9 | Half Ainu vs Elven Sorcerer

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Illyria Strange | The Eternal

Location: Rivendell, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: March 2981 T.A

March was ending.

Quite quickly in fact.

She lost count of the date ever since going back and forth between the worlds. Sometimes she couldn't even remember if they'd already passed her mark of being a year older because of the time changes. Even at the beginning of it all, her first time venturing out into Middle Earth as her reincarnated self, she was technically twenty-one by the end of it. But on Earth, it had only been a few weeks.

Therefore, she couldn't tell if she turned twenty-three or twenty-four (minus maybe a couple of weeks to add up to it). Eh, age was just a number. Most people she knew around their twenties kind of looked all the same either way. And it worked out well whenever she was amongst immortal elves, all of them kind of looked the same age but varied in centuries or even thousands of years if you glance at them.

Not that her complaining wasn't about her birthday. Pfft...No.

No.

(It really is, but she won't ever admit it to anyone.)

It was mostly because they survived six months without either Sauron or Morgoth attacking either of the people of Arda and Aman. Whatever they were planning must be big and she didn't like it at all.

The longer it was, the more plans they must have prepared to try and topple the Valar and everybody else in this universe.

Illyria had her chin held by her knees, sitting at the edge of the cliff once more. The moon shone brightly beyond the starry skies, Gil-Estel's star gone from the heavens in an omen that caused her to have to slap herself – to assure herself that Eärendil was alive. She might not have gotten on the right foot with him but she remembered caring about the young peredhel.

And think again about Silmarils and the light of the trees made her groan once more. "No matter what, all I'm getting is the same vision again and again." Illyria lifted her head, looking at an upside-down face of him looking down at her. She said with a huff, "Forget it, you can be the seer in our relationship, Peredhel."

Standing behind her, leaning to gaze down at her was Elrond, his hair abnormally tied back in various Noldorin plaits and designs. 

Blame her nerves a few hours ago. She wanted to go train with the Fëanorians but all she could think of was what if she would snap and accidentally control them. But her body was too pent up, so what could be better than to use it by making Elrond into a doll?

He didn't mind it at all. Though, Miriel did grin and chuckle during their meal together at the half-elven lord's elaborate hairdo. Erestor merely raised a brow at his close friend whilst Glorfindel complimented that he hadn't seen those designs since their times in Lindon.

Then her stupid ass decided to be a brat and simply said nothing, ignoring the golden-haired elf. But she knew deep down her actions had stung him.

Elrond quirked his lips, questioning her: "Are we back to calling one another by our chosen titles, Oialëa?"

She scrunched her face. Yeah, she preferred Eternal better than that, to be honest. (Being named the same as Thena, Sersi, Makkari etc. felt odd but kind of smugly proud about it). Hearing it in Quenya just made her remember all those times people used to chant her name in wars and battles.

Plus it wasn't really her. Elemmírë fitted that name quite well rather than Illyria Strange.

Bringing her head back forward, she found him draping something over her shoulders. "Only when I'm frustrated," She immediately smelled the familiar scent of his cologne before eyeing the robe he had over her. 

When he sat down next to her, Illyria murmured to him, "Thank you."

There were times like this that she did not expect to be with him but passing through the initial annoyance of anybody's presence: Elrond's company immediately brought her to ease. Even if there were still things that still felt awkward for her to talk about and vice versa. She was still hesitant even if the bond between them had grown, her fear of breaking him or hurting was always picking at the tips of her hair and any thought of simply wanting comfort or confession just made her recoil.

However, for someone who had known her so little time compared to his wife: Elrond understood the little things Illyria had.

First things first, if she wanted to continue this Illyria had to stop comparing her old self with herself now. Just like how they agreed, her name and identity were still a part of her. Just like how she's supposed to be a part of Laurelin. A part of Arda itself.

When she turned to glance across at him, Illyria noticed his features grow sombre. Elrond stared across the landscape as he spoke, "I went here when you were away. I wondered how things could have become if I had not clouded my judgement of Sauron's power."

And just in a sort of switch turned in her, Illyria's focus shifted to the half-elf who sat beside her. Confusion lingered in her mind, a little disbelief at why he felt to be downgraded by something unexpected to all of them. Of course, her idea of him would never sort of leave; the child within her would always think of him as the grand and kind half-elf who helped so much of Middle Earth in Tolkien's books.

Yet that idea didn't go away, it embedded into something close and comforting. He was by any means real to her and not some name that was written in ink. Masked by age and expectations of those even with the family he had grown, Illyria could still imagine that young half-elf who used to go to the library with her. How his face was still so innocent, curious, and young. Then watching that very face see the wonder, the losses, and the gains throughout his life.

Those grey eyes began to show wisdom but not without pain and tiredness in them.

To her, he shouldn't feel ashamed for what he couldn't do. Look how she found out what she was and yet everyone around her has encouraged her to find something bright about it all – especially him.

