Back to the Surface by chrissystriped

Back to the Surface

Read Back to the Surface

Alar peered down into the dark water when he pulled up the net. Something was glowing and glinting at him and growing brighter as he pulled it up.

People said there were treasures of the old world in the sea — treasures from the vaults of Gabilgathol and Tumunzahar, who had sunk at the end of the First Age. He’d never put much store in it, but it seemed there was some truth to it after all.

“Look”, he called to Modha who was holding the boat steady while he pulled the nets up. “I’ve caught us something special.”

Entangled in the nets was a necklace of gold, encrusted with gems. In the center sat a big jewel glowing of its own light and making the other stones sparkle.

“Don’t touch it”, Modha snapped when Alar reached out.

“Why?”, he asked surprised. “It won’t bite.”

He couldn’t take their eyes off it. It was beautiful! If the dwarves of long ago had been able to make things such as this, their kind had waned indeed.

“It might as well”, Modha said. “Don’t you know what that is, you fool? The Nauglamír and a Silmaril — there’s a curse on the one and an oath as bad as a curse on the other. Throw it back in!”

Alar hesitated but then shook his head. “We’ll let the queen decide what to do with it.”

Modha sighed and mumbled something about stone-headed men. “Fine! But wrap it in the net and don’t touch it. I don’t want us sinking because you drew a curse on us — if it isn’t already to late.”

Alar tried to laugh her worries off, but he couldn’t stop an uneasy shudder. The Nauglamír was as beautiful as in the old songs — he hoped it wouldn’t turn out as deadly.

 

Dís stared at the piece of craftsmanship lying before her on the talbe, still entangled in a fishing net. The fishers who had found it, clearly hadn’t dared to handle it too much. Probably a wise decision. She thanked them and sent them out.

“I thought it was taken apart and the Silmaril given to Earendil.” She looked at her loremaster.

“My queen”, Rambi bowed to her. “There are different accounts of the fate of the Silmarils and seeing as so few people were present… One story says, the Silmaril of Lúthien was given to Earendil, while the other two are lost in earth and sea. Another story says, the Silmaril of Lúthien sank into the sea when Elwing fled and was turned into a bird and the Silmaril Earendil bears is one of those the host of the Valar regained after the defeat of Morgoth. It seems the latter is true.”

“Doesn’t tell me what to do with it”, she mumbled.

A part of her wanted to claim it as an heirloom. It should have belonged to the dwarves. They’d been cheated out of their reward… She closed her eyes and threw her mantle over the thing so she didn’t have to look at it any longer.

“I can already feel the curse working”, she admitted to Rambi. “What am I to do? It can’t stay here.”

Rambi nodded slowly in thought. “Send a message to Lord Círdan. There are still living relatives of both Felagund and Lúthien around. He will also know where to find Tharkûn. It might be good to get his advice.”

Dís nodded. Yes, Tharkûn would know what to do. She did not want to give the cursed thing to the elves, she feared that would only lead to bloodshed.

 

“The dwarves have found the Nauglamír”, Círdan said to Olórin, looking up from Dís’s letter that for once lacked all banter, proof of how serious this was if he’d needed any.

“What? How?”, Olórin sat up straight, eyebrows bristling. “That’s impossible.”

“A fisher dragged it up with his net. I thought it was supposed to be unreachable in the sea.”

“I thought so too”, Olórin mumbled. “And she told you?”

“We are on friendly terms most of the time.” Círdan smiled wryly. “She sounds as if she wants to get rid of it — scared almost. Do you think… should we notify Elrond and Galadriel. They both have some claim to it.” Círdan hated the thought of one of his friends having to deal with any more cursed jewellery, but denying them a choice felt equally wrong. “Is there no way of taking the curse of Mîm off it? At least in Elrond’s case the Oath of Feanor would not be too much of a problem, I guess.”

“No. Mîm is dead and his curse can never be washed away.” Olórin looked sad. “Elrond and Galadriel have to know about it, but I doubt they’ll want it. They know its history too. Give me a day. I will talk to someone and see if we can give it back to the Sea. Oh”, his friend added, “and tell your people to not head out and draw their boats far up the shore. This is going to be a stormy night.”

Círdan followed Olórin with his eyes. he wondered, if he would talk to Osse or Ulmo himself.

 

The spray was wet on his cheeks and in his beard. Olórin squinted his eyes that were stinging from the salt in the water. Osse appeared suddenly out of the water, standing dramatically on top of a rock a bit out in the sea, waves crashing against its sides.

Olórin rolled his eyes. “Show-off”, he growled. “Come over here, brother”, he called. “I don’t want to shout through the whole conversation.”

“Fine.” Osse jumped into the water and swam over. “What is it? I thought you weren’t supposed to contact us.”

“Yes. That was before the Nauglamír, Silmaril still attached, was fished out of the sea by dwarves. Was someone of you people sleeping?”

Olórin eyed Osse irritatedly, he had little trouble believing Osse’s mind had wandered off. Osse shrugged unperturbed by him.

“If it was found, it was meant to be found. And the dragon’s stench has been long ago washed off.”

