For the First Time in Forever by quillingmesoftly

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Epilogue

In which Elrond gets a hug, Maglor is teased, and we get a glimpse of the Kindi in Mithlond.

 

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The first indication Maglor had of someone approaching his cave was the sound of hoofbeats on the forest floor. Celenem’s ears went up, and his mouth opened to the scent.

“No,” Maglor told him, setting down the bowl he was carving. Not done yet, but he could finish it later. “It’s not prey.”

Celenem’s look was pleading, but Maglor tapped his nose sternly. “No. We went hunting yesterday, remember?” He went to the mouth of the cave and whistled him to his heel. “You’re about to meet a very old friend of mine. Behave, and be nice.” 

Celenem’s tail wagged tentatively at the word ‘friend.’ He was not quite as sociable as the hounds that Ambarussa had bred, in East Beleriand, but Regen had trained him well.

The hoof-beats were closer, now, louder, a steady trot. Maglor stepped into the afternoon sunlight at the top of the hill, and then into the shade of the great elm tree that dominated the small summit of the hill.

He looked well. Very well, actually. He was wearing his hair braided back from his face, in a long, neat tail; his clothes were plain for riding, but were well made, and in good fabric. He had a bow slung across his saddle, and a quiver over his shoulder. Possibly his pretext for leaving Mithlond had been that he felt like going hunting? The horse was lovely, too, a long-legged bay with an easy stride. Maglor glanced at Celenem. The dog was still staring at the horse, a growl rumbling in his throat.

“No,” Maglor said, ringing his voice with a shimmer of power, barely a breath to another Elf, but with the force of a great wind for a dog. “Not prey. If you can’t live with that, you can go and chase rabbits, and come back when they’re gone.” 

Cowed, at least briefly, Celenem’s ears went back, and his tail-wag was very, very tentative. Good. Elrond did not deserve for Maglor’s dog to try and eat his horse. 

Elrond dismounted from his horse, and led him up the hill. Maglor got to his feet.

“You look well,” Maglor said to him. 

The glance that Elrond cast him was considering, but Maglor thought there might be a faint smile in his eyes. “So do you. I was worried.” Elrond glanced down at Celenem, and knelt, holding his hands out for Celenem to sniff. Maglor murmured encouragement to the hound, and tentatively, Celenem snuffled Elrond’s hands, and then licked them, before sitting down.  “Who’s this?” 

“This is Celenem. A gift from Regen, Neniel’s little sister. He’s been helping look after me.” 

“Good.” 

Maglor eyed him a little. That things between them were stilted was not a surprise, considering the way he had abandoned Elrond after his brother’s death. The odd thing was that Elrond appeared to sincerely mean it, when he said that it was good. Maglor took down the first layer of his defences, and let that thought glimmer on the surface.

Elrond looked a little sheepish, which was absolutely not what Maglor had wished. “I was furious,” Elrond admitted. “If you’d appeared in the room with me in Mithlond, instead of contacting me through the water, I probably would have punched you, then and there.” 

Maglor spread his hands, palms out. “If you want to try that now, I won’t dodge.” He’d deserve that and more, from Elrond. Really, a punch would be getting off lightly. 

Elrond’s smile was wry. “Your hound looks like he’d take offence, if I did.” 

Maglor considered that, and nodded. “He’s bred for tackling aggressive bear and boar, and I’ve had to convince him not to bite your horse. The chances don’t look good.”

“In that case, I’d prefer to remain un-mauled. And I don’t actually want to punch you, in any case…” Elrond turned to his horse, and removed the headstall, and the horse nickered, rubbing its head against Elrond’s shoulder.  Then Elrond unfastened the bellyband, and set them down on the grass, telling the horse that it could wander a little. Then he turned back to Maglor, and stepped forward. 

“I’m glad to hear it. I promised myself I’d do this,” Maglor told him, and he stepped forward, closing the distance, before he wrapped Elrond in a hug. Elrond was stiff for a moment, before he slowly relaxed. His head rested against Maglor’s shoulder, and he let out a long, shaky breath. For a long moment, neither of them said anything. In the elm tree overhead, there was a blackbird warbling, its song liquid. 

Then Elrond stepped back, and so did Maglor. Elrond spoke again, as he took the bag off his shoulder, and set it down on the grass as well. “I don’t think I’ve forgiven you entirely yet. But…I also think I knew why you did it.” Elrond’s smile was slight, as he shook his head, sitting down. “You and Maedhros both did it, sometimes. You’d…withdraw, and I would never understand why, when I was young.” Maglor swallowed, went to speak, and then thought better of it, as Elrond went on. “There are wounded people in Lindon. Heart-sick people, who do not think that Valinor will offer healing to them. They do the same thing, sometimes. Vanish for days on end. Sometimes, they leave word. Other times, they don’t. Of course, usually, they don’t vanish beyond their family’s ability to search for them.” Maglor winced. Elrond took a water skin out of the bag, and drank from it. “I did say I hadn’t entirely forgiven you.” Elrond drank again, and then sighed. “I will eventually, though.” 

