Rise Again From Ashes by Independence1776

---

Chapter 14

---

Eärendil did not speak, nor did he move. I gulped nervously, nudged Tirn out of the way-- though he did not stop staring at Eärendil-- and knelt on the floor, not caring that the floor hurt my knees.

“My lord, please forgive my actions. I… I--”

“Forgive? You killed my people, drove my wife from her home, kidnapped my sons, and all for the sake of a jewel. Tell me, Maglor, what would you do if you saw a Silmaril now?”

I clenched my jaw, but remained kneeling on the floor. “The Oath no longer binds me. I would leave it and whomever held it alone.”

Eärendil reached into a pocket, pulling out a small pouch of black velvet. Guessing the Silmaril was in it, I came to my feet, backing up and running into the couch. I fell backwards, landing hard on the cushions. Tirn woofed in surprise, but Eärendil didn't move. Once I was again standing, he opened it and shook it, letting a slim necklace fall out, the Silmaril bound in a loose wire cage.

I stared at it, fear eating away at me. What was he doing? Why was he tormenting me? I could not leave the room, for Eärendil was standing in front of the door. I met his eyes, pleading silently.

“Was it worth it, Maglor?” he asked conversationally, but with an edge of steel.

I shook my head, not daring to say anything.

Louder, he asked, “Was it worth it?”

I whispered, “No. No, it was not.”

Coldly, he asked one more time. “Was it worth it?”

I closed my eyes and bowed my head. “No, my lord, it was not.”

I heard him slip the necklace back in the pouch and I opened my eyes and raised my head, ignoring the tear that slipped down my left cheek. The pouch lay in his hand, appearing completely innocuous. But it was not-- it held the one thing in the world I had hoped never to see again. I had both rejoiced and mourned when I realized that the morning star was no longer shining with the same purity as it had in the past. That action by the Valar had lifted some of the burden from my shoulders, for I no longer had to confront the evidence of my actions. But now? Now that jewel was in the same room with me.

Eärendil slipped the pouch back into his pocket. “I had to know, Maglor.”

I winced, still shaken. This wasn't what I had expected from the meeting at all. To be yelled at, possibly hit, ignored, mocked, hated-- all that I had expected. But not to be confronted with a Silmaril. Eärendil smiled and it lightened his face. He slowly walked forward, kneeling in front of Tirn and scratching his chest. Tirn tolerated the attention, but otherwise ignored Eärendil. I barely kept from slouching in relief. If he wasn’t on alert, I didn’t need to fear.

Once Elrond's sire straightened, he looked me in the eye. “Forgiven. And I must thank you for raising my sons. It is one of my regrets that I was unable to get to know Elros.” Unsure of what to say, I remained silent. He continued, “I must have you to thank for his leadership abilities, for not every person would be able to found a realm. It is not his fault nor your fault that Númenor fell.”

“I know. But I blame myself for him choosing a mortal life.”

“I do not, for I feel much the same. My wife chose immortality for us, but my heart has always been with Men.”

I studied Eärendil. Even though the signs were slight, they were there-- he would fade into invisibility long before many, for even in Valinor, his long life was a burden. “Is there nothing that brings you joy?”

Eärendil smiled again. “Being able to meet Elrond, and though I have never been a father to him-- we are more akin to friends-- that blessing I am eternally grateful for. And I have you to thank for his acceptance of what the world has dealt him, for I believe that if you had not raised him, he would not have been as resilient.”

I said, “Why? After what I did, how can you forgive me?”

“How did Eru forgive you? How did the Valar? How did Elrond?” he asked, glancing out the window. “Mercy exists. What you did was horrible, but your actions led directly to the War of Wrath and the Host of Valinor. I would never have been able to reach these shores without the Silmaril, and I would never have taken it with me on my voyages for fear of losing it. So, you see, Maglor,” he said, turning to look at me. “There was no other way.”

I sank onto the couch behind me. Tirn lay his head on my lap, and I automatically placed a hand on top of it. What Eärendil had said was nothing I hadn't told myself over and over in the millennia I had lived on Middle-earth. But to hear it from him was something I had not expected. Maybe, just maybe, there had been good to my actions, though they were still abhorrent.

“Eärendil,” I said, hating the way my voice cracked slightly. “Thank you.”

He smiled and left the room, pausing just before he opened the door. “All is forgiven, Maglor. Please remember that.”

He left, closing the door behind him. I made no attempt to move until I was sure he was out of the hallway. I wandered down the path to my house and beyond, finally settling on top of a hill amongst the sea grasses. Tirn stretched out for a nap on my right, but I stared out at the ever-changing ocean, still too shattered to think clearly.

