Rise Again From Ashes by Independence1776

---

Chapter 18

Even though I am utterly terrible about responding to reviews, I appreciate each and every one. I plan on replying to them over the next couple of days, and I apologize for the length of time it has taken.

---

After my conversation with Celebrimbor, Glorfindel and I returned to the guesthouse in silence, weaving our way through the increasingly boisterous crowds, most of whom paid absolutely no attention to me. I was grateful, for I had much to think about.

Of course, I wasn't given a chance.

Elrond met us at the door, fury written across every line of his body. I stilled, barely breathing. I had expected Finarfin to be angry, but not Elrond. Tirn, true to his training, stepped in front of me, hackles raised.

“Glorfindel, take Tirn to Maglor's room. His master and I need to talk.”

Rather than protest, I unhooked the leash, handed it to Glorfindel, his face now drawn and pale, who I realized was also in trouble, and commanded Tirn to relax and follow. Elrond waited until they were inside before turning to me. The fury in his gray eyes reminded me of Father, and I unconsciously straightened to my full height. Elrond gestured me indoors and I did so, following him to the small library. Once he shut the door behind us, he spun, no longer bothering to contain his anger.

“What, in all the circles of the world, made you think you could shout at the king of the Noldor and escape punishment?”

“He shouldn't have said that all I am is a reminder of what Morgoth did.”

“Oh? Is that all?” Elrond stepped closer, and I stood my ground. “Maglor, he knows full well the strictures that are placed on you. He also knows that you left with only Glorfindel, and went off to who knows where! He has already sent a message to the Elder King reporting your lapse.”

I blanched. “Shit.”

Elrond's eyes bored into mine. “I could not stop him. I would have ignored it, given your tendency to run from trouble.”

“Well, I can't run now.”

“Something you learned too late! Maglor, I do not know what the Valar will do. You may have jeopardized everything, and you have been here less than a year!”

“I know.”

“So why did you do it?”

“I am tired of being treated as a pariah. I could only take so much, Elrond. I have reached my limit.”

“You will not apologize?”

“No.”

Elrond finally glanced away, rubbing his temples. “Then I do not know what to do with you, Maglor. I suggest that you not leave this house until we know more.”

“Is that an order?”

“If it must be.”

I left Elrond and stormed up to my room, slamming the door shut behind me. Tirn greeted me, tail wagging, and I grabbed his comb, hoping that the routine of grooming him would help me calm down. Once he became tired of me stroking him over and over again-- the pile of fur next to me was larger than some small dogs I had seen on Middle-earth-- he curled up on the rug placed next to the bed.

I put down the brush and moved over to the window, looking out at the square below me, bordered on three sides by guesthouses and on the fourth by the main building. I saw a guard stationed by the entryway, his gaze intent on the doorway to this building. Fine-- Finarfin wasn't taking any chances that I would run away again.

I leaned against the cool pane of glass. Not that I would bolt now. That afternoon would be the last time-- I was no longer in mortal danger on Middle-earth if someone discovered my secret. But if I had not left Finarfin's study then, I would have probably hit him. Could the man be any more dense? No, probably not, though his dislike of me bordered on the pathological. I reached up, unlatched the window, and opened it, hoping to let some air into the room. But the air was still in the approaching twilight. I attempted to pace around the room, but there wasn't enough space for me to do so properly. And I certainly wasn't about to leave my room. Elrond and I would probably just start arguing again.

I stuck my head out the window and looked up. Yes, there were handholds. I checked on Tirn, making sure he had water in his bowl, and climbed out the window. I reached the roof a couple minutes later, and settled in, arms wrapped around my legs.

I gazed over the city, remembering other sunsets. But this one was gorgeous, probably due to the fact that I was outside on a rooftop, not stuck indoors. The purples and roses, the golds and the oranges-- all reflected off the white roofs and buildings, bringing color to a somewhat bland exterior. Of course, I hadn't thought it bland during the Years of the Trees, but then Telperion and Laurelin had colored the stone. But it proved once again how living among mortals had colored my perceptions of the world, for even their modern buildings generally weren't just one color. The variations appealed to me eventually, and now that I was back in Tirion, I missed them.

I heard a door slam open and then raised voices in the courtyard, but didn't bother to look. I knew who was involved, and I didn't want either one to know I was up here.

“Elrond, what was I supposed to do, knock him over the head and drag him to you?” Glorfindel said. “Frankly, Finarfin all but said he wished Maglor was in Mandos. How else was he supposed to react? Now if you will excuse me.”

