It took me a while to write this meeting between Maglor and Elrond! Their relationship is quite special and we know so little about it, although it's clearly stated they loved each other (so we can assume, the twins had a rather nice childhood, despite everything). But I like how it turned out, I think...
11. Encounters
A fortnight had passed since Gilmith had entered the woods and Maglor had relocated north of the forest, at the feet of the Misty Mountains. There he had befriended the birds and had learned a great deal from them, about roads leading to what had been called Eregion during the Second Age, where his own nephew, Celebrimbor, had been lord - he knew this not since long, for it was Gilmith who had told him most of the stories of the Second Age. The birds had also told him about the shadows of Moria, and those who had inhabitated the south of Mirkwood, and this darkness worried Maglor, even though he was not take part in this battle. And after a few days spent on the slopes of the mountains, he had also asked the birds if any Eagles had been sighted in this region, however they had not been seen them lately.
One night, as bright stars twinkled in the sky and a warm breeze blew from river Anduin, Maglor caught sight of someone walking through high herbs and small bushes. It was a single Elf coming towards his direction and, although Maglor had become highly skilled at hiding himself, he felt he had been spotted. The Moon was full, and its pale light shone on the black hair of the wanderer and as he began to ascend the hill, his face came in Maglor's view - confirming his suspicions. He had actually recognized the silhouette, the pace, the way he had made a small pause before climbing his way to Maglor.
Elrond... he had become a wise and powerful lord, as he had been fated to. He had fought wars, he had lived through great tragedies and great joys, and now he was one of these rare Elves who had known the old days and had not yet sailed West. Yet in Maglor's eyes, he was still the young child they had found in the cave and who had been brought before him, terrified. He was the young man he had raised to see grow stronger and handsomer, and, as far as he could remember, he and his brother had been his only source of happiness, at the end of the First Age.
"I was told you would not come in the forest thus I came to you," said Elrond, rather solemnly, and he thought he should clarify something right away, for he added, "she did not utter a single word about you, yet it is near impossible to conceal anything from lady Galadriel..."
It was Maglor, the Elf who had fostered him and loved him like a true son, yet it was a Maglor transformed by great sorrows and by years of lonesome wanderings. The old scars, those received during cruel battles, had long faded but guilt and solitude had taken their toll on him, operating what appeared to be irreversible changes to his soul and body. If his frame was still that of Noldorin prince, he had lost weight and he was a little crooked, crushed by invisible burdens he too long carried alone. His face was where the most spectacular changes had occured : his skin was frightfully white, his protruding cheekbones sharpened his features and dark circles tarnished his expression - only his grey eyes shone ever brightly.
"Indeed," Maglor nodded. "I assumed lady Galadriel would sense my presence nearby her woods, one way or another."
He was staring intently at Elrond and to say he was moved was an understatement. He was shaken, from head to toe, and he was also experiencing an unprecedented joy to see this wise and mighty Elven lord standing in front of him. Oh, he had never doubted Elros and Elrond would be met with bright destinies, but to witness it himself...
"Do tell me, Maglor, would you have headed to the havens without meeting me?"
As much as Maglor was rapt with wonder, Elrond was worried and it was not the lord of Imladris, descendant of legendary kings, who had talked, but a younger Elrond, one still haunted by his childhood's fears, and his voice had a definite hurt tone.
"... No," whispered softly Maglor.
"You knew lady Galadriel would tell me where to find you, is that it?"
"Whatever the Lady's opinion is of the likes of me, I did believe that, for the love of you, she would tell you I was traveling to the Havens," Maglor said. "However I was not expecting to see you so soon, I thought we would meet by the sea, before my departure. A proper scenery, a proper time for a farewell..."
"Then it is a relief... twice a relief, even," said Elrond and he took one step closer to Maglor. "I feared I would never see you again and moreover I feared you would never chose to sail back to Valinor... You could not endure forever this self imposed punishment."
"It would be a lie to tell you I had always planned for things to end like this..." confessed Maglor. "Till recently, I still considered myself an outcast, I still thought I did not deserve any sort of happiness... and I would not have willingly face you, dear Elrond, I would not have shown you what I have become..."
But Elrond had noticed it, the change that had triggered Maglor's journey to the North. "Yet your hand has healed, as if you were sent a sign you never hoped for."
Maglor smiled for a few seconds, rubbing his right hand absentmindedly.
"Nothing escapes you, as ever, although I have to admit that even now I harbor some doubts and I wonder if I shall really be allowed back in Aman."
