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If she had been just any other woman Elwing would have been hugging her kids now. But she was her father’s only heir and leader of the Sindar that fled to Havens. Even the Noldor refugees acknowledged her authority. That meant the Fëanorian army currently being held just north of town was Elwing’s responsibility. This also meant she must now pay a visit to the ones who’d killed her family and drove her from her home, who had just now attacked her new home and new family: the cursed Sons of Fëanor. And somehow she had to keep a level head. Elwing adjusted the Silmaril reminding herself that she had won. The Sons of Fëanor were powerless now and at her mercy.
Making her way down the stairs Elwing rounded a corner and came upon the eldest, Maedhros. He was lying on a cot inside his cell. Just outside sat a healer. She could remember seeing the woman around in the infirmary, but couldn’t recall a name. The woman, a Noldo from Gondolin, was sewing but paused every other stitch to check on her patient. Elwing approached the bars to get a better look at the nightmare who personally ordered and led the attacks that ruined her childhood. He was resting perfectly still. His shaggy head was laying by the bars the unusual color of his hair making him easily identifiable. He’d been stripped of everything but his leggings. His bare chest was covered with enough bandages that very little skin peaked through. Even lying down Maedhros’ unusual height was apparent; his feet lay just off the cot.
“What is his condition?” she demanded of the healer.
“He took several severe wounds. He’s been sedated. As long as no complications develop he’ll recover. One thing I’ll give those bastard Sons of Fëanor, they’re tough.” Elwing wasn’t sure if she could detect slight disappointment in the healer’s voice that the eldest son of Fëanor would survive or if it was her own feelings bleeding through.
“I need him to address the Fëanorian troops. Can you wake him,” Elwing asked refraining from adding any commentary of her own.
“No,” the women replied back abruptly. Seeing the look on Elwing’s face she elaborated. “I sedated him pretty heavily. He was restless under lighter sedation and I didn't want him tearing his stitches. I could try to give him an antidote but as this point I wouldn’t recommend putting anything else in his system. If possible I would recommend using one of his younger brothers.”
Elwing spared one last look at Maedhros Fëanorian. She debated replacing the healer. It was clear the women didn’t like him. But then she would be hard pressed to find anyone in the Havens who felt positively towards the Sons of Fëanor given they’d just attacked. The woman’s most recent statements showed that her objectivity hadn’t been compromised. “I may need him for future negotiations,” Ewing lightly reminded the healer, “Let me know as soon as his condition changes.”
She received a sharp nod. Elwing left them quickly. She’d had to fight her own urge to smoother Maedhros Fëanorion in his sleep.
In contrast to his remaining brothers there was nothing about Maglor’s appearance that made him stand out from any of the exiled Noldor that inhabited the Havens. He’d been stripped of his weapons and armor. He had fresh bandages on his right shoulder and the arm in sling from the wound that had enabled his capture. He was pacing his cell. He turned as Elwing approached and stared at her enraptured. Elwing realized he was not looking at her face but rather at what was around her neck.
Suddenly he crashed into the bars of his cell startling her. His uninjured hand extended as far it could. A dark red bloom started to spread from his right shoulder as he pushed up against the bars heedless of the pain. There was fell and wild look in his in eyes. He whispered something in Quenya. She took an involuntary step back. Sweet Eru, she thought. The Sons of Fëanor were nothing but wolves, feral wolves. How could she even be thinking of bargaining with them?
Perhaps it was his injury that broke the light of the Silmaril’s spell. For after a moment he winced. Stepping back from the bars he pressed his left hand on the bandages trying to stem bleeding in the wound he’d reopened. Cursed he may be, but he was still a full blooded elf and born the light of the Trees, it did not take long for his wound to stop bleeding. Lowering his now bloody left hand he turned back to face Elwing. With effort he pulled his eyes from the Silmaril and back up to look her in eyes. “My apologies for the belated greeting Lady Elwing.” In contrast to his frantic whispering earlier this time he was smooth and elegant. Elwing had heard somewhere that Maglor had once been a respected minstrel. Hearing his voice now she could believe it. Even in speech there was a musical cadence to his voice though the lightness in his tone stuck her as false.