Illyria leaned into him, holding out to grasp his arm as she said, "Hey, you didn't know." She found him closing his eye. For a moment she could sense his fëa trying to hold the anger and frustration back. She implored, determined to set his confidence back up.

"Look at me, Elrond."

He followed her, turning his head to stare at her face.

"I understand the frustration. I understand you feel lost," Illyria said, never wavering in her words. "But never think you are alone in this. The responsibility you must protect this valley is not just only yours. It is also those who trust and respect you. Those who love this valley because you've protected them for years. They are with you and will continue to be with you if you let them. Even when you think you deserve nothing from them, you are allowed help. You're allowed to make mistakes and underestimate."

She shuffled closer to him, her hands on both sides of his face.

Illyria stared into his gaze. Even under starlight, he looked so beautiful. A summer glow within the darkness of winter.

"You are a real person, Elrond Peredhel. Just like me, like our children. Like Mae and Maglor and Fin." She wryly smiled, smoothing a finger across his cheek. "And whatever is happening. If something has gone wrong or you feel that you need someone, please know we're all here. I'm here."

Elrond looked at her, a mix of confidence showing slightly on his face but there was anguish deep within his mind.

He was thinking about the next couple of days.

"I'll be fine," She assured him, trying to bring in a wry smile before she huffed a little. "I'm a little breakable but a little more breaking might not be so bad. Also, Maglor's with me and so will Bilbo."

A ragged breath left his mouth as he answered: "I want you to be careful." Elrond opened his arms, encasing her around into a sort of side hug. 

She leaned into him, trying not to hit where he had been shot as she perched her head just on his chest. 

"As much as I know your capability and knowing that Maglor and Bilbo Baggins shall be with you, I will always worry for your sake. And mostly the fact that you are incredibly reckless and stubborn when you want to."

That caused her lips to an upturn, smiling faintly at his remark. He continued to caress her head, smoothing down her partly braided hair she had asked of him after she had done his.

"I mean our children just went off to help with a war so..." 

She trailed off, her heart panging with ache. It's only been a few weeks and she missed them so much. She missed the twin's presence, practising with Elladan and listening and bouncing off ideas with Elrohir. Illyria missed her daughter so much. How long has it been? Four or five months since she left? She knew Elrond had been missing their daughter the most, only assured that Arwen's blood and character would probably keep her alive with all the shit that's been going on. Not to mention Aragorn as well, to whom she was glad that he was at least closer to her than they were now.

Elrond had tightened his grasp on her shoulder, making her glance at him.

She reassured him, "I think they're alright. We would have known if something's happened."

She heard in his mind a bit of doubt but she poked him by giving him a stern look. Illyria wouldn't lie to Elrond that they were okay. She would probably portal herself to them if she knew it.

And in a way she knew; a sort of awareness that's always linked them all together.

Elrond loosened his grip on her, relaxing his shoulders. His chin rested on top of her head, hearing him mutter about something she didn't want to get further about. "On related matters, you should try and speak with your brother again."

A huffing sound left her lips as she mumbled, "I hardly trust any of those two after all the crap they told me."

She hid her face back onto his chest, hearing his heartbeat through her ear as he breathed out, "Sometimes the truth is the hardest to come by." Elrond murmured, "But time is precious. Do not tarnish it with what has happened."

Illyria pursed her lips. Hardly any point in arguing back considering it has been days since it all happened. She needed to get over her prideful butt and just suck it up.

Groaning, she huffed again and replied, "Fine. I'll sort things out with him." She peeked out as Elrond moved his head. With her finger, she poked his chest and added: "But only because you told me and that sibling fights before Dagor Dagorath does sort of suck."

He finally smiled again and Illyria could have sworn the valley glowed for a second as they sat there in each other's arms, savouring that moment. Because as much as she wanted to be optimistic, deep down in her heart it felt that this might be the last time they see each other in their home.

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Maedhros Fëanorion | The Red Wolf

Location: Rivendell, Middle Earth, Arda

Maedhros sometimes wished he wasn't at all the eldest of seven children.

Those days consisted of wading and suffering through the torment of being the one in charge of his siblings, keeping them controlled and busy before they could get bored and start causing chaos. He was probably the third parent of the Fëanorian household, the last one who could get everyone's attention. The one who made the decisions back when they were still in Beleriand and the one who most of them tended to go to (even if they would never admit it in their immortal lives) just to talk to him.

But their life in Beleriand changed them. Caranthir had grown bitter, wanting nothing more than for their family to get back together and do whatever it takes to rescue their mother and brother from wherever they were. Celegorm was growing impatient and restless, he didn't like the fact that their next older brother had turned up out of the blue with knowledge and power and did nothing with it.

