18 | Thena of the Eternals

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Maedhros Fëanorion | The Red Wolf

Location: One Mile from Hillah, Iraq, Earth

Time: August 2027

Maedhros never liked sand. [1]

The first time he did had been a trip to Alqualondë and the coastal towns in Eldamar. The beaches there were equivalent to what you'd think of in the Bahamas. White sandy beaches, palm trees and the open bright blue sea that would stretch upon miles. His parents were invited along with his grandfather to attend a festival the Falmari held, and it comprised of enjoying it on the beach.

It was a shame that memory had been stripped of happiness the moment the first kinslaying happened. All memory of sand consisted of swords and bodies falling upon the beach: blood spilling all over that there was nothing but red.

A desert had been the worst thing he could ever want to enter upon, and another hidden reason as to why he declined an offer of coming with Illyria, Bilbo Baggins, and his brother south to Far Harad.

Yet here he was, having to be in Iraq – said landscape he didn't want to go into. Unfortunately, he had no choice, considering the people who he was about to meet were meant to meet with him here. Maedhros had never been to Iraq or anywhere within the arid climates of Earth. He would often remain close to Wakanda's borders, Siberia, North America, or Europe. Except for that one time having to explore the Amazon but that was something he didn't want to experience again.

That didn't mean he couldn't survive it. Temperature wasn't something elves were often affected and thus he was not entirely hurting from the blazing sun coming down upon him. In a way it felt odd; after months without sunlight he had grown used to the constant night.

He walked for another twenty minutes since Maglor and Illyria left, and already he was hoping they would come soon. This side-quest in which his enigmatic brother was stopping him from having to finish the plans he wanted, but all he could do now was hope both Elrond and Glorfindel were managing enough on the list he gave them.

Maedhros muttered in his mother's native tongue, wondering where these certain people whom Maglor tossed back at him were.

Right on time, between the smooth rockfaces between the small valley – a figure appeared. To his surprise it was just a man, wearing a shirt and a leather jacket along with some dark black jeans. His hair was cut short, skin pale despite the blistering heat as he almost strutted up to him.

When their eyes met Maedhros, he felt something poke within his mind.

Narrowing his eyes, he clenched his hands as he warned, "Get out of my head."

The man blinked, tilting his head to the side before he answered, "Well you're stronger than I thought you would be." His Irish accent was prominent as he diverted from the topic and eyed him up and down. The man spoke, "But you look like him. Slightly."

Maedhros continued to peer back at him, quickly putting the pieces together to finally recognize the familiar face.

A certain face he had seen very briefly on the news.

The man (or rather alien) rolled his eyes before he drawled out, "Ugh, you have that soldier vibe like him." He then spun at his heels, waving his hand back at him, "Come on wizard, she's waiting."

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They didn't walk for long until Maedhros stared at what seemed to be a large black object in the middle of the valley. From the reflection of the sunlight, he noticed the circular engravings upon it, almost as if it was marble, from the sleek cut of what seemed to be the shape of some triangular table.

What he didn't realise was that it was in fact a ship – or so what Druig said once he finally introduced himself nonchalantly as they headed inside. Maedhros remained vigilant and wary, keeping a safe distance between the eternal and himself as they walked down corridors of the same material. He was surprised at the objects that were on display, of various historical artefacts he would imagine would be on display at the British Museum.

He didn't know much of these...Eternals...only that they were the reason that Earth existed until now. They had stopped a being called a Celestial from emerging from the centre of the earth, a cosmic being that had been growing since the birth of this world.

In a way, it almost seemed like a repetition between Earth and Arda as of now. Instead of Celestials, they had the Valar: where the Valar wanted them gone and Morgoth wanted to destroy Arda to recreate it in his own image.

Nevertheless, once they arrived at what seemed to be a large open hall, there was another figure that appeared to be reading at an inhuman rate. They were lounging on a chair made of the same material, legs propped up on the table before she stopped and turned to them.

Their brown eyes bounced between him and Druig before she placed the book down and stood up, walking over to them before she held her hands up and moved her fingers in a delicate and accurate pattern.