Steeling herself Elwing stepped closer though she was careful not to get within arm’s reach of the bars. She drew herself up to her full height. It took effort to keep her own voice from shaking when addressing one her childhood monsters. “Your attack has failed. You and all of your brothers are either captured or dead. We have your troops penned. I need you to address you troops. I want you to arrange a cease fire. I don’t want to waste soldiers when the true enemy lies to the North.”
Maglor studied her for a moment. It didn’t take him long to figure out what she was after. “You want our troops to protect your city? You would trust our troops when they just attacked you? You would trust kinslayers?”
Elwing could not help but find it ironic that his arguments were the same her own council would undoubtedly have when they got wind of her plan. She had her counter-arguments all lined up. “As I have said a greater enemy lies to the North. I won’t lie to you Fëanorian: I hate you. I would like nothing more than to repay you and your family personally for you what you did to my family. But I am the leader of Havens and I need to put the concerns of my people first. We have only a small force here at the Havens, some of whom fell in your attack. Gil-galad lent us some of his soldiers when we heard word of your coming. But now he will want his forces back to protect Balar. He is convinced that we have lost all of Beleriand to Morgoth. The only soldiers left at my disposal are yours. Yes, they are kinslayers. This proves their loyalty to the damned House of Fëanor. They were willing to become kinslayers not once but thrice for you all. As long I hold their Lords I can make them answer to me.”
Maglor frowned thinking over her words. “Your reasoning is sound though I don’t envy you the job you will have convincing your people. You have even given us a reason to cooperate with you to save our own skins. After all surely you realize you need us alive to ensure the loyalty of our people.” He gave a dark chuckle at this. “But why do you need me to make this address, I’m not the oldest remaining son of Fëanor…am I?” He attempted a glib light-hearted tone, but his voice shook slightly on the last part giving him away.
Deciding that if she was going to need the Sons of Fëanor it was best to be honest with them, Elwing answered, “Your brother Maedhros still lives but he has been sedated for his injuries and I don’t want this to wait.”
There was no mistaking the relief in his eyes. “In that case Lady Elwing, as the acting leader of the Fëanorian Army I accept your terms for a temporary cease fire until my Lord is able to negotiate our formal surrender.” He bowed to her. Elwing couldn’t tell if he was showing her the proper deference as the leader of the heavens or if he was mocking her. She supposed it didn’t matter. She held almost all the cards here.
“Some soldiers will be by shortly to escort you,” she announced turning to leave.
“Wait,” Maglor called out in his powerful voice. “You mention Maedhros was injured badly enough to require sedation. What about my other brothers?”
Once more Elwing pondered withholding the information from him. It would be petty revenge but still satisfying enough. Unfortunately her plan did require a little cooperation from the Sons of Fëanor which meant she shouldn’t make things worse till she had what she wanted. “One them was killed in your invasion. The other is badly wounded. At this time we don’t know if he will recover.”
“Which…” he swallowed having trouble speaking. “Which of my brothers was…killed?”
This time Elwing didn’t have to think about if she should share the information. “We don’t know.” She told him bluntly. “None of my people are able to tell your brothers apart. Perhaps you can help us with that.”
Maglor was silent for a moment before responding quietly “Amras wears a small silver ring on his left hand.”
Elwing gave a nod of acknowledgement and left him.
Figuring that the Fëanorian soldiers would want to know which of their commanders was killed Elwing paid a visit to the last living Son of Fëanor. His status was unchanged. He was in the middle of emergency surgery. Elwing asked to see his effects. “Amras,” she breathed holding up the small silver ring. This meant that the Son of Fëanor who would no longer haunt her nightmares was Amrod.
A short while later found Elwing standing on a hastily constructed platform surveying the Kinslayer’s troops. Once Maedhros had been felled they’d reluctantly thrown down their arms. They stood now in a rough group penned in by an armed ring of the soldiers Gil-galad had loaned her. It was an uneasy informal surrender that could turn disastrous at any moment.
Elwing had taken the time to change out of her bloody and dirty clothes so she could look the part of a victorious leader. She had removed the Silmaril. As much as she wanted to wear the necklace and craved its reassurance, she had seen its effect on Maglor earlier. She needed the Son of Fëanor to do what he what he’d agreed upon and hopefully not act as the feral monster that lurked just under his skin.