"Perhaps, but you are on your way to the Havens," said Elrond and after a slight pause, he added, "and you are not alone."
"I gather you met Gilmith?" And it was a thought he liked much, to imagine Gilmith and Elrond greeting each other - a dreamy smile crossed his face.
It was silly but he missed her already and he had found he disliked to sleep alone, even though it had been that way for ages and ages. It was funny how he had so quickly gotten used to have her by his side, funny and perhaps a little scary too, at least when she was not around anymore.
"Briefly... it was unexpected, for she is a Half-Elven, born and raised in Gondor, and she travels with you," explained Elrond and he had indeed been quite bewildered at meeting someone he had at first believed to be a Silvan Elf - he had not understood lady Galadriel's insistence on introducing them to one another - and who had turned out be the daughter of a Númenórean and Maglor's lover.
"Unexpected, it is the right term..." said Malgor, as a fond expression warmed his face. "And it works both ways, for I am an old Elf, pursued by equally old demons, whereas she is young... so young and fresh. Am I not an unexpected encounter for her too? As much as she was for me..."
"Certainly your love is unexpected, yet it seems you are well suited for each other..." So was the conclusion Elrond had come to and, as much as he had been taken aback to learn what ties existed between Maglor and Gilmith, it had been comforting to know his foster father no more was alone. "Her eyes sparkle whenever your name is pronounced and even the beauty of Summer in Lothlórien will not dissuade her from following you on your journey."
"She does seem happy these days, yet there is this lingering melancholy in her gaze... it makes me feel helplesss at times."
"It has nothing to do with you," Elrond reassured him. "This is a mark left by the wounds inherent to her Half-Elven nature, for do remember she has left behind a land she cherished and a beloved brother. And had she not left Gondor, she would have still yearn for her mother and for a life among the Elves... It is a cruel choice she had to face, I would know."
"You would indeed..." muttered Maglor who still deeply regretted he never had the chance to bid Elros farewell.
"Was it her idea to go to Lórien?" Elrond asked, changing subject quickly.
"Yes, with or without me, she would have sought to reach Lothlórien, that is where her mother came from after all. And it is on the way to the Havens."
"From what I understood, she wished to travel to Imladris too."
"She did."
"I often dreamed you would arrive in Imladris one day, unannounced yet awaited, and finally putting an end to your lonesomeness," said Elrond - that was what he had meant to tell Maglor from the very beginning.
"My father's name still draws much hostiliy, doesn't it? Who would have welcomed me?" Maglor replied, frowning.
"I would have welcomed you."
"What of your people though?"
"They could have been convinced you are repentant," insisted Elrond, stubborn.
"And at what cost, Elrond? I would have been the cause of many quarrels and, truth is, many reproaches would have been rightful. And I wish not to attempt defending or even justifying what my father, my brothers and I commited because of the Oath we swore... I can neither truthfully assert we acted unwillingly, nor that we had lost all freedom of action the moment we bound our destinies to the Silmarils, for we knew we were slaining innocents, we were well aware what dreadful deeds we were doing... It is true that if we tried to stay away from the Oath, it would call us back, it would torment us, yet in the end we always chose for ourselves - no one but us are to blame for the kinslayings."
"You fought the Enemy alongside the other Noldor, you kept a watch on Angband for centuries and was it not Maedhros who rallied your people, after the Dagor Bragollach, and formed a league?" countered Elrond who could not possibly let Maglor think anymore of himself as a guiltless murderer. "And more importantly you were yourself reluctant to attack Doriath and the Havens, were you not? The first kinslaying had horrified you well enough already and your feelings on the matter ought count for something!"
"Oh, I wept when the clear waters of Alqualondë turned red, I wept and lamented, yet this terrible memory did not prevent me from wielding my sword against the Doriathrim and I did nothing to stop Celegorm from killing Dior. I never opposed Maedhros when it was decided we would lead the onslaught on the Havens... A song, however sincere, cannot outweight these horrors, and it surely does not set me apart from my father and my brothers."
"Then what do you hope to find in Aman?" Elrond inquired. "What sort of hope has the healing of your hand given you?"
"I seek the forgiveness of the Valar, for only they can help me achieve the peace of heart I yearn for," sighed Maglor and he stared at Elrond awhile. "It is hard to picture how it could really happen... I do not know where I could land, I doubt the Teleri would be glad to see me in Alqualondë. And would I head directly to Tirion, where I believe my mother dwell? I suppose I should indeed look first for lady Nerdanel, then perhaps after I shall be summoned on mount Taniquetil and finally face trial - that is what I hope for... To be honest, I do not care about the possible outcomes of it and I would willingly accept any judgement passed on me... I merely hope it shall not deprive my mother from her last living son."
