“You’ve met him, Daeron. Tell me what your impression of him is.” Maglor asked. The two were out on the Terrace sharing a nice fruit drink as Maglor acclimatized back into the world. And while he was a bit disorientated, he was more than grateful for being renewed in body and without pain for the first time in Ages! And he'd been brought to tears to see his brother, Maedhros, hale and whole once more.
Daeron played with his fruit plate as Maglor wasn't permitted to eat or drink hearty food or wine for at least a week. “I met him in the First Age when King Thingol sent me and Mablung to the Feast of Mereth Aderthad to represent Doriath. He was pleasant enough but I could see a grimness about him. A coldness. But I could also see it wasn’t directed towards me, personally. Rather it seemed to me that crown sat heavy on his head.” Daeron paused and then, “Now? Oh, he’s a different person altogether, now. I like this one. His eyes dance. Like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders.”
“He reminds me of the ellon I knew in my youth. Before the tension between him and my atar grew so taunt. Looking back on that time, it is easy to see the influence of Morgoth at play between them. But truly, that wasn’t always the case.” Maglor said.
“They weren’t close - not as brothers should be, surely.” Daeron frowned. He'd heard the stories from Maglor himself, over their years together.
“No, that I can attest to. But from what I’ve heard, they weren’t necessarily estranged either.”
“So how did he convince you to leave?”
“Well, you were there when I died. The only thing I really regret about that is how long it took. It shouldn’t take so long to die, especially when you know you’re done for."
And Maglor began with to tell his tale started after the moment of his death.....
~Halls of Mandos~
Maglor knew the moment of his death as all the pain he'd lived with in life was suddenly gone. Gone too was the crushing pain in his chest from the tree that had pinned him. It had taken a very long for him to die. He'd always been told that their fëa could be released from their hröa by their súlë. He could now attest that this was not true.
Then he found himself before the Seat of Mandos and he fell to his knees, his head bent in submission.
“You have made your way to My Halls and your Doom, Makalaurë Fëanárion. Long are your list of crimes and many are your victims.” The Doomsman said heavily.
“I admit it, my lord.” Maglor said tonelessly.
“Still, I would show you some small mercy for the care you took of the scions of Eärendil.”
“Nay! Show me no mercy for I do not deserve it.” he retorted and it would be the only emotion he would show.
Mandos was concerned, for the ellon was near enough to a catatonic state that he knew there would be no point in showing him the error of his ways via his wife, Vairë’s Tapestries. They would merely send him over the edge into madness from which he’d never reemerge.
Two maiar appeared, answering his summons, and led the ellon away to chambers with no door. No tapestries. The only souls occupying the Halls at this time were those of the Second Born and they moved about without seeing him. Their thoughts were their own and a lone elf concerned them not at all. Maglor was essentially alone with his thoughts. His memories.
He stayed where he was for a time - he had no idea how long - before he left the room and walked the corridors. He wasn’t sure exactly why. Perhaps seeking for others. Perhaps looking for his brothers. His father. But while he passed closed doors, he could sense no fëar within. Eventually he sat. And there he stayed. Refusing to speak to any who came enquiring about his welfare. Refusing to speak at all - or to sing.
Those of the ainu at least expected the bard would sing. Especially this bard. They weren’t expecting happy tunes. But they had expected to be subjected to his misery in the form of song. But no sound escaped him. He didn’t weep, send up prayers or even mutter to himself. Years and decades passed and the ellon didn’t move. And Námo was at his wits end. Had it been left up to him he’d just shove the ellon out the door and hope for the best. But he knew that would be folly. He couldn’t send him out like this even if he called his brother, Irmo, to come and fetch him.
More years passed and then an interesting development occurred. A party of elves were arriving and Námo knew them. Most had been his guests at one time. All expect two of them. And he knew them too. There wasn’t a lot Námo didn’t know. And one in particular that had caught his interest long ago. Hmmm. Perhaps there was a way out of this mess after all. And Námo smiled….
~0~
Fingolfin had been shocked when his hand had passed through the giant door. One of a pair of double doors for who knows what purpose - and then he did it again - just to be sure. Meeting his brother’s shocked gaze an imp of an idea bloomed and grinning at his brother he walked through the door before his brother could talk him out of it.