A commotion behind her caught her attention. Maglor was approaching escorted by two large guards. Since cuffing his hands behind him was not possible given that one of them was residing in a sling, his good hand had been cuffed with that of the guard at his side. An effort had been made to clean him up for this address. His hair had been restyled and someone had put fresh bandaging over his blood stained ones. “Lady Elwing,” he greeted bowing to her.
“Remember our deal,” she hissed at him. It was much easier to look at Maglor Son of Fëanor when bars separated them.
“Hear me soldiers and servants of the Sons of Fëanor,” she called out in a loud voice. “Your invasion has failed. Maedhros, Maglor and Amras have been captured. Amrod is dead. I have brought your highest ranking commander currently capable of surrendering.”
That was his cue. Maglor stepped up to address his troops. “My friends,” he greeted them. “I have been assured that High Commander Maedhros still lives but his injuries are such that for the moment I must take over as his second. It is in that position I thank you for your loyal service and call you to lay down your arms against the people of the Havens. Lady Elwing and I have negotiated a temporary cease fire. This cease fire shall remain in effect for one month. In this time Commander Maedhros should be able set forth the terms of our more formal surrender. If after one month this has not occurred I will negotiate an extension of the cease fire.” When he finished speaking there was a loud buzz as the troops discussed these orders among themselves.
Elwing frowned. She had wanted an unconditional surrender of the Kinslayer’s forces. But this was what Maglor had agreed to in his cell: a temporary cease fire, so she couldn’t fault him for breaking his word. She turned to her head commanders. “We will need to construct some hasty barracks to house the Fëanorian forces. And take him back to his cell,” she added refusing to give Maglor another glance.
Having Maedhros sedated when she had needed him had allowed Elwing to do her initial negotiations with Maglor. Elwing hated and feared all of the Sons of Fëanor, but as the Commander Maedhros took the lead in her nightmares. When she was given the excuse to do her negotiating with Maglor she’d hoped for an easy surrender, negating any need to talk to Maedhros. But Maglor had refused to overstep his role as his brother’s second-in-command, only willing to agree to a temporary order and left the formal negotiating to Maedhros.
By the time the one month deadline had passed Maedhros had indeed worked out a formal surrender. Although she should have held most of the cards Elwing felt that her inexperience meant she gave too much away to Maedhros whom she was forced to grudgingly admit was a skilled negotiator. He was willing to commit his troops to helping defend the Havens against Morgoth pointing out with only the slightest hint of irony that this was what they’d been doing up until their attack. Fighting Morgoth was his army’s primary purpose and they’d been doing it in both small skirmishes and large battles for centuries. In exchange he insisted that no consequences come to his soldiers for their kinslayings. He agreed that Elwing could put members of the Havens in the highest command positions, but pointed out that his commanders were experienced and battle tested- valuable voices that would be lost should they lose all authority. Elwing doubted that they could trust the Fëanorian forces with too much autonomy but Maedhros disagreed.
“These forces we have left, those who did not desert us after Nirnaeth Arnoediad or the Kinslayings are loyal beyond reason. In addition, orders to defend the Havens from Morgoth will not be difficult to swallow. There is no reason you should doubt them as long as you don’t mistreat their Lords.” Here he gave her a positively feral grin made worse by the damage Morgoth had done to his face.
That proved to be a sticking point of the negotiations. Elwing had been aware from the beginning that executing the Sons of Fëanor would not be possible if she needed to keep the loyalty of their armies. It had become clear by this point that Amras would survive and she would have three Sons of Fëanor to hold prisoner. At least, Maedhros didn’t object that he and his brothers be kept in prison. “I can negotiate in good faith should you make it impossible for me to obtain the Silmaril. Should you free me the oath would take hold and I would be obligated to try to steal it,” he explained.
Rather the main point to the negotiation became the conditions under which the Sons of Fëanor would be held. To make matters difficult Maedhros possessed an almost suicidal disregard for his own life. When fed up with the back and forth Elwing threatened to just execute him and be done with it. He carelessly replied, “Do it and see if our army will follow you after.”
“I’ve been informed of the words of your oath. If you die with it unfulfilled, you will go to eternal darkness.”