Amrod was quiet, but he knew internally that he just wanted everything to go back to normal. He tugged the ring that Maedhros saw the first time on a chain, hidden under his clothes. Considering how Amrod left someone back in Amon Ereb, he wondered how far did his relationship with the Laiquendi elf reached. As for Amras, who has been able to train for the past couple of days only now, was the brighter of all of them. Of course, he still felt a little agitated, but Amras was like him in personality more than the rest. He was the one who kept Aþyare lively with letters to and from Forlond.

Then there was Maglor.

Lokachari? Makalaurë?

He wasn't sure who his brother was from several interactions. There were moments where he was the Maglor he knew before he arrived on Earth, his easiness to talk about plans and decisions. Vague things. But then there were moments where he knew it was Lokachari, the sorcerer hardened by age and the experiences of reality greater than an elf could comprehend. There was harshness in his choices, sometimes doubtful and even worrying for Maedhros, and that is worrying when he was supposed to be the strategist. Maedhros was the one who made the difficult decisions.

But their conversation with Elrond about Illyria's situation. Her using whatever is inside her to become a great asset to the war made Maedhros frown.

He hated that his (their) titled sister was practically being made into a pawn in this whole mess. And it was worst to think that she was created because of what the Valar saw...

Suddenly his mind was snapped back to reality as his sword blocked the incoming set of blades. Maedhros swirled to the side of him, using the awareness of his opponent's stance and quickly acting upon it.

In a swift movement, he ducked at the incoming silver glint of the blade as he slid his feet across their legs.

Amrod fell with a thud at the sudden impact, landing thankfully on his behind and not his head. His face was almost as red as his hair due to the long sparring session they had both just had. When he looked up at his brother, Maedhros reached out his Vibranium hand to him. As his brother gave it a look, Amrod huffed before groaning – pulled up by Maedhros back onto his feet.

He could hear Amrod grumbling back at him in his head, to which he looked at him. Amrod rolled his eyes back at his brother before cracking a slight smile. His brother wasn't exactly the best at the sword; Amrod was always better with a bow.

Maedhros let go of his hand to pat his shoulder, telling him: "Just keep an eye on your footing, Pitya."

"Will do, big brother," Amrod hummed before his eyes looked behind Maedhros.

As he heard a familiar voice, it took all will in Maedhros to calm his mind.

However, as he turned around to see the other pair that were sparring in the training yard – he didn't think he could hold his impatience.

Who allowed Celegorm to train with him? 

Out of everyone in this place, it just had to be Glorfindel out of all elves.

And by how they were pretty much squaring up to one another, Maedhros knew they were both doing it to annoy each other.

His brother was ever the hunter, stalking his opponent like a predator catching its prey. To his surprise, Celegorm hadn't dropped yet, though by how his hair was a little dishevelled and his mouth open, panting, he was struggling to keep going by Glorfindel's excessive actions.

But to counter it, his brother seemed to use their mother's technique. He swiftly dodged the attacks of Glorfindel's sword, using steps and motions they all had mastered and developed for their fighting styles. But in Maedhros eyes, he could tell that Celegorm was stalling it.

Especially with that annoying smirk on his face.

Maedhros barked back at him, "Háno, stop berating him!"

Celegorm gave his brother that look before he ducked another slice of the blade, smoothly bending back before parrying the next

Unfortunately, the latter hadn't noticed his opponent taking his time. 

Glorfindel spoke out loud with a shit-eating grin, "Oh we're just having some fun, Fëanorion." He then immediately cried out as Celegorm's foot slammed right onto the pressure point at his calf. The Half-Ainu glared back before he shouted, "Argh! Why you—"

Suddenly, Celegorm dropped his sword and ducked his head, grabbing onto both of Glorfindel's arms whilst twisting his body back. In one quick motion, he threw Glorfindel over his shoulder, a neat trick as he pried off the sword which clattered onto the ground.

Celegorm let out a huge breath before he stated, "Well that is one thing to defeat a half-Ainu."

Amrod snorted, commenting back, "You still couldn't." He nudged his chin in Glorfindel's direction, who was just getting up. "He's barely sweating, Tyelko."

Maedhros internally rolled his eyes when Celegorm scowled back at Amrod before he muted his annoyance and held his hand out for the Half-Ainu. Glorfindel thanked him, picking up his sword from the ground before he gave a neutral thanks to the other fair-haired elf.

"He should have done Ammë's trick," Amras nonchalantly called out, causing Maedhros to choke from the air – hiding his amusement with a cough. That caused Glorfindel – who was across the yard – to eye them confusedly – all whilst Celegorm smirked and snorted. [1]

Celegorm eyed them as he noted, "You both know that only Moryo knows how to do that."

Maedhros added casually, "So does Írissë."

Amrod hid his laughter when their fair-haired brother glared, cheeks going redder than before.

