22 | Guardians of Arthorien

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Maglor Fëanorion | The Wanderer of Worlds

Location: Arthorien, Far Harad, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: April 2981 T.A

Like Rome: Arthorien was not built in a day.

Which was rather ironic to him considering Rome meant nothing to him - until he learnt of the Roman Empire and the human history of Earth itself.

He had travelled from Tresti all the way south of Endor before he reached the borders of the Fireplains. With just a pack and a protective cloak and scarf, he trudged through the dangerous hot wasteland. The sun was burning above him, the sweltering heat already causing him to sweat despite his own enchantments as well as his elven physique. Despite these, Maglor had almost passed out hadn't night arrived and he took that opportunity to rest.

That didn't stop him then to continue, trekking harder as he could until he finally found himself staring atop a cliff edge. A landscape that was merely a valley of mesa and buttes. In the middle stood a large round mesa, with his sight spotting to his shock - an oasis just poking at the top.

Or perhaps just simply a mirage.

A hallucination from the extreme heat.

Before the stairs and road were constructed, there was just a rocky wall before him. So the only option which Maglor could (unfortunately) do was climb it. Clambering in over a hundred feet, he: a sorcerer of the Mystic Arts and an elf of the Years of the Trees, used a mix of eldritch swords and shields to carve his way up to the top.

He wasn't sure how long it took, but he remembered once he got to the top: Maglor collapsed in agony and relief. His muscles were burning, his heart almost overlapping its beat. His clothes clung to his skin as he finally got up and walked over to the small pool. Surrounded by a few trees and shrubs, Maglor knelt upon the edge of the water – removing his gloves from his hands. He didn't care about how mangled and scarred his hands were despite still not being used to seeing them.

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"I thought you would barely make it, young one."

There was amusement in their tone, though a kindness which he yet heard from any Maia he encountered in past few centuries. The last kind Maia he ever did encounter must have been before the Noldor's exile.

With a hitching voice, still raspy from drinking, Makalaurë spoke, "Lady Uinen." He bowed his head slightly before he politely continued: "I was not aware you would contact me."

Uinen was perhaps the least likely Aini he would suspect, and yet she appeared before him: a figure made of water which shimmered under the sun. Her hair was almost flowing like waves, currents of liquid as they were suspended by the very air around her. Despite her face merely made of the figment of water, he could see her features well. Shown across her face was a mix of intrigue and...was that admiration perhaps?

"I have watched you since you pursued your quest," Her voice was evenly smooth and deep. "There were times in which I admit have doubted your chances of discovering what young Tinúviel spoke of."

Makalaurë merely watched, suppressing that urge to grumble at the ponderings of the Maia. He learned throughout his life that considering that their concept of time was completely different, it meant that their speeches tended to go off longer than needed.

Uinen continued, "However, seeing you now. Achieving such endurance despite doubting your own speculation was something I had not expected." Pursing her lips, she waded closer to him with inquisitive eyes. "The Eldar were gifted with such things. But to truly push yourself with the weight and burden upon your fëa...it is something I have never encountered before."

"Do you speak of me healing?" The question came out too harshly, making him clamp his mouth and quickly retort. "I apologise for my rudeness, my lady. But surely you have seen others much like me who share such a similarity to their predicament."

Uinen nodded, "I have. Plentiful than wanted." She paused before her tone strengthened, "Though I see you, Makalaurë. I see you fighting it every single day, pushing yourself to the brink without knowing one thing..."

Makalaurë looked up at her.

"You are not alone," She spoke, the words echoing into his mind. "You continue your journey believing you are not worthy of becoming close to another soul again. Afraid to touch and allow them to be tainted by the horrors of the world but also your past. But being alone may only get you far in healing and preventing hurt to others."

Gazing down, he realised his hands began to shake. Those words tremored into his head, reminding him all over again who he was and what he had done. The pain and the weight of everything that he had hidden within him. Even after attempting to heal himself with the Mystic Arts and then attempting to fight the long way around – it hadn't changed how much the past still haunted him.

He gulped down, feeling his throat dry again. "I will not risk anyone with what I am doing," He clenched his hands, hissing at the burnt mark on one of them. "I've seen more souls die in front of me – for me – to think again I deserve companionship."

