Author's Note: Many, many thanks to SurgicalSteel for the medical beta on this chapter. Also, Chapter 25 will be up next weekend.

Chapter 24

"Remove your cloak and turn around- slowly."

I froze, jarred out of my memories. Why had I not been paying attention to me surroundings? Just because no one had paid me any mind obviously did not mean that someone hadn't recognized me. I did as directed, because it was pointless to resist, loosening the clasp and letting the garment fall about my feet to the wet stone. Keeping my hands visible, I slowly turned around, trying to compose my face but unable to hide my fear. Once I had fully turned around, the man brought the sword tip to my throat.

"I thought I recognized you, Kinslayer," he said in mildly accented Quenya.

The crowd was silent behind him, the only noise the light patter of rain on the stone. The only movement were parents hurrying children away, though Vola hadn't yet noticed my predicament. I did not blame the parents given I did not know how this would turn out. While the Teler could certainly kill with the sword, it was quite obvious that it was there to keep me still and under control, but I did not think that I would get away unscathed.

"Why did you come here?"

Barely able to keep a tremor out of my voice, I responded, "To Alqualondë or the memorial?"

"Both," he said, moving the point closer to my throat.

"To see my mother to the former and to examine it to the latter. I did not know it existed until I saw it. So I came over."

"So you could gloat?"

Wary of the sword, I slowly shook my head. "To remember my folly and to mourn."

He and several other Elves in the crowd laughed harshly. "To mourn? You?"

He lowered the sword and I relaxed slightly, never taking my eyes off the Teler. He did indeed sheath the blade, but rather than stand down further, he shifted his stance to a combat position. I tried to back up a step, but two Elves caught me and held me still. I struggled slightly, but could not remove their painful grips on my arms. The man with the sword smiled, drew back his fist, and punched me in the jaw. At the same moment, the two holding my arms released me, causing me to stumble back that one step and crack my head on the memorial. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was the man grinning and raising his fist again.

* * * * *

I groaned, head throbbing in time with my pulse. I knew that from the soft mattress I was lying on that I was no longer in the plaza next to the quays. But that did not answer where I was, or what had happened after I lost consciousness. I opened my eyes, finding a dimly lit room and someone sitting by my bed, silhouetted by the light behind. I tried to make my eyes focus, but it hurt too much.

"Oh, Makalaurë, you truly do know how to get into trouble."

"Mother," I whispered. "Where am I?"

"The healers'. You will not be going anywhere for the next few days- you are too badly injured."

"I'm aware," I whispered dryly. "What happened?"

"After you fell unconscious, your attackers kept beating you until Vola and a couple others pulled them off you. Your left hand is in a splint, so do not try to do anything with it."

"And?"

"And I am not a healer, so I do not know. I arrived here just a little while ago, because Vola needed to talk to the guards."

I groaned. "How much trouble am I in?"

"That depends on King Olwë. He will talk to you once you have recovered more."

I groaned again and closed my eyes. This was not what I needed. One simple little trip to Alqualondë to visit my mother. I should have known something would happen.

I heard the door open and shut and quiet footsteps come to the other side of the bed. I opened my eyes again to see a Teler standing over me. I tried to recoil, but my body protested and all I could do was gasp in pain.

"Try not to move, Maglor, unless you want to make your injuries worse," Mother said.

I frowned, not wanting to move my head again. "Which are?"

The healer answered as she examined me, "A concussion along with a cut from where your head hit the memorial that had to be sutured and your left hand has fractures that we had to operate on to realign and fix with plates and screws. There is also severe bruising and scrapes, some of which also have sutures, and several broken ribs. You were lucky it was not worse."

"I know. Is there anything I can take for the pain?" I asked, glancing at the IV going into my right arm.

Her lips thinned. "We're already giving you opiates. Someone will bring some ice- it should help." I nodded, gasping when the pain grew worse. She said, "Just rest. It's the best thing for you right now."

Just a few minutes after my hand was iced, I fell asleep.

* * * * *

The next time I woke up, Mother was gone but Vola was sitting in the chair, reading. I cleared my throat and he looked up.

"Welcome back. Your mother said you were awake for a few minutes with her. How do you feel?"

"It hurts," I said, in too much pain to be polite. "And could I have some water?"

He held out a glass of water with a glass straw in it. A straw- like I was a child. Of course, given how helpless I was at the moment, it was appropriate. I was only able to drink half the glass, but it helped somewhat. "When did you figure out I was in trouble?"

"When my friend's eyes widened. Neither of us heard the sword being drawn, but when you went down, someone started screaming. By the time I reached you, there were four Teleri…" He glanced away and then back. "With the blood pooling around you, I wasn't sure if you were going to survive. We pulled them off you, and the ambulance came a few moments later."