Her head tilted at the said as she gestured silently. 'Oh? I didn't know we would have an Avenger in the Domo today.' A genuine and welcoming smile formed on her face as she signed as well, 'I'm Makkari.'

Maedhros couldn't help but twitch his lips. Only a few have ever been warm to him in any first greeting, and that surprisingly included Princess Shuri, the Spiderchild and his friends.

Thankfully his work with the Sorcerers and Wakandans had taught him to broaden his communication beyond reading minds. He remembered one mission where there was someone who communicated through hand gestures, and Maedhros ended up having to learn a form of sign language in case he would scare them by mentally talking to them.

"Maedhros." He spoke, using his hand to gesture out the letters before adding along, 'It is good to meet you, Lady Makkari.'

With an eyebrow raised, Makkari appeared amused as she flicked back to Druig and signed back, 'Oh I like him. He's polite.' She asked back, 'And I heard you can read minds as well, like the sorcerers on this planet. Do you think you can read mine like Druig's?'

Druig moved across to Makkari's side, his arm slung over her shoulder in a comforting way as a small smile rested upon his lips, "Another time, my darling. Maedhros is here for Thena." He turned to him, his tone more serious as he questioned, "You are Lokachari's brother right?"

With a nod, Maedhros studied the two for a second. By how close they were, it would seem the two were perhaps more than friends. Which seemed fitting, considering that one that had the power of controlling and reading minds would understand well of someone who couldn't communicate through sound.

Maedhros also pointed out when he remembered where he heard of them, "You are Dane's friends."

Both their eyes looked up at him with a difference in surprise. Druig asked back, "You know Dane?"

A flicker of memory crossed him, remembering the one time he had a mission in London consisting of magical artefacts that had been stolen. It had been the middle of the night when the man in the black and red armour swooped in unexpectedly, taking almost half of the rogue magical beings and people in the middle of the Millennium Bridge with just a sword.

Maedhros would never admit that perhaps having the knight had changed things.

Instead, he simply answered back, "We fought together once."

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After their introductions, Makkari and Druig informed him that he would find the certain eternal just outside the Domo training. He wondered where the rest of their group was, only to get a simple answer from Druig that the others had other 'Earth' lives that they preferred to be in. Maedhros silently nodded, knowing well enough that it was perhaps like he and Illyria's lives as well. Before everything that occurred this year to be exact.

Just as they said: Maedhros found them not too far from their ship.

Under the blistering heat was someone he had yet to imagine training under such weather...and still look deadly and beautiful at the same time. He had seen the Dora Milaje fight and had fought with them countless times during his work with them. Ayo always told him that even despite species, there is underestimation when it comes to fighting against a woman. And indeed, he did admit that sometimes he held himself back during training. But in real fights, he didn't hesitate to be brutal but remained compliant with honour.

However: he always remembered one thing. He would never underestimate a fighter because they were the fairer sex.

His mother would scold him for ever thinking such as that. In fact, he would always remain respectful because of how much his mother taught him. The decades and centuries of training under the strict rules of his mother to then teaching his brothers the same thing as they grew up. After that he broadened himself, teaching Fingon despite knowing well that their training would always remain a secret between themselves.

That didn't stop him from sharing some of it with Elrond, Elros and Elemmírë, and now to Illyria as well.

The eternal before him could almost match the dexterity and swiftness of an elf, perhaps even more than the skills he remembered from his mother. Sometimes Aredhel would come along to the training weeks they were complied to do, who would then match them with more elegance and sharpness they would perceive.

However, she was almost like the wind, constantly changing movements and forms. Maedhros was at awe of how she was able to create the weapons upon her hand quicker than the sorcerers he had trained with, even quicker than Maglor when he duelled Glorfindel back in Rivendell. Her platinum hair moved like fluidly along with her, almost making her deadly actions gentle.

Maedhros approached her, assuming that she would notice him immediately.

All of a sudden a blade of gold swooped straight at him.

With a cut breath, Maedhros dodged the spear before unsheathing his sword. He shifted his footing, blocking the incoming curved blade from her other hand before he felt the sound of power hiss from the translucent weapon. He then grunted, conjuring a dagger into his hand but at last felt the sword quickly pry of himself the moment the blade morphed into a shield.