* * * * *

I glanced up when I heard someone walking through the grasses. Glorfindel smiled when I met his eyes, but I quickly looked back at the ocean, not in the mood for conversation. Tirn, on the other hand, rose to his feet and ran to him, tail wagging furiously. Glorfindel sat next to me, putting a narrow bag between us. He dug into it, gently pushing the curious Tirn out of the way, and pulled out something wrapped in waxed paper.

He handed it to me and said, “I brought lunch. I figured from the way you looked that it was all you could to do walk straight.”

I blinked, coming slightly out of the state of shock. “You were nearby? I didn't see anyone.”

“Maglor, you nearly ran into me. You were absolutely pale and barely living in the present. Now, eat and after that, you can tell me what happened.”

I unwrapped the large roll and bit into it, smiling in surprise when I tasted meat and cheese. I devoured it, only then realizing how hungry I was, for I had been far too nervous to have more than my prescribed tea and a piece of toast for breakfast. After I tossed the last bite to Tirn, I unhooked the leash and let him wander. I finally turned to Glorfindel and explained as succinctly as possible what had happened.

He stared at me. “Eärendil had the Silmaril?” He ran a hand through his hair. “He has not worn it since he stopped sailing as the morning star. Elwing wears it occasionally-- which is why it is on a necklace-- but by occasionally, I mean thrice in the past six millennia. I was under the impression that Lady Yavanna had it.”

“Eärendil probably asked for it back. I have no doubts the Valar knew what he was up to.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Just in case.”

I curled my arms around my legs, staring out over the blue-gray water. “They'll never trust me.”

“No, I think was the final test.” I looked over at my friend, raising an eyebrow. “You and they know the Oath no longer binds you, but they could not be sure of your own desires.”

I chuckled at the absurdity of it. “If they truly believed I wanted the Silmaril, they should have remembered I tossed the one I had into the ocean.” Glorfindel reached over and grabbed my right hand, flipping it over. I stared at the faint scar that restricted that hand's movement and pulled my hand out of his grasp. “You're right-- pain had much to do with it. But at that point, I hated them. I still do. They were just jewels.”

Glorfindel said, “But they were unique-- that cannot be denied. But you are correct. They were not worth the bloodshed.”

I looked back at the ocean, ignoring the brightness of the sun glinting off the waves. I noticed out of the corner of my left eye Glorfindel taking some pieces of wood and rapidly fitting them together to form an easel. I shifted position to watch him as he pulled out a small frame covered in blank canvas, as well as a set of oil paints. I lay back, not wanting to disturb him, and looked up at the clear blue sky and the grasses waving at the edges of my vision. I heard Tirn happily barking at something a little way down the hill, but didn't bother to go investigate. The soft brushstrokes slowly lulled me to sleep, and only Glorfindel's shaking my shoulder woke me up.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Just a couple hours, but it is getting near supper time. I thought you would appreciate being able to eat more than just a roll today.”

I laughed, stood up, and brushed myself off. I whistled for Tirn, who came galloping through the grasses, startling a couple birds into flight. I put the leash back on him, and followed Glorfindel back home. I hesitantly invited him in for supper, not sure if I was able to tolerate more company, but he remained quiet and helped me cook.

While we were cleaning up, I asked him what he had been painting.

He handed me a glass. “Something for Elrond's birthday.”

I smiled, remembering the first celebration we had, since we did not know the twins' begetting day. Elros had said when I asked, “Don't know it. We celebrate our birthday.” That day had been pure chaos. Maedhros had been forced into helping Elrond in the kitchen, trying to make the traditional Doriathan sweet pastry, while Elros and I had been trying-- unsuccessfully-- to make decorations. Everyone went to bed early that night, upset and exhausted, but we learned from it, and the following celebrations had been easier.

“Maglor,” Glorfindel said, catching my eye. “He is not expecting any gifts, especially not from you. Your being here is enough.”

“I know. But this is his first birthday since my return.”

“You do not have much time.”

I smiled. “I already have something.”

Glorfindel put the plate up, surprise radiating from him. “I do not suppose you will tell me?”

“Not unless you tell me what you painted.”

He laughed and put the dish towel on its rack. “We will just have to wait, then.”

I grinned and headed into the living area after putting Tirn's meal in his bowl. Glorfindel, on the other hand, picked up his bag and walked to the door.

“I will see you in the morning, Maglor.”

I locked the door behind him. I looked around the room, eyes settling on a book before going to the balcony. As was my wont, I settled on the railing, and stared up at the appearing stars. Today… It hadn’t turned out how I’d imagined it would. The relief I felt, to know that at least Eärendil had forgiven me, was staggering. It was something I would never take for granted. I couldn’t afford to.

---

Chapter End Notes

Edit June 2017: Lyra made a gorgeous piece of fanart for this chapter: An Elf and His Dog.