For Elrond, it was sorrowful to hear these words. He would have helped Maglor, he would have tried curing his hand, he would have done everything to convince him he deserved forgiveness, that he had earned it long ago. Yet Maglor's hand had healed by itself, and higher forces governed his fate, and the real cure to his torments lied in Aman. There was nothing Elrond could have done and it was a fact which he now had to acknowledge, painfully.
"And there is Gilmith... the unexpected Gilmith," Maglor whispered. "She has more faith in myself than I do, yet I wouldn't want her to be punished for loving me."
"Nonsense, then I should be punished too," said Elrond, curtly. "And I firmly believe that Gilmith and I loving you is reason enough you shall be granted pardon. You suffered long enough, Maglor, longer than it should be, so do allow yourself a well-deserved rest, and do trust the Valar will recognize true repentance. If I see it in your heart, they shall see it too."
"Thank you," whispered Maglor and at last a few tears rolled down his eyes. "These words... I wanted to hear them from you..."
He stepped forward, hugging Elrond, and their embrace was truly that of a father and a son having found each other after years of sundering.
"Maglor... you were a father to me and my brother, I owe you much," muttered Elrond who was quite teary eyed too. "I only regret I could not be of any help..."
"You had your own life to lead," said Maglor and catching a glimpse of the gold ring Elrond wore he added, "and you have your own family."
This brought a smile on Elrond's face, and wiping a tear away, he said, "I wedded Celebrían, the daughter of lady Galadriel and of lord Celeborn, and we have three children."
"And I'd wager two of these are twins."
"Indeed," Elrond chuckled.
And so they talked, of small things that made them happy and of graver matters that they could not avoid, yet for both of them this night would remain a good memory, one they would cherish till the day they were to be reunited, on a faraway shores. Since Elrond requested it, they also sang songs, most of them they had oft sung together during the old days, and it seemed the stars themselves were listening to them. Yet dawn came at last, and sunrays set afire the golden flowers of the mellyrn, down in the woods. It was a vision of Valinor they were facing and they could not have wished for a better moment to part - temporarily, they knew.
"Farewell it is, then," said Elrond and in the sunlight, he thought Maglor looked grand again, ready to undertake his last journey.
"Farewell, for a while only. We shall meet each other again, in the West."
Maglor had put his hands on Elrond's shoulders and he was not looking at him, he was admiring him, proudly.
"Indeed, it will be my turn to depart, one day."
Nodding, Maglor took a step forwards and he kissed Elrond's forehead.
"I will be waiting for you," he whispered.
Elrond headed back to Lothlórien, slowly going down the slopes of the mountains, and soon he disappeared in the golden mist that had rose from the forest in the morning. Maglor gazed around, at the tall mellyrn, at the great river Anduin and at the great mountains - what a beautiful days it was!
Then he saw it, flying gracefully above the mountains, its wide wings spread out - an Eagle.
It was not long after she had met lady Galadriel and, incidently, lord Elrond, that Gilmith was told by Rúmil her mother's sister had been found and that she was on her way to Caras Galadhon. She had apparently been back from Mirkwood not long ago - however Gilmith had by then learned that 'not long ago' could mean decades for the Elves - and according to informations gathered by Rúmil, Gilmith's aunt was one of those Elves who tiredlessly wandered through the forests of Middle-earth. Thus Gilmith was quite lucky to be able to catch her while she stayed in Lórien and so on a bright day of July, she met with Maidhlas.
Her aunt quite embodied all of the characteristics of the Silvan Elves, or so thought Gilmith whose knowledge of this folk was still mostly scholarly. She had very long wavy hair, and it was dark blonde, and it was so luxurious that it seemed to be part of her garbs, flowing around her as she gracefully ran towards Gilmith. Maidhlas was lithe and agile and as she hugged her niece, she dragged into a happy twirl, laughing this crystal clear laugh Gilmith had grown so fond of.
"It is incredible! Purely incredible!" exclaimed Maidhlas. "You are so alike my dear Mithrellas, I... Oh, please, be so kind as to let me have a closer look at you."
She had already cupped Gilmith's face and, chuckling delightfully, she gazed at her. Her eyes were green too, of her lighter shade even than Gilmith's, but overall the niece bore great ressemblance to her aunt.
"I do see you take after your father too, some details here and there, how amusing! And your hair, it is perhaps a shade darker than hers..."