“You have a very long track record of that, among other unwise decisions,” Maglor said. “But then, I am the last person who should opine about wisdom! I believe I owed you a campfire?” 

“Among other things.” 

Maglor resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. He had earned that, and hints more pointed, besides. “True, but I’ve made a start on this demand already. Give me ten minutes.” Maglor went to the cave, and picked up some of the stacked logs by the entrance. “I caught a nice trout in the stream this morning. No eel, I’m afraid. So that’s food.” He set the logs down on the grass. “And I have plenty of stories from the last year, of what I’ve been up to. Most of it didn’t even involve endless lamentation, or tears unnumbered.” 

That made Elrond laugh, and Maglor smiled to hear it, as he walked back to the cave and took the trout down from where he had fastened it to a stalactite. 

“I brought wine, to make the telling of it easier,” Elrond offered. 

“Did you?” Maglor grinned at him. “Excellent. This is turning into a very good day.”

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Elrond whistled, as Maglor came to the end of the story of the past year. Strategically abridged, but Maglor had left all of the relevant bits in. “Ulmo’s ears!” He shook his head, turning Maglor’s palm over. “Well, considering all the people in the world who could have found you by that estuary, it could have been much worse.” 

Maglor considered that briefly, and nodded. “She was clever about it.” About his illness, about charming him, about insisting that she needed a tutor for Sindarin, rather than him needing company. She’d even managed to make that sound fairly convincing to him at the time, which was impressive. 

“She is clever. Impressively strong, too. I don’t know that I could have done this.” Elrond tapped the scar on Maglor’s palm.  

“Give yourself time. She’s had much longer to practise. But you’re right, she is strong. Especially with anything to do with water. I think that’s how she heals, through the water in the body…I don’t know about holding people’s wills to hers, though. I think her way of getting things done might be pure charm, rather than power of voice.” 

“Mm. If it works, it works.” Elrond smiled. “I’m glad. She seems very good for you. And she makes you happy.”

Maglor had taken a sip of wine while Elrond spoke, and he found himself abruptly choking on it. Elrond leaned over and pounded his back. Maglor caught his breath, and took another sip of wine, more cautiously, as he hunted for words. “We’re not…”

“No? The way you looked at her certainly suggested it.” Elrond swigged from his cup. “I’ve never seen you look at anyone like that.” 

Maglor sighed. Had he really been that transparent? “They say there’s a first time for everything. Yes, I care for her. But we’re not courting.” 

“Why not?” Elrond asked.

Maglor blinked, a little bemused. “Do I really need to answer that?” 

Elrond shrugged. “You just told me about a year where very little turned to evil, you found someone – an entire culture, in fact! – that doesn’t shun Kinslayers, and the Oath seemingly did not trouble you at all. So yes, you do need to answer that.” 

Well. That neatly dealt with all three things that Maglor had planned on reminding him about. He was correct, though. They hadn’t seemed like great obstacles, over the past year.

“Hypothetically,” Maglor said, “yes, I could ask her. Practically speaking, though…” Elrond made an encouraging motion with his hand. Maglor shook his head. “I don’t think it’d end well.” 

Elrond shook his head. “You can’t know unless you ask, though. You’re the one who taught me about proving negatives. And she seems very fond of you,” he said. 

“She’s fond of a lot of people,” Maglor said, but he held up his hands out, palm up, in acceptance of the point. “Alright, I concede to your point: I can’t know unless I ask. But consider this, Elrond. This is the first new friend that I have made in centuries. She is kind and fearless and brilliant. Is it so unreasonable to wish to protect that friendship?” 

“Not unreasonable. But reason is not always enough, and you know that. You’re considering what you might lose, but not at all what you might gain. Can’t you hope for that? For something even brighter and stronger than your friendship with her?” 

Maglor looked at Elrond in the firelight. Elrond’s eyes were questioning, and they shone with starlight, and the strength of his own hope. Part of it was that Elrond had been raised in Beleriand at war, and he had never – at least to Maglor’s knowledge – been in love. Of course it was easier for him to contemplate this. But another part of it was estel, soft and glowing, even for Maglor, who had hurt him so many times. 

“It’s very good to see you still hope,” Maglor told him, and he meant it.