“But Mîm’s curse still lingers”, Olórin growled. “And the Silmaril is a problem on its own.”

“That’s your problem, I guess.” Osse grinned mischievously at him. “It is time, Olórin. The last person who can lay a claim on the Silmaril is going to leave for the West soon. You know it.”

Olórin sighed. Yes, he did. Elrond’s — and his own — time on these shores was coming to an end.

“What about the Nauglamír?”

“Oh, I guess we can take that back, if it is so troubling to you”, he said and went back into the sea without another word.

Olórin rubbed his temples and sighed. He hadn’t really expected Ulmo himself to show up, but couldn’t he have sent a more helpful Maia of his?

He turned his back on the sea and walked back to Círdan’s house. He had one possibility left. If anyone on this Middle-earth knew how to deal with a curse on jewellery it was his fallen brother. He wondered if Curumo would even deign to speak to him.

 

Elrond’s heart started to race when Dís lifted the black velvet that covered the necklace and light flooded the room. The gems of the Nauglamír sparkled and the Silmaril glowed in it’s own light. It was beautiful… and dangerous.

‘It’s not mine’, he thought. And yet, he knew why Mithrandir and Círdan had asked him to come as the last heir of Feanor. Maedhros and Maglor would have thought of him as their heir and thus not feeling it necessary to act on the Oath — he wondered what their brothers would think of it, he meant to go to Aman after all.

“My brother loved that necklace”, Galadriel said softly. “I wish…” She looked at Mithrandir. “Is there no way to undo Mîm’s curse?”

Mithrandir shook his head. “None that I know of. I even talked to Saruman. He said the only way to undo the curse is to destroy the necklace. Melt the metal, cut the gems anew and make something entirely new from them.”

Dís stroked her beard. “The traitor. Do you trust him? Might he not try to trick us into spreading the curse.”

“He doesn’t particularly like me, granted.” Mithrandir smiled sourly. “But he’s desperate. He can’t admit to himself that he lost the way, but he knows our Lords closed the way West to him. I offered to plead for him if he helped us with this and he resents me for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no. Yes, I believe he told the truth.”

Dís nodded. “I’ve had dreams that tell the same story. Visions sent by Mahal, I believe.”

Mithrandir smiled at her. “I wouldn’t put it past him. Will you take on the task of disassembling the Nauglamír?”

Dís took a deep breath. “It’s a pity to destroy something this beautiful. One of the most famous works of my people. But yes, I will make sure not a single stone will remain uncut, even if it means to grind some of the smaller ones to dust. If the rightful owner agrees?”

Galadriel bowed to her. “Again one of the Khazâd shows that your people are far more than the elves would make of you. As hard as it is, I agree with Mithrandir. I won’t risk taking a cursed object West. And my brother would agree with me, I believe.”

“Elrond, will you accept the Silmaril as your responsibility, if we break up the Nauglamír?”, Mithrandir asked and Elrond felt a shudder of dread run down his spine.

“I don’t want to”, Elrond admitted. “I never wanted anything to do with the thing.” It had broken his family — and then it had broken his adopted fathers. “But I will take it. I think it was found now, because the Powers don’t want it to remain in Middle-earth after we have left. I will accept this charge.”

 

A pang of regret went through Dís’s heart as she bent back the prongs that held the Silmaril in its place. It hurt to destroy this work of art, made with a skill no dwarf would ever reach again. But keeping it was not worth the curse that lay on it.

She offered the jewel to Elrond with her tongs, she wouldn’t touch it. Elrond touched it quickly, as if he feared to be burned, but then took it in his hands. A look of wonder came to his face.

“It accepts me”, he said softly, as if to himself.

“And why wouldn’t it?”, Dís asked. “You’re not ‘unclean’, are you?”

“No, but a part of me is mortal. I didn’t know if I could touch it.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Keep it until someone with a stronger claim asks it of me.”

Dís laughed at that. “Who is there? The red-haired giant was like a father to you, wasn’t he? And all the others are dead.”

Elrond turned his eyes away and Dís felt sorry for speaking so bluntly. “Yes”, he said softly. “But we elves don’t die forever. Some might have returned by now. I don’t know.” He took a deep breath. “I will leave you alone to your task now.”

“Thank you.” Dís had begged privacy. This was hard enough without a bunch of elves watching her every move.

Slowly she took the gems out of their settings and put them aside. It would take weeks to cut all of them anew, she hoped the curse didn’t catch up with her. Mithrandir had said the most important thing was to melt down the necklace, she hoped he was right.

The fire she’d started before Elrond had left, was hot enough by now. She watched the gold start to melt with a tear in her eye.

 

*~*~*

 

Elrond stepped off the ship and towards his mother who had lifted up her hands as if to embrace him but had a doubtful look on her face. He’d been afraid he wouldn’t recognise her — he’d been so small when they’d been separated — but the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d known who she was.

“Nana”, he croaked and clutched her hands. “I missed you so much.” He didn’t stop the tears running down his face.

“I missed you, too”, she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, ion. I’m so sorry I left you behind. I could not think.”

“I forgive you”, Elrond whispered and pulled her tight. “If there is anything to forgive. Have you… have you seen my wife?”