“I may already be there. At this point I hardly think death could make things worse. The way things stand now we lack any ability to fulfill it, so I hardly think it makes any difference.” This wasn’t the first comment he’d made that made her realize how much of a broken man he truly was. If it hadn’t been for his brothers Maedhros probably wouldn’t have cared what she did with him. Even torture wouldn’t have fazed him. This was a man who’d spent years as Morgoth’s prize, Elwing couldn’t complete.
But broken or not Maedhros was very politically savvy and still had two younger brothers to look out for. Elwing eventually found herself agreeing that the remaining Sons of Fëanor could spend one evening a month in each other’s company. The logistics of having to move and then secure all three brothers in one room would be a pain. If there was an escape this is when it would occur. But Maedhros had been adamant. He needed to see that his two brothers remained alive and unharmed if he was to uphold his part of the deal. And like Maedhros would need to continuously know that his brothers were unharmed, so too would his troops need to ensure that their commander was still well.
There was one other provision which Maedhros absolutely insisted on. When (Maedhros was convinced it was “when” not “if”) Morgoth attacked the Havens Maedhros refused to remain in a cell where he could be captured again. “Free me to fight Morgoth’s forces,” he insisted.
“You know I can’t do that,” she argued back, “Once freed I know you will attack me again.”
“Then kill me when they attack. I don’t care which you do but I have sworn I will never become his prisoner again and this vow I will keep,” he’d snarled.
In the end Elwing had agreed to do one or the other without yet committing to either course. He’d gotten her to agree to the same for his brothers, knowing what awaited Sons of Fëanor in Angband. So with that agreement as well as monthly supervised visits of the brothers and monthly supervised visits with his commanders Elwing and Maedhros agreed to a fragile peace.
When Elwing was informed that one the Sons of Fëanor had been causing trouble she already knew it was Maglor. Neither Maedhros nor Amras was up for causing much trouble for different yet similar reasons. From negotiating with Maedhros Elwing had learned just how much damage his decades as Morgoth’s prisoner had done to him. Being in any cell even his cell in the Havens, which probably was like a mansion compared to how Morgoth had kept him, made him regress mentally to his time as thrall. Within a few short months of imprisonment he stopped talking or otherwise interacting with the guards. He slept little and his dreams were always troubled. Elwing found herself trying to decide if she should feel sorry for him. Maedhros might be her worst enemy but imprisonment in Angband was the sort of thing most people wouldn’t even wish on their worst enemies.
Amras was also mostly silent. He only spoke to his brothers at their monthly meetings. It was clear from the reports of what the brothers talked about at these meetings that this was out of character behavior for Amras and both his brothers were concerned. In contrast to Maedhros, who barely slept, he slept too much, passing his days in his cell dozing and up pacing most nights. Elwing couldn’t be sure but she was fairly certain that Amras’ behavior was caused by the death of his twin. She was a mother of twins herself and if the twin Kinslayers had been anything like her innocent sons then the bond between them had been almost unnaturally close. She could infer from what was said at the Fëanorion’s meetings that Amrod and Amras had never really been apart before Sirion.
Ironically the only thing that could draw both Maedhros and Amras from their funk was concern for the other. At their monthly meetings both attempted to put on a brave face for their other brothers. They also both picked up on the other’s distress and broke their silences to implore the guards look out for their brother.
And so, if any Fëanorion caused trouble it was inevitability Maglor. He had never spent time as a thrall of the enemy and Amrod was merely the fourth younger brother he’d lost. During their monthly meetings Maglor tried to keep his brothers from falling apart. Unlike his brothers he’d talk to his guards if they were receptive to conversations. Two of his guards had to be replaced after it was suspected they had gotten too friendly with him. He was always unfailing polite and showed the proper respect to Elwing as the leader of the Havens.
The first issue that Elwing had to confront him on was his singing. The prison guards quickly learned that Maglor sang almost constantly. Elwing had enough elven blood in her veins to know of the importance of singing to the Eldar. Because Maglor was known for his mighty voice and to be strong with Songs of Power, Elwing decided for the safety of all she should forbid him from singing. But when she announced this new rule to him he had simply looked at her and said, “I beg your pardon Lady Elwing but I am afraid this is one request I cannot comply with.”
“It wasn’t a request,” Elwing found herself sputtering, caught off guard by his refusal. “As your captor I can enforce this order.”