Uinen's lips turned to a frown, her voice almost chiding with him as she responded. "You are not responsible for the choices someone makes for themselves, little one. Nor they are responsible for yours. It is their choice entirely if they wish to follow you or not."

"You knew what I came here for." He didn't need her to answer back.

The Maia lowered her chin. "I know of your quest, yes." She added, "But of your own plans, I have suspected, as I watched you travel here."

Makalaurë breathed in, his heart slowing down to a regular pace as he began to stand up. He didn't lie to her about the reasons why he came all the way here. In truth, he could have easily diverted himself away from the Fireplains and travelled a longer route around towards the supposed ancient mountain range. But something beckoned him, a feeling deep within him that this place was meant for something.

Or perhaps it was the jewel which resided around his neck which hummed in agreement.

When he looked back to the Maia, he took a deep breath before bringing his arms out in a gesture. After uttering a spell, the pendant around his neck appeared, visible in the eyes of the Aini in front of him as he took it onto his palm. The Gem thrummed quietly, though albeit stronger than usual as he held it in front.

Uinen didn't waver, maybe knowing more than he thought. Had Ulmo spoken to her and that was why she was here? Was that why she was testing him? See if he was worthy of something he killed for?

"I saw in my dreams of this place," he said, maintaining the Gem in his hand. "I saw it grow. I saw a place filled with life hidden in a desolate landscape. That I would create or perhaps visit. I didn't believe it at first...I thought it was another possible life of mine that had done so. But I had been incorrect."

Makalaurë breathed in, continuing.

"But what is the cost of it? What if I break this world by choosing to bring this to life when it shouldn't be?" He asked, unsure if it was to Uinen or to himself. "What if I cannot save them?"

Gently a sad smile rested upon the Maia's face as she waded over to him. "Do not allow the clouding of your doubts to bring you to hesitation, little one," Uinen spoke, allowing her eyes to move to him directly. "Every soul deserves a chance to redeem itself. Just as you were given and just as you will do so in the future."

There was a moment in which he allowed the words to sink in, his hands now still as he brought let the Gem hover in the air in front of him. Bringing his hands down, Makalaurë stared at Uinen with less hesitation but more preparedness. She was right to an extent; he had to see for himself how much this would go. Giving this a chance may prove to not only him but to those who know about the dangers of the Multiverse how much souls deserved life.

A chance in redeeming just like him.

By the time he had thought it over, Uinen seemed to know his final decision – her lips twitching slightly before she moved away from the shoreline and watched the entirety unfold.

Makalaurë took a deep breath and open the Gem; the Silmaril's power burst out like waves crashing against a cliff face.

Within the landscape, a blinding light was spotted from the borders of the desert. Nomads watched as they saw what seemed to be a star that may have fallen...unbeknownst that the light engulfed the entire mesa – bringing to existence something no one would suspect.

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That was the day the Silmaril had somehow worked with him, almost harmonizing with his own power and magic, as he created a protective barrier within the perimeter of the mesa.

It extended beyond it, stretching perhaps a couple of kilometres before there was a defined line between the place that would be called Arthorien to the rest of the Fireplains.

It was actually the shield that defined this place. A creation that was not only the Silmaril's but his own. Maglor could sense his own self within it, its choice on who to allow in or out whilst the Jewel responded to his wishes. But he also responded to the Jewel in return, understanding then that the Silmaril was more than just some gem – it was sentient.

Whilst a barrier was formed, it didn't mean that Maglor was all ready just then. He knew the next step was to begin establishing perhaps a small settlement within the oasis, shocked to see that life upon the mesa was almost preserved and unaffected by the outside world. The sun may shine down but the shield stopped it from burning those within. It meant then that Maglor was able to start building, to start his place of what would be a sanctuary.

He travelled back north to The Dar again, carrying logs and tools to build the first foundations of his home. Home felt odd then. At that time Maglor had constantly been travelling that he never really called a place home anymore.

And a shack with a thatched roof overlooking a beautiful small lake atop a mesa might not be considered one.

But nevertheless, he carried on.

He did what he could by the small moments he returned to the oasis, building more of the place he had foreseen. What Tinúviel foresaw...until he realised he could do more than just build. He could grow in this place. A place that was so denounced by water and life that it was possible to begin growing the first seeds of harvest in the coming year.