It would seem they were going to have a break, and by how the rest of the elves were busy sparring or training with the other equipment. A mix of Fëanorian elves whom he knew since the March even those who survived the end of the war and those of Imladris. Considering they have all survived the battle thrown by Saruman, it had somehow brought most of them together.

Well as much as war destroyed, at least there was something good about it.

Maedhros went over to the side of the training yard, wincing at the burns on his arm when he unrolled his sleeves. Most wounds he obtained would often heal after a week or so, but the small burns upon his skin from Orthanc had somehow stayed. His only conclusion was that it was either from Saruman's magic or Illyria's.

From what happened up at the tower, Illyria's Aini form lashing out like a blast, it must have been from her. It was just like the burn on his left hand from the Silmaril, which was more plausible than the Maia himself.

But he would never tell Illyria. No. She already had so much on her. Telling her that she had hurt him unintentionally would make things worse.

Maedhros just had to bear with it, asking Maglor to glamour it up until Elrond could heal it. Let's just say that he had to bear it whenever Illyria hugged him or his brothers would punch him on the arm.

As he rummaged through his satchel that was placed on the side, he heard boots striding up to him. Maedhros stood up straight only to find Amras walking up to him. The youngest of the twins, his green eyes brightened in Maedhros's direction, raising his brows as he gestured to his arm.

Telling him that it wasn't his business, Amras rolled his eyes before finally getting to him – folding his arms across whilst Maedhros found the bandages he had gotten from Earth. Never would he use the supplies given here; the advancement of such simple necessities was perhaps a life saviour to all those in Imladris.

Amras began to speak as he stood beside him, looking towards the rest of the yard. "Glad that Lord Glorfindel is doing better," He told him, "Lord Erestor has been on him for constantly being in the training yard."

That made him raise a brow.

As he wrapped the bandage once more over the burn, Maedhros asked him, "Since when have you known him?"

As if he was supposed to know, Amras shrugged as he replied, "Since we've both been bedridden beside one another." 

As Maedhros ripped the end of the roll, he placed the leftover wrappings back into his satchel before he pulled his sleeve down. 

Amras continued, "I remember him arriving with Ecthelion to court. He's Ingwion's kin if I remember."

Maedhros glanced at his side, eyeing Amras with suspicion: "Any purpose for telling me that?"

In the corner of his gaze, he knew Amras was in that mood. Wanting to tease and mention things that shouldn't be said out loud in public. And considering all the news, Glorfindel's heritage was never really called out. He knew from living in Tirion, considering he was crown prince, that Glorfindel had grown up in Tirion along with his parents. It was how Maedhros knew through Elenwë about the Vanya-Noldo, telling him once in one of their rather few conversations that Glorfindel was distantly related to her through his parents.

According to his mother, Glorfindel once lived in Valimar, in Ingwe's court. His parents had moved and began to work under Turgon and Elenwë's household.

Though how the information of him being half-Ainu was not exactly through any means of public knowledge...but it was from Aunt Findis herself.

(Thinking about his mother and Aunt Findis, he forgot how incredibly brilliant they were when it came to entail and information. He could only hope she was safe back in Aman despite all that was going on.)

It wasn't something nobody said, afraid that if the secret was spread and the Valar would discover it, they might have turned it all around. Even so, a half-maia was not surprising as Lúthien had graced Arda before. It was just the thought that there were not only two but three of them now.

Especially Illyria: who was more than just half-Aini.

Maedhros couldn't help but let his eyes linger at the golden-haired elf, who was chatting with Amrod whilst Celegorm tried to look uninterested in the topic. He didn't know the details of what happened between him and Illyria yet, but it did not take a genius to know that it hadn't gone well. He had hardly seen the two together ever since he, Maglor and Illyria have arrived.

And with Illyria's seclusion from them all, whatever was spoken between the siblings was something deeper than he anticipated.

Even if they weren't related, Maedhros could not help but be a little too protective of her.

Amras commented at his side, "He and Illyria Ettelëa may seem similar, but they are far different in character than you expect." He hummed, "Even if they are half-Ainur."

He inhaled sharply.

It would so seem the rumours are starting to brew...all courtesy of Celegorm whom he knew must have been overly pissed off at Illyria. He was angry at his younger brother for the pettiness, but now he couldn't do anything about it considering Celegorm's talent for slithering rumours spanned as far back as their childhood and the first thing his brother did was spread the rumour, the fact that he had kissed Fingon behind one of their mother's garden statues.

He was wrong of course

He kissed Fingon during one of their sparring sessions.

And to input Amras' opinion, he was unsure if he'd agree. There was a similarity between them. Obviously with appearance (excluding the elf ears) with their practically golden hair, oval shape and sharp jaw. Their body was a little more golden than they did due to their Vanyarin complexion. Maybe it was an Ainur trick to have them look the same, just to make the guise of them as siblings similar. Who knows?

Maybe they weren't even related.