Elrond shook his head again. “You’re deflecting me. You say that she is kind, and fearless, and brilliant, and you love her for that. Alright, then. You know her better than I do. But if she is, then I think your friendship would survive. Even if she refused you.” 

Maglor drank from his wine again. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, eventually, after he turned Elrond’s words over in his mind a bit, thinking over them. Neniel had grown up in a small village. Presumably, she was not as quick to avoid someone after things went awry. 

She said she’d visit. Even after I nearly kissed her. The memory of her staring back at him in the moonlight, her face very close to his, wide-eyed as she licked her lips, was very clear. Of course, as often as that memory had shown up in his dreams since it happened, it ought to be clear.

Elrond laughed, catching his thought, and Maglor felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment. “You didn’t mention that! You see? There’s hope for you yet.” 

Maglor sighed, and looked into his cup, instead of Elrond’s face. His cup did not wear such an amused smile. “You’re not going to forget this in a hurry, are you?” 

“No. But luckily for you, I will stop pestering you about it, if you want me to.”

“I do,” Maglor said, immediately. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, and I will think about it. But I have given you nearly all of my news, and I have heard absolutely none of yours. What goes on in Mithlond? How is the city?”     

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“Oh, come on. You’re making that up!” the Elf laughed, his eyes bright and merry. His name was Sîdhir, and he was very cheerful and easygoing, but also perhaps a little prone to insensitivity. He was also an excellent fisherman, and not at all alarmed by the prospect of her people moving in to share the fishing grounds with them. But apparently, he found the idea of Ossë creating otters for someone a little far-fetched. That, or she was missing some nuance of humour, perhaps. 

It had been a rather long day, filled with looking in on her people, and checking what they were up to. It had been interesting, and she had a lot of things she wanted to know more about. But before she could satisfy her curiosity, she had to attend to this.

Helado’s cousins wanted to go down the river and harvest the reed-mace for making mats, and new cloth, and soon, Eirien and Saelo and the fisher-folk would want to start fishing as well. She had spoken to Gil-galad and Elrond about it, two days ago before Elrond left to go south, but it seemed wise to talk to the man who oversaw the fishing grounds as well. 

Neniel shook her head, and smiled politely at him. “I’m not that imaginative,” she said. She carefully did not look at Ráca, sitting at her other side, because that might make Ráca laugh too hard, and feel tempted to bring up the Goldberry incident. Probably she would restrain herself, but there was no point in testing her. “I can prove it to you, if you’d like. Just give me a moment.” Neniel let out a series of chirps and reached out with her mind for the Lhûn. She felt the Lhûn’s laughter thrum against her mind, a slight shift in the notes of the water.

“I don’t see anything,” Sîdhir said, peering down into the water.

“Give it a minute,” Ráca said, as Neniel let out another chirruping call.

Beady dark eyes stared up at her, and Neniel smiled, scooping the otter up out of the water, asking for its aid in chirps and rumbling growls.  

With an even lower rumbling growl, the otter gave her an interesting suggestion with what she could do with that question, but then, they weren’t always friendly to strangers, even ones that sounded like the river.  Ráca snorted, and Neniel smiled wryly at her, before she looked back at the otter. It took half an hour, before she eventually got him to agree to help, and helped him onto the edge of the boat. 

He dived into the water, and resurfaced about five minutes later, with a very nice trout in its jaws. Neniel caught it, and laughed, handing it to Sîdhir, who stared. 

“That’s…new.” 

Neniel smiled. “That’s why we came here. To learn new things, and share new things with you as well. So you won’t mind if we fish with otters, as well as our nets?” 

“Are you going to breed the otters? That one didn’t seem like it’d be amenable.”

“Oh, no,” Neniel said. “They’re not like hounds. Hounds give an Elf their prey, and then the Elf gives them a portion of it. An otter keeps most of his catch, but he’ll give you some of it. Although it usually takes fifty star cycles – ah, idhrinn – before they actually become cheerful about doing that, but by then, they think of Elves as friends.” 

“Ah, I see.” Sîdhir nodded. “Alright. I can’t think of a reason that it shouldn’t work. Let’s try it tomorrow.” 

She smiled, and got to her feet, before stepping onto the water. She glanced at Ráca, and Ráca looked back at her, a little plaintive.

“We don’t have to do anything else urgently today, do we?” 

Neniel thought about it, running through names and locations in her head, until…

“No,” Neniel said, feeling surprised, even as she said it, coming to the end of the list. “Everybody seems to be settled for now. This question about the fishing grounds was the last urgent thing to settle.” 