“Yes,” Maglor calmly agreed, “You can. But forbidding his thralls from singing is the kind of thing Morgoth does and you are not Morgoth. Singing is important to all Elda but it is even more vital to me than most. I am born musician. It is bad enough I can’t play any instruments in here. The only way you could keep me from singing is to cut out my tongue. But surely you won’t go that far.” Elwing had glared at him unable to even think of a retort. Maglor sighed, “I can promise not to Sing Songs of Power but this is the best I can do. Music is a part of my very fëa and I doubt I could survive without especially in prison.” Elwing had reluctantly conceded that Maglor had won and extracted a promise not to Sing Songs of Power.
Elwing reflected on this exchange as she made her way down to confront him. This time she was determined to keep the upper hand and not lose. To her surprise there was someone standing in front of his cell listening to Maglor talk. As soon as they became aware of her presence they startled and darted off in the opposite direction. Once again
Elwing found herself nearly speechless in Maglor’s presence. “Was that my son?” she demanded.
“Yes, Elrond unless the boys have been lying to me and he is really Elros. I confess I wouldn’t be able to tell,” he replied calmly not even bothering to rise from his cot where he sat facing the bars.
She’d only gotten a very brief glance at him but Elwing was fairly sure it was Elrond. That wasn’t the point. “What are you doing talking to my son?” she demanded.
“He came to speak to me.” Maglor’s calm seemed almost designed to get under her skin. “Surely you don’t believe I’m capable of seeking him out.”
Logically Elwing had of course known this but she couldn’t get past this idea that her son had deliberately been sneaking in to see a kinslayer. “Why would my son want to have anything to do with you? What lies have you been telling him?”
“I don’t tell lies.” Maglor shot back sounding offended by the very idea. “Perhaps I’ve softened some details but there are some things young children are not ready to hear.” He sighed, “Your son first came to see me, the dangerous deranged kinslayer, on a bet I suspect with his brother. As to why he keeps coming back-” here he shrugged. “I suppose he likes me.” He gave a charming self depreciating smile that Elwing was sorely tempted to punch off his face.
Completely forgetting why she’d come to visit Maglor in the first place, Elwing turned around in search of her son. This was behavior she intended to put an end to immediately.
Unfortunately finding Elrond did not prove easy. He had a habit of hiding when he was upset. Unable to locate him, Elwing decided to start with the son she could find. Although he was just seven years old, Elros knew how to read his mother. He took one look at her face when she came across him playing with blocks and asked, “Am I in trouble?”
“That depends. How long has your brother been visiting the Kinslayer in prison?” she demanded.
“About four months I guess- that’s when we had the original bet.”
“And whose idea was the bet?”
“Mine,” Elros admitted. “I heard the guards talking and I knew that only one of the Sons of Fëanor actually spoke. I thought I could prove my bravery by visiting one of them. I thought Elrond would chicken out.” Elros looked down. “But I guess that Maglor turned out to be much different than we were expecting because next thing I know he’s talking about visiting him again.”
“Have you gone to visit him?”
Elros managed to raise his head and look his mother in the eyes. “No…but I was thinking about it after hearing Elrond’s stories.” He dropped his gaze again.
“And what sort of stories has that Kinslayer been telling your brother?”
“I dunno, stories about history and stuff.” Elros wouldn’t look at her and didn’t elaborate.
Elwing sighed. “If you see your brother tell him I want to talk to him. Putting it off isn’t going to make me less angry.”
Elros nodded. Much as Elwing wanted to find her other son and address this right away, she didn’t know all his hiding places. Finding him could take all afternoon and she had duties she needed to attend to.
Later, Elwing was in her chamber with the Silmaril when she heard a timid knock.
“Mom?” she heard small voice say from the other side of the door.
“Come in.”
“Elros said that you were looking for me?” Elrond’s guilty expression told his mom he knew he’d been caught and was only faking ignorance.
“I want to know what exactly that Kinslayer has been telling you,” she demanded.
Elrond looked down. “Just stuff,” he evaded.
“Don’t give me that. If we must we will march down to the dungeon and have this conversation with him. I intended to know every single lie that has spilled out of his mouth.”
“He doesn’t lie,” Elrond shot back.
Elwing looked at the Silmaril and prayed for strength. “Yes, he does. Every single word out of his mouth is a lie. He is trying to trick you into believing he and his brothers are decent people and not the monsters I know they are.” Elrond opened his mouth to argue with her but she continued on, “For Eru’s, sake Elrond they abandoned my brothers to freeze or starve.”