Once inside he noticed it looked different and at first he couldn’t figure out why. And then he snorted for he knew what was different. The last time he was here there were vast numbers of elves walking about - the unhoused Fëar of two and a half million if his brother, Ara was to be believed. He briefly wondered how he came up with that number. For most of them were Teleri - Greenelves, Greyelves and ones of other names. Lindar, Eglar, Sindar! Silvan, Galadhrim and Nandor. Falathrim, Falmari and Nelyar. Even the Avari insisted they were from the original tribe of the Teleri. And no! They weren't dark elves! Politely refusing an invitation didn’t make them servants of the Hunter, thank you very much!
Regardless, when he’d been here last time the halls and corridors had been teaming with roaming elves and it had only been the Doomed Noldor who had private rooms - or rather jail cells. Jail cells filled with the tapestries of their misdeeds. Or perceived misdeeds. His son, Argon, had only tapestries of the grinding ice in his cell. Even as a shade he’d been cold! The same with those who had perished on that long trek. Their only sin had been to leave - and die! Yet they were locked in doorless, windowless cells staring at ice - for centuries.
Those killed by Morgoth and his hordes, on the other hand, were given free reign to walk about and mingle with friends and kin.
Now those same halls and corridors were empty. He saw no wandering shades and heard no sound. Fine. He’d just walk until he found who he was looking for. He figured it had to be easier in a way. Instead of searching for a familiar face in a crowd all he had to do was find just one soul wandering about. How hard could that be?
It turned out to be a lot harder than he thought. Corridor after empty corridor he saw nothing. No one. And at one point he even called out, “A little help here! A flaming arrow to point the way. Something? Anything?”
He was just about to lose hope of getting in and out with Maglor, when he heard a soft sound. Like the clearing of a throat and he turned about and followed it racing down the corridor until he heard it again and this time from behind him. Turning about he went back and saw a corridor he’d run past without seeing that one branched off. He turned down it and far in the distance he could see a shadow slumped on the floor and he just knew that blob was his target.
Slowing down as he got closer he was struck by the look of his nephew. Egad! He looked dead! And that wasn’t normal for the Fëar of the eldar. Especially not here!
Standing in front of Maglor, Fingolfin tried to softy call his name and became concerned when he got no response. And gazing down at him with his fists on his hips, Fingolfin seriously thought of just nudging him with his boot, but thought better of it. So he squatted on his haunches and put his hand on one of Maglor’s raised knees. “Laurë, it’s me. Your uncle Ñolo. I’ve come to take you home to your family. Your atar is outside waiting for you.”
“Tell him to go home. I’m not leaving.” was the curt reply. That was fine with Fingolfin. At least he spoke and he could work with that.
“Why? From what my grandson has said, you’ve been in here for quite a while now. What more do you need to contemplate? Unless you’re working on a ballad about your stay in these Halls. I don’t imagine it would be a very snappy tune. It’s rather dreary in here. Monochromatic, if you get my meaning.”
“Why are you here? How are you here?” Maglor asked testily.
“That’s one more question than your atar asked me when I came for him in the Second Age. Back then I simply said it was a silly question as I had died. But I can’t say that this time and so I have no answer for you. I just know I was allowed in and here I am. We are here to bring you home.” and before Maglor could respond, added, “And I’m not leaving without you. So unless you want your brothers and atar storming the gates of Mandos, I’d suggest you become a little more receptive to the idea of leaving with me.”
“My brothers? They are all free?” he asked tentatively.
“Matimo and Tyelkormo are outside. Along with Elrond, Daeron and Findekáno. The Ambarussa are in Tol Kimbalaer and are courting the granddaughters of Lord Thranduil. And I believe Curufinwë and Carnistir are back in your atar’s realm. So is Celebrimbor.” he said and then, “Oh! And you have two new siblings. Twins sisters. They are called Telemnë and Telpinë. You must come and meet them.”
“Silver ones?” and finally Maglor raised his head and looked at his uncle.
“Aye! They are both crowned with lovely silver hair like your unfortunate grandmother. Tyelko is thrilled, of course. So are the Ambarussa. They are twenty-three now and unholy terrors if what Náro tells me is in any way accurate. Personally, I think he’s just not sure what to do with little ellyth. I try to tell him that at that age he just needs to treat them like ellyn. Most of the things he lets them get away with he never let you boys get away with. He’ll be sorry if he doesn’t take them in hand soon.”
“And you know this...how exactly?”