Maglor had been a little shocked and maybe a little impressed at himself. He wasn't a farmer nor any good with anything remotely plant-based. It was a reason why the gardeners back in Tirion wouldn't let him help at all as a child no less he would accidentally hurt himself by simply standing there.

So yes, he was a little shaken that he was able to grow his own stuff. What was more was that he began to realise how much his own power could establish.

How his voice could create life with simple songs.

Plants and nature itself began to grow and by the time his shack has turned into a proper home (with windows, doors and actual rooms): Maglor had brought in his first companion to his place.

Then the next...and the next...up until his home residing by the oasis atop a mesa became a village.

...And after a village a town.

Then finally Arthorien.

It took perhaps two centuries for the walls to be finally thought of and placed. The shield could only do so much to hide what lay within it but a physical barrier would at least hide the truth within it. Maglor hadn't meant it in a way to prevent others from coming in, but more like to prevent whatever was inside from coming out.

Because in truth: Middle Earth wasn't ready for what he and Arthorien created. It was beyond time and place for such a continent. A continent still reeling from dark Maiar and the curses of medieval-type scenarios. There was a conflict between them all, half of Arthorien wishing to use what advantages they have to help the world outside and half wanting to keep the peace.

And Maglor...well he was in the middle of it all. He didn't want to pick a side on what was right or wrong. If he did: he hid it quite well (even from himself).

But Arthorien's purpose wasn't always that at the beginning. It was firstly a sanctuary. A place where those who needed sheltering. Where they could live again another life.

Just like Kamar-Taj: Maglor wanted to do something for his universe to those who never deserved such tragedy in their lives. They might not truly see it, but to heal the soul and the mind meant different things. And he tried his best, to not be so biased with who he chose, to bring to Arthorien and who to decline such an offer.

Isolde once told him to look deeper within someone. To see past the illusion and their defences, which was a struggle in truth on his side. He still doubted himself and maybe they all did, but it taught him to learn to see more and to accept more of people's choices and why it was better to see them understand their mistakes than to prevent them.

It was why Nimrodel had been the first. His first companion and the first guardian of Arthorien.

But also the first to challenge his ideas when it came to his role as Ulmo's champion. 

Maglor disliked the many realities he saw her life unfold within their side of the Multiverse, his empathy moving him further into wanting nothing more but to give the chance the give her second life. Then when the moment arrived, seeing Nimrodel alive and alone on the shores of South Middle Earth: Maglor opened himself towards her.

Their first meeting was exactly how she reacted to all of the Noldor, with utmost distrust and hesitation. And he would agree then and now how Nimrodel treated him, after all: he was and will always be a kinslayer.

But the years grew and as their relationship grew into somewhat of a friendship (after a few turns and surprisingly horrific dangers coming their way), Nimrodel accepted his offer to take her to Arthorien and help him prevent anymore like her to go down a dark path or death.

Years and centuries passed and they grew.

Now: Maglor stood upon the foundations of what was once more nothing but a wooden shack, held together by what he could build until he found the time to finally create something significant.

Once the second Illyria Strange and Bilbo Baggins left to be offered a house outside the Khōn that there were needed reunions. And that not only excited him but made him worry. Eru knows how long he had truly been away and according to Nimrodel and Mithrellas, it hasn't been the best time to return. He knew that after the main meeting with Nimrodel that he would have to explain the entirety of his journey and why it took him so long to come back.

Considering he was the founder and head of his order, disappearing for a few decades wasn't the best way to put on a job application.

Thankfully there was no hatred or distrust between him and Nimrodel. They knew one another too well to feel that there was something hidden within their intentions. Even then, they both had the knack in finding out the truth no matter the consequences.

He made his way out of the Khōn, informing Illyria, Bilbo and also Sashana that he would meet with them later in the day. The young half-Aini openly didn't like the fact that he was leaving them but Illyria simply nodded, sending him that typical look he saw from Stephen Strange.

That look clearly meant he would have to tell her soon what was going on.

Once Oerion guided them down towards the east avenue, which led to the main living quarters, Maglor journeyed down to where his own house resided.

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It didn't take long for news to travel that he returned.

Maglor smiled as he met faces down the street to his own home, seeing the young half-elven children wave or even trail along with him as he headed to his destination. He remembered most of their faces since his last visit, surprised to even find new faces that Maglor recognized from their parents. Most were elven though equally others showed human-like features.