He watched his sword spin in the air before the eternal grabbed it with her hand, the spear disappearing at a quick rate.

"Elbereth..."

She then stood back, relaxing her arms down as she studied his sword. She asked him curiously, "Why do you swear under the name of a god you do not believe in?"

Closing his mouth, Maedhros was quite thrown back at the statement.

Huh, that wasn't what he had hoped for.

He pulled away, letting his dagger disappear back into his dimensional pocket as he answered, "Habit." Maedhros peered across to her as he stated, "You must be Thena."

The eternal before him was perhaps almost the same height at Illyria, perhaps a little taller by his view. Her armour matched the yellow-white sand around them, matched with what seemed to be a silk skirt billowing from the gentle breeze.

Once she glanced up, he was met by a steely blue gaze. She nodded, "Maedhros." She turned back to the sword in her hands, studying it before she held it out for him. "Elven made...your Celestial was Eru."

Maedhros eyed the sword and her hand before taking it with thanks. He responded curtly, "If you put it that way, yes."

There was no doubt that Thena was beautiful, reminding him somewhat of his younger cousin Galadriel with platinum hair and sharp cheekbones and jaw.

But the sharpness and bluntness of her tone were far from the gentleness she appeared to be. She was very much the symbol of a beautiful blade.

"Do you know why he sent you to me?" Thena questioned back at him.

As she referred to his brother, Maedhros couldn't help but wonder when and where they met. And by how Thena appeared to mention him, there was some respect for him. "To train me," He answered as he added, "But feels like you're trying to kill me."

Thena's lips quirked slightly before she calmly spoke, "I am here to open your potential." She noted, "Eternal, god, elf, human. We all have the potential to be the best of ourselves."

Maedhros eyed her. He could tell those eyes had seen so much. So much pain, both from the world outside and within. They were the eyes of one who knew what it felt like to bear the weight of pain itself upon one's mind, afraid to lose control of the chaos it could create.

An equal.

Thena rose her chin, forming a sword and a curved dagger between her hands as she spoke, "Now, draw your weapon." She smirked slightly, "I'd like to see how much you know."

Maedhros gripped his own weapon, swiftly moving to a defensive position right as she lunged at him.

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Maglor Fëanorian | The Wanderer of Worlds

Location: Bozisha-Dar, Far Harad, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: April 2981 T.A

- Five Hundred Earth Years Ago -

Once the golden portal shut before him, Makalaurë panned his surroundings, shocked to be hit by intense heat. The Australian desert was far different to the Gobi Desert but still caused the same dryness in his throat. He adjusted his robes, carefully hiding the Gem within the layers of his clothes before he began heading towards the known location.

There was a reason why he came here in the middle of nowhere, unbeknownst in the next few seconds what he would be up against.

As Makalaurë walked through the arid landscape, over the cliff face he finally saw what Isolde had told him about. At first, he wasn't sure what came so dangerous of two humanly figures fighting in the middle of a desert – until he noticed the surge of cosmic energy radiating within the perimeter.

One of the figures appeared to be a man, with short jet-black hair and wearing what seemed to be metal armour. Their bronze armour seemed to be engraved with golden circular patterns, perhaps a runic language Makalaurë had yet to know of. The other seemed to wear the same, though in a lighter (almost white) tint.

The larger man dodged an incoming dagger appearing from the woman's hand, shouting in a string of words to the woman. Whilst the woman was screaming, shouting about a name Makalaurë had no idea about.

But from his vantage point, what he noticed was the odd feeling he felt toward the woman. Almost as if they weren't truly sentient...or perhaps not entirely created with a soul itself. He wasn't entirely certain.

The fëar on Earth always felt different compared to Ea. But these two felt as if their fëa was...not entirely made. Like a key being used, again and again, placed upon the same made door repeatedly.

Makalaurë finally approached them, holding his hands out warily before the man before he noticed his presence. He spoke aloud to them, "I come in peace...I was only sent here from my people to see the threat."