I caught a glimpse of the golden-haired Noldo as he strode through the alleyway between a guesthouse and the house of the king. The only reaction I heard from Elrond was the front entrance click shut. I lay back, easily keeping my balance on the gentle slope of the roof. This was entirely what I had expected from my visit to Tirion. I don't know why Elrond had thought different.

I ignored the knock on my door, not wanting to climb down. Tirn barked when I heard the door creak open. I grinned, wondering what the expression was on the face of whomever had opened the door.

Elrond cursed and said, “Maglor, where did you go now?”

I sighed, not wanting to get into even more trouble, and sat up. “I'm on the roof, Elrond.”

Silence came from below, and then some scrambling noises before his head poked above the gutter. “Why?”

“I didn't want to be indoors.”

He rolled his eyes and climbed the rest of the way up, settling himself beside me. We watched the city transition from daylight to night in silence, the wind picking up a little. Indistinct shouts and laughter came from the streets, though we couldn't see anyone from our vantage point.

“You will need to apologize to him.”

“For losing my temper, yes. Not for anything else. I am not ashamed of being my father's son, Elrond. Celebrimbor made that clear to me-- he isn't ashamed of what he did, either, only of being fooled.”

Elrond glanced at me. “You went to your father's workshop?”

“Habit, and a morbid curiosity as to what happened to it. I hadn't expected my nephew to own it. No one told me he had been rehoused.”

“He said he would prefer for you to find him on his own, and that you should not have to feel obligated to talk to him. Furthermore, he rarely talks to anyone connected with Finarfin. He has to deal with many of the same problems you do.”

“I know. Which is why I am glad I had the opportunity to talk to him. He understands more than anyone else around here, including Vola. Vola was only Slain, not unique. My nephew is part of the House of Fëanor--”

“He is the head of it, not that it means much now.”

“Yes, there's him and me, and any wives who wish to be associated with us. Anyway, he's the creator of the rings. No one else I can talk to understands what it is like to be a pariah. You may have compassion for us, and a great desire to help, but you aren't one of us.”

“No, I am just outcast in some circles for daring to defend you. It is worse now that you live in my house. Some who were civil to me no longer are. Do not dare think that you are alone, Maglor, and do not think that I do not suffer consequences. Speak with your nephew-- it will help him to have family to talk to.”

“Mother doesn't speak to him?”

“They write, but they have only met a couple times. But she cannot understand, for the same reason I cannot. Now, will you come to dinner?”

I shook my head. “I'm not in the mood for company.”

Elrond nodded, gently touched my shoulder, and carefully climbed back down. I lay back, looking at the stars, especially Menelmacar and the Valacirca. What had I lost today, and was it worth what I had gained?

A muffled bang caused me to crane my head behind me and then sit up, unwilling to trust my balance if I stood too swiftly. “What does the Elder King want, Eönwë?” I asked.

The dark-haired Maia-- wearing the armor he’d worn in the War of Wrath, though he didn’t have a sword-- handed me a sheet of parchment folded in three and sealed with a blob of wax. I ran a finger over it, feeling the peak of Taniquetil inside it. The herald made no move, so I broke the seal and unfolded the paper, reading the Tengwar written large enough and dark enough for me to see in the dim light.

Maglor Fëanorion,
You know the consequences. Do not try our patience again.
The Elder King

I reread the short note, confused. Was I not in trouble? I looked up at the herald, whom I had not seen since the end of the War of Wrath, on the night I thought I would die defending my brother and myself. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the memories. He smiled.

“One more chance. We are not heartless. Now, a word of advice: avoid Finarfin. He is not happy at our response.”

I said, “I was planning on that anyway. Would you please tell the Elder King thank you?”

Eönwë said, “I will.” He vanished, the air clapping as it rushed into the sudden vacuum. I shook my head, looking at the parchment before folding it up and tucking it into a pocket. I lay back down, more confused than ever. Lord Irmo had made it quite clear that the Valar would not tolerate any mistakes on my part. This life in Valinor was my second chance. I would not receive a third. So why had they ignored my wandering with only one guard? I smirked. Maybe Glorfindel counted for two, being one of the only Balrog slayers in existence. I could think of no way to confirm my hypothesis, though, save asking directly, which I would not do. The less I had to deal with the Valar, the better.

But if trying to avoid their attention meant that I had to tolerate abuse, I could not and would not do that. Sometimes, the best action was confrontation. It did not matter that my strictures stated I was not to respond. That was unreasonable. Silence was not the answer, and could sometimes escalate the situation. So could trying to maintain calm. It certainly hadn't worked for Finarfin all those Ages ago. Running, which was the only other option available, would make me seem a coward or could also escalate it. No, this was one stricture that was unreasonable. Though it may get me into trouble, I decided then and there that I would not follow it if the situation demanded.