Arthorien may be a danger when stepping outside the barrier, but it was a plausible safe haven for the children of the South. That was why Maglor agreed for Sashana to come with them despite her more human mortal form. They had many half-elves over the years who chose a life of a human than their elven counterparts, either staying to remain in Arthorien or leaving for the rest of Endor as well. Overall, Maglor and the Guardians decided that nobody should be forced to be shunned or forced to stay by them. Anyone who was brought up or born here had a choice on that matter.

He was not going to do what Turgon did in Gondolin. Never would he try to stop any soul from their free will despite the enemy at their doorstep.

By the time he actually did get to his house, Maglor couldn't help but smile at all of it. At least the children were still so lively, bringing so much life and joy to the broken souls this place had. His house on the other hand could say otherwise as he realised how much time could show by the layers of dust all over his furniture.

His house wasn't even considered perhaps a house, more like a back garden office he saw nowadays on Modern Earth. The front entrance faced the great outer walls with only a street between them. Behind the house was in fact the Great Wood which covered a quarter of Arthorien. Great bridges and platforms crossed the grand trees, reminding him somewhat of Ossiriand back in the First Age. Or perhaps Lothlorien (if he could remember vaguely what it looked like).

There was a reason why he even picked living here and not inside the inner circles, where the rest of the residents and the Guardians lived, and that was so he could get some peace.

However, even standing in his house didn't feel so welcoming or peaceful. And by the time he did stand there, sucking in the reality of everything – everything in Maglor's mind caught up to the present. He felt as if the weight of everything upon his shoulders was just strewn across the floor, causing him to stare off with a ragged breath.

Maglor stared down towards the open porch which led to the woods.

Maybe outside would be better.

Thus he shook off his outer robe and cloak, placing his belongings down before heading outside. The temperature was moderate, a key change to the hot weather across the other side of Arthorien. With the help of the jewel: that was perhaps the secret of maintaining such life here.

It was quiet but not silent, with several birds chirping and the odd person walking across the top platforms with a curt nod. Maglor entered the large opening, a large patch of grass in which a gazebo stood in the middle.

As he walked over, for a moment he remembered a familiar laugh cross his mind. A memory that had long been buried made his heart skip a beat before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

No matter what, there would always be a memory in every nook and cranny of Arthorien.

Speaking of memories...there was one which Maglor was yet to forget.

Sauntering towards him across the open field was a figure.

They didn't take long, their anticipation showing in their grand strides as well as the kindest smile he once remembered falling for the first time. Their eyes lit up, a grin resting upon their lips as they met him in the centre of the gazebo. One could not falter that the person before him was elven, the way their ears poked out despite the horror of the sight of short hair – tied in a bun from the back.

But knowing who she was, Maglor always thought of the style always suited her.

Standing before him, the elleth grinned and spoke, "I thought I saw you from the Watcher's Tower." Her voice was poised, elegant and yet deep despite the soft words which she spoke, "You look better. Healthier even."

Maglor couldn't help but arch an eyebrow in return, coolly replying: "Almost a decade since we've seen each other and I get no proper greeting?"

With a pause, the elleth before him returned with a raised brow before she huffed out a breath.

"Hello 'Chari, I'm glad that you're back in one physical piece," She answered before she softened her expression, bringing a small smile as she looked at him with fondness. "You look very well."

Gesturing to himself, he knew she would point out how much he didn't look like a tramp. Again.

"And I'm glad to see you as well. Thank Illyria Strange and my foster son for the new fabrics and healing," Maglor changed the subject, nudging a brow back at her as he mused. "I heard you just arrived a few days ago. How was Sîrayn?"

Her face contorted into displeasure, letting out some sort of tired sigh. "No progress. Hopefully that we could stop the advancement of them from taking Raj, they'll be there in perhaps in a month," She responded, her tone filled with doubt.

Maglor hoped to give her some optimistic response, but his mind crossed as he gazed up to the sky. The stars aligned, missing one certain star.

With a grim look, he replied. "Not with Sauron somehow possessing travel." Maglor glanced at her, seeing the slight wariness and surprise before he continued, "His positions been everywhere. I don't understand how he's been able to do it despite his form supposedly being weakened by Númenor and Dol Guldur. This hasn't happened in the other realities."

