Autumn came late this year, as if the trees finally reached Elrond’s thoughts. It seemed like yesterday when the merry voices of the Periannath filled these halls, but that was merely a fortnight ago. Ever since Sauron’s defeat, more of my kind has chosen to sail west. So, with every day, like the flowing back of the tide, more of my friends leave these halls. And now one of my closest friends decided to leave, too. Not that the decision came wholly unexpected, all knew how much Elrond wished to be reunited with his Celebrian, but most thought he would stay until he could see his first grandchild born. However, I knew better, for I have known Elrond long enough to know that the Lord of Rivendell would not want to witness that. More than ever it would be the culmination of all his pain: to see a new generation born without the light of the Eldar in its eyes.

Nay, it would not come to that, I muse and step away from the banister. I have tasks to perform, questions to answer, and friends to say goodbye to. Some understand my choice to remain, others – including Elrond – do not. But how can I explain my reasons which root in the past? Not many will understand my loyalty to my master and lord. Just as I want to cross the square to the library, rain suddenly clatters down on the flagstones and with a sigh I wait for this shower to pass. Time is something I have in abundance; although, some of the elleths seem to think that time is running out of them, and try to hurry across the courtyard while they forget about their grace. It has been ages since I was surrounded by such a hurry; some of which founded on a threat, another on a visiting relative of my lord.

I have seen a lot, experienced many events and emotions for it was never tiresome serving a Son of Fëanor.

“It is quite a sight, is it not?” I hear the voice of Elrohir floating on the wind and my eyes find him when I turn around. He is not the first twin I experienced growing up. In a second, I can remember his short legs and wilful eyes while he tried to climb my legs, Elladan followed suit. His sons were more like Elrond and his brother than he wants to admit. I remember the day when my lord found them, Elrond’s hands firmly clutched in his hair, safe in his arms, and Elros hidden partly behind his soaked robes, after the painful kinslaying now coloured red. Elrond has never said anything about my participation, nor about the time when my lord tried to raise them as best as he could. Much love he gave them, despite his own pain of sorrowful losses. I remember how both brothers, aided by their men – including me – built a cairn fitting for their standing and it was not only us that wept for them. Elrond refused to sleep for nights, whereas Elros fell asleep quickly, tired by the daily travel that had become part of their lives. I also remember my lord’s endless singing, soothing the child’s fears and chasing away the demons that haunted him.

All seem to be forgotten, except by me. I remember him still.

I remember our days in Aman where it was considered an honour to serve a prince of Eldalië. How dishonourable were we when we followed them across the ocean, bound by loyalty and faith in their father, proud and valiant son of our deceased King Finwë. Enraged by the betrayal, inflamed by the brutal murder by Morgoth, aye we followed them to the end. And such is my plight today. Soon Elrond will set sail and see whence I came from. Soon he will hear and read what befell us on those confusing days when Lord Fëanor shone as a fierce beacon in the dark that suddenly fell on us. Despite what is told, I have seen it all and lived through it. Written words can be misinterpreted, but real experiences with the hand and eye cannot.

I will not deny that I have killed and murdered, but one should not judge if they have not fought besides me, made the decisions with me, and lived with me through all these ages. For what use is loyalty if it is abandoned so quickly? I have felt the fire of the dragon in my neck, I have seen my fellow comrades being burned to death while my lord and I tried to salvage what we could. I have seen my lordship labour to rescue as many of his people as he could, forgetting about possessions and placing his men, women and children first. We fought long and hard: I will not forsake him.

“Where have you gone off to?” Elrohir’s voice pulls me back from my vivid memories.

“Beleriand.” I answer and to cool off I step into the downpour, ignoring any questions that are thrown at me by Elrohir.


~*~


Spring arrived sooner than I thought and summer followed suit. The Periannath had their hands full with Saruman, but their experiences in the east taught them well. Elrond is preparing to travel to the Grey Havens any day now. The past winter we often talked about our decisions, but he could not persuade me to travel west. In the end, we parted bitterly even when I refused the possibility to again see my wife and children who had perished during the Dagor Bragollach.

When my lord retreated to his brother’s stronghold, I remember, his hand upon my shoulder and his words that were a torch in the darkness. “Stay with me and we will overcome.” The Jewels in the end only sundered our fates. I recall the doubt in his eyes, but I knew the loyalty to his brother would be stronger than any sane reason I could counter.

