Homecoming

Horses had been provided for the company from Tol Eressëa and swift was their passage to the ship awaiting them at the Sea. Maglor brought the restive stallion to an abrupt halt when first the Grey Havens came into view, the others drawing up around him.

It was, he noted, the battle formation designed to protect the leader; an unconscious reminder of events long past. All, including Maglor, glanced sheepishly about at their fellows, the look changing quickly to one of unease. As if in one mind they realized that there were still valid reasons for their semi-isolation from those who dwelt behind the vast mountain ranges.

Not one of the sleek white swan-ships was to bear them to the Isle, but a dark blue vessel, crewed by yet others of his former comrades-in-arms. The sea was calm, but the wind, clearly a parting gift from Manwë, filled the silver-grey sails, sending them briskly toward their goal.

*******

On the quay a large crowd had assembled, greeting the returning company with gladness.

Maglor hung back, uncertain even now of his own welcome or acceptance among those who had also followed Fëanor into doom and death, and suffered as well the lasting banishment from the Blessed Realm for their defiance of the grave warnings of the Valar.

Noting his hesitance, the crowd drifted off in several directions to minimize the impact on the elf who had for millennia wandered alone and friendless. Three elves only remained at the bottom of the ramp extending from ship to shore; a male and two females, one female, with her slender arm and slim hand extended to him. A glint of silver on one finger of that feminine hand caught his keen eye.

Maglor: Nana?

Nerdanel: She awaits you.

Maglor: She was freed by my departing. By my words of anger and madness she was spurned. Never did I think to find her yet unwed.

Nerdanel turned to her son with profound sadness.

Nerdanel: Then you have wed another; in the Dark lands?

Maglor choked back a sob, but shook his head in negation.

Maglor: No other would I have taken in her stead. But much of Makalaurë is ruined and shattered, never to be reclaimed. Better she had forgone the endless time hoping for a return of the elf she remembers from before the Curse. No longer does he live.

Even as he spoke so, the female trod lightly up the boarding ramp and came to stop directly in his path. With eyes lowered she spoke to Nerdanel.

Allindë: Welcome, my Lady, will thou come and refresh thyself? After a brief pause she continued.

Allindë: Thy escort also is welcome.

Nerdanel: Allindë, we accept your kind offer.

Turning away from mother and son, she led them from the ship without speaking, to a spacious pavilion, opened on all sides to allow the gentle sea breezes to caress them. She bade them be seated on the simple stools provided and from the nearby table brought two clear goblets filled with a pale gold liquid. Handing one to each of the seated pair she then offered them an assortment of fruits.

Nerdanel selected a dark gold globe which she peeled efficiently before sectioning the juicy fruit inside. Maglor chose a small bowl of bright red berries, his hand just brushing hers.

He did not miss the tremor that seized her at that brief contact, nor was he unaware of his own long-suppressed yearning. Quickly she moved away to the opposite side of the table as if for a shielding, busying herself with arranging various items thereon. Maglor could not take his eyes from her.

Parting from the Silmaril had, he thought, been the most onerous decision of his entire life. Yet now, once more in the proximity of his beloved, he felt an even greater pain. How could he ask this innocent one to resume the betrothal bond with him? What had he to share with her? Even his family name was a reproach to many. He decided at that moment to release her from the bondage she had endured for millennia, freeing her to find one deserving of such love and loyalty. He stood and walked to her.

Slipping the silver ring from his finger he held it out to her. She froze in shock at this abrupt confrontation, staring at the ring as though it were beyond her comprehension. She retreated a step, shaking her head in disbelief.

Allindë: My Lord! Do not undo this pledge!

Dropping to her knees, head bowed she cried softly.

Allindë: Forgive my brazenness in coming unbidden to you. Has your heart turned from me?

The silence that followed was broken only by the falling of her tears upon her gown.

Allindë: For my part, I shall love none other.

With that said she rose and turned away from Maglor and going to Nerdanel knelt down before her.

Allindë: My Lady, long have we kept hope alive for each other. Now I ask leave to depart from this Isle and take up my place at the house of my father.

Nerdanel held open her arms and Allindë leaned forward into their comforting embrace. She gazed with sorrow into the face of her son. Easily she read the agony of fëa that tore him, though to outward appearances he was perfectly calm.

Nerdanel sadly: If this be your desire, Allindë, you are freed from both service and Isle.

In answer, Allindë turned about and carefully took the ring from the open palm of Maglor, but instead of taking from her finger the matching silver ring and restoring it to him, she clasped his hand gently and replaced his ring upon the finger that had borne it for the long yeni of his wanderings. Bowing her head to him, she left mother and son in stunned silence.

Maglor fixed his eyes on the silver band for but a moment, and then covered the distance between his betrothed and himself in a few long strides. Blocking her path he found he could no longer think clearly. Her loveliness drew him, captured him anew, the gentle nature he remembered, the quiet hours spent in company one with the other, her comforting touch on arm or hand or head, the wholeness he felt with her alone, the music of their fëa, myriad bright, peaceful times together; it all flooded his heart with vivid clarity.

Quiescent she stood, hardly daring to draw breath, when she felt the tender caress of his hand on hers. Still she waited, until with both he stroked her head following the length of her gleaming dark hair from crown to waist, then pausing…coming to rest on the gentle swell of her hips; that deeply intimate touch permitted rarely, and then only to a pledged lover.

Lifting her face, eyes wide and filled with sparkling tears, she boldly grasped his head, drawing him nearer still, until his lips met hers, and so sealed his fate. With a soul-deep groan, Maglor surrendered to the song of their enduring love that claimed him. Drawing her into a tight embrace, he knew he had at last come home.

The End

Notes from the Authors

In October 2004, I read a tale called Behold an Elf, and discovered that I was not the only person who dreamed of meeting the Eldar in our day. I was so delighted that I immediately emailed the author, one Eruanneth _Luin, to express my joy. She responded. I replied, and our friendship began. Since then, we have talked on the phone for hours, our conversations ranging from the silly to the profound. I do not remember now which one of us suggested that we collaborate on a story, but I am very glad one of us did, for it has been a wonderful experience. Thank you, my friend, for sharing this journey with me. Many thanks also to all of you who have come with us. Without you, we would simply be talking to empty air. Finally, my thanks and praise to J. R. R. Tolkien, whose lovely words have inspired me for over forty years.

May God bless you all. Alassiel

****

This has been a wonderful team effort. Alassiel and I for some time prior to the start of this tale had ‘discussed’ Maglor and his terrible grief and continuing exile. As happens occasionally, a scenario began to develop and I recorded the events. Alassiel then asked if there was more, to which I had to reply, “I do no see it. If you do, write it.” We continued onward, each writing separate chapters as we ‘saw’ them appear. And so began the tale of this sole surviving Son of Fëanor, who at one point urged the breaking of the Oath.

The wonderful family of elves, Linwë, Oloriel and Veryandil, are the gift of Alassiel to the tale. She allowed me to explore them with her. Thank you, dear friend, for a lovely journey.

Special thanks to Nilmandra for first encouraging me to post on her site. A warm hug and many blessings I offer to the readers who shared this adventure, and added their comments.

Finally, my extreme gratitude to both the father, J.R.R. Tolkien, and his son, Christopher, without whom we would never have discovered, nor be allowed to explore, the unique place in time called Arda. Yes, I still long to see one of the elves of Tolkien’s mythos. Some things will never change.

Blessings to all,

Eruanneth_Luin