"Maybe he got gained access to Earth?" She questioned, pausing as she gazed back at him. She whispered, "You think that don't you?"

The sound of an inhale left his mouth. "And I'm afraid that it's true," He murmured.

With hands on her hips, the elleth scoffed before she assured him, "Oh don't be like that, Maglor."

"Faelivrin, I am very old now." He chuckled slightly, gesturing once more to himself as he justified with a saddened tone, "Clearly I am not fit with this. It should be you or Gildor who should be doing this." [2]

Which was true. The person before him was much more equipped and skilled (even younger as well) for such a mission. In truth he shouldn't be going alone all over the Multiverse nowadays, knowing how much responsibility now fell on his shoulders. Not just with Arthorien, but with strengthening all the ties they had between Arda and Earth.

Someone like the elleth before him would be the best at such things and Maglor believed it would at least allow them to experience again travelling.

However, it would seem things still haven't changed. As much as he trusted them all, there was still doubt across certain guardians. Mostly those who were the youngest of them.

The elleth pursed her lips as she looked out from the gazebo. "Nimrodel's making sure Gildor's not going to portal himself up north and stop them from making a mistake," She began, noting the name with many worries. Her eyes averted to him, murmuring again: "Plus be glad he's busy with other things. If this Elemmírë finds out who he is, you'll have to answer her questions."

Ah, he forgot one special guardian they had within their group. Especially knowing that Illyria Strange attended some council of sorts with the Noldor, there would be no hiding the fact that a certain elf living in the sanctuary was indeed one so familiar.

Too familiar in fact.

Luckily he noted by the lack of several soldiers, Maglor knew that the ellon was still out on his mission. Where to he could only assume was in Greater Harad where the elleth before him came before. Maglor clasped his hands, a sly quirk on his lips as he tried to imagine how Gildor and Illyria's meeting would pan out.

Perhaps several threats and some swearing but nonetheless safe enough to say the half-aini wouldn't try to kill him.

The elleth beside him heard his thoughts, spotting her roll her eyes before folding her arms across her chest.

Meanwhile, Maglor spoke with a slightly amused tone, "I think she'll be asking as soon as he arrives." He paused for a moment before he asked her, "Where's Daeron?"

"With the Ent children. Should have him meet them next," She replied, a grin reaching her face again. "I bet he can woo her faster."

That sentence brought his chest to grow warm, allowing his defences to lower as Maglor returned it with a genuine smile.

There were so few in his life who truly allowed him to bring down his own mental and emotional walls - and that was her.

Faelivrin.

Centuries of travelling, he had attempted to exclude all possibilities of any romantic attachment, afraid that if he did fall in love it would risk everything that he had done to save his world.

But then he met her: the elleth with vibrant blue eyes and hair like the darkest wood.

Though it was not only Faelivrin's beauty that captured him - but how they truly met in the most inconvenient circumstances and their journey together to the present. A love which was unfortunately strung apart across the Multiverse because of their duties. Torn by war and death and the pain of the reality of how much it all meant to them. They had fought tooth and nail just to be here now.

Even if it made them split apart for years, the moments they spent together were enough at least. Or so what Maglor believed in his heart. He could only hope that Faelivrin was content with a distant relationship like this.

And it showed enough because he could tell how her eyes were still filled with warmth. How her smile rested into a gentle relaxed tone, her body moving closer to him as she brought her hand upon his gloved one.

Lifting his hand, Faelivrin entwined her fingers, calloused and yet still nimble as she cupped it on with the other. Her thumb rubbed circles upon the back of his hand.

"Maglor."

He breathed in, hearing his name in her voice.

Faelivrin searched in his eyes, murmuring to him: "Meleth nin, I know it is too soon to speak of it. But it is best for you to explain to her who we truly are."

Heart panging, he couldn't help but sense his body tightening. Maglor had done all he could to hide away the tremors and worries when they journeyed south, hid it for the sake of making sure that both Illyria and Bilbo were safe from the dangers here.

But in truth, he was even more scared than ever.

"It is not that I am afraid of telling her, meldenya." Maglor turned, stepping closer to her as he reached to bring a hand upon her cheek. He revealed softly, "I am worried about what will come if the Turcistar discovers what I've done. What it would do to you and Arthorien."

