Chapter Two
"When the trumpets of war end,
when the cries of victory ascend.
When winds rise across the Western sea,
when the lost one once more becomes free.
Two souls a hero reborn shall arise,
strong he will be and wise.
Elven blood mixed with magic's heart,
restore the lost and bring back the start.
For all shall look upon the city on the hill,
Elven hope that can strengthen Hope's will.
Side by side with Death he'll stand,
the beacon of hope, a beacon planned,"
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"Ada! Ada! Look at me! I can draw now see," the rather cheerful voice of the young elfling that have entered his life many years ago echoed along the now rather extended house that had once been the shanty hut that he called home.
"Yes, yes come here Maedhros and show it to me," Maglor said simply from where he is sitting overlooking the raised veranda that gave him an excellent view of the valley below. The small Elfling now almost twenty years old sat on his lap, his small frame barely reaching over his chest as he rocked him back and forth while taking the piece of paper that had been Maedhros' attempts at "calligraphy". All in all it's nothing more than a zigzag cross of smudges that made no sense. As expected of a little elfling, reborn or not of course.
"Very good Maedhros," praised Maglor as he set the smudged paper beside his neatly written calligraphy in Quenya that the little elfling is finding interesting, if his green eyes are any indication poring over it in no small amount of interest. "Keep up the good work and practice and sooner or later you'll find yourself as good as writing letters as your Ada okay?"
"Kay! But I want to practice your harp Ada and not writing letters," pouted the little tyke adorably that would have melted any girl's heart. "Writing letters is boring. I wanted to play the harp as good as you Ada,"
"And you will my son," smiled Maglor at the little elfling on his lap, his small face barely reaching his chin in height. "But you have to learn your letters first before we proceed with music. Do we have a deal?"
"Promise?" asked the little munchkin rolling his body so that he can face his surrogate father who only chuckled at his rather cute baby face looking up at him.
"I promise Maedhros, now go before your Nana Indien shows up here," he smirked at the child whose face turned from extremely pleased to terrified as he just realized that he had just sneaked out from his mother who turned her back to cook for lunch and left him to practice his "calligraphy".
"Right! Nana's going to be mad! See ya later Ada!" called out the little Elfling as he struggled to get out of the comforts of his father's lap, getting himself entangled more than once at the thick robe that Maglor wore to keep the coldness of the air that drafts on the plateau off.
The older elf simply watched extremely amused as his son disentangled himself from his robe, rolling on the wooden floorboards more than once before regaining his feet and sprinted off at the direction of the living room with more than one call back for his Ada to keep his promise for later. And just in time too.
"Maedhros!" the rather angry voice of Theririen nearly threw off Maedhros from the safety of his perch as it sounded way too close from where he is sitting.
Ruffling his now badly adjusted furry robes that had been thrown off once more when he lost his balance, Maglor simply furrowed his brows at the direction of his back where his bonded wife stood fuming near the door, looking none the less desirable despite her seriously annoyed expression.
"Where is he Maglor?!"
"Where is who?" he had to duck to avoid being hit by a flying teacup that immediately left his wife's hands thanks to his too innocent answer.
"You know who I mean," she growled eyes flashing and Maglor only sighed mentally since he knew when to put his foot down whe it comes to Theririen. Sorry Maedhros.
"At the living room hiding," he finally relented under the withering gaze of his wife who stomped to the living room in a few strides, leaving behind a sweat dropping elf-lord. It did not take long before the sounds of a scuffle broke out and a small yelp that definitely belonged to his son followed by the angry scolding of his wife for trying to skip out his "studying".
Maglor only sat there frozen on the veranda as the sounds of the two disappeared over the ground floor leaving him once more in peace. Truly that elleth terrified him more than a Balrog, and trust him to know how that feels literally since he faced a fair numbers of those during the Battle of Unnumbered Tears where the last powers of the Ancient Elven Kingdoms fell.
Shaking his head to erase the morbid thoughts plaguing him, Maglor once more sat cross-legged watching the small community that had grown up here in his once desolate home outside. Already the mid-morning sun has fully risen to the sky and Elves are streaming from their makeshift homes and tents to gather on the Long Table where everyone at least meets every afternoon to bond with each other. It is a practice of the Vanyar to maintain their unity and solidarity, a practice that even the Elves in Aman still do before the Noldor left into exile. Mind you, he had to go and rescue Maedhros from his wife now that the time has come for them to mingle with their neighbors. It is also the time where he played his harp for everyone to listen. If there's one thing that Elves truly love above all, its music and poetry. For them it is like food and drink and no sane elf ever tire of it. And selfishly speaking, Maglor also enjoyed seeing his son's expression of awe and adoration every time Maglor play his harp in front of an audience.