“Be a free man, Erestor, pass over the mountains and start anew.” And with those words he attempted to release me of my duty, and for his sake I did go.

Elrond, at first, did not recognise me when we met in the Grey Havens. I knew that Enerion wanted to reveal my past, but reverted his decision and welcomed me in his guard. It was only after Enerion perished and we settled down in the valley that I told Elrond of my turbulent past. A sennight passed until he spoke to me again. He neither asked for my loyalty, nor did he ask me to leave, and in the years that passed, he realised his folly of mistrust towards me.

And now he stands before me, his eyes full of grief caused by my persistence to remain here. ‘Chasing a legend,’ or so he told me.

“Will you go with me?” Elrond asks me once more and before I can reply, he continues: “ I would like us to say goodbye where we have met. I will not ask you again for what you will not do.” Inclining my head slightly I can see a weak smile lingering in the corners of his mouth.

“I would gladly do so, my friend.” I carefully answer and I am rewarded by a smile.


~*~


The winter is cold and bitter. It teases my skin lightly, but I am fully wrapped in my cloak of thoughts that makes me hardly notice the time that has passed. My eyes have not left the small line of the horizon since they sailed. For what am I waiting, I wonder while I deftly wrap my fingers around a small piece of wood. Have I fooled myself? Where is the light that has always showed me the way? I wonder why my knees are still strong as I sense the wind that plays with my cloak.

Upon entering the Grey Havens, Elrond and I exchanged a glance. We left shortly before fall for the other Ringbearers to join us. Mithrandir’s eyes were often upon me and I answered his gaze with pride filling me. Not once did anyone mention why I would not set sail until Galadriel took me aside. “I have something for you.” Without any more words between us, she pressed a small box into my hands and disappeared into the crowd again. When I opened my hand, I wondered what she had just given me, but my inner voice warned me not to open it.

What can I do? Without any thought, I hold the small box and for the first time, my eyes concentrate on something else than the ebbs and flows of the sea.

Is this the answer? I simply do not know. But I feel weariness washing over me as if time wants to catch up with me. Turning around I look at the gentle slopes of Eriador and I wonder what to do now. Elladan and Elrohir are still in Rivendell, I muse, but they do not need me anymore. I look to the left and gaze at the Blue Mountains and remember.

When the flames danced upon the metal that was in my hands, I remember, the occasion tied to the jewel. I relive the joy in our hearts, I can see the love in their eyes, but I also recall the pain in her heart when we left her behind in Formenos. No words were exchanged, only gestures and touches of love, the sweet whispers and promises of a return that never would happen. What drove him away from his kin, his family, his friends, but most of all: his love?


~*~


Springtide dances around me now that I started to walk the lands of Forlindon. During my walks I recognise many land marks from the past and yet I wonder what brings me here. My camps during the evenings are simple since I do not wish to stay too long at one place. Disheartened by the lack of guidance of by my own spirit or the stars, I decide to follow the coastline to the south. After a fortnight of travelling, I feel the constant rhythm of Arda coursing through my body again. Too long have I lived in Elrond’s stronghold: shielded by the protective barriers of his realm, soothed by the presence of the lore contained in his library at the cost of no longer feeling the true nature pulsating through my veins.

Once I was a warrior and even though I do not wield my sword any more, my body had to grow accustomed to the long rides on my faithful steed. Yet I could not help to wonder how my lord, or so they said, could wander upon these shores for ages. Wherever we travelled there was always a roof above our heads and a warm sleep, for not everyone wanted to refuse a shelter to us. Besides our image, our lord always repaid them in songs, tales and laughter and during one of those evenings I met Ferineth. The moment I laid my eyes on this fair Laiquendi woman, I was lost in love. Needless to say, that we celebrated our wedding in a forest dominated by the trees she was born under: beeches. Ferineth did not object to follow me when my lord settled between the northern arms of Gelion and many blissful years were ours to enjoy. Ferineth and I rejoiced in the two elflings that made our family complete. Never before had I felt so at peace and at home. That was until the dragon came and twisted my life into darkness.