As the man sent what seemed to be a block using a translucent barrier with his hands, he gave Makalaurë a double-take before he shouted, "There is no threat. Now leave. Before she tries to kill you, sorcerer!"

Pursing his lips, he spotted the woman almost changing her weapon in a fracture of a second, watching the golden tendrils of cosmic energy change into a spear. Perhaps it was his Fëanorian recklessness kicking in...or perhaps it was his willingness to try and help people no matter how dangerous it was.

Because one moment he was standing by the sidelines: the next he had conjured his harp and began to sing.

To know that he hadn't sung in thousands of years to anyone, Makalaurë had yet to remember how effective the Songs of Powers were. The very power he had come to be a master of became a weapon once the War in Beleriand began. After the Sacking of the Haven: there was a sort of promise he told himself to never use it.

However, may it be against violence: Makalaurë was not using it to harm someone. Quite the opposite really.

As the words left his lips, taken aback at how odd it felt to hear Quenya once more – Makalaurë dodged every attack the woman made. He didn't even unsheathe his sword or conjure a shield, trusting his own instinct that his own music would calm her.

When he noticed those pure milky-white eyes – he realised how deep the woman was.

Gradually her movements slowed down until she had dropped her arms down, standing still until her eyes flickered back. Finally, blue eyes blinked open as she stared back at him.

Makalaurë finished his song, lowering his harp as he murmured to her, "It's alright...It's alright."

"What...what happened?" She stared at him, almost frighteningly though mostly at herself whilst the man jogged over to her.

The taller and bulkier man demanded back at him, "What did you do?"

Makalaurë simply replied, "I let her back to reality." He looked between him and the woman, trying to ease her shock with a calming tone. "She is drowning in dreams. Has she been like this?"

The man held the woman's shoulder attentively, nodding. "For years now...the Ancient One sent you?"

Makalaurë nodded, lowering his hand towards his chest, and greeted him. "I am Lokachari."

"I am Gilgamesh." The man introduced himself, causing Makalaurë to raise a brow. Did he mean the warrior? Unless he truly was Gilgamesh...

He would have to ask Isolde about this.

After a few moments, the woman composed herself before she softly spoke, "Thena."

Eyeing them both, Makalaurë was almost thrown back in memory. The two had almost reminded him of someone else, causing him to smile sadly in return.

"Well met. Now, I supposed you wouldn't have anything to drink," He cleared his throat.

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"So you met a lot of people," Bilbo spoke in that iconic awe tone of his – biting a peace of the savoury pancake from his plate. "My, I supposed I should write an entire tale of you, Master Maglor."

Maglor couldn't help but amusedly smile back down at the hobbit, remembering the number of Bilbo Baggins(es) that he had encountered throughout his life. Not one had made him bored nor doubt the unexpected. The many Bilbos he knew ranged from early youth to even elderly hobbits, with some even possessing magical powers themselves. But nothing could match the cleverness and broad open mind they possessed.

"I assure you my tales are not as exciting as you may believe it to be," Maglor answered back, sipping the tea which Dalolthar had provided them

Across the table, Illyria rolled her eyes and leaned back against her chair. She replied, "Oh don't be a killjoy. You fought an Eternal! And used music to bring her back. That's an amazing feat." With a small gasp, she rose her eyebrows as she asked, "Is that who you took Mae to?"

All he did was simply smile back at her, causing the half-Aini to show some surprise but also interest. He knew that Illyria would have loved to meet them, especially with the fact that her title tended to translate into the name of their beings.

However, there was a reason why Maglor decided that Thena would be the best in training Maedhros. Yes, he knew that his brother had trained since his fall from the First Age. The countless Maedhros variants he knew had been trained by not only the sorcerers but also the Dora Milaje. Sometimes even by other means from the Multiverse.

But Thena...Thena had something none had. More than just her skill of every weaponry to exist.

Maglor placed his teacup down as he explained, "She can help him improve his weapon skills." He paused, admitting another point as well as why he had sought them out. "I owe a lot to them for teaching me about their own struggles. I was not there when The Emergence happened. He...they taught me about their struggles. About their own family."

They had taught them of imperfections...and in a way allowed him to understand the families he had some to be and create. And the family members who had lost.

