Rise Again From Ashes by Independence1776

Prologue

I knelt stiffly and painfully on the stone ground, hands folded in my lap, head bowed and long hair curtaining my face. Tired and afraid, I did not look up. Hours I had been there, first standing, then kneeling. I heard birds chirping faintly in the background, heralding the approaching dawn. The crisp air was still in the predawn blackness. I felt nothing but the soft clothing I wore, cold stone beneath my legs, and the cool air against my skin. I saw nothing but the ancient gray stone in front of me. That was what my world consisted of: stone and fear.

“Will you not look at me?” a deep voice asked kindly

I closed my eyes and shuddered. I did not deserve mercy, not after what I had done. Not even after all these millennia. Not now, not ever.

“If that was true, you would not be here.”

Only then did I raise my head and look at Manwë, whose seat in the Máhanaxar, the Ring of Doom, I knelt in front of.

“My lord-”

“Silence. The time has not come for you to speak. Instead, listen.”

I once again bowed my head, but raised my eyes once again at the Elder King when none of the Valar spoke.

“Son of Fëanor, for thousands of years you wandered the shores of Arda marred. For thousands of years, you mourned the lives you took. You regretted the Oath you swore in grief and anger. You regretted almost everything you willingly did. You unwillingly, under duress of pain, gave the last Silmaril to the Sea. You lived in sorrow and pain all these many years. At times, even now, you rage against us. At times, you rage against yourself. At times, you wish you had never been born.”

I ducked my head again, ashamed. No other Elf I knew of had ever wished such. No other Elf would. I doubted they could even conceive of why I wished so.

“You, Maglor Fëanorion, are a Kinslayer. You swore an Oath that put your soul in peril. You defied the will of the Valar and of Eru.”

I closed my eyes, unable to look at the fearsome expression on the Elder King's face.

Then I heard Manwë say softly in his deep voice, “Maglor son of Fëanor, your sins are forgiven. Your Oath has been released, not by us alone, but by Ilúvatar.” Unbelieving of what I heard, I opened my eyes and met the Elder King's now compassionate gaze. “Welcome home, Child of Eru.”