I would say my home is wherever my mother is."

Gilmith pouted and nodded silently, staring at the crackling fire.

"You won't forget Dol Amroth," he told her, sliding his fingers in her hair, "yet it does not mean it will be a sorrowful memory."

She closed her eyes, as she leaned against him, and wondered, "Do you really think my life will be that of an Elf and that I... won't age?"

"Do you not suspect the truth yourself? As little as I can be acquainted to Men, I would wager than no other nine and sixty year old lady look as youthful as you do," said Maglor who had wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Since we last met, you have not changed at all, Gilmith, and then I was already convinced you were one of us."

He nuzzled her hair, inhaling her sweet scent, and he felt it, this great desire, rising once more in his chest. However there was no hurry this time, or so he believed, and it was quite enough that they were on the road together, on their way North.

"Then it is a frightening thought that I should survive all those I have known and loved so far, and all things that surrounded me since my birth," whispered Gilmith who had been pondering over these matters for a long time. "For Dol Amroth shall not last forever, shall it? But I, I will still be there."

"So-called immortal life is not a gift," said Maglor, somberly. "I often wished myself I would die of old age..."

This sinister confession made Gilmith forget her own doubts and she turned to him, only to meet his melancholic grey gaze. The way he looked at her, it was almost as if he were sorry he still felt tormented, sorry he had not overcome his inner demons, that ever followed him since he had left Aman, and in numbers that had grown bigger over the ages.

"Why have you decided to travel with me...? Why now...?" she asked him in a low voice, cupping his face.

"Have you not noticed it, Gilmith? Unlike you, I am not exactly the same person that the one you met fifty years ago, for something changed about me," said Maglor, with a smile that was hard to decipher, neither happy, neither sad. "Even though the meaning of it remains unclear to me, I dare believe it is a good omen."

He waved his right hand in front of her eyes, flexing his fingers. For a fleeting moment, Gilmith stared at it, clueless, till she saw what he was actually showing her.

There were no bandages covering his hand and the exposed skin was pale, smooth and unscarred. There was not the faintest trace of the calluses and burns that had previously caused him great pain - what he thought was part of his punishment, along with his everlasting banishment.

"It is healed!" gasped Gilmith. "How... how long has it been?"

Maglor's smile had widened and it now was definitely cheerful.

"Three years ago, it started showing some signs of recovery, but it is not until the last few months that it has been completely cured. Odd, isn't it?"

"What happened?" asked Gilmith and she giggled a bit, for she was so happy for him, and so relieved to that his sufferings had lessened.

"Nothing peculiar, or at least nothing that I can recall."

"Have you perhaps finally saved more people than you've... slain?"

"A decade at least has passed since I last helped someone, but it might be it," said Maglor, not quite convinced. "I saw no Eagles, though. I really did believe I would see Eagles."

"Why would you see eagles?"

"For they are Manwë's messengers... I always imagined they would appear somewhere in the sky, the day I was to be forgiven and welcomed back in the Undying Lands," he explained, gazing quickly at the sky. "It is silly, isn't it?"

"No, of course it's not."

Gilmith held his hand in hers, rubbing it gently, and hope fluttered in Maglor's heart. He allowed himself to dream, to foresee a future that might not be full of darkness and grief - it filled him with a strength he had lacked for so many years.

"I must admit I'm frightened by my own hopefulness, for I do know my hand being healed is a sure sign things have taken a better turn for me. However I am... puzzled and am not sure of what should be done next... What sort of forgiveness have I owed?"

"What other forgiveness could you be given but the right to sail West?"

"Would a ship be ready for me in the Havens? Perhaps I should be content if I could merely lead a normal life in Middle-earth, among the other Elves, for I secluded myself for millenia..."

"Maglor, what is it that you really wish for?" Gilmith told him and as she cupped his face again - it was as if she was the only who could soothe his worries and reason him. "Do you remember you told me the sole pardon you sought was that of the Valar? And is it not what was given to you, if your hand has healed? Does it not mean the curse has been broken?"

"Is it what was given to me...?" he muttered, staring at his right hand.

"It is and I suspect your wounds cured because you finally started to forgive yourself," Gilmith said and slowly, she kissed his cheek, then his brow. "However, it does seem you have not quite entirely make peace with yourself, Maglor, and only when you will have faced your own fears will you be able to set foot on the ship that will take you back home."

"Would that you be right, Gilmith, woud that you be right..."

The words escaped Maglor's mouth, in a breath, as he buried his face in her hair, closing his eyes - at least he no more was alone, and such comfort could Gilmith bring him!

It was the first night they spent together, after these fifty years of separation, and shyness seized them as they laid down, amidst high herbs, under a clear sky full of twinkling stars. Gilmith had oft dreamed to be in Maglor's arms again and, truth be told, her nights had been full of such fantaisies, yet now that he was actually there the joy of being with him overwhelmed her - and every now and then she shook her head in amazement, for he was there. Maglor, on the other hand, was fully aware of the chance they had to be together, but he was too gentle to rush her into anything. And he quite loved it to simply lie down beside her, it seemed the grass had become fresher, the stars brighter and his own heart, lighter.

"It is a tad cold, is it not?" whispered Gilmith, eyeing him with hope.

"Oustandlingly cold for the month of June," Maglor retorted, turning onto his side and sliding an arm around her waist.

That was all Gilmith had been waiting for and she snuggled against him, sighing with ease. How had she even considered marrying another one, she did not understand, for no one could compare to Maglor - no one in Gondor, and no one in the Elven realms, she'd wager.

"Sometimes I thought you were some figment of my imagination," she said, stroking his face, finally daring to look at his sharp features and sparkling grey eyes. "A dream I had come up with after the beam fell on my head, for I had never seen someone like you. I had read your folk was a noble one, yet I could not have conceived one could be so... regal."

"Gilmith, you do flatter me," Maglor muttered, "yet I am barely a shadow of who I used to be..."

"Then perhaps I shall become blind the day I see you in your full splendor," Gilmith chuckled and she put a quick kiss on his lips - and another one, and one more.

Maglor did not resist the teasing long and he soon locked her in his arms, crushing her mouth with his. He was resolved to limit their games to kisses and caresses, but his hands did travel in places he had been longing to explore, causing some stir. In the end, it was Gilmith who calmed him down, whispering in his ear that they now had all the time they need to find a better place for their love to bloom - she had not quite given up on her newlyweds fantasy, which was by far her favorite one.

"I had promised myself I would be wiser this time," confessed Maglor, bashful, as they broke apart. "Yet it does seem desires are not be put aside so easily."

"It is hard indeed," whispered Gilmith, with a smile. "Yet tonight is a bit too early... is it not?"

"There is no hurry..." he told her, putting a kiss on her forehead while she yawned. "Now, sleep all you want, I shall still be there tomorrow morning. I am done with running away."

Maglor himself had not planned on sleeping, for he wanted to keep a watch all night. The area was considered to be safe, but he was wary nonetheless, and he was too happy to rest anyways. So, as Gilmith had fallen into a deep slumber, he sang a song of old, one he had learned in Valinor and that celebrated the warm nights of Summer.

To be honest, I won't provide any detailed explanation on how Maglor's hand healed of its own. It coud be he finally forgave himself (which is one of his biggest issues), or that the Valar can heal him from afar (they could have decided he has wandered long enough to atone his sins) or it could be that falling in love was part of the cure (the romantic option haha). I'm not sure myself what did it, I like to think some of the powers acting in Arda have to remained mysterious :)