Maglor woke to light streaming into the small, dank stone-walled room. The light got bigger, and brighter - he could hear the door rolling open - and when he tried to sit up and shield his eyes, he felt the tug of the chains.
His head was throbbing and he was absolutely parched, like he'd had too much to drink last night, but he hadn't.
The last thing he remembered was the dart, and the way his limbs locked up, his mind hazing and fading slowly so he put up no resistance when he was thrown down and bound and dragged away. He'd fallen asleep on the trip to wherever it was, and he'd woken up briefly to the chains, still too paralyzed from the drug on the dart to struggle. As far as he could tell he had not been used - he was only sore from the bonds on his wrists and ankles, and laying on a cold stone floor.
He looked up into the blue eyes of a fair-haired guard, Telerin from the looks of him. Oh shit. He had always lived with the fear that the past would catch up with him, all the way out in the middle of nowhere as he and his eldest brother took care of the orphan boys, but this was somehow worse than what he'd been expecting. Maglor swallowed hard, with the sting of his very dry mouth.
The guard unlocked his chains and pulled him to his feet. Maglor was so weak from however long he'd been laying on a stone floor that he almost fell over. A second guard walked in and slapped a pair of shackles on Maglor's wrists. Then they dragged him along, every now and again giving him a shove or a kick or a prod.
"Where am I?" Maglor asked as they made their way up out of the dungeon chambers, the hall with its row of cells. "What's going on -"
The first guard smacked him.
It became clear enough once they had ascended the steps and came out into a courtyard in the center of a palace, with a magnificent marble swan fountain ringed by rose bushes, the huge stained glass windows that Fëanor himself had made as a gift for his youngest brother... the carved gold-dusted marble columns overlooking greenery and a stone wall with a view of the ocean in the distance.
He was at Alqualondë.
Finarfin was waiting in his study, with a pitcher of clear water and a bowl of fruit, a tray of bread and assorted meats and cheeses. He nodded for the guard to free him, and the guard shoved Maglor down in a chair. "Leave us," Finarfin said, waving his hand dismissively. The guards gave him a skeptical look, as if Maglor was such a kinslayer that he'd murder his own uncle, but they did as they were commanded, leaving Maglor alone with his uncle, sitting across a table. Finarfin poured Maglor a glass of water and pushed it over to him, then quietly began to load up a plate of food.
Maglor's stomach growled - Maglor had no idea how long it had been since he'd last eaten, how many hours or days he was out - and he accepted the food with a mumbled thanks. Finarfin sat back in his chair, watching Maglor with steepled hands, saying nothing. It made Maglor somewhat uncomfortable to be watched so closely as he ate, especially when he lost all semblance of manners in his hunger, but it was what it was.
When Maglor was finished, Finarfin poured him more water and pushed the plate off to the side. "You're probably wondering why you're here," he said.
"Not really, no. I woke up in a cell." Maglor shrugged. "The time of reckoning has come -"
Finarfin put up a hand. "The time of redemption has come. Of reconciliation."
Maglor looked away. He had regrets, but in the end, he felt his father had been right, and that the Valar had been in the wrong. "If you think I'm going to bow and scrape before the Valar you might as well kill me now -"
Finarfin let out a deep sigh. "If you will not do it for yourself, Kanafinwë, do it for your children." Maglor looked back at him and their eyes met, and held. "As I did."
Maglor's jaw dropped - that suggested there was more to the story of Finarfin returning to Tirion than he knew.
Then it hit him like a ton of rocks, and Maglor felt a stab of guilt that it hadn't occurred to him sooner. "Where are Elrond and Elros? Are -"
"They are unharmed," Finarfin said. "They are in the guest wing of the palace... as you and your brother will be, if you do as I say."
Maglor let out a small sigh of relief.
Finarfin went on, "I'd wanted to bring you in sooner but I needed a plan that wouldn't result in more people getting killed. Then I heard rumors that you and Nelyafinwë acquired children." Finarfin leaned back in his chair, pinched the bridge of his nose, and ran his hand over his face. "I had concerns that you all would get killed out there."
"So you brought me back like a prisoner."
"Eärwen's people would have your head," Finarfin said, an edge in his voice that was the closest he ever came to losing his cool. "It was the best I could do."
There was a long, awkward pause. More water. Then wine. Finarfin seemed to need a drink as much as he did.
One glass of wine became two and finally Maglor asked, "So what now?"
"I bring you to Manwë, and whether you feel it here or not," Finarfin said, putting his hand on his heart, "you will tell him you are very, very sorry, and he will release you to my custody, and you will live out the rest of your life here, with me."
Maglor raised an eyebrow. "And if I don't?"
"Káno, is living with me really worse than the Void?" Finarfin's usually calm face was stern, tense.
Maglor sighed deeply and looked away again. What he didn't say - but what he felt, face on fire - was that he had been in love with his uncle since he was old enough to have those kinds of yearnings, and of course nothing could come of it because of the Laws. Living with the man he loved and couldn't have was, indeed, a special level of the Hells, worse than being in a cell, or the Void.
"You and your brother are all I have left now of my family," Finarfin said. "My daughter, my sole surviving child, and I are estranged. Findaráto hasn't been re-embodied yet. Eärwen and I are no longer married. She and Anairë have offered themselves to the temple, as priestesses."
Is that what they're calling it now, Maglor thought to himself, remembering the unusual closeness between his aunts, always going off together, but he kept that thought private. He had a feeling Finarfin already knew, anyway. Nothing got past him.
Which made it dangerous to live here. It was one thing to pine for Finarfin from afar - and many years apart hadn't changed Maglor's feelings. It was another thing entirely to be here and see Finarfin every day.
"Your father told me to go back for the sake of my children, you know," Finarfin said, pouring out more wine.
Maglor couldn't believe it. He had thought Finarfin had turned away after what happened with the Teleri... but those were his wife's people, not his own, and the Teleri had been the ones to start the trouble anyway, they were just defending themselves. Two dozen dead was hardly a genocide. It made sense now, but it also felt like a fresh wound being cut open and bleeding, to know Finarfin had been on their side all this time.
"Your father would tell you the same thing," Finarfin said, their eyes locking once more. "Do it for Elrond and Elros. Let them have a family." Finarfin blinked back tears. "Do it for me. Let me have what is left of mine."
Maglor would have taken the sun and moon from the sky and given it to Finarfin, to stave off those tears. "Very well. You win."
Finarfin laughed bitterly and shook his head. "I've lost almost everything, Kanafinwë. This is no victory."
After Maglor had more water, the guards returned. Finarfin bowed his head apologetically. "Until the meeting with Manwë, you must be in your cell. I am deeply sorry."
But as they led him away, it was a relief. Maglor felt as if he could die, aching for the man he could not touch.
go to Chapter 2 | go to story index | go to Maglor Fanfic index | go to home page