This night I feel dreary and I decide to settle down for the night early: wrapping my cloak around me for some comfort and shelter. But then I hear a tune, a note that stirs something inside me and yet it is so fragile that I assume I have imagined it. With a sigh, I close my eyes and I feel how the notes on the wind lure me into a dream. The dream that tells the tale of Dagor-nuin-Giliath, when we - the Noldor elves - were victorious and strong, the light of Aman still strong in our eyes. And it is the flicker of light that awakes me, again. Before I can utter a word I cannot believe my eyes as I look straight in the eyes of my lord, Maglor Fëanorion.


~*~


It was during a cold autumn night when Maglor finally did ask me the question I avoided answering to myself. Of course I often wondered why I did not sail west at the moment when Glorfindel, Galdor and Lindir chose to do so. Did I miss them? Strangely enough: no. I knew that within the company of Maglor, a purpose is mine. For years as I served as Elrond’s chief of councillors, I felt my purpose slipping away like sand through my fingers. Maglor did not ask for much and it took some days before he finally realised that I was not to leave his side. It was not that he tried though.

“Why have you not set sail?” he asks me, his eyes tethering on the balance of sanity as if I alone can give him an excuse to walk away.

“For what reason should I? I have nothing there that will give me hope and reason to live.” I answer.

“Your wife, children,” Maglor replies and I realise that he no longer remembers my losses. Could it be that the loss of the jewel dominates all other memories? Could it be that the memory of his mother, stepmother, and the other of kin living in Valinor is pushed aside by deeper emotions?

“Sire, do you not remember? It is as if the day the dragon took that of which I loved the most, I lived in the darkness of pain. It was you who became my shining beacon in that dark night, giving me reason to live and remain,” I answer with fire.

“How can this be?” Maglor rises to his feet, his face mirrors his confusion: “The everlasting darkness is my fate and my burden to carry alone. This cannot be! How could you have survived?”

“My Lord.” I struggle to remain calm. How can I indeed explain how I did survive all along without those I love, with the memory that all I needed was lost to the fire? I have to tell him all, I realise and motion for him to sit down.

“When my hope perished in the fires of despair and pain. When I knew I had lost all, it was your hand on my shoulder, your words that gave me something to hold onto.” I swallow painfully when the images surface again. “I recall that I found my wife clinging on to the weaving stool, her work partly burnt, her fingers clutched the tool while her life thread was sundered from our world. Do you not remember that you found me holding her? Your eyes showed me a bad omen, and words of despair tumbled from your lips telling me that most of the children... It was you who told me that they had died in the barn, together with the others.”

My voice breaks and I can barely breathe, and then, just like many ages ago, I feel his hand steadying me before I fall to the ground.

“I am sorry. I am sorry that you had to relive that again.” The pull of Arda is great and yet his hand restrains me before I can give in.

“You should find healing overseas.” This line stuns me and I look up into his dark grey eyes.

“For what, did you not hear what I just told you?” I am stunned that even now he does not understand my connection to him.

“Your wife and children may have left Mandos. It is not unheard of.”

Glorfindel. I should have known that the tale of this reborn elf would spread fast.

“Is this why you are reluctant to go? There will be many looking forward to your return,” I answer.

“No.” His voice sounds haunted now. “There is nothing there for me.”

“Nerdanel, Indis, Amaurëa.” I start to summarize all those who would miss the remaining member of the house of Finwë.

“My mother does not want to see me. That much is clear to me. As for my step grandmother, I deem she has enough of her own kind that will make her happy.”

A crow suddenly emerges from the thicket, leaving my question about his wife unanswered. For a moment an uneasy silence remains between us, but then I remember the ring Galadriel gave me. Without a word I kneel down and open my pack. Maglor remains silent, his eyes fixed upon the green hills in the east.

“Here.” Maglor stares at me, but refuses to accept the small wooden box.


~*~


I cannot remember which season it is now. For years I have travelled beside my lord who gradually accepted my presence. Was it not without the unnecessary problems for one who has not spoken to one of his race. Yet I clung onto my loyalty, which is difficult at times especially since Maglor demanded to know where I obtained the ring. My answer was not satisfactory enough since my lord claimed that his cousins would have no interest in his family.

So here we stand in silence next to each other. It has taken us months to leave the cries of the gulls behind us and my lord stands frozen next to me. We both know that we cannot return now that we have passed beyond the Great Rift and yet we both cannot recall our fateful journey to Middle Earth.