“No, they didn’t!” Elrond shot back.
“WHAT!” The idea that the treacherous Sons of Fëanor dared to deny their crimes was almost too much.
“Maglor didn’t have anything to do with that.” Elrond insisted stubbornly. “They were taken by some of Celegorm’s followers after he was killed. But they never had any orders to do anything like that, they did it for revenge. Maglor said Maedhros was so furious when he discovered what had been done. He went alone and searched for your brothers but he could find no sign of them.”
“Maglor says,” she parroted back. “How do you know you can trust a single word out of his mouth? He’s lying to you Elrond. It’s probably as easy as breathing to him.”
“I know he wasn’t lying because when he told me I could tell how bothered he was by it.”
“He’s a performer.”
“Then ask Maedhros. Maglor said his brother is still bothered by it. I bet you will be able to tell if he is lying.”
There was a pause as Elwing gathered her wits. She resolved to ask Maedhros very soon. “Why him? I know you first approached him on a bet, both he and your brother confessed to me, but why did you ever decide to go back?”
Elrond frowned and looked down. “I don’t know. He seemed interesting when I met him. He didn’t act dangerous and he answered all of my questions. And well…he seemed kind of lonely. He said the guards weren’t allowed to talk to him anymore…I thought he could use someone to talk to.”
It was true that Elwing had forbidden the guards from holding friendly conversations with Maglor, after she’d had to replace two of them. She’d never imagined he’d respond by seducing her son. “What do you talk about?” She needed to know how much damage had been done.
“He tells me stories- tells me about the history of the first age or stories of what things were like in Valinor during the years of the trees. He’s teaching me Quenya- I asked him to. He doesn’t talk about the Silmaril or try to convince me to free him.” Elrond looked defiantly at her as he said the last part.
“He doesn’t do that yet.” Elwing corrected. “I’m sure he’s still trying to gain your trust. Once he has it he will either try to convince you to steal the Silmaril or the key to his cell.”
“He can’t help it you know,” Elrond mumbled. “He can’t help…the Silmaril. He swore an unbreakable oath and it was a mistake but what’s done is done and he can fight the oath but it wins in the end.”
“I thought you said he didn’t discuss the Silmaril.” Elwing’s tone was icy. She fought not to be so cold towards her son. It wasn’t fair to take her hatred of the Fëanorions out on him. It wasn’t his fault Maglor Fëanorion could be so manipulative.
“We don’t exactly. I asked him how he could have attacked other elves and that was the answer he gave. Actually he said that Maedhros couldn’t fight the oath anymore and Maglor wasn’t about to let his brother do this alone. And well- maybe I’d do it too. I can’t imagine attacking innocent people but if Elros had to I’d want to stand by him.”
Elwing groaned. Her son was too young to think about such things- yet another crime she could lay at Maglor’s feet. “You said he hasn’t asked for the keys to his cell yet. What has he had you smuggle him instead.”
Elrond looked ashamed and didn’t deny it. “Just a slate and some chalk. We were talking about his father’s tengwar and he wanted to show me some things.”
“Very clever.” Elwing muttered under her breath. She’d originally been going to see Maglor because he’d been badgering his guards for paper and a writing implement. It seemed he’d gotten impatient and found another way to get what he wanted. “I think it’s time we both pay him a visit,” she announced. She gathered Nauglamír off her desk, much as she wanted to spare her son he needed to learn what a monster the elf he had been visiting truly was.
Maglor did not react as Elwing had expected him to when she entered with Nauglamír. Last time he had lunged for it like a rabid animal heedless of his wounds. Maglor had been sitting on his bed when he looked up and saw the jewel. He stared at it transfixed ignoring Elrond as he entered beside his mother. Slowly Maglor rose from his bed and walked to the bars. He walked in a daze as if unaware of the bars until he ran into them. This seemed to break the spell. “Lady Elwing,” he greeted reluctantly transferring his gaze to her face. “And young Lord Elrond,” he added noticing that she was not alone. “This is a surprise.”
“Don’t pretend,” Elwing scolded him. “You know my son has been visiting you for months.”
