Rise Again From Ashes by Independence1776

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Chapter 7

I'm sorry I'm updating a bit late-- this weekend was odd.

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Four days later, near sunset, we entered Lórien. I looked at the silver willows scattered among other trees-- that had changed-- but the sound of the nightingales hadn’t. Neither had the insects or the smell of well-cared-for plants. As before, I rode on the cart carrying our luggage and other things, although this time, I was the only one doing so and was therefore holding the reins and driving the horses. It allowed me to feel useful rather than just being relegated to sitting passively like a prisoner. And it meant I was trusted enough to have some responsibility, though it had to have been Elrond's decision. The five guards-- Glorfindel had stayed behind at the House-- relaxed once we passed the tall, silver gates. No Elf, no matter the grudge, would dare to start a fight in territory the Valar inhabited.

After we dismounted, three Maiar met us. I suppressed a shiver when I saw them. They appeared human, and dressed as we were dressed, but there was something off, some repressed power that could only be sensed, not seen. Two climbed on the cart and drove it away, likely to unload the luggage and care for the horses. I stayed close to Elrond and didn't meet the eyes of the remaining Maia. I didn't need to see the hatred and the pity. She led us to a large clearing where a simple, single-story, wooden structure stood and then disappeared. I looked around, noting the orderly abundance of trees and flowering plants, and followed my liege lord and his current assistant Cularë indoors.

The wooden building was separated into two separate chambers with a foyer between them, as well as a bathroom immediately opposite the entrance. I followed Lord Elrond into the chamber on the right while the guards went into the one on the left. I looked around our room, noting the table near a couch, along with four beds and two large desks. The peredhel turned to Cularë and gestured for him to sit on the low couch. He pulled a chair from a nearby desk and sat down before turning to face me.

“Maglor, feel free to wander. You have no duties unless otherwise informed by myself or Culárë.”

I bowed, letting him know I understood, and left the room. I went outside, wondering what to do next. I had no part in the negotiations that would be ongoing over the next week over fishing rights in the Ekkaia, a dispute that involved Elrond’s lands. I couldn't practise swordplay with the guards. I had brought two books-- one of which was the Quenta-- as well as several composition notebooks, but unless I found something else to occupy my time, I would run out of things to do swiftly. Furthermore, until the luggage arrived, my books were inaccessible. And I did not like being bored. Elrond knew that, so why did he bring me here?

I looked around the clearing slowly darkening in the twilight. I couldn't help but note the differences in this twilight than the one brought about by the mingling of the Trees. Things were no longer tinted with a blend of silver and gold, but instead were shaded with grays and blues, as well as hints of silver and rose, as the hour passed. Most flowers were closing for the night, though some were opening, and a variety of buzzing insects began to appear. I slapped at a mosquito that landed on my arm, grimacing with annoyance. Even here, no one had been able to get rid of them, if the Valar would even allow it.

I walked to ambled over to one side of the clearing and peered up at the large oak that towered over the rest, idly contemplating how to climb it. I glanced behind me and saw no one. I reached for the branch just above my head and swung myself up. By the time I was halfway up the tree, I no longer hid my grin. I hadn't climbed a tree for the sheer joy of it since I was a child. When I reached the topmost branch that was easily able to support my weight, I sat down and leaned against the trunk, enjoying the earthy smells of a healthy forest the light breeze brought me.

I sang softly to myself as the stars appeared one by one, flickering in the clear, crisp air, joining the nightingales and other creatures. I noted the Valacirca still swinging in the North, and although I still felt a shiver of fear at the sight of the reminder of the Valar’s wrath and warning, the fact that I was actually in Valinor helped mitigate it. Other familiar constellations soothed my nerves further, until I was able to lose myself in the song of the night: the trees moving in the slight breeze, the noises insects and birds made, the faint sounds of voices below me growing ever more quiet as the night drew on. Only when the moon had dipped toward the horizon did I climb down.

To my surprise, a soft yellow glow came from the window in the room I had left. I slipped inside and Elrond looked up from braiding his hair for sleep to smile at me. Culare glanced up from a book when I shut the door.

“I wondered when you would come in.” He grinned. “You have a leaf in your hair.”

“I do not.”

At that, Culárë snickered. “You do.”