Maidhlas's merriness was contagious and soon Gilmith too was laughing, while her aunt gently probed her face, before running her fingers in her hair. This inspection lasted for a few minutes and at last Maidhlas seemed satisfied, as if she had found what she had been looking for, and, wrapping an arm around Gilmith's, she led her to a small telain where they sat.
"Gilmith..." sighed Maidhlas, peering once more at her niece. "I barely could believe it when they told me Mithrellas's daughter had come to Lothlórien, and what shock it was to see you! From I had understood you... you should have been an old lady by now."
What could 'old lady' mean to an Elf who had been gaily wandering in the forests of Middle-earth for centuries and centuries, never once coming in contact with Men, Gilmith did not know, yet it seemed more like Maidhlas had realized her niece was no mortal.
"I remember hearing that Nimrodel had vanished and I wondered if Mithrellas was with her..." said Maidhlas and she had started playing with Gilmith's hair, braiding it skilfully. "And then there were these strange rumours, that the lord of Belfalas had taken an Elven bride, that she was a Silvan Elf... I would have never believed it, till it was known her name was Mithrellas. During these days, I dwelled in Mirkwood and by the time these news reached my ears, she had disappeared again and this time it was clear to me she had left to sail West, as she had intented to do first."
"Did you know she had had children...?" shyly asked Gilmith.
"Yes... you have a brother, is that right? They said she had a boy and a girl."
"Yes, Galador is his name. He... he is the Prince of Dol-Amroth," said Gilmith and though she was proud he held this title, she wondered what value it had for her aunt.
"A prince, you say?" said Maidhlas, smiling. "Your father's line was of such high rank?"
"It goes back to Númenor and to the lords of Andúnië..." explained Gilmith, although she wished not retrace all of her father's ancestry just then - there were some more important things Maidhlas should be told about lord Imrazôr. "You should know my father was a noble man and he truly loved my mother, he... missed her dearly, his whole life."
"I do believe she would not have had children, had she not loved him too," said Maidhlas, gently stroking Gilmith's cheeks. "I dare not imagine how heartbreaking it was for her to leave you and your brother behind... I reckon she dreaded to see the day old age would befall you."
"Could she not foretell I would be an Elf...? Or that I was already one...?" murmured Gilmith. "Why assuming we would both be mortals, when she, our mother, was immortal?"
"Half-Elvens are few, my dear Gilmith, and I'm afraid that even among the Elven folk little is known about them... It is said the children of lord Elrond have been given the choice of their fate, like their father, yet their line is quite the exception. Perhaps Mithrellas thought the Powers of the West would not give you and your brother the same privileges... our family being rather a humble one..."
"It happened though, I did make a choice..."
"And you will head to the Havens, will you not?"
"Yes, I want to sail West since this is where she went."
There was Maglor too, but she said nothing about him - it was quite enough that lady Galadriel had guessed his presence, just outside the woods.
"Maidhlas, will you leave Middle-earth too, one day?"
"Most probably, we are all drawn to there, at some point... yet I love these woods, I love these lands and I am not quite ready to leave them," answered Maidhlas, who had now started making a crown with boughs and mallorn flowers. "This journey to the Havens, you will have to undertake without me, although you should not worry, for small companies of Elves constantly travel from here to Lindon, I daresay you could easily join one, whenever you feel it is time for you to go."
And as Gilmith appeared to be a little troubled, Maidhlas added, "Worry not, my dear, the day your mother, you and I and shall be reunited in the Undying Lands will come soon enough."
Gilmith smiled, letting her aunt adjust the newly-crafted crown on her head. She would not tell Maidhlas she was not going to the Havens alone, this part of the story would remain untold to her aunt, until they were to meet once more in the West. That was quite alright though, they had so many things to discuss, so many things to do together that this summer in Lórien would be a busy one anyways.
Time passed by unknowingly in the land of mellyrn and the beauty of the woods was such that it was easy to forget about the outside world - save for, Maglor, whom Gilmith longed to be with again.
I haven't found a clear etymology of Mithrellas's name. It seems 'Mith' is grey (like Gilmith), but the ending... so I thought 'las' was quite like 'legolas' so it could mean leaf. So her sister has this 'las' in her name, and I put another color in front of it 'Maidh' (actually it just means 'pale').
The way Elrond sees Maglor is quite different from the way Gilmith sees him. He remembers what Maglor looked like in earlier days and realized how much he changed, but Gilmith just sees him as the most awesome being she ever met :)