It has been twenty years, twenty years ever since his brother, Maedhros was reborn as an elfling under his care. Of course despite not being his true-blooded son and more than like an assigned chore that the Valar Namo appointed to him for his atonement, Maglor was more than in agreement to the job. In fact he would rather cut off his own right arm than let someone else raise his brother. This is a second chance not only for him, but for the both of them.
Looking at the gathered small group outside his house, he smiled as he saw children climbing up to their parents egging them on to either play; tell stories or something else that children would do. He and his brothers never experienced those feelings when they're growing up in Aman. Their father, Feanor only did the minimum duty required of him as a father on providing for them as he focused more on his craft on making things than raising his children. It fell to their mother to care for them and despite her best efforts have been unable to care for her seven children. Not to mention that many of them inherited their father's fiery spirit that made them hard to control. Thankfully Maedhros who is the eldest earned more of their mother's gentle spirit and had been the one to rein most of them all the time. He became the pseudo-father for all of them, at least until they came of age and their father trained them on weapons until each brother went on their own way.
This time he could give his brother back some of the thanks he deserves for being there for them before. Already having the little elfling around changed him and everyone that interacts around the kid. The boy is a hyperactive child, enough proof of the great warrior that he was before and still whom he would be in the future when he would regain his memories. He would need it after all if Mandos' words are to be trusted.
Removing his eyes from the happy growing settlement that have gathered here on the plateau which he called home, he turned it to the North where the tallest and darkest of the mountains lie. Even from where he is, he could still see or imagine the dozens of caves that now littered its sides; caves that have been made by goblins which now inhabit the North of Ered. Frankly if he's going to be honest with himself, Maglor is worried. It has not been long when the Last Alliance toppled the power of Sauron in the South and all evil things started to crawl in the darkest parts of the world to hide from the light. To see the goblins crawl out once more in less than five years after the Dark Lord's defeat made the Elven warrior in him extremely paranoid. The fact that said goblins also have the guts to attack the elven settlements that belonged to the peaceful Vanyar sent alarm bells in his head. Goblins normally don't attack head on. They prefer ambushing their targets when they're asleep and vulnerable. Not dining awakened elves even before midnight.
Out of the twenty clans and tribes of Vanyarin that called this valley home, at least five have gathered here at the plateau with the safety of the Great Eagle of Manwe patrolling these parts and (partly) having Maglor around. Apparently in times like these, his reputation as a survivor of the Wars of Beleriand and a general to boot made him an instant ellon to be asked for help. The Vanyar here that remained on Middle-Earth is a peaceful people by nature and unused to war very different from their kin in Aman. Maglor can personally attest to that. He had seen the Vanyar in mock battles during the Age of Peace and in real war when they show their courage and power in the War of Wrath. To see them so terrified and afraid of the Goblins knowing that they can crush the little blighters with ease is a surreal experience for hm.
Still, he did his best to train them, easier said than done. Maglor may have inherited also the gentleness of their mother, but even that gentleness has limits. Seeing your trainee ellon whack his neighboring partner with a wooden stick for the twentieth time without even a slight improvement can grate the nerves of even the most patient drill instructor.
Not that the arrival of at least three hundred elves is anything bad though. For starters, it did bring back Maglor to the world. With his reputation of being the son of Feanor, he is shunned by most Elves that survived the chaos of Beleriand. With the Vanyar though, he's just Maglor and they accepted him with open arms; the fact that with them around he got over the problem that has been his plague since day one of having an elfling at home with him. With all his strength and skill both in the art of music and war, Maglor doesn't have a clue on how to babysit a young child. Elrond and Elros doesn't count since they're way past the baby age when they got adopted by Maglor.
That's the time when he met his now bonded wife, Theririen. The spit-fire of an elleth on the second month that baby Maedhros entered Maglor's life and the fifth day that the Vanyar groups managed to settle themselves on the plateau discovered that Maglor had a son. Scratch that, she found out that he had a son when the wail of the baby caught everyone's attention in the middle of the morning. Apparently the leaves that grew on the side of his house within picking distance are not designed to be in contact with a baby's sensitive skin.
