Rise Again From Ashes by Independence1776

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Chapter 17

For the foreseeable future, I will be updating RAFA every other week. (Yes, NaNoWriMo is one of the reasons.)

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Over the next three weeks, Vola and I took the first steps to reform our friendship, basing it once again on the thing that had brought us together in the past: music. He brought several volumes of Telerin music with him, ranging from the Years of the Trees to the current Age. I thanked him profusely when he said that he had brought them for me to borrow. We slowly worked through them, interweaving our discussion of music with the history that I still needed to know. I hadn't had the time to read as much as I would have liked. Furthermore, Vola had needed to learn the same things, and he was able to tell me the important details that the history books didn't go into.

It was time for him to leave, as Elrond's family was traveling to Tirion for the new year. Vola would be traveling with us until then, but would be continuing home to a small village he said was a couple hours north of Alqualondë. As before, I rode in a cart, even though I had started riding again, I was still not capable of long-distance journeys. Tirn usually trotted alongside, though occasionally curled up next to my feet to rest. Half a dozen guards rode in formal escort, though it was clear that they were prepared to fight if necessary.

As Tirion drew into view ahead of us, I gulped. What did Uncle Finarfin want with me? No one knew, even though I had asked Elrond. Glorfindel, who was riding next to me at that point, caught my eye.

“If you need to escape, I will come with you and drag along one of the other guards.”

I smiled in thanks and focused my attention back on the busy road, not wanting the cart to hit anyone. For the closer we came to the city, the more crowded it became. We ended up in single file, me at the back with Glorfindel riding behind me, so we took up less room. I paid attention to the multitude, most of whom were joyful. I smiled wistfully, remembering other celebrations I had attended before the Darkening. Some though, when they recognized Elrond, their expressions became guarded, and they didn't greet us. Others, though they greeted our party graciously enough, looked right through me. Several, though, spat in my direction. The first time it happened, I leashed Tirn so he wouldn't jump out of the cart. The dog was entirely too good at reading body language, but I had discovered it was typical of his breed, and was usually thankful of it. The other times, I ignored the other travelers’ actions as best as I was able, though I knew the tenseness in my shoulders was a clear signal that they bothered me.

Eventually, we reached the city proper and I said farewell to Vola. Neither of us were emotional, but it was heartfelt. As he rode away, he said he’d come to visit again. It would help me survive Tirion, knowing that some people did want me here. While the crowd grew more numerous still-- mettarë was tomorrow-- I could no longer concentrate on them, having to follow the riders ahead of me. Once we reached Finarfin's house-- it had once belonged to Finwë-- stablehands came to take the horses. I unleashed Tirn so he could jump down, and climbed off the seat. I stretched and reattached the leash so he wouldn't wander off because of all the new smells.

The guards, save for Glorfindel, proceeded to the barracks behind the stable while the rest of us were shown to one of the guesthouses in back of the main house. I was directed to a small corner room on third floor, thankful just to have a space to myself. There was no telling how many would tolerate my presence, and to have a space, however small, that I could feel safe in was a blessing. I swiftly unpacked, changed into clothes that weren't stained by dirt, and went downstairs, Tirn at my heels.

I peered into the parlor where Elrond was talking to a guard and decided to wander the house. I hadn't seen it before-- it had been built after the Exile, judging by the style of stonework-- and was curious. But Elrond called me into the room.

“Maglor, the king wishes to see you. This guard has been assigned to escort you during your visit.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I thought that was why we brought our own guards, so no one would be forced to spend an extraordinary amount of time with me.”

Elrond's eyes flickered in amusement. “Take Glorfindel with you.”

I nodded. If my uncle was this anxious to see me, he could wait until I had a friend nearby. Tirn would protect me, but he could not speak in my defense. Just a short while later, he appeared and agreed to come with me. So the three of us returned to the main house. I was escorted to Finwë's-- no, Finarfin's-- study. The guard knocked on the door and opened it, announcing me. Glorfindel gave me a sympathetic look and I stepped into the room, the guard closing the door behind me.

I bowed to the man sitting behind a massive desk. He looked me over, paused at seeing Tirn, and I had a hard time not fidgeting like a child. This was not the Finarfin I knew. He was harder and wore his authority well. Although he had not been specifically trained to rule, he was obviously good at it. And that frightened me, for he knew what my father had never learned: opposition did not necessarily mean dislike and disloyalty.