I rolled my eyes, but not before breaking into a grin myself. I lifted my bag off the nearest bed-- one of four in the room-- and headed into the bathroom. The first thing I did was disentangle the green leaf from my hair and laid it aside, wondering briefly if I should preserve it in recognition of my second chance, but decided to throw it away in the end. I didn’t need a physical reminder when I lived in one.

After I emerged, I slipped under the covers of my bed and looked at the ceiling lit only by the faint light of the moon shining in the window. I had forgotten how peaceful Lórien was. So it was of no surprise when the next thing I knew, Elrond was standing at the foot of my bed, talking to Culárë.

I groaned, but sat up, blinking in the sunlight streaming through the eastern window. I grabbed my bag and padded into the bathroom. After showering, dressing and running a comb through my wet hair, I emerged from the bathroom to find that the table had been set with plates and platters of food and drink. The guards were there, going over their duties with Elrond while they ate. I filled a plate with sections of citrus and an apple, as well as a piece of toast, and simply listened.

“Now, the Mornedhil will…” he was saying, but I no longer noticed what he was saying once I heard that word: Dark Elves-- specifically the Refusers. The Avari. There were Avari in Valinor. I forced myself to finish my meal, thoughts racing. If they knew I had returned and dwelled in Elrond's House, then Elrond would be in serious diplomatic trouble. I had no doubts of their feelings about those whom they felt had dealings with Morgoth. Being in Valinor would change nothing, especially if they had faded or been slain.

When it was clear Elrond was done speaking, I asked, “There are Mornedhil in Valinor?”

Elrond nodded as he put a sausage on his plate. “They dwell away from the Valar, far to the south of the House.”

“Are you aware of their feelings for those who they consider tainted by Morgoth?”

“Of course,” he said, turning to me with a frown. “The Silvan Elves, as a general rule, do not hold to the beliefs of their kin who were further to the east in Middle-earth. But--”

“One clan branded me, Elrond!” I snapped. “They made sure I would find no rest among any of the tribes. They consider me tainted, and will not deal with me.”

“They will deal with me.”

“No, they won't. Not with my living in your House. You are contaminated by my presence.”

The others in the room said nothing, watching the two of us. Culárë opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Elrond.

“You have been pardoned.”

“They don't care!” I put down my plate and started pacing. “You don't know them well, Elrond. You said that. Trust me-- they are far harder than you realize. They had no compunction about hurting me and then exiling me once they found out my story. It took them less than a day to do so. The only reason they let me keep the supplies they had given me was so they wouldn't be wasted. They would have been burned, for my having touched them.”

“Branded?”

I smiled nastily. “The scars faded millennia ago-- the metal wasn't hallowed. After all, those outcast from the clans were often killed within a few years, whether by orcs or Men or other Elves. It was nearly impossible to live alone in that territory. The only reason I managed to survive was that I fled to the south as soon as possible, to lands where the brands meant nothing.”

No one said a word, and none met my eyes. Uncomfortable, I finally headed for the door, stopping when Elrond ordered me to, though I did not turn around. “How do you think they will treat me?”

“I know not, for you are tainted by my presence, not your actions. It may account for nothing or it may cause the failure of these negotiations.”

I strode out of the building, not looking back. Wanting a bit of peace and preferring to avoid further questions, I climbed the same tree that I had the night previous, and stayed there most of the day, only coming down when everyone had left for the negotiations. I spent the rest of the day indoors, working on a song, but I didn't bother to play it. I didn't need to hear it to know it was worthless. I retreated to the tree when I heard the group coming back down the main path, Elrond and Culárë arguing about something, though I couldn't understand the words.

I stayed there through nightfall, even though the smell of the food rising from the dinner the Maiar made my mouth water. The argument seemed to have ended, but the meal was quiet. Only when the moon started rising did I climb down and head indoors. I’d had enough of solitude for one day. Plus, there was only so much avoidance for the sake of my mental health I could do before it appeared to be sulking.

Elrond looked up from the papers strewn around him and said, “You were right. They are less than happy to talk with me, though they made it quite clear that only your presence in my House was affecting the progress of the negotiations. If these talks would have occurred even half a year ago, it would not be a problem.”

I raised an eyebrow and said nothing as I sat down on my bed.

“I am not sending you away, Maglor. Nor will I allow them to unduly affect the talks. But I am going to make it quite clear to them that you are welcome.” He looked me in the eyes. “I want you at the negotiations tomorrow, for that and your neutral political presence. You may very well see something that we have not.”