To say the least, the spit-fire of an elleth literally marched unto his door before kicking it open, hinges and all, not caring for the fact that said house belongs to one of the deadliest warriors in Middle-Earth. And if that wasn't enough, she had stomped past him, flattening a very surprised Feanorian along the way (ignoring his indignant squawk) as she pulled crying Maedhros from the crib before turning him upside down so that she can check the rashes that have multiplied on his sensitive flesh thanks to Maglor's "tender loving care". To say that Maglor got the worst earful ever since he was an elfling at his mother's bosom would be a grave understatement.
Ever since then, Theririen made it a point on visiting Maglor's small cottage to look after Maedhros since Maglor is "irresponsible" in her good opinion to raise a child on his own. She spends a large amount of time to look after Maedhros that Maglor was forced to break a large part of his home to create more extra rooms to accommodate the now slowly growing and very hyperactive child and his self-imposed visitor. What Maglor didn't catch though was the fact that her presence slowly grows within him that her having to leave every day sent a pang inside him. After all with the baby now tucked in snugly (majority of the time) ever since she entered his care, she spent a lot of her free moments tidying up his house muttering about how ellons are so undisciplined when it comes to caring for their things.
Theririen was no great beauty, though she had it in spades like all elleth. However what caught her in his attention is her stubborn and fiery attitude. Being a son of Feanor, Maglor's temper is strong despite it lower compared to his brother. Theririen always manage to rein that fire in and if needed, stamp it out. Her fiery spirit is strong, stronger than his that it can choke his when he goes overboard. All in all, she's the perfect mate for him. Thankfully, like all elleth, she is a great sucker for his music and Maglor can be charming if he put the effort into it. If there's one good thing that he got from his father, it's his good looks and his charm.
So a year after Maedhros was adopted by Maglor, Theririen Harpstring and Maglor Feanorian was wedded. It is a simple wedding but symbolic nevertheless. A union between a Vanyar and a Noldor from across the sea isn't something to be just scoffed at after all. Nearly the entire population of the Hidden Valley showed up at the reception. Even old Thorondor and his son, Gwaihir the Windlord deigned to grace them with their presence. All in all, it was a good day for Maglor son of Feanor; and it's all thanks to the bubble of energy that entered his life.
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Harry, or as Maedhros as they called him here giggled as he watched the other small elflings a little older than him try and fail to outdo each other on their crafts lesson under the watchful eye of Elrimalia, or as most of the youngsters call her, Elri. For Maedhros, life has never been more perfect for him ever since he had been reborn into this world. Many would think that being an older guy being transformed to the baby of a toddler with all your memories intact would be horror, but that is not for him. For Maedhros, being given this situation is a privilege from heaven.
In his first life being the Boy-Who-Lived, he never got the chance to experience the word: "family". He had been bullied and practically made a slave in all but name by his relatives; and his family from Ginny is an epic failure thanks to inexperience on his part. If not for Albus Severus, his youngest turning out right, Maedhros would have gone into the deep end in depression. So when he was reborn here after his anticlimactic passing away, he's more than willing to bend himself to the rules of this world and live out the second chance of him being Maedhros (although he had to admit that he's scared shitless when he first came out as a baby boy or elfling as they call it here).
Already things are looking up as far as he's concerned. It took a while for him learning through his surrogate mother about the fact that he's an elf and everything about them, the way they are immortal except for being killed by sickness or in battle, how their souls or Fea's as they call them here would go to the Halls of Mandos waiting for rebirth. Being introduced to the world of magic in his previous world lessened the shock for him as he continues to learn under is mother's tutelage. The fact that he's on another land, which hosts many different creatures of wonder and magic other than humans is overwhelming, though not to the point that he panicked, it more fell on the place of astonishment and disbelief. He had to admit that the smug part of him though crowed in victory that he was born to the race that is the most peaceful and noblest of them all. He had enough of war in his first life and would do his best to maintain that if he could.
He knows of course that he's a reborn elf. There's another soul that bonded with his when he first came to consciousness in this body. Memories of war, death, sadness and regret bombarded his head merging with his own. With it came a deep desire of redemption for everything he had done. Here Harry came to understand that the person is no else but the original Maedhros whose body he is currently settling in. With his memories, came alongside his experiences, his skills in battle and his attitude that is both fiery and noble at the same time. As delighted as he is at all the extra "skills and knowledge" that came alongside with Maedhros' spirit, Harry knew it would take time, even for him to be able to harness all that. He's still a baby after all and there are a thousand and one things he needed to relearn to be the impressive warrior and leader as the original Maedhros is.