But their character, despite different scenarios, gender, and roles: Maedhros could tell from that context made their characters differ. 

Glorfindel was of the Calaquendi, born in the Years of the Trees and once led his own house. He was a lord and a soldier through and through by posture, voice, and character. 

Whereas Illyria and Elemmírë were technically born (created?) after the trees. She was years younger than Glorfindel and has experienced the eyes of mortality and elven kind. She was a survivor and an advisor, someone who thought with facts and have that urge to make more, look more.

And yet they were both eagerly proud, stubborn in decisions and choices, open-minded of the unknown and without a doubt both careless when it comes to their life.

There was a reason why said Balrog Slayer had been in the healing halls for weeks. Why Illyria was being stupid and agreeing to go on this outrageous quest with Maglor and Bilbo Baggins beyond the known world.

If Illyria had either red, dark, or fair hair and wore red again she might as well pass as a Fëanorian.

When he heard Amras call out to his brother was when he noticed another figure enter the training grounds. Maedhros arched his brow, spotting Maglor walking over to them from the other end of the yard. And by how he was dressed – thankfully with new robes – he seemed to only come here to spectate.

When it came to fighting, his younger brother was far from a warrior, to begin with. In fact: Maglor didn't like fighting. He had struggled the first few years when their mother began to train him, and it was perhaps understandable. Maedhros remembered rather vividly the feeling of being introduced to their mother's training course and plans. After the first session, he could hardly feel anything other than the pain in every muscle in his body.

If they learnt how to be like that as a human, no one could deny how deadly she was as an elf.

Each of him and his brothers was introduced to the fighting arts that their mother proposed. Though only Caranthir and the Ambarussa were the ones who could match their mother's talents in fighting styles. Maedhros grew up to have a mix of Nerdanel's and Fëanor's, whilst Curufin and Celegorm had stuck to Fëanor's style.

So whatever happened next: apparently Fate seemed to want Maedhros to know exactly how much Maglor has changed. His brother barely fought directly in Orthanc, preferring to use magic and defensive tactics.

Walking back over to the open space, Glorfindel eyed him and gestured his hand out, "Lord Maglor, care to spar?"

Maedhros felt tense at those words. He didn't like how either of them looked at each other, something he noticed for the past few days.

And he knew that Maglor – despite being the passive one – would never deny such an offer. Typical Fëanorian things according to Illyria.

Everything seemed to have quietened since Maglor entered, his eyes wandering about for a moment before he questioned back at the Balrog Slayer, "In what way?"

Glorfindel answered with a gesture once more, "Your choice, sorcerer."

Why did the first thing Maedhros think was how badly this could go...Well, of course, it was because he was the only one who knew exactly how much these could cause.

Though his brothers understood perfectly like him, his youngest brothers seemed to be already discussing their predictions.

Amrod gave his twin a look before he asked, deciding to sit on top of the bench. "Bets, brother?"

Giving him a raised brow, Amras replied, "Half-Ainu versus an elven sorcerer?" He smirked, nudging his chin before he eyed the blonde-haired elf who was preparing himself. "I think the half-Ainu."

Amrod looked surprised and asked, "You have no faith in our brother?" As Amras grinned at Maglor's peering expression back at them, the other twin wondered, "What about you, Háno?"

He inhaled deeply. Honestly, he wasn't certain about any of them. So he simply responded coolly, "It will be a tie." Maedhros raised his voice and told the two elves that were about to duel, "And no destruction of property! I do not want to have to tell our hosts that we made a mess of their home or decided to break reality. No less have Lord Lindir have a panic attack."

With both giving a knowing nod to one another, Maglor brought his hand out and conjured several mandalas patterns around them. He created a ring surrounding them, enough space for the two to fight.

"Everything stays in the ring. Even swords." Maglor told him sternly. "And magic."

Glorfindel nodded, readjusting the grip of his sword.

The tension had finally arrived as silence went around the entire training ground. Those who were training had paused to watch from their spot, perhaps afraid to get any closer within the warded ring. Though what he had been waiting for was Maglor's choice of weapon, he couldn't help but catch himself in awe when he saw them.

Forming from both his gloved hands were a pair of Eldritch Eskrima sticks, about three and a half feet. Maedhros had seen various weapons formed from Eldritch magic, the common being various swords, whips, daggers, and shields. But never something like those Maglor held. It felt odd to see them glow in blue, the patterns mixed with runes but also elvish designs. [2]

Maedhros folded his arms across as he watched, waiting to know who would take the first attack.

They stalked one another, circling with each careful and attentive step. Maedhros could tell both have closed their minds from one another, forced to understand one another by instinct and how they moved and reacted. Even by this, Maedhros could already tell how much Maglor had changed in style and preparedness. There was no hesitation nor openness, only a calmness by how his steps just seemed to fall into place.

It was there the golden-haired half-Ainu took his first shot and lunged at an alarmingly fast rate.