Faelivrin's glowing eyes stared deeply into his, trying to send a look of confidence and assurance as she replied, "The Turcistar nor your old friend has stopped you. Those people are not the ones who dictate who gets to live or not. Not in our continuity." She breathed in, trying to give a wry smile as she continued, "And believe me, she did not die for you to fall into their graces." [1]

He knew she was only trying to comfort him, but even mentioning her once more of her name made Maglor's heart clench again. Despite being away for so long, almost forgetting what it was like to be within the arms of the elleth: he remembered how much she had done to keep him sane. To keep his mind and heart placed down into reality.

Searching her eyes, Maglor quietly asked back, "Then what shall I do?"

As her hand cupped his cheek, wiping away a tear that slipped from his eye, he could sense the cold band of metal on her finger. The familiar wedding ring signified who they were to each other.

Faelivrin smiled up at him as she answered, "Be who you've always been." She leaned across, planting a small kiss upon the corner of his mouth. "Someone who understands that we cannot always protect them away from the truth."

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There was a selfishness to his wishes that their time together after so long would have been longer. Unfortunately, they both had jobs to deal with at such a dire time.

Whilst Maglor redressed and headed over to the Khōn once more to debrief with Nimrodel, Faelivrin had matters to attend to which consisted of checking the healing halls and the forge.

No doubt she hoped there were any updates on several designs she enlisted, Maglor chuckled as her eyes lit up the moment she began talking about the latest upgrades on her spears and shields. Though they never truly brightened as much since many years ago, he was glad to still see her trying to find some happiness nowadays. It caught him again, really. That he still felt that warmth in his chest as she kissed him farewell before heading north of the sanctuary.

No one knew.

And perhaps it was the best way to do so. With the secret of who she was, it would be too risky to show outside of Arthorien.

Or for any matter inside this place. Maglor had been careful to maintain such secrecy for centuries. And the reason why a certain White Lady was suspicious and angered by his choice to bring not only Illyria but two more outsiders without the consent of the rest of his council.

He made sure to check up on Illyria, Bilbo and Shana before heading to meet with Nimrodel at his study inside the Khōn. Oerion had been an amiable and thorough host...well considering the poor ellon hadn't lost a limb or was shaking on the spot. Maglor met them just outside the main entrance of the Khōn a few hours later before informing them that they'll have dinner with him and Nimrodel. Usually, there weren't many formal dinners, most would use the grand hall to mingle or dine with whoever was around for the meal.

Nimrodel, despite Silvan, did enjoy the idea of Noldorin and Sindarin fine dining, even if she didn't admit it and cautiously referred to it as mainly 'earthly human' customs. The grand hall inside the Khōn had several others sitting about but she had one of the tables set for both him, Illyria, Bilbo, and Shana.

Dinner went smoothly, he guessed. If one considered awkward responses and carefully picked answers before an elongated silence then it was better than having whatever the hell happened back in Rivendell. If he brought his brothers here, Nimrodel and the Avari would have done everything to insult them no matter how much it would turn into a bloodbath.

Maglor would unfortunately no doubt that his brothers would be killed when it came to Nimrodel and the Avari...especially with what they possessed in skill and sorcery.

After the meal, Illyria wanted to speak with him about what they were going to do here. He knew that he would have to sit down and discuss some things with both her and Bilbo and how they would head further south. However, he couldn't do so without speaking to the one person he had to persuade.

With a promise that he would spend time tomorrow with them, Illyria and Bilbo along with the young Apysan girl left for their temporary home.

Which then left him heading up to the small council hall where Nimrodel headed off.

The doors quietly shut behind him as he strode over to the large round table. A projection was hovering above it showing a minuscule depiction of Endor with several dotted locations all over the map. Nimrodel's hands were placed atop the surface, her eyes examining the growing red areas on the map with a thinned lip.

Once he arrived at her side, Nimrodel sighed before she straightened herself – her poise still showing despite knowing how long she'd been away.

Maglor nodded to his friend as he gestured to the large projection in front of them, "I assume our connections have been difficult to get through." He paused, before he added, "Mithrellas mentioned what's occurred."

Her head shook, clasping her hands behind her as she looked at him with a knowing gaze, "This is barely the true scale of how much it's changed." Nimrodel's eyes slightly hardened, knowing that she was now ready to interrogate him. "You have been away for quite some time. Where have you been?"