What made him happy truly though is the fact that he had a family. Maglor may not be the perfect father, but he does try his best. Whom Maedhros truly love though is his surrogate mother. Theririen may be fiery in character and the one wearing the pants on her relationship with Maglor, but she loves Maedhros as if he was her own child. The fact alone that she's extremely overprotective about him only proves that fact. All in all, Harry now experienced what it could be called a normal childhood in elvish culture. He had now a father and a mother, and surrogate or not, he loved them back in the bottom of his heart. He is not the old Maedhros Feanorian, he is not Harry Potter also, and he will be someone new.
As much as Maedhros loved fooling around and relearning the things he learned in his past life before, the reincarnated wizard haven't simply spent the entirety of his time simply fooling around. His father and mother may have tried their best to hush their conversations to private whispers away from his young ears, but a dedicated ex-Auro and ex-Headmaster cannot be stopped from eavesdropping if he truly put his heart unto it.
Apparently the same reason that made his father and mother meet is the reason why wandering groups of Vanyar and Noldor are now calling their plateau also their home. Apparently goblins are leaving their hidey holes from the mountain sides and are starting to raid elven settlements prompting the untrained groups to move together to someone who might be able to help them. In this case Maedhros' father who accepted those who wish to fight under his tutelage and started to train them. Now after almost two decades of non-stop training, the few hundreds that started out start to show promise. Their numbers may not be up to par yet, but at least it's something than nothing at all.
Personally, Maedhros' have nothing against goblins being a good friend of Bank manager Ragnok who forgave Harry for the damage he and his friends caused in Gringotts in their attempt to steal the Horucrux and destroy it. The fact that such a dark item gets passed their screening process, the goblins took a personal insult to their good selves. Unlike the Earth goblins though, these goblins (thanks to the first Maedhros' memories) is nothing like them. They are honor less, rabid and loved to maim torture and kill any living thing that they can get their hands on. It seems as if a darkness is inside them that twisted their very nature to that of evil only and never too good. They cannot be reasoned with or bargained with, only hunted and destroyed.
With threat like that looming over their heads, Maedhros once more dabbled with something he never thought he would ever need on this new life of his…magic. Normally with his decision to restart his life here in a clean slate, the hero and general part of him can't simply decide to stay put and put his people in danger, not if he has anything to say about it. So despite the reluctance, he opened the opportunity to the doors of sorcery once more. Unfortunately all attempts of magic that he tried, failed. Wandless magic is apparently so far for him to master and without a wand to support him; he simply can't channel the power of his blood to form an incantation. Not that he's surprised about it. Wandless magic is a rare ability that very few wizards manage to attain. All magic has a medium and a wizard's is his wand. Without it, the power in him is too rare to be guided by thought alone. In the entire history of the Earth, only seven have managed to successfully use wandless magic, and only in the direst of circumstances. Even Dumbledore and Voldemort, talented as they are didn't manage to reach that level of mastery. So Maedhros or Harry doesn't delude himself that he would be able to. His defeat of Voldemort is more of a fluke than a real duel of magic. Add the prophecy behind it and old snake face has defeat written all over him. He's realistic enough to believe that and not let the defeat of the dark lord go to his head. He's a good Auror, but not the best wizard.
That doesn't mean that all avenues of magic are lost to him though. There's more ways to magic than the wand and incantation. Auror training at least has drilled that sentence to his head. One can't defend himself only by his wand, the battle of Hogwarts made sure of that. Thus every midnight when there's a new moon, Maedhros snuck out of his house (pathetically easy with the sentries being inexperienced) and away to the side of the plateau which is the only way that the goblins can access with the plateau only having one path where six people may walk abreast. There he carved runes into the side of the mountain, runes of power and shape, runes of awakening and protection. Once done, he would cut his hand and wipe it over the words of power, infusing them with the essence of magic only waiting for his command to wake up. If the goblins ever made an attack here, they would be in for a nasty surprise. It's easy to hide his work with the Cliffside being barely paid any attention by the elves. Apparently despite the Noldor's love of crafting things, the rocks of the mountain barely interest the. He would then go back home without anyone seeing or noticing. He's pretty sure Thorondor noticed him, but the Great Eagle never said anything about it or even acted, so he resumed his monthly activities again and again.
Good thing too for in the future, his hard work and dedication will truly pay things off in dividends. Still, as of now Maedhros is more than happy to spend his entire childhood in peace, acting his reborn age among his parents and peers. And that means troublemaking.