"Next time, let's not bring me to Alqualondë."

Vola laughed nervously. "I agree. Anyplace else would have been better."

"I can think of a couple that would be worse, and both start with 'm'."

He sobered. "Anyway, you need to rest."

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the pain I was in, but he turned back to his book. I glanced at the ceiling and noticed for the first time it had a mural painted on it. At least I had something to look at, which was probably the entire point.

* * * * *

Three days later, I was finally allowed out of bed. Still, my recovery was slower than I liked, especially my left hand. The attackers had certainly known what they were doing when they'd used a sword hilt to break my bones. The healers had assured me everything would heal in time, but I had only to glance at the scar on my right hand to know otherwise. Of course, that scar would never fade, due to what had given it to me. Still, the healers had me doing range-of-motion exercises with my left hand so I would regain the most mobility as fast as possible. And yet, I knew that my playing would be affected.

I sighed and stared at the now boring ceiling, in far less pain than when I had originally woke up, and the IV and sutures had been removed that morning as I didn't need them anymore. I was alone in the room, but given that one of the assistants had told me King Olwë had arrived just a short while ago, it wouldn't last. And then I would find out exactly how much trouble I was in.

The king walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. I sat up, leaning against the headboard. "Your Majesty."

Olwë sat down on the chair and studied me. "Once again blood has been spilled on the quays of Alqualondë, Fëanorion. I know why you came here. I also know what happened was not your fault, though I do lay some of the blame at your feet simply by your presence."

"I was not the one who approached my mother-"

"Telepevola and I have already discussed this. The matter has been closed. You are not legally at fault." His stern eyes met mine. "Once you are able, you are to leave. I do not want you in Alqualondë again, though because of your mother's presence, I will not forbid it."

"As you wish, Your Majesty. If it makes a difference, I don't plan on returning."

His eyes glinted just a bit with humor. "No, it isn't worth it. Now, as for the matter of your attackers. They have been imprisoned, and they will be exiled. I contemplated sending them to Lord Elrond, but he has to deal with you."

I closed my eyes. Elrond. How much of this was going to reflect on him? Once again, the son would be acting more like a father.

"In the end, I decided that sending them to Tirion was best. They are leaving tomorrow. You will not see them unless you wish to."

I nodded, not sure of what to say. The Valar obviously hadn't become involved, so they had learned. Until now, I hadn't truly believed it. As for sending them to Tirion, I wasn't sure what that would do, save force them to live amongst Kinslayers, which was possibly the entire purpose.

"Maglor." I glanced up at the king. "We forgave our grief at the end of the First Age. We have not forgotten. Walk carefully."

With that, he stood up and swept from the room, closing the door behind him. It opened moments later, a healer entering the room. I let him examine me, and gratefully took the mild painkiller pill. I would be released tomorrow, as long as I spent the next week or so resting. There was no further need to keep me here. That alone I was thankful for, grinning only once I was alone in the room.

* * * * *

I spent two days resting on the bed in the guest room of Vola's house, or on the couch. Vola, at first, kept apologizing until I lost my temper. "It wasn't your fault! You didn't know someone had recognized me, much less that they would be willing to attack without provocation. The matter has been taken care of. I'm fine."

"Now."

"Yes, thanks to healers who didn't care who I was, or at least not enough to let me suffer overly much. You broke up the fight. That's all I could ask for."

Vola stopped apologizing after that. Due to my restrictions, I ended up watching the triplets, who were content to play with Tirn for hours, when I wasn't using him as support or to fetch things for me. I received a letter from Narmincë my first day back at Vola's house, in which she scolded me for being so stupid, that she wasn't going to come down there since I had mostly recovered by the time she got the letter, and that I would be sleeping in my studio when I returned home. Vola only laughed when I told him that, remembering all too well the nights I had spent on his couch when Narmincë and I had fought in the Years of the Trees. Elrond's letter, on the other hand, was short and to the point. I was to go immediately to the House upon my medical clearance to travel alone. That letter did not make happy, but there was no avoiding it. This whole journey had turned into a fiasco.

A week after my return to Vola's house, the village healer cleared me for travel. As she packed up her equipment, she said, "Take it easy. You still have not returned to full strength. If possible, sleep indoors."

I nodded and she left the room. I sat on the bed and watched Tirn frolicking with the triplets out in the grassy area of the garden. It was time to go home.

The next morning after breakfast, I was in the guest room, packing the last of my belongings, when a loud crack echoed in the small room. Tirn barked sharply and I turned to look at whatever it was that had caused the noise, only to see Eönwë dressed in his formal herald's uniform. He had a rather displeased expression on his face and was holding in his right hand a piece of folded parchment bearing the seal of the Elder King.

"Shit."