Ráca heaved a great sigh. “Finally.” She got to her feet and pulled off her shirt and leggings, hurling them onto the river-bank, before she dived into the water. Sîdhir did not even blink. Maglor would certainly have shut his eyes. Why was that different?

Neniel waved to her cousin as she surfaced. “Have fun.” 

Ráca waved back, before she took a deep breath and dived down into the water, and Neniel turned to Sîdhir and thanked him, before she turned west, and started walking down the river to the West. The sun would set soon, and it would be beautiful on the sea.

She passed another boat of Noldor as she walked, and she waved to them. One of the trio of fishermen waved at her, but his two friends were staring in astonishment. They’d get used to it eventually, though. Maglor had. 

Maglor would not be able to come to Mithlond. Elrond had made that quite clear, and she couldn’t blame either him or Gil-galad for that. But at the same time…

She missed him, still.

She slipped into the shadow cast by the quay, quickly shucked her clothes, and then hurled them onto the bank, before she submerged in the river again and swam underneath it. She didn’t want to talk, not right now. It had been a very long few days, and she didn’t think she could keep her polite face on for any longer. She couldn’t worry about offending somebody, or making a good first impression. 

Although now that she thought about it, she’d never really fretted about offending Maglor. Hurting him, yes. Offending him, no. 

She kept swimming down the river, letting the current carry her through its course as it slowly widened, leaving the quays of Mithlond behind her. The rhythm of stroking and kicking, the simple feeling of exertion in her muscles, helped relax her. A school of grayling brushed alongside her body, and she laughed at the feel of scales against her skin, and swam faster, kicking stronger and stroking faster through the water. The graylings pulled ahead, but that was inevitable; they had so much less bulk to move through the water, and fins. There was a grove of willows on the left bank, and Neniel turned and stroked towards the bank. She hoisted herself up out of the water using the grey roots as handholds, and patted them apologetically. “Sorry about that. It’s been a long day.” 

The tree rustled, and Neniel understood that the rude greeting was forgiven, but should not be repeated. She stood and introduced herself properly, and the tree rustled once again that it had heard from the Lhûn about her nieces’ presence, and had wondered when it would see her. 

“Well, right now, as it happens,” Neniel said, and she laughed. “Do you mind if I sit down against you?” 

Another rustle, and she leaned forward into the water, and drew some of it up out of the river in her hands. No bowl, no basin, no cooking pot. Theoretically, she could use the river itself, but then, she was not the only one who could speak to a river. 

So…

She hummed at the ball of water in her hands, carefully twisting it like a potter twisted clay, and humming the notes. It took several tries to get the shape right, but eventually, she held a small lumpy, misshapen icy bowl in her hand.

Good. The first step was done. And now for the second. 

She leaned forward again, scooped up some more water out of the Lhûn into the bowl, pictured Maglor’s face in her mind, and began to sing again, softly, pitched neither very low or very high, the kind of song that she could keep up for hours, if she had to. 

In the end, though, she didn’t have to wait very long before the image of Maglor’s face was caught in the bowl in miniature, shining in the light of the sunset. He was looking to his side, where Elrond was speaking, and laughing at what Elrond said. Elrond had two squirrels cradled in one arm, and was gesturing animatedly with the other, and Maglor laughed again, before he looked into the water. His eyes went very wide when he saw her, and then they closed. Elrond’s glance turned concerned, before his gaze turned to follow Maglor’s. His eyes also went a little wide, before a mischievous look came into them. 

He dumped the squirrels in Maglor’s hands, and turned to walk off out of her view. “I’ll go build up the fire. You can clean the squirrels.”

Maglor sighed, and he looked down at the squirrels. He was very carefully not looking at her. Why was that? They’d parted as friends, even if it had been a little awkward, initially, after they hadn’t kissed. 

…Oh, of course. She wasn’t clothed. 

She carefully adjusted the angle of the bowl, holding it up so that nothing below her collarbones showed – not even Maglor could be shocked by collarbones, surely – but also so that the water did not spill out of the bowl. 

“You can look at the water again now,” she told him, unable to keep the laugh out of her voice. His answering chuckle was rueful, a little embarrassed, but he opened his eyes. Familiar and grey and Treelit, bright with happiness. At his son’s visit? At seeing her? 

The second thought made a dangerous warmth curl through her, and she brushed it aside to start with her first questions.

“Honestly, what is it with the Noldor and nudity? The Falathrim don’t seem to have a problem with it.” 

She’d missed this, too, the way his brows knitted together as he thought about a new question, the way he drummed his fingernails on his body as though to order his thoughts. She’d missed him. 