"Nana! I'm going to attend my classes with Lady Elri Nana!" he yelled happily as he dashed outside the doors of his home, the returning words of his mother to "stay safe" and "away from trouble" drowning out in the air as he joined the gathered elflings practicing their craft. As usual, he went to the seat beside his best friend, Bragolion (whose name means sudden).
"Hello," greeted the shy elf who is whittling a long branch that he's supposed to transform into the body of his personal harp in a few months' time. Bragolion is a Vanyar and is very shy. He is the antithesis of everything Maedhros is and the reborn wizard made it a point to spend most of his time with the nervous elfling. He is the same age as that of Maedhros and the two struck an easy friendship with one another ever since day one that they have met.
"Hullo," replied Maedhros making the traditional Elven greeting of putting his hand to his chest before extending it outward. "What did I miss?" he then asked, all decorum flying out of the window as he plopped on the ground at Bragolion's right side.
"Nothing much," shrugged the Vanyar elfling resuming his careful carving of the future-harp with a small knife. "Lady Elri simply taught us some history of where we came from and how we ended up in peace on this valley,"
"Aww don't tell me, I miss the entire history lesson Braggy," Maedhros frowned. He had been playing with his nana a word game and missed the time.
While not as adventurous and colorful as the history of the Elves from Aman, the Elves who now call this family their home have their own plethora of trials and tribulations before they managed to find the peace on this valley. Missing that lesson is such a waste, not to mention that Lady Elri's way of sharing it to the elflings is a million times better than the ghost professor of Hogwarts can ever hope to be.
"You better get started on your own craft Maedhros and don't call me Braggy! My name is Bragolion. Repeat after me: BRA-GO-LION!"
"Fine, Brabra!" teased Maedhros poking a tongue out that made the Vanyar elf turn crimson red at the bad nickname and threw the nearest thing he had on his hand at Maedhros' head…his carven soon-to-be-harp.
"OW!"
"Bragolion! What did I tell you about throwing things at Maedhros?!" the stern voice of Lady Elri snapped the two elflings into attention as they are subjected to her terrorizing glare. "You two naughty elflings don't want extra chores for tonight's dinner don't you?"
"No Lady Elri!" the two elflings chirped before making a dash for it as their teacher chased them and caught them easily by their tunics, in a few seconds.
"Now, now I guess it's time for me to tell your nana's about you two troublemakers making a ruckus on my classes again don't you think?" smirked their teacher evilly making the two elfings sweat bullets (or in Maedhros' case a shower of them. He'll be turned to elf-pretzel if his nana got wind of him making trouble again). Like all children, the two of them are afraid of their mother's spankings after all.
The elfling's pleas and begging of forgiveness to not be told to their nana's echoed on the plateau followed by the laughter of observers and their peers. All in all, it was just a regular day at the settlement.
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I feel a song, coming on…
Clap snap the black crack!
Grip grab pinch and nab!
Batter and beat!
Make them stammer and squeak!
Pound pound far under grounddddd…
Down down down in Goblin Town…
*goblin chorus* down down down in Goblin Town…
With a swish and a smack and a whip and a crack!
Everybody talks when they're on my rack!
Pound pound far under ground…
Down down down to Goblin Town…
*goblin chorus* down down down to Goblin Town…
Hammer and torch!
You won't last long on the end of my prong!
Clash crash crush and smash!
Bang break shiver and shake!
You can yell it and yelp but there aint no help!
Pound pound far under ground…
Down down down in Goblin Townnnnnnnn!
If any of the elves living on the elevated plateau would have even a clue of what is coming to their way, they would have bolted faster than the eagles have wings. Deep on the mountainside, through caverns built throughout the years for them to use, rows upon rows of goblins march up with a humongous big goblin leading the way. There are hundreds of them causing the ruckus, their shrieks, yells and jeers going along with the lead goblin's song as they followed him.
For years they have lived on the opposite side of the mountain, raiding elven settlements down below them. Many of the fair folk take as slaves for the creation of their endless mines. Now that the majority Elven people vacated their former lands and lived here, the daily supply of slaves of the goblins vanished and the ones they have didn't last long at the cruelty of their hands. So with the Goblin King's leading, the goblins for years have tunneled their way here, building caverns with twists and nobs that can make any army pass through the mountains, connecting the east to the west in a series of makeshift passageways. The Elves would never know what hit them and the goblins would once more have their slaves to be collared and used for their amusement once the slaughter is finished on this large elven settlement.
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Far away, the doomsman of the Valar smiled wryly as his plans come to fruitition.