“But it is a surprise to see both of you at the same time,” he countered easily. “I was sure that once you discovered the truth it would be the last time I would see your son.”
“Rest assured I plan to put a stop to his visits very soon.” She squeezed her son’s hand when she he heard him start to protest. “But first you are going to tell my son the truth.”
Maglor frowned. “I told you before I haven’t been lying to him. Unless you think he’s ready to hear all the gory details of Dagor Bragollach or Nirnaeth Arnoediad. I can tell him things that will guarantee he won’t find restful sleep for weeks if that is truly what you desire.”
“What of your attack on Menegroth? I’m sure there are many details of that battle you’d rather my son didn’t hear.”
Maglor’s frown disappeared covered with a perfectly blank expression. “I could tell him details of that battle but I would assume you wouldn’t want your son to hear such things.” He looked down in a perfectly calculated show of regret.
Elwing fought to maintain control of her voice, “You let me worry about what my son should and shouldn’t hear. I want him to hear the monster that hides under the honeyed lies and half-truths you’ve been feeding him. You can start with this, why did you attack my people? You personally, not why did your family, but why did you?”
Maglor glanced back up a stricken look in his eyes, “My lady-” he started to protest.
Elwing was only too pleased to cut him off. “And to ensure that your response is honest and not calculated you will look not to us but to the Silmaril while you speak.”
A flash of something- likely his corrupted soul, briefly shown out of Malgor’s eyes. But with effort he concealed it. “As my lady commands.” This time the performer found himself unable to hide his true self and the best he could manage was a flat tone. With as much effort as it had taken him to pull his gaze from the Silmaril to focus on her face he now moved his eyes back to the Silmaril. “Celegorm and Curufin had hated Thingol long before they were humiliated by your Grandmother and Grandfather. For when Dagor Bragollach occurred they were forced to evacuate around your homeland at great peril. They lost many people in the process and at one point nearly ended up pinned between the Girdle and Morgoth’s forces. Curufin lost one of his former apprentices- a boy that he’d known since birth and been like a second son to him. He never forgave your Great-Grandfather for that. So naturally as soon as the Girdle fell they counseled Maedhros that he should attack for the Silmaril.”
“I asked you for your reasons not theirs,” countered Elwing annoyed that he was foisting off the blame on her Great-Grandfather.
“I’m getting there,” Maglor replied. The longer he stared at the Silmaril the more strained his voice became. “At first Maedhros refused them. He hoped that while Dior might never stand with us, he could maybe be convinced to stand with the other Noldor against Morgoth. After all he could not cowardly hide behind his wife’s power as Thingol had. But Celegorm and Curufin kept pushing and Maedhros…Maedhros wasn’t the same after Nirnaeth Arnoediad. So he called a council of all of us to hear our thoughts on attacking Doriath. Celegorm and Curufin were the ones pushing the most for it. The twins counseled against. They argued the last thing the House of Fëanor needed to do was alienate more potential allies. More so, the other Noldor and Falathrim, we’d given up on Doriath. As for Caranthir, poor Caranthir had probably taken Nirnaeth Arnoediad nearly as hard as Maedhros. The men that had betrayed us served under him. It made him suspicious of any potential allies and worse distrustful of his own judgment. So he pretty much abstained from supporting either side. This led to two for and two against when it came to convincing Nelyo. And me with the deciding vote.”
“So you take responsibility for the decision to attack my people?” Elwing demanded.
“Perhaps. If Nelyo had truly made up his mind then none of us would have been able to persuade him. I don’t know who or what was the deciding argument. All I can say is that I argued for caution. I agreed with the twins about the dangers of alienating potential allies. But I also knew that we would be deluding ourselves if we believed that your father would ever choose to ally with us after what Celegorm and Curufin had done to his parents. So I convinced Maedhros we should send a letter to Dior giving him a chance to return our Silmaril. But should Dior refuse I counseled for attack. I was convinced then and I still am that if we hadn’t attacked Doriath, Morgoth would have. Your childhood kingdom was weak Lady Elwing. Having been sacked by the Naugrim and lacking the Girdle you were ripe for attack. Most of the population was civilians and thanks to Thingol’s isolationist policies many of your soldiers had never seen battle. It was only a matter of time before you fell. While we were scouting before our attack we noticed that Morgoth was clearly sending his forces to test your defenses. I am convinced that if Morgoth attacked, his forces would have recovered the Silmaril and all that your grandparents fought for would be lost.”