“Sit down, Maglor. We have much to talk about.”

I mutely obeyed, not sure I liked his tone of voice. He was my uncle, yes, but now he was first and foremost my king. The bonds of kinship had been broken at Alqualondë.

“Why do you think you can come here?”

“I was ordered to by yourself, your majesty.”

“Not here to Tirion. I mean Valinor.”

I raised both eyebrows. “The Valar pardoned me. I spent thousands of years in exile on Middle-earth. It was time for me to return home.”

“And so you seek to make this your home now.”

“It is my home, Uncle. I have been forbidden to leave. Get to the point.”

“What are your plans for the future, and do I have to accommodate my house to your presence?”

I grinned ferally. “My plans are simple: adjust to life here, live once again with Narmincë if she will have me, and make music. Oh, and a child or two. Anything else I do not care about. Politics are your domain, not mine.”

“And the restrictions you live under?”

“I live within them, though I do not like them. You fail to understand that I take full responsibility for my actions.”

“You fail to realize that you do not.” He stood up, coming around the desk. Unwilling to remain seated, I stood up as well, Tirn at alert by my side. “You are a pawn of Morgoth, a reminder of everything that happened. You do not know what I went through after I received my pardon. No one would trust me, and the tenth who remained behind were shattered. I worked hard over the following centuries to rebuild the Noldor to a fraction of what we were. And then you come back here expecting everything to be the same!”

“I did no such thing,” I said coldly, trying to keep my temper. “Things can never be the same, and I do not wish them to be. Keep your kingship, Uncle. I have no desire for it.”

“You are ungrateful for everything that the Valar offered you.”

I laughed, bitter. “Ungrateful? For my life? Yes, I am grateful for that. But you seem to imply I want more. Finarfin, I don't give a damn what you think. I am no child. I am no pawn of Morgoth. You and everyone else save those who dared to get to know me-- as I am now, not the assumption of the past-- think that I am a volatile reaction waiting to explode.

“And I am, Uncle, if pushed the wrong way. I am still a Fëanorion. Do not doubt that I am dangerous. But I am no threat. There is a subtle difference between the two, even if most people will not see it. Leave me be, Uncle. I have no desire for Tirion.”

Without waiting for his response, I stormed out of the room, Tirn trotting to keep up with me. From the way Glorfindel swung into place at my side, I knew the guards had heard the conversation. He said nothing as I strode into the square, dodging around a group of children playing in front.

I paid no heed to the crowds, heading deeper into Tirion itself, not caring where I went. Glorfindel said nothing, but stayed at my side. I knew better than to demand he leave, for that meant I would be breaking the strictures. Hell, I was breaking them by having just one guard accompany me. But I didn't care, not now.

I ignored the banners, flower garlands, and other New Year decorations; the children playing; the adults talking. What caught my attention was the differences: buildings weren't where they were supposed to be, fountains were gone or replaced, places where there were stairs in the past now had ramps alongside or in place of. Everything had changed.

It was the changes that finally breached my anger, and I sat down on the wide edge of a fountain in a small courtyard in a section of the city I didn't recognize. Tirn took the opportunity for a drink, and his lapping made me realize how thirsty I was after my flight through the streets. I stuck a hand under the flow, bringing some to my mouth.

“Why didn't he understand?”

Glorfindel sat next to me. “I think you were talking at cross-purposes. But you know that he is not fond of the House of Fëanor. He made assumptions that many make, though I think the fact that both of you lost your temper may help you in the future, since he will be forced to recognize certain things about himself. As will becoming a part of the fabric of Valinorin life, but that will be centuries in the making.”

I smiled, but my hands trembled. “We have the Finwion pride, even though he's supposed to be the mild-mannered one. I just don't think he likes me. But I can't avoid him.”

“I do have a question for you: why did you not lose your temper before this? He is not the first to question you to your face.”

I rubbed my face with my hands, taking in the strange sight of a Noldo walking with a long black stick sweeping the street in front of her. I watched her even while I answered Glorfindel, and realized she was blind. “Because I'm tired of it. It took me a little while to adjust to living here-- though I still am in many ways-- but I cannot hide any longer. People will have to accept me for who and what I am.”

“And what is that?”

“A reformed Kinslayer and Oathtaker.”

We sat in silence, listening to the water tinkling into the fountain behind us, the scent of fresh bread baking somewhere in the square drifting on the light breeze that played with the loose ends of my hair that would not stay confined, and the sounds of the crowd preparing for the two-day celebration.