That was when they were all shocked at how Maglor reacted, easily dodging it by turning his upper body to the side, raising his Eskrima stick and twirling it in his hand, blocking the physical blade.

Maedhros felt his heart skip.

How did his brother make it seem so easy?

There was a foreign fluidness when they grew into a pattern, finally capturing everyone's eyes at the beauty of the deadly dance. Blue sparks erupted when the sword and stick hit one another. Glorfindel bent backwards as an incoming stick almost hit his arm, the inhuman poise and balance he showed as he spun and tried to trip Maglor. However, the blue sorcerer simply glided to the side, dodging the incoming leg before he pushed himself forwards.

As Glorfindel's blade was about to hit their arm, Maglor caught it with ease, the Eskrima sticks parrying the sword in a cross shape. It was there he gave the half-Ainu look before, to Maedhros surprise (and the Ambarussa's laughter), had the audacity to smile.

The eldritch Eskrima sticks disappeared as his brother quickly moved, using his leg to kick his opponent at an opened part of his body, before he shifted backwards out of range. A grunt left Glorfindel's mouth as he stumbled forward, easily staying on his feet before he turned to grip his blade tighter.

All of a sudden, a breeze of coldness passed Maedhros as he saw those eyes brighten in a yellowish and blue hue.

Maglor must have noticed as well that their little introduction was done. It was business now, conjuring his weapons once more that now crackled with intense energy from him. His brother's eyes glowed an eerily electric blue, complimenting his eldritch sticks.

From the opposite side of the circle, Maedhros saw Celegorm's eyes were wide. When they caught each other's gaze, the latter smirked – nudging his chin up. Of course, his brother would be amused at this no less impressed and surprised at how much Maglor's fighting had improved.

Not improved. It had changed.

He couldn't tell how many various styles Maglor had learnt. There were so many that Maedhros could have sworn some were not even considered an elven nor a martial art form. He could assume that throughout his years of travelling and living throughout the multiverse, Maglor had been influenced by everything he had seen.

However, his choice of weaponry caught him and his other brothers in shock.

Only two other people from their family were known to fight with two batons. The other brother was Caranthir, but that was because his fighting techniques were the closest to their mother. Though electricity was not something they had not comprehended until Maedhros arrived on earth, Caranthir was known to dual-wield shorter elven swords.

Pride grew in Maedhros as he watched, seeing them both attack, dodge, and parry. He saw the power of the half-Ainu being used, flowing easily by his sharp and calculated moves whilst Maglor (despite his size and strength), used his mind and knowledge to understand during the entire time how Glorfindel fought.

However, it would seem Maglor had already known. How was that possible?

'Unless...' Maedhros's let out a breath in disbelief.

His brother would already have known...if he knew Glorfindel's fighting already.

But it didn't mean this Glorfindel in the first place.

There was a gasp coming from the other elves which snapped Maedhros back to the fight. His eyes then turned back to the ring, not surprised now that they were still going at each other at such stamina and speed. There was no evidence that they wanted to concede. No, both were Noldorin by heart and just like the Noldor: their pride would lead to recklessness.

Especially with the Balrog Slayer, who seemed to be enjoying it by the mirth in his eyes whilst Maglor remained neutral, though several slips of a smile as he restricted one of his Eskrima sticks. He fell back as a leg hit his arm, immediately conjuring a mandala shield to shove the leg back.

Glorfindel flew back at the sudden force, landing on the floor at the same time Maglor landed on the floor, one leg out as the other was bent, using the other stick to stop himself from sliding further back. Sparks of blue caused a black mark on the dusty ground. Maedhros ground his teeth together, his worry growing when he noticed the atmosphere going from playful to perhaps dangerous.

The golden-haired elf flipped himself up, using the tip of his boot to toss his sword up into his hand. They both resumed their positions; their breaths heavily being heard. Glorfindel, no doubt, had more of a disadvantage considering he had trained beforehand, though it didn't stop Maedhros' respect for the half-Ainu from continuing. It was every person's response when it come to finding a worthy equal.

For Maedhros the only equal he had known was either Dane Whitman or James Barnes, though the White Wolf was known to fight with his fists and not with a blade, compared to the Black Knight whom he only knew through his missions.

The eldritch shield formed back into an Eskrima stick, ready out in Maglor's hands.

This might have been the final part, their motions were now less calculated and mostly desperate and rash.

And at the final blow, as Glorfindel's sword was about to hit down at him: Maglor raised both his Eskrima sticks in across once more, one below the other. Suddenly both their eyes flashed in their respective colours as a blast of blue light exploded between the weapons.

Maedhros' eyes widened in shock at what happened, the wards around them shattering in blue dust. A blast of wind hit them all, sending particles outwards whilst the trees surrounding them swayed slightly. He quickly brought his hand out, conjuring a golden shield before him and the Ambarussa.