Bilbo Baggins caught his gaze, the sage tint of his irises gleaming as he softly answered, "No matter how different we all are, we all share a common thing. And that is missing and loving a family of our own."

A pang in his heart formed as Maglor silently thanked the hobbit, his eyes turning away for a moment at his tea. Afterwards, there was a second in which he looked back to Illyria – her smile radiating a somberness in it.

They didn't speak then, not until Bilbo changed the subject and began talking about their plans once more.

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Dalolthar offered them a room in the guildhall. He knew that despite the two of his companions trying to hide it, they were both rather tired from today's journey. They hadn't travelled for long, but he assumed it was the climate and the new surroundings which exhausted not only Bilbo but Illyria as well.

After they had a small meal that was considered dinner, Bilbo excused himself – leaving him and Illyria at the small home Dalolthar had within the library. The peredhel had always been so considerate, beyond the expectations he had hoped and sometimes he felt guilty that this was the life Dalolthar had. A life that Maglor knew could get the young peredhel killed.

But after the years, Dalolthar was always eager for knowledge. He didn't mind working his way into the dangerous politics of Far Harad, planting himself in one of the guildhalls of Bozisha-Dar and soon using it to share news between Maglor's hidden group and those wanting to help rid of Sauron's influence. He shared a deep loyalty to bringing safety to the most vulnerable and Maglor always thanked him for it.

He just wished sometimes it wasn't like this.

Even harbouring him, Illyria and Bilbo were a huge risk. The photostatic veils which Illyria provided were enough to blend them in, but not enough for the long term. Thankfully they weren't in Bozisha-Dar for long; he just needed to run some errands around the city. By how he met errands, Maglor considered it mostly updating himself on what had happened since his capture.

His last return must have been during his trip to Rohan and Gondor. Back when his last recall had been a young Éowyn of Rohan, whom he had accidentally captured her interest. His sentiment over meeting new people would always become a habit of his endeavours, and Maglor couldn't help then but leave a memory of a version of himself to her.

Sometimes he wished that it didn't have to be like this, knowing throughout his life how much pain and sorrow it would give him.

The city hadn't changed much since. The Dar was still as hostile as ever despite how much he attempted to warm Illyria and Bilbo up to it. Illyria and Bilbo however knew the underlining truth of it all despite never explicitly telling him; why he knew he could trust Dalolthar to have them under his wing for a few hours.

Maglor moved throughout the city, keeping his hood down as he kept his senses in every whisper throughout his journey. The Dar was doing more than just worship Sauron like some deity, they were helping the Haradrim and Umbar with shipping more supplies north. The Katedrala held the most secrets he discovered, mentally cursing in frustration over the counsellor's blindness to it all.

All they cared for were their riches and power despite everything they had done to try and shape this place. Having messengers and spies all over Raj, trying to spread awareness of the consequences of their actions. Why hadn't his plans along with his company affected enough?

In the end he returned to the north-eastern side of the city, entering the main library space.

To his expectation: he found her sitting alone at one of the desks. An oil lamp perched at her side whilst her attention was on a scroll she was reading. When he approached her, Illyria glanced up, her eyes glowing too perfectly under the darkness.

She eyed up at him, concern filling her face as she asked: "How was your little trip?"

Oh Vishanti. Where to begin?

He inhaled slightly, stopping momentarily across where she sat. "As expected, the Dar have prohibited any quendi or those not of the Bozishanarod to enter the city nor stay in the Raj." He explained, "They have been sending supplies to the Corsairs of Umbar by sea." [2]

A ragged breath left her lips. "So they're with him then." She shrewd her face, her hands tightening as she quietly spoke, "Then there must be something we could do to stop them."

He knew that look too well, a determination that he remembered from a very young Elemmírë. "We aren't here to stop anything," Maglor told her, receiving a flash of anger from her gaze. "If we interfere, Sauron and whoever allied with him will know that we are here. Most importantly you."

Watching Illyria carefully, he could sense the dim lights flicker slightly. The very particles surrounding them shifted for a fracture as the half-Aini took a second to calm herself.