“Well, let's see. I grew up with two sisters. I have a daughter - you may have met her? Írissë? Used to go tearing off with your brother, Tyelko. And my brother has a daughter - Artanis. You might have run across her as well. So, you see, I know quite a lot more about little girls than your atar does. And he’s learning that the hard way.” and Fingolfin said smugly.
Maglor let out a little huff of laughter and said, “And you’re enjoying that, aren’t you?”
“Yes I am!” his uncle grinned, “But it’s nice to see him with his family. Your brothers are busy getting him closer to that forty-nine grandchildren number he’s so fond of. I hope he knows that’s never going to happen. Only he was crazy enough to try and populate his own city. And these days he makes toys for them.” he smiled and then, “Oh yes! And he built a sky-ship. He built and tested it in my city because your amil wouldn’t let him do it in his. And he doesn’t even get air-sick in it.”
Maglor was surprised at the fondness he saw coming from his uncle and then he paid attention to what was being said, “Your city? And his? I don’t understand.”
“Yes, I can see that. Well, you’ve been gone for a very long time. It all started in the Second Age after the War of Wrath.” and Fingolfin went on to explain the abdication of a disillusioned Finarfin; the release of Finrod; the liberation of the returned Noldor on Tol Eressëa by Finrod at Finarfin’s behest.
The new realms he’d built for the three brothers up north and how none of them miss Tirion and its politics at all. Then Finarfin’s own rebellion in facilitating a mass jailbreak from the Halls in the Second Age - helped quite a bit by Fingolfin, himself, since he’d spent about a millennia collecting everyone in the Halls.
“And how did you manage that?”
And then Fingolfin explained that when he’d arrived the Doomsman had given him the boon of allowing him to see his son Argon and he’d inadvertently discovered he was able to not only pass through the walls - apparently the only way he could visit his son - but was also able to take whoever was inside the cells along with him. And when Finarfin had opened the door from the outside they’d all been gathered and just….left.
“And after that the Teleri set up their own realm just North of here where Elwë is king once more and Ara sailed the rest of us up to his coastal realm of Núnaranië and his city of Váyamarilla and settled his people. He then escorted me and mine to my realm of Entyaranië and the city of Arcoa Maril and finally he escorted your atar to what had been Formenos, now the realm of Rónaranië and his city of Orehtelë. Our Ara did good.”
“Why did none go back to Tirion?”
“We are all banned from the city, Laurë. That hasn’t changed. But you know? None of us seem to miss it. When Findaráto convinced Olwë to lend him ships to transfer the Noldor to the Western side - which he did gleefully, by the way - he was quite amazed at how large this land actually is. And wondered at the small area we’d been locked into. Ara had him build a road from the coast to your atar’s stronghold and when Findaráto gave his report Ara tasked him with building the other two realms. It took a long time, but our people were motivated and they did a splendid job. You’ll like it, I think.”
“That is quite a tale. Songs should be sung about it.” Maglas said, smiling faintly.
“Oh that’s not all! Later on we broke out your cousin Ambaráto - who, like you - refused to leave. You should know we never leave family behind! We also liberated Lord Elrond’s daughter who unfortunately found out the choice of becoming mortal or eldar was never hers to make. That choice had been made by her atar just as his brother’s choice determined the entire line of his descendants..” and smiling Fingolfin added, “They run a boarding house in Lórien. The Home of Melodic Musings, they call it. It’s a home for the forlorn.”
“Poor Arwen! But I’m afraid I’m not sorry to hear that. Her atar did not take that well. And who could blame him? I can tell you she’s the very image of her foremother, Lúthien.” and then he broke off and exclaimed, “Does Daeron know about her?” he asked uneasily.
“Oh yes. That’s where he’s been living for the last season or two. He came with that Sindar King. Thranduil. Nice fellow. Absolutely refuses to play king any longer. He and his people have settled on an island they call Tol Kimbalaer. And do you know, he brought two races of mortals with him? Dwarves and Hobbits. Said they were on the verge of extinction and he wouldn’t tolerate it. He brought a maia with him who said if they didn’t set foot on Aman it was all legal - the precedent set by the Valar’s own rules for Númenor. And so far the Valar haven’t interfered. Well, Ulmo and Aulë seemed to have helped without saying so by moving some specific islands to join with the main island. One part for the Dwarves and one part for the Hobbits. And Nowë is the governor of the island.”
“Anything else?”