Over the months his resolve slowly crumbled, and I told him about my time in Imladris, serving his young pupil as what I always have assumed to be his wish. We quietly talk about his parting with Elrond and Elros but there is no rejoice in his eyes when I tell him about Elros’ ultimate decision. Yet I am not surprised that I do not have to explain to him what this choice means, for he knows many tales of lore and legends of all ages. Sometimes at night when I hold my vigil over the fire, I wonder how close he dared to adventure to the elven realms, but then I might underestimate the manner in which the news travels amongst the men and halflings.

“Halfway.” I curtly state, weary of the cold wind that makes me shiver under my woollen cloak. But once I look at him, the ice-cold look in his eyes chills me truly to the bone and I say no more.


~*~


There are rumours circulating in Tirion about Maglor’s whereabouts. Once we both set a foot on the land months ago, the royal guard immediately escorted Maglor to the Ring of Doom and I fought so hard to break free from the vicelike grip on my arms. “Macalaurë!” I shouted and I heard guffaws from the right and left. How did I dare to care for the remaining scion of Finwë? Suddenly, as if a wolf which claws his way to freedom, Maglor escaped from his wardens.

“I hold you blameless, Erestor. We both know who betrayed me.” He calmly answered my frantic call to him and nods to the guards. This time they do not touch him as if his noble words touched them as much as it did touch me.

“Traitress,” I hissed and the first thing I asked Galdor, who unknowingly of the nature of my arrival was glad to see me, was treated to a rant about what happened and how the former Lady of the Golden woods had set me up to betray Maglor. At first the Falathrim could not understand my fury regarding Galadriel and he offered me to bring me to my friends who had arrived before me.

That was then. Glorfindel has managed to keep me away from her for the first months I remained in Tirion, after that period I decided to explore the lands of Valinor with Lindir, but it did not bring me the blissful state of mind I had hoped to find.

Today, as I sit on the edge of the fountain in Elrond’s backyard, I listen to the voice of my old friend, but even in his wisdom and standing, Elrond cannot tell me what has become of Maglor Fëanorion and the rumours that have been buzzing around the city and surrounding lands as of the day we arrived.

The silver voice of Celebrian makes my head turn in her direction. I never expected that hearing her voice again could bring me a sense of tranquillity, which somehow reminds me of Ferineth, whose voice resembled the soft rustling of leaves on a lazy summer day, and often could calm me after I came home after a day of work in the fields. Such joy it is to be reunited with one’s love, I muse and wonder why she interrupted our quiet meeting. Soon my heart chills when Galadriel appears in the doorway and I know everyone is awaiting my reaction. Galadriel’s eyes are calmer than I expect after our last encounter. Surely my accusations must have reached her too?

“I have come here on behalf of Nerdanel. Her request is in this letter.” Once I so blindly accepted a token from Galadriel, but now I cannot do otherwise and refuse to accept this. May Eru guide me.


~*~


The letter remained unopened throughout winter. I simply could not forget about the consequences of accepting the ring from Galadriel and Maglor’s captivity in, most likely, the Halls of Mandos.

Often I considered burning the letter, but then again who was I to ignore a personal note from Nerdanel, Lady of Formenos. An age after the arrival of her youngest and eldest into Mandos, Nerdanel moved up North, away from the prying eyes and well meant words of friends. Indis once a while visited her, but Nerdanel never left the stronghold, not even in the winter. Rumours said that she left it once in secret, but her visit was noticed by some of the Vanyar elves, which at their turn reported this arrival to Indis. It was not known why Nerdanel visited Valmar, but the tongues wagged once more when Amaurëa joined her mother in law in Formenos.

However, yesterday I opened the letter after Celebrian had implored me to do so. She came alone late in the afternoon, stressing me not to wait any longer and if I wished so, I could travel with them. Now I wonder why Nerdanel has invited me to come to Formenos, but the tone of her writing feels light and joyful to me. When I finished reading the letter, I could not ignore the plea that was written in Celebrian’s eyes and now I stare at my scarce belongings, wondering what to bring with me or not. I try to remember what spring in Formenos was like, but it is hard to tell what the difference will be between the radiating presence of the Two Trees, or Arien and Tilion.