Afterwards, she inhaled sharply before she clenched her hands into fists. "I just...It just feels as if I ran away from the war, Maglor. I want to help! Don't you understand that my children are literally in a war!" As she stood up, he saw her hands clench tightly at her side. Illyria shouted in a whisper, "And here I am, hiding south of the continent waiting for what? Something that this goddamn map I drew thousands of years ago would make some sense?"

Maglor remained quiet, understanding well he couldn't. He could tell her yet, not when it wasn't the right time.

She didn't understand how vital she could be because of her heritage. How much she could affect.

Illyria's face was mixed with anguish and frustration as she swore back, "Goddammit Maglor, you said I can trust you. But all you're doing is being so cryptic and never answering honestly to my questions."

Turning away he let out an exhale as he murmured to her, "I can't. Not yet, Illyria. It is just too dangerous here to explain what is going on. Just please, all you can do is just trust that I will keep you and Bilbo safe here." When he glanced back at her, she was still waiting for his answer. Instead, Maglor calmly reassured her what would happen, "Tomorrow, we'll be leaving to head further south. That is all I can say for now.

She clamped her lips together, shutting her mind as well from his vicinity.

"Fine."

The cold response caused a pang in his heart, but Maglor simply ignored it. Instead, he brought his gloved hand upon her shoulder, attempting some close comfort with the young half-Aini. He murmured, "Get some sleep, Illyria."

Maglor was glad that she hadn't brushed it off, though that was to say with how blank her expression was as she bid goodnight and left the library – hopefully heading to their shared room. He watched Illyria Strange's silhouette exit the large room, only hearing the gentle taps of her boots before he then sighed with dismay.

'Why must I have to do this?' He asked himself. 'I promised not only Elrond but Maedhros that I'd protect you. Why is this harder than I thought it would be?'

Some part of him wished he should have brought Maedhros with him. Having his older brother would have eased Illyria into trusting him more on this quest.

But now...he wasn't so sure if it was to do with her so much it was him.

Maglor sauntered over to where the former had been reading, glancing down at what seemed to be a map of Bozisha-Dar and the surrounding region of Raj. To his surprise, it was a new edition, a map that Dalolthar had drawn along with another name written at the corner of the page.

A mental scoff left him as he shook his head, 'Trust Limroval for attempting any subtlety.' Maglor carefully closed the scroll with his magic, placing it back on its shelf.

Meanwhile, he noticed the familiar peredhel appear from around the corner.

Dalolthar walked over to him, his eyes wandering to the scroll he returned before he peered back to Maglor. He said tightly, "You cannot hide such things forever, Lokachari. You cannot hide the reality that is happening right outside." His nostrils flared as he snapped back, "They are using children to sacrifice to their so-called sun god! Children! Burning them alive! Hearing their screams...It is the only thing I hear every night!"

It took Maglor every ounce of his body not to feel the knife that was jabbed into his chest.

"I am sorry that I have been away. That I haven't known—"

Snapping back, Dalolthar's voice remained quiet and yet sharp: "Do not apologise. There are no apologies for war, only action. That is all I ask." The last words echoed into Maglor's ears as Dalolthar pleaded, "The only thing I ask."

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[1] - Star Wars Reference: "I don't like sand. It's coarse, and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere." - Anakin Skywalker.

[2] - The Corsairs of Umbar: A group of men descended from Gondor's once proud navy. Pirates in a nutshell. They are involved during the War of the Ring.

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A/N: Oops, I was supposed to upload this on Monday but I completely forgot and just went to bed. Not going to lie it's been a slow month trying to do any writing.

But anyways, the Eternals have now joined the fray. Unfortunately, we won't be seeing them more from this part because: spoilers. But the short scene between not only Maedhros and them and also Maglor wit Thena and Gilgamesh does serve a purpose in the future.

We also come back to Maglor, Illyria and Bilbo and a short little scene with my oc Dalolthar. He is probably not going to be written any more than just a bit, but I might remember one time and add him. I don't know, writing this has been so long that I do tend to forget some things.

Nothing else to add this week. Hope you guys enjoyed :)

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Edited: 25/01/2023