Maglor replied truthfully, "Trying to find some information within Morgoth's circle," He exhaled shortly, eyes peering back at the map – eyes focused on the northern part of Middle Earth. "Unfortunately only Saruman holds a few of what Sauron has mentioned to him but after his betrayal, nothing has been said between them. Not to mention that it was waste of time, considering the threat wasn't with him but in fact closer than I thought."

He didn't explicitly explain it all, knowing it would just lead to more questions about why he even left for this mission in the first place. Nimrodel insisted that his role in affecting the northern wars could lead to alterations to the timelines, but he was tentative enough to not make a grand change. Maglor needed to know what affected the acceleration to Dagor Dagorath and why certain movements from Sauron and Saruman went ahead than predicted.

But after all that work, trying to figure out what made it possible for them to know was because of the Ainur in question but was in fact one of Earth's sorcerers.

Though with Baron Mordo dead, it now led Maglor to a dead end and had made even more questions in the form of a certain half-Aini.

"And her."

There was now a disapproving look upon Nimrodel's face as she spoke bluntly, "You said: you would never bring her here, no less endangering the lives of every person living in this place, Lokachari. People who trust you and have trusted us to protect them. You have broken your promise that you wouldn't bring any of those who could risk our safety."

"I know, Nimrodel." Maglor's shoulders slackened as he ground his teeth. There goes his headache coming back again. Folding his arms, he eyed her with a stern look as he continued. "But there is a reason why I had no choice."

Nimrodel simply gave him a disbelieving cold gaze.

He knew persuading her would take more effort and Maglor would do all he could because he knew what he said. There was a reason why Illyria needed to be here. Why she was destined to follow the path of her past and figure out how much she could become. From the past versions of the half-Aini, all he knew was that they had never surpassed the strength she showed. The ability to shift from her physical form to her spirit in the physical plane could possibly unlock whatever was destined for her...and therefore what it meant for their universe.

But Nimrodel didn't truly believe in the ideals of fate or destiny. Of course, she wouldn't, why would she after the pain she endured in her life?

There was no choice for him but to fight, even if it meant fighting against a brick wall that won't move nor break.

Though just as he was about to further explain his plans, a nudge within his senses made his ears twitch in a sudden move.

With a quick swipe, Maglor dodged the incoming object hurtling across the room, catching it with a raised palm.

Levitating just above the floor was a book, making him arch a brow. A curse hissed from another voice, and both Maglor and Nimrodel's gazes were directed toward the incoming figure from the overhanging windows.

Resting on the windowsill was an elf, dressed in slim and mixed-modern and elven armour. He was caught red-handed, hand still raised as he gaped at Maglor with shock.

"Damn." Getting off where he perched, the young-looking ellon pouted as he muttered, "I thought I could surprise you, old man."

Whilst Nimrodel appeared to look unimpressed, Maglor could not help but soften his expression – causing the corner of his lips to rise as he placed the book back onto the table.

Whilst the ellon walked over to them, Maglor plainly noted to him, "There is a reason why you are not within Mithrellas' when it comes to espionage."

Rolling his eyes, the ellon quickly changed his tone. A typical thing he did and quite fitting for his name as he flashed a genuine and relieving smile towards Maglor, "Good to see you alive and looking good with a new set of robes, 'Chari."

Maglor shared the same smile, reaching over to him as he embraced the younger ellon. He could sense his mind sending him relief, asking how he was but all he could return was a simple response.

"Glad you have yet to change some things, Limroval." [3]

Pulling away, Maglor eyed him. He could only be relieved the ellon hadn't lost an eye yet while he was away. He then cleared his throat and added, "And I am alright, thank you."

"Good," Limroval grinned, his similar blue eyes glowing a little brighter before he turned to Nimrodel and greeted the older elleth with a good evening. "Most times you come back you're practically bruised up and almost naked."

"Limroval," From across them, the elleth in the room sent a stern look up the ellon.

With a shrug, Limroval asked, "What?" He added, "I'm just telling the truth, Nim."

Despite being obscured by Limroval's figure in front of him, Nimrodel's façade softened, placing her hand atop the ellon's shoulder. Maglor saw the motherly look upon her face, the same he had seen in many others as Nimrodel chided him for not cleaning himself up before heading up here.