“Oh yes! Your atar and I went to Tol Kimbalaer so we could organize the liberation of Elrond’s parents and grandparents who were trapped in perpetual isolation within the Tower of Pearl. We gutted Vingilótë and affixed the silmaril to the prow of the ship. Your atar is very clever, as you know. His calculations keep it aloft in perpetual orbit around Arda. As soon as we left the island the tower collapsed and the island sank. We've all come to the conclusion that the Valar are a strange folk. But your atar got to fly on Vingilótë - which of course gave him the idea for the sky ships. When he came to ask me to help come fetch you I was actually surprised he didn’t arrive in one. Almost all the realms have them now. The sons of Elrond, I believe, wish to return to Tol Kimbalaer as Nowë has a fleet of them. Plus I believe the elder lad has affections for the daughter of Lord Thranduil. I believe Elrond wishes to encourage that.”
“It sounds like you and atar have mended your differences.” Maglor said carefully.
“It probably helped that I made sure to get your brothers out of their cells before I got him out. Before he could say a word he was being mobbed by loving sons happy to see him. He was pretty easy to deal with after that.”
Maglor’s head was reeling from all he’d heard. It seemed he’d missed quite a bit while he wallowed in his self-pity. Family and people he loved seemed to have gotten on with their lives with no recriminations hindering them. He didn’t think all had been forgiven but no one was throwing it in their faces either. And the fact their people had self-isolated seemed to have solved many potential problems and hard feelings.
“Matimo..?”
“Is whole. Elrond was very glad to see him so. He has reconciled with his wife and they have three children the last I heard. In fact, all three cities have experienced a baby-boom. Ara insists it’s because we now have room to grow. That we were too crowded in the one city and that’s why children stopped being born even when people wed. I think he has a point. I know the three of us all have grandchildren sprouting out of the woodwork. Just like when you boys and all your cousins were little.” he smiled and added, “I’m sure Faila Ingólomë is waiting for her lord.” he said, referring to Maglor’s wife and he knew he hit the mark as Maglor’s eyes closed in pain.
Throwing an arm around his nephew, who he was shocked to find felt solid to him and the thought crossed his mind that he should have just tried to drag him out. But he quickly dismissed it as impractical.
He continued, “She’s forgiven you, you know. Though I would watch out for frying pans in your foreseeable future. But I know she misses you and she’s waiting for you. And your atar promised her he’d bring you home. You don’t want to be responsible for your atar breaking his word do you?” shocking a startled laugh out of his nephew.
“No. No I don't, Uncle.” he smiled and looking at him Fingolfin could see there was a light burning in his eyes once more. And he felt his nephew was ready to leave, so he got to his feet and held out his hand to his nephew who hesitated only a moment before he grasped it.
~0~
“And then Lord Mandos' servant appeared before us and sent me out and told me Lord Mandos needed to talk to Uncle but that he would see him home. And that’s pretty much all there is to it.” Maglor concluded.
Daeron chuckled and said, “Actually, from what you’ve told me there’s enough material in there for us to write dozens of ballads about their adventures. We should really start visiting these realms and getting stories so we can put them to verse.”
“You know? I think that is a fine idea. But first, I think I need to go with my atar and brothers back to Formenos. Or rather Orehtelë. I...I’d like to find out if what Uncle said is true and my wife is willing to see me. I have to know. You understand don’t you?”
“Of course I do. But there’s no reason why you can’t do two things at once. I could travel with you and stay in one of the taverns there. I’m sure to pick up some interesting stories there.” Daeron grinned.
“I’m not sure that is a good idea. Being around a bunch of Noldor who are in their cups is bound to result in a brawl or two. I wouldn’t want to risk you, old friend.”
“Pfft! As if a bunch of drunk Noldor could ever compete with the damage caused by a bar full of drunken men!”
“You may have a point. But I would still feel better if you just stayed in my atar’s home. Trust me when I say we are quite capable of providing vast amounts of amusement for you, with our own brand of brawling.”
“Do you just duke it out and everyone around you just watches?”
“No, of course not. Though sometimes we’ll all get involved. Why do you ask?”
“Because it looks like your brothers are about to start one right now.” Daeron said, pointing to the heated exchange between Maedhros and Celegorm.
When it looked to be reaching a boiling point, Maglor swore softly and sprang up to interfere. Or join in. Daeron couldn’t tell which at this point and just chuckled as he enjoyed the show, very glad to have his friend back.