The other elves sheltered themselves with whatever they possessed.

As the dust settled and the surroundings quietened, they were left looking at two elves staring at one another, awed at what occurred.

Well...that was something Maedhros had not anticipated.

Thankfully nobody was harmed and nothing seemed damaged. But that said, he did spot the black char on the ground, a burnt mark of eldritch runes and patterns scarred underneath Glorfindel and Maglor's feet.

He could only hope Lindir was on the entire opposite of the valley and didn't hear about what just happened.

His youngest brothers began to chat amongst themselves, yelling at each other all the details whilst Maedhros kept his eyes remained on them.

The half-Ainu pulled away his sword, sheathing it at his side before he said breathlessly, "You held yourself back." Glorfindel's voice failed to hide his shock and Maedhros could understand it. He too wasn't expecting the sudden end to their duel.

As he allowed his weapons to disappear, Maglor heaved deeply before he answered back as well, "You held yourself back as well."

A part of him jumped. Maedhros frowned before he saw the stiffening in the Balrog Slayer's posture. Nobody seemed to have noticed it other than himself and Maglor, who kept his eyes on the half-Ainu.

With a curt nod of respect, Glorfindel smiled as he spoke, "Lokachari."

Maglor didn't react to the name, seemingly calmly answering back. "Laurefindelë."

On the other hand, Maedhros was too busy in his head. He knew too well that their taunting at one another was something he needed to get to the bottom with. And that meant having to confront both whilst the others were away.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Celegorm was grinning – giving Maedhros a wink before he stalked away, obviously to head to Caranthir to tell what has happened. All he could do was exasperate loudly, earning a questionable expression at the Ambarussa before he glared at the two and told them to get back to training.

He needed to talk to Maglor and Glorfindel and understand why the two were so hostile despite playing it so easily as merely nothing.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

After training, most of the soldiers returned to their respective temporary quarters whilst Maedhros instructed the Fëanorian host that everyone should be ready once the moon had passed for the coming day. His other brother who hadn't turned up at the training grounds had finally approached him, informing him in his usual scornful expression that he would get his host ready.

Thankfully the disagreement they all had at what happened at their dinner hadn't stopped them all talking. As much as he knew his brother hated it, he knew Caranthir would never fully hate his brother. Admittedly, Maedhros knew Caranthir's favourite sibling would always be Maglor.

Ever since Caranthir was young and despite always being with Curufin (knowing they were practically the same age by Eldar standards), he looked up to Maglor's comfort and companionship. Maedhros was always too busy with being the eldest and taking care of everyone else so it was reasonable that he would seek out the next eldest brother.

It felt like a dream seeing the dynamic becoming whole again, even if Curufin was here. Maedhros could see the cracks coming together again. Maglor answered the demanding questions the Ambarussa poked at him. Celegorm praising/teasing his older brother with his change of heart of fighting.

And when he spotted Caranthir and Maglor talking from across the dining table that evening, Maedhros couldn't help but be relieved and happy about it. They needed to get along together, knowing well it would be better for their hearts to what will happen next. He got surprised glances from Illyria and Elrond, who smiled secretly at him whilst they both shared a whisper about what happened.

It would seem Illyria had used her neat trick to watch everything around the valley again.

To his surprise, his titled sister had begun to speak to her half-Ainu brother once more – still hesitant but at least they were looking at one another. Glorfindel welcomed it, smiling kindly to his sister who sat across him after she told him how impressed she was with the duel he and Maglor had.

Nobody saw how Maedhros glanced between the Balrog Slayer and The Wanderer, both that tried to not eye one another but he could tell again...something was brewing.

Thankfully nothing anything ridiculous. He was sighing in relief when Glorfindel and Erestor who sat next to each other, at the rather crowded dining table, eyed each other with loving gazes that made his stomach turn.

All he could think then was how his own love used to look at him like that. 

Soon he would see him again, and perhaps he would take Darcy Lewis' advice.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

When dinner was done and his brothers left to whatever agenda they had, both Illyria and Elrond left again for the family wing (with a gentle smile from Maglor whilst a concerned expression from Glorfindel). Maedhros decided to do what had been itching in his head all throughout dinner and sought the Balrog Slayer's presence.

He found Glorfindel chatting to the head advisor of Elrond, Erestor's eyes averting to Maedhros before he nodded curtly to him before he dismissed himself. Maedhros narrowed his eyes. Did Erestor know something as well?

Seeming that the former Noldo's family was once under Maglor's host, Maedhros had to take note of every decision people took.

As Erestor strode away, disappearing down the corridor and out of the atrium, Glorfindel turned to him with a masked expression.

Maedhros greeted him with a shared nod before he cut to the statement he wanted to say. "You were testing him."