I know I do not have much time left since I tarried for a long time to read Nerdanel’s invitation, but yesterday Celebrian promised to bring along trimmed robes, fitting for a formal occasion. So with a sigh I pack those clothes and objects I will need, lingering the longest if I should bring along a quill and paper and in the end I decide to do so. With a firm move I sling both packs on my shoulder to leave my home for a while, knowing that Elrond and Celebrian are waiting for me to travel up north.


~*~


“Radiant.” This impression is prominently on my mind when I embrace Nerdanel. We arrived after two-week travel up north. During this journey Elrond seemed to have forgiven me about my refusal to sail west with him and our friendship has slowly mended. But never did I expect to hold a joyful Nerdanel in my arms. My last memory of her was her lips pursed in bitterness and her pain in the eyes when she slammed the door behind her. On that day, I was visiting three eldest brothers after being invited to join them on a hunting trip outside Tirion, but I was ordered to leave soon, because Fëanor had declared to leave for his stronghold in the north.

“Lady Nerdanel, it is an absolute honour to be invited.” I bow slightly and am surprised by her gentle laugh.

“Erestor, it is an honour that you accepted the invitation. For a long time I wondered if I did upset you with my request to come here.” Nerdanel grabs my hand and gently tugs me to go with her. “But let us end this secrecy. Please come with me.” She leads me through the halls once so familiar to me. And while I follow her, I spot tapestries so fine of details on the walls and I wonder who wants to see Miriel’s handiworks on the walls again. From the cold and shady halls, Nerdanel leads me into a garden where many friends and kin are gathered. My eyes scan around briefly, but my heart sinks in my chest when I cannot find my loved ones.

“Come, answers will follow.” Nerdanel gently leads me to the part of the garden where Curufin married his wife long ago. Once there, I stop dead in my tracks and my breathing suddenly halts. What I considered for long as impossible stands in front of me. In the bower stands Amaurëa; her eyes fixed on her husband Maglor, and Maedhros stands besides them. I struggle to breathe and Nerdanel’s soothing voice can be heard in the background.

“They decided to renew their marriage bonds today. You just came in time,” Nerdanel explains to me while her hand caresses my shoulder in comfort. “It was Nienna who healed and took away his sorrows and grief. And I know that when he faced Manwë, he pleaded for you and for his brothers. You made this possible Erestor, we shall not forget. And in the generation of my house that will now follow, your deeds will be remembered.”

Nerdanel leaves me alone and I struggle to stay. Bitterness fights its battle with joy and even though I wished this to happen the most, the feeling of emptiness sweeps through me. Maglor fathered a child with his love, Amaurëa. Never before have those two dared place an elfling on this world with the wars and kin strife.

Just as the ceremony starts, I close my eyes and try to hold back my tears. Is this our fate? Has all I strived for resulted in this? I wonder. But then, a light beech leaf carried on the wind slightly brushes my hand. I feel how a small hand takes my left hand. Soon my right hand is claimed with the same eagerness. Yet, I cannot believe. Not until I feel two familiar arms wrapped around my waist and her soft melodic voice touches my soul like no one else can. “Welcome home Erestor. It is time to heal.”

For those who are not familair with the Silmarillion, here is a short explanation of the battles Erestor mentions:

Dagor Bragollach = the fourth battle of the Wars of Beleriand, known as the Battle of Sudden Flame.

Once Morgoth broke the Siege of Angband, which had held for four hundred years. On a winter's night, Morgoth sent out rivers of flame, consuming Ard-galen, which was renamed Anfauglith. Many elves perished as they fled from these flames, from the fire and the smoke. His armies of Balrogs and Orcs, led by Glaurung first of the dragons, overran the highlands of Dorthonion, and slew Angrod and Aegnor. Maglor's horsemen were burnt alive on the plain of Lothlann, and Maglor's Gap was taken, giving Morgoth an entry into Beleriand itself. Maglor retreated with heavy losses to Himring, where he helped defend the city of Maedhros.

Dagor-nuin-Giliath = also called the battle-under-stars. It was fought before the rising of the Moon between Fëanor and his people, who had just returned to Middle-Earth from Valinor, and Morgoth's forces. The Elves were victorious but Fëanor was slain by a Balrog and Maedhros captured.

Translations of names used:
Ferineth = young beech
Amaurëa = before dawn