“No.”

He blinked and raised an eyebrow of his own. “That was not a request. That was an order, son of Fëanor.”

“I am not going. I have no reason to be there, and no reason to humiliate myself. I am in Lórien because you ordered me to and for no other reason. I will not attend.”

I stood up and strode to the door, yanking it open and into the foyer.

From behind me, Elrond spoke, his voice cold, commanding me in my native Quenya instead of the modern Sindarin I used now, “Kanafinwë Makalaurë Fëanárion, á tulë.”

I didn't even pause and stormed outside. Rather than retreat to the tree, I headed to the main path and turned right, intending to leave Lórien entirely. I wasn't given the chance.

A loud crashing noise erupted from the brush on my right, but before I could dodge, someone tackled me. I landed hard on the ground, cracking something in my left arm. I was hauled to my feet and firmly restrained by the guard. Another one ran down the path and grabbed my right arm. I tried to pull away, but the pressure on my left arm caused me to hiss. From the amount of pain, I rather suspected I’d broken another bone. Neither guard loosened their grip, and I was forced to walk between them if I didn't want to be dragged.

I was unceremoniously held in front of Lord Elrond once we were back in the building. He nodded at the guards, who released me and left the room, as did Culárë. Elrond himself, though, remained standing in front of me, the anger in his eyes flashing in an otherwise calm face. Once the door closed, he came closer to me, standing within an arm's length.

“Do not make me involve the Valar, Fëanorion. They will be less than pleased that I am unable to control the worse of your impulses.” I nodded stiffly, unwilling to concede more than that. “You are my vassal, and I am treating you as one. I have given you liberties as my foster father that I must now revoke. You are to be with me, in this room, or in the presence of the Ainur.

“I am responsible for your actions, Maglor. Any laws you may break, intentionally or not, reflect on me. You are here on sufferance. The Valar cannot force you to leave Valinor-- and they will not attempt to try-- but they can force you to do other things. They were merciful but that mercy can be revoked. After all, look what happened when they were merciful to Melkor.”

The use of that name caused me to straighten, though I tried not to move my left arm to prevent the pain from overwhelming me. “How dare--”

His laughter cut my protest short. “Dare to compare you to the Black Enemy? Or dare to call him by his name?” I looked down at the wooden floor, unsure. Gently, Elrond said, “Maglor, look at me.” I glanced upward. “I know you are upset, and not a little frightened. But you cannot rebel against authority because they order you to do something you would rather not. Your father--”

“My father is dead.” Elrond rolled his eyes. “But, yes, my lord, I do understand.”

“Then you will be there tomorrow.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Elrond nodded, not happy but having to be satisfied with my acquiescence. I sat down on my bed while Elrond went to the door and let Culárë back in. Rather than look at the young Elf, I opened my bag and pulled out one of the books I had brought. But Elrond saw my wince as I moved my left arm.

“Let me see,” he said, sitting down next to me.

I sighed and rolled up the sleeve, bruises already forming. He carefully probed my injury, and then ordered me to remove my shirt. I did so, biting my tongue to keep from whimpering. Elrond resumed his examination, asking me precisely what happened. He motioned to his assistant. “Culárë, I need you to find one of the Maiar and tell whoever it you find that I need a wrap sling, some hard-duty splints, and a moderate painkiller.”

The young Elf nodded and left the room. Elrond put my arm down and looked at me. “You fractured your humerus, and although you cannot have a cast due to the location, it does need to be immobilized.”

I nodded, not wanting to do anything further to jar my arm. At least someone else was able to care for it, unlike previous times I’d broken bones and had to set them myself. Only a few minutes later, Culárë returned with the needed supplies, and stayed nearby in case Elrond needed his help. But the splint was swiftly put on, and my arm immobilized in a sling that wrapped around my waist and solidly held my arm against my torso. After it was in place, Elrond handed me a pill. I blinked but took it with my left hand. “You have pills here?”

Elrond chuckled at the expression on my face. “We have progressed from herbal teas, Father. Take it, and I will get you a glass of water.”

I dry-swallowed the pill and sipped the water when Elrond brought it to me. After he was satisfied I wasn't going to do anything, he gestured to Culárë and the two sat on the couch to discuss whatever had gone on during the meetings. I rolled my eyes and picked up the Quenta. May as well read what was written by my people about the events of the First Age.