“Yes.” Elwing touched his cheek. “She’s better, but she doesn’t like to be around many people. And we guessed your ship would draw a crowd. She looks forward to seeing you very much.”

Elrond relaxed. He’d been afraid that Celebrían had died after all — or was angry with him for sending her here alone -- when he hadn't seen her here.

“There’s… someone else who wants to see you again”, Elwing said and took him by the hand to lead him away. “They are waiting outside the town. They aren’t supposed to enter Alqualonde.”

Elrond stared at her, his heart starting to beat quicker. Could it be? And she’d said they.

“They’ve earned my forgiveness”, his mother said, seeing he guessed who she was leading him to. “But if you don’t want to see them…”

“I do!”, Elrond answered quickly. “It was not right what they did to our family, but… afterwards they were family to Elros and me and that was so important to us.”

The Silmaril suddenly weighed heavy in the pouch he carried under his shirt.

 

Maedhros and Maglor waited at the beach outside the town. Elrond felt tears in his eyes again. He'd heard about the last fate of the Silmarils. How Maedhros hadn’t been able to stop Maglor from going after his Silmaril. How Maglor had thrown himself and the Silmaril, when it burned him, into a fiery pit. How Maedhros had agreed to give the last Silmaril to Earendil.

“You fool”, he said, punching Maglor’s shoulder with no real force behind it. His death had been so unnecessary and at one time he’d been furious at them both for leaving his brother and him, too. But he’d never thought he’d see him again — either of them. “So… not the Void after all?”

“No”, Maedhros gave him a doubtful look. “Do you wish it were different?”

“No!” Elrond hugged them both. “I’m so happy to see you. Atto. Atya.”

He stepped back and took a deep breath, glancing at his mother.

“I have something that belongs to you.” He pulled the satchel out of his shirt and opened it to let the light of the Silmaril shine. “The Nauglamír was found. This is the Silmaril Lúthien won.” His eyes looked at each of his parents. “What am I to do with it?”

Elwing had tensed, her face unreadable. She might have made up with Maedhros and Maglor, far enough to lead Elrond to them, but these were still the elves who’d killed her parents and driven her from her home — because of this very jewel.

“Keep it”, Maedhros said after sharing a long look with Maglor. “You have a right to it in more then one regard.”

“And your… family. What are they going to think?”

Maedhros smiled lopsidedly. “They are used to me making unpopular — to them — decisions. They’ll accept that Maglor and I consider you as belonging to the family.”

“I don’t like to agree with him, but he’s right”, Elwing said. “If the Valar don’t have other plans, then keep it.”

“The Valar better not have other plans after making us deal with this when we were already almost on the boat”, Elrond growled and his mother laughed.

“Yes, I get what you mean. And I don’t think they will. It is in the best hands with you.”

Elrond sighed and put the satchel back under his shirt, he felt tired. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see my wife now and”, he looked at his mother, “is it possible to meet father? I’m not really clear on that.”

Elwing smiled. “It is. He sometimes comes down, I’ll tell him you’d like to see him. Later. I’m sure you and Celebrían have a lot to tell each other.”

“Yes.” Elrond felt a pain in his heart when he thought of Arwen. They’d never see her again. “Atto, Atya. I’m really glad to see you, but…”

“We understand”, Maglor said gently. “Go to your wife. There’ll be time for everything else later. If you’ll have us.”

“Of course I do.” Elrond hugged them again before he followed Elwing back to the town.

 

“What are you going to do with it now?”, Celebrían asked the next day after breakfast.

They’d spent the whole night talking and — doing other things. Elrond was slow to follow her gaze with his eyes, he couldn’t stop looking at her. His mother and fathers had been a wonderful surprise, but Celebrían finally made his heart whole again — as whole as possible, when you’d lost a child.

“I don’t know.” He glared at the simple leather satchel. “I’m really tempted to throw it back into the sea, but I guess that’s out of the question.” He sighed. “I’m certainly not going to wear it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d look stunning with it.” Celebrían chuckled and kissed him. “But better not, I agree.”

“I’ll find a solution for it. Eventually.” Elrond reached for her hand and drew her over so she sat down on his lap. “But right now I don’t want to worry about you. I have you back and that’s all that matters for the next week or so.”

Celebrían smiled at him radiantly and kissed him again. Elrond already had some half baked ideas forming. He had the inkling that putting it on public display would be a fitting end for a tragedy that had started out of possessiveness and jealousy.

He’d have to think more about it. But not right now. Not with Celebrían whole and happy in his arms.

---

Chapter End Notes

Gabilgathol = Belegost
Tumunzahar = Nogrod

Tolkien went back and forth on what happened to which Silmaril and if it was Maedhros or Maglor who died in the fiery chasm. Here, I'm staying with the "Sketch" version of the story, in which Maglor can't convince Maedhros to join him when he goes to take the Silmaril back from Eonwe and is the one who dies. Maedhros gives the remaining Silmaril to Earendil.

I headcanon Dís ruling over the dwarves who stayed in the Ered Luin after Thorin's death. She'd be very old at this point, but I decided to keep her for this fic.