Arching a brow, Glorfindel asked him: "And you were not?" He quirked his lips, the smile not exactly reflecting the slight tightness in his eyes. His tone caused Maedhros to act suspiciously as he added, "I suppose it does that to siblings. Seeing how far they can go."

When Glorfindel glanced away for a moment, Maedhros could only infer from his subtle sentence that he was thinking about the other silver/golden-haired mortal somewhere in the Homely House.

He now heard the bitterness layered in Glorfindel's voice. He was angry at something. Perhaps with Maglor at what happened when everything had been revealed. Did he assume Maglor had known about Illyria and told him? Instead, Maedhros questioned him, "How strong do you believe Illyria will become if she accepts her Aini blood entirely?"

As the moonlight hit Glorfindel from above, his eyes a little brighter than back in the dining table but not flashing during his duel, he answered him certainly. "Stronger than I." His eyes then diverted, aimed slightly at Maedhros right before he said out loud in a blank tone, "Lord Maglor."

Striding into the quiet atrium, Maedhros eyed his side to see his brother nod at them politely. He simply gave Maedhros a knowing nod before he answered the golden-haired half-Ainu: "Just Maglor is fine."

Before he could see these two cause the quietest tension ever, Maedhros spoke: "Uncle has sent another message." That caused both of their heads to turn up to him as he explained to them what Elrond had told him from letters from Gil-Galad and Celebrían. "He wants training for the armies to increase and more discussions on the plans to help Middle Earth before we leave for Rohan, Lothlorien and the Mirkwood. I would hope your trip south won't be too long, háno. We need more people to help, especially with you and Illyria when it comes to advantages and travel."

Maglor smiled and simply responded, "Actually, I have wanted to speak with you, Elrond and Illyria about this."

He clamped his mouth, peering at his brother whilst Glorfindel looked curiously.

"I believe Glorfindel and Elrond will be the ones to manage this and perhaps find a way to send the aid to the other parts of Middle Earth," His brother explained.

Wait a minute.

Maedhros turned his head to him and questioned, "And what of me?"

With a knowing look, Maglor stated bluntly, "You, brother, need a teacher."

He blinked. "I'm sorry?"

Did he just hear that correctly?

From the corner of his eyes, he could tell the Balrog Slayer understood what Maglor was considering, trying to hide what seemed to be a smile. If Maedhros heard a chuckle he was going to glare back and perhaps understand why Maglor had been looking at the half-Ainu in annoyance.

Maglor looked up at him sympathetically and spoke, "I speak no offence to you, big brother. But you are two ages behind in training and you will need more than just elven training." He told him, growing serious in his words. "You need far more, albeit short, but extensive training in further arts...and I know someone who could help you."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

Alright, the universe must be fooling him. 

His younger brother, who never liked to fight, was telling him to do better.

Glorfindel tilted his head and pointed out, "He is right, you know."

Maedhros scowled before he exasperated, "Oh I feel very grateful."

As Glorfindel coughed, Maglor wore a stern expression as he tried to explain what he was suggesting, "I am not saying this because I do not underestimate your abilities, brother." He paused, gazing in Glorfindel's direction. There was knowing wisdom in his words, causing Maedhros to follow still intently. "But if you can match Glorfindel in equivalent power, it gives us a chance to go against Morgoth's forces."

Maedhros his sharp inhale, pinching the bridge of his nose instead. "I'm assuming this isn't someone in Arda." He stared at his sorcerer brother who said nothing. "...And not human then."

With a glint in his glowing eyes, Maglor patted his brother's arm and assured him: "You will find out soon enough."

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[1] - The Black Widow iconic move: The iconic Nat move with her thighs around her opponent's head...ugh I was so tempted for Celegorm to do it at Glorfindel but I'm going to save it for one of my anticipated fighting scenes in this Part.
[2] - Eskrima/Arnis: Arnis, also known as Kali or Eskrima/Escrima, is the national martial art of the Philippines. I decided to go with this because this was perhaps the closest to what Natasha uses with her electric batons. But with Maglor, I thought it would fit someone who probably knows a lot of martial arts and was able to develop his own throughout his long life. I also didn't want to give him shields or a sword or fans because I would assume he would with something that didn't seem like a sharp weapon. Arnis sticks just suited him in my mind. (Would like to also hint that I am Filipino so it's kinda bias of me to pick it.)

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A/N: Sorry that I didn't upload in quite a while. I've been stuck with some writer's block and I just couldn't touch any of my work for the past couple of weeks. But, I am rather determined to get shiz together and I'm going to be chugging a lot of stuff out. Just depends on what it'll be.

I loved this chapter so much, especially seeing the 'sorcerer' side of Maglor. I wanted to parallel their fight to the first duel we had with Illyria and Elrond and show similar family members against one another.

But it also is referring to the very tense relationship between Malgor and Glorfindel and poor Maedhros having to deal with literally everyone. He just wants to be with Fingon and retire.

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Edited: 20/11/2022