Her decision was already made, she realised, looking at him. She might be frightened. But she was not so frightened that she would give up her friend. 

When he spoke again, it was almost a shock. “The Falathrim are constantly in and out of water, and so are your people. I am assuming that has something to do with it. And – did I ever tell you this? The Noldor delight even more in gems that we have made, than ones that we have found in the earth. Our joy is in making, to the point where we are not as delighted in things as they are. I think that shapes our attitude, some, perhaps even towards clothing.” He shrugged. “But you know how hard it is to shift an attitude, once it’s established.” 

True enough. “Alright, that makes sense,” she said, leaning back against the willow tree’s great trunk. “Some. I have more questions, though.” 

Maglor smiled, and leaned forward a little. “And lots of news of what you’ve been up to, I suppose. I’m glad. Tell me everything.” 

They spoke until the sun had set, in purple and pink and orange light spreading out against the sky, the waters turning almost purple. Around that point, a smiling Elrond reappeared, asking for the squirrels. They were still lying in Maglor’s lap, completely untouched, and given the way Elrond’s grin widened, he had expected as much.

Maglor looked at her, a hint of apology in his eyes, and she spoke before he could express it. Spending time with his son was the last thing he needed to apologise for. “I had better go back to Mithlond, and find Regen and Ráca.” 

Maglor smiled. “Tell them I said hello.” 

“I will,” Neniel said. “Take care of yourself.” She flicked her fingers through the water, and the image broke, until it was simply clear river-water over an white, lumpy ice bowl. Neniel smiled slowly, and tipped the water out of the bowl onto the willow tree’s roots, before she started walking back up to Mithlond, the sun setting in glory behind her, and the echo of Maglor’s rueful laughter ringing in her ears. 

 

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Chapter End Notes

*pulls out a confetti gun, and shoots up towards the ceiling*

Folks, herein endeth the “Weirdest Year In the Life Ever: by Maglor Fëanorion.” With our heroes hopeful, and changed, and wondering what on earth comes next. 

1. Celenem’s reaction to Elrond’s horse – who I don’t even have a name for, shame on me – is loosely based off the reaction that my collie dog had when she met a horse a few years ago. She reacted by trying to herd it. Seeing as Celenem’s never met a horse before, I thought reacting that “…PREY???” was a reasonable way for a hunting dog to react. 

2. ‘Ulmo’s ears’ is invented by bunn, and is one of Elrond’s very clear memories of Eärendil. Eärendil was quite frustrated, with how long his prayers took to reach the Valar. Hence: Ulmo’s ears. XD 

3. Estel: hope and faith that persists, in spite of lack of evidence to support it. 

4. Sîdhir: Lord of Peace. I think this is one of Gil-galad’s cousins from the Falas, and his mother had a vision of foresight of her son actually surviving the war, and living to see the peace afterwards. 

5. Idhrinn: Sindarin, year. 

6. I was not expecting Elrond to be this supportive of the Maglor/Neniel thing. But on the whole, I rather like that he is. 

7. Why Neniel kept walking on water when she and Regen used the ropes at home puzzled me. I think in the end it boiled down to two reasons that they did that. One was to show Maglor how it was done. The other one was because both of them are show-offs. It’s a half-Ainu thing, really. XD 

8. Finally, if any of you were wondering what specific Kindi OC characters were up to, and have been keeping track as carefully as I have, I made a list. It was too clunky for the chapter, but here it is, for those of you who really, really adore them. On this particular day: 

– Gilado and Laino, Helado's cousins, textile workers like him, have found the weavers' collective, which has people from Harlond, Forlond and Mithlond. They are up to their eyeballs in discussions on how treating sea silk differs from spider silk.

– Mistinda, a potter of the second generation of Cuiviénen, has become fascinated by Noldorin glassblowing. She's currently negotiating an apprenticeship, and is using every ounce of "oh, yes, I remember the starlight at Cuiviénen" legend in said negotiations. 

– Eirien and Saelo, the fisher-Elves who befriend Maglor, and about thirty others are all missing the trees, so Panonis, one of bunn's Noldor whom Eirien has met, has offered to show them around her orchards. 

– Several members of Eilian's clan went to Mithlond. Eilian is a smith, and so are most of the people in his family. They are finding Noldorin smiths to badger and show them how the new layout affects the heat distribution of the forge, and the temperature of the metal. Celebrimbor is quite grateful that he has no major projects going on at the moment, since otherwise, he would definitely not have the patience for this. 

– Regen has found the kennels, and has had to be dragged out for mealtimes. 

To anyone who have come with me on this ridiculous, wonderful journey: thank you so much. I hope you enjoyed it.