A feeling of comfort washed over him, causing him to look away and eye the hologram atop the grand table. Not really looking anywhere, to begin with, his mind reverted to a small memory once more. A petite figure soaked in water and mud, standing on the back porch of his home. The sound of Faelivrin shaking her head as she exclaimed at the girl where she had managed to get mud inside her ears.

All he could imagine was her face, grinning so widely as he heard himself tell Faelivrin that they had just enjoyed playing with the Ent children.

Back when he and Faelivrin were still so close. So close in fact that he had carelessly led them both into years of torment and loss.

Blinking his eyes, Maglor let out a ragged breath and composed himself. He shouldn't think about her again. Not at this moment. Instead, he returned his attention to both the silver-haired ellon and the platinum-haired elleth and tried to continue the conversation they had. He would hope Limroval would understand that this conversation was only between them.

Though at least one other guardian would know more about it.

"With your, and the rest of the council's permission, I shall be bringing Illyria and Bilbo south. Hopefully, we won't be here long," Maglor stared right into Nimrodel's eyes, hiding nothing from her as he spoke with honesty. "I believe that whatever Lúthien spoke of what was south could possibly be the same thing which I suspected of Illyria. Whatever we find there could potentially not only allow us to tap into her true power but find a source that could see reason and stop this doom from happening."

Nimrodel didn't react nor move, simply looking at him as if her mind was thinking through what he said.

On the other hand, Limroval seemed to have caught up on what he was talking about, waving his hand out in a pause motion before he asked incredulously, "Wait a moment, you're going south with her?"

Maglor nodded.

"You said that to her before," When he turned back to her, Nimrodel's voice was careful but openly disagreeing. The words almost sliced through his heart as she questioned him, "Will you take that risk again after what happened?"

He did all he could to keep his voice calm, despite how dry his throat became. "It is different this time," Maglor replied.

Whilst Limroval remained quiet, observing, the former White Lady now appeared disapproving. Her frown marked a great worry in Maglor, already knowing what other questions she was about to toss back at him.

"And pray tell how you know this won't end horribly wrong?" Nimrodel asked. No, demanded. "That you will be risking not only yourself but for her and her friend's life?"

There was a reason why he had Nimrodel as his second in command. 

Her ability to be the devil's advocate and to point out the problems and wrongs in his decisions have always been something which caught his eye for. Yes, it sometimes annoyed him or even made things almost tense between them, but it was a blessing, nevertheless. He knew that without someone like Nimrodel in his council, Arthorien wouldn't be prospering as he believed.

However, he couldn't voice the truth back.

He knew openly that whatever he was to do was a terrible risk. The number of lives that he could endanger as well as his own was something he had yet to know. And that was why he could only try. Try and persuade and perhaps think of other ways to go about this.

"I cannot promise you that it won't be a smooth journey, Nimrodel." Maglor spoke with honesty as he inhaled, "But know I shall be wary of the dangers and the time we're limited with."

Nimrodel thinned her lips, glancing away towards the hologram. He spotted her hands clenching at her side, moving towards him as she then spoke lowly, "We need to discuss this with the rest of us." She eyed him with a blank expression, but that couldn't compare to the cold slice of her voice as Nimrodel continued, "I will not disagree with your plans, Lokachari. But I cannot give you my support unless the rest of the council knows of your intentions."

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[1] - Turcistar: Means 'Sorcerer Supreme' in Quenya (Made Up by Me)
[2] - Faelivrin: Meaning 'Gleam of the Sun on the Pools of Ivrin' in Sindarin. But I won't spoil who exactly is she yet ;)
[3] - Limroval: Meaning 'Fast-winged' in Sindarin. Again no mention who it is just yet. ;)

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A/N: I almost forgot to upload and I'm sorry. But don't worry, here it is.

We finally got an insight on how Arthorien was created which was inspired by how Wanda Maximoff created the Hex, but instead using the Silmaril. And instead of Ulmo being a mentor to Maglor, this time round it is Uinen who I think is someone who is very compassionate and empathetic. 

We also got Nimrodel: who is the love interest of Amroth which is a Third Age tale if you guys want to search it up. There isn't a lot about her other than she went missing...or not. ;)

Faelivrin and Limroval are other canon characters but are named differently. You can guess who they are but eventually, Illyria and Bilbo will figure it out.

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Edited: 04/03/2023