There was some truth to what he said. A cold unfeeling logic that much as Elwing wanted to deny it made a kind of terrible sense. “And was your most recent attack for the same reasons?” she demanded.
“Somewhat, yes. Ulmo provides you some protection but year by year as Morgoth fouls the waters his protection diminishes. You are not unaware of this, why else did you spare our troops so they could fight for you? But I won’t deny the oath was a reason too. As the years go by it wears on us more and more. I could probably have fought it and delayed longer, but not Nelyo, uh Maedhros. I could see how much harder the oath was wearing on him and it wasn’t fair to make him shoulder it alone. We all swore the oath. So when Maedhros decided it was time to attack, my remaining brothers and I knew we had to support him.”
Elwing stared at Maglor. He was still a terrible person. But there was no lie in his eyes. Beguiled by the Silmaril he’d been unable to polish his speech or honey his words. “And about my brothers, was what you told to my son true?” She found her mouth was dry.
‘Yes,” he replied sincerely. “Maedhros was so furious when he discovered what Celegorm’s servants had done. He spent so long looking for your brothers. It crushed him when I finally convinced him we must move on.” He tore his gaze off the Silmaril to her face. “Please Lady Elwing if you ask my brother about it be gentle. He’s haunted by it to this day and surely you can see my brother isn’t well. He cannot be in a cell without thinking he’s back in Angband.”
“See,” said Elrond tugging on her hand, “Maglor isn’t a monster.”
Elwing didn’t agree. She didn’t think she could ever see him as something other than her childhood boogeyman. But she could already see she wouldn’t convince her son of it. Forbidding him from seeing Maglor might lead to him merely trying to sneak in behind her back. Instead she would assign a chaperone and keep a close watch on what lies and half truths Maglor tried to feed her son.
Eventually Maedhros and Maglor’s predictions that it was a matter of “when” not “if” came true and Morgoth attacked the Havens. Thanks to her troops of mostly Fëanorian followers they were able to get an advance warning back to the settlement. Preparation began to evacuate the civilians to the Isle of Balar.
Elwing stared at the Silmaril knowing that it had come down to this. She knew what she must do. Morgoth would want nothing more than to recover it and undo her parents’ deeds. In the end Maglor had been right; the Silmaril was vulnerable in her hands. And so she must sacrifice for it. Elwing gave her last orders. She kissed her sons with a goodbye that she hoped wasn’t forever and stole away from the settlement as secretly as she could. Once she was safely away on her orders the Sons of Fëanor would be released from their cells and rearmed. So they could join the fight of all free peoples of Beleriand for mere survival.
It was bad luck that saw Elwing run into one of Morgoth patrols north of Sirion. She found herself pushed back up to a cliff face. As she decided it was better the jump then let Morgoth recover the Silmaril, Elwing couldn’t help but find herself wondering if any of the sacrifices she’d made would make any difference in the end.
Epilogue
They reconvened on a cliff dozens of miles south of the Havens. There had been many deaths at Sirion and some fresh thralls for Angband. But thanks to their own soldiers many of the civilians had been able to escape to Balar. Maedhros found himself in command of an his own army, which was now roughly half the size of that which had attacked Sirion, as well as a group of soldiers from the Havens, mostly other Noldor, who watched him suspiciously but had been patrolling with his soldiers for years and had trusted them enough to follow them in the retreat.
Amras had fallen. But as he had died trying to save Elwing’s children from squad that had been sent to capture them, it was a far nobler death than any of his brothers. Amras’ death had not been in vain either. For Maglor had come across the scene in time to avenge his brother and complete the task he’d died for. Even now when Elrond had finally stopped clinging to Maglor, Maedhros could not believe the way both twins looked at his brother, as if they trusted him already. It made Maedhros’ decision that they should retreat into the Taur-im-Duinath and not try to return the twins easier. Elrond and Elros wondered what had happened to their mother but understood why going back to look for her couldn’t happen right now. Elwing had been smart enough to cover her tracks well enough that the Sons of Fëanor had no Silmarils left to pursue but those held by the enemy. Much later when a new star appeared in the sky, they were all given some hint as to Elwing’s fate.