I sighed and stood up. “I don't want to go back to the guesthouse. Would you mind if we explored?”

Glorfindel smiled and stretched. “Not at all. It feels good to walk.”

“Which is why I am grateful that I am in charge of the cart.”

“Not on the return journey-- I will force you to ride.”

“You and what army?”

“I will have Elrond drug you and then I will tie you to the saddle.”

I shook my head, and we left the square still bantering. We wandered, but we ended up near the smithies. Glorfindel glanced at me when I realized where we were, but I had immediately made up my mind. I had to see what happened to Father's forge.

The streets were less crowded here, but there were several families up ahead, including a small one where I recognized both parents: one a Noldorin Kinslayer, the other a Telerin Slain. Their small child was holding both their hands, chattering away. All three looked happy, and that sent a jolt down my spine. Both adults smiled at me as we passed by, and I realized for the first time that true reconciliation was possible. If two individuals from those divisions could fall in love, there was hope for me.

I reached the building, surprised it was still there given who had owned it, noting the door was open and someone was alternately pounding hot metal and sticking it in water, sending a hissing cloud of steam into the air. I glanced at the sign, knowing that whoever owned it now had probably removed all traces of Father's presence. To my surprise, the sign was of a hammer and anvil painted on top of the Star of Fëanor. Someone hadn't forgotten their history, or didn't care about the connection.

I stepped inside, Glorfindel following. The lit was dim in the forge, and the dark-haired Noldo didn't turn around, intent on his work, when one of the floorboards in the entryway creaked underneath me. “I'll be with you in a moment,” he said absently.

I gasped. Celebrimbor. He had been reborn? Glorfindel whispered in my ear, “I will wait outside” and left the building. I stood there, waiting for my nephew to turn around. He eventually did so, brushing his hands off on the apron he wore to protect his clothes.

“How may I--” He stopped and dropped his hands to his sides, face not bothering to hide his shock. “Uncle Maglor!”

He stepped forward carefully, almost as if he didn't want to spook me. Rather than speak to me when he reached me, he knelt and let Tirn sniff him. Satisfied the dog was happy with his presence, he spoke, “Let us go to my office. Where are your guards?”

I grimaced and said, “Glorfindel's outside.”

I sat in the simple wooden chair before his messy desk and he moved his out from behind.

“I wondered when you would come to see me.”

“I didn't know you had been reborn until now.”

“At the end of the Fifth Age, Uncle. My transition to life here was not smooth, though it was marginally easier than yours, I suspect.”

“How did King Finarfin--?”

He laughed bitterly. “We barely speak to each other. He thinks I should have suspected Annatar, forgetting to realize that no one suspected Morgoth of duplicity until Grandfather drew his sword. Annatar… he appealed to our pride. He appeared as one of us. We did not think anything untoward of his knowledge, though looking back, I can see warning signs. It's hard, learning to deal with what we willingly did.”

“Are you going to the feast?”

“I will be there for a couple of hours, before the looks and comments from the court become too much. I live a few blocks away from here, in a small house, though if I work too late into the night, I sleep in the loft.”

I laughed. “Oh, I remember when Father did that. Mother used to become so mad. And when your father followed in his footsteps… At the time, I didn't understand why she would get so angry when she did the same thing at times, but now, well, I think I do.”

“Things change, and there are regrets we all have.” He looked down at his hands. “Everyone expected me to give up smithing when I was rehoused. So the court was shocked when I bought this place from a smith who was planning on going into something else. I am not ashamed of or afraid of my work; just the Rings, and those helped at times. It was not my fault that Sauron created the Master Ring, and those who attempt to blame me for that have little understanding of what life on Middle-earth is like.”

“They're too complacent here. And most think that mortals…”

Celebrimbor met my eyes. “You would know better than anyone else, even Elrond. The Quendi have become so insular that I think the Valar's decision to open the Straight Road to bidirectional travel was the best they have made since their decision to fight the War of Wrath. I cannot know what Eru's plan is, but to have the both Children come to know each other, even if the Secondborn do not realize it, there is a reason for it.”

“Hopefully it isn't the Dagor Dagorath.”

“No, it is not that. We are not invisible yet. A few, yes, tending to be the ones who awoke at Cuiviénen, but not many. The earth is young yet, and still has billions of years left in its lifespan. No, I think it is something basic, something we seem to have forgotten: empathy.”