Many Meetings : the Night is Passing by bunn  

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Under the Walls of Mandos

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. I admit, I did quite enjoy this morning, sitting here alive, quiet and anonymous, like someone no-one had heard of. But there’s no point pretending.”

“And quite impossible, anyway” Finrod said, sympathetically. “I’m afraid there are an awful lot of people who are very eager to see you again! There were so many of them, that in the end I had to tell them all quite firmly that they would all have to wait, since it seemed impossible to work out who you would want to see first. I thought it probably would not be an excited mob. So I decided it would just be Elrond and Celebrían, and me as well, because I am extremely nosy and haven’t seen you in such a long time, and there really should be some advantage to being the one who has to tell everyone else to wait. Of course, when we got to Valimar, Galadriel turned up with Orodreth, having not asked if she could come at all...”

“It will, however, be an even better picnic as a result,” Galadriel said, giving her older brother a blithe smile, spreading a cloth across the grass in the sun well outside the dark shadow of the walls of Mandos, and unpacking leaf-wrapped food from her pack onto it. “Orodreth got up early and made his famous crayfish pasties.” 

“I did,” Orodreth confirmed. “It seems a small thanks for following my lead into a disastrously misconceived battle, but such as they are, my crayfish pasties are at your disposal, Celebrimbor. I am truly grateful.”

“For all the good I did you on the field of Tumhalad, crayfish pasties seem like a very generous thanks,” Celebrimbor said. He gave Orodreth a smile. “Particularly for me, as I have not eaten in centuries!” 

“You got some of the survivors out to the Havens, at least, I owe you thanks for that, too. I never should have listened to Túrin,” Orodreth said shaking his head and distributing plates of light turned-wood. “Círdan knew what he was talking about when he sent us the warning not to march out to battle. If only Ulmo had been a little plainer in his message! If he had given us Glaurung’s exact size, I might have thought twice before making the decision to go to meet him. I thought we were facing the dragon that Fingon chased off, not something ten times the size and breathing a river of fire and poisonous gas, with an army of thousands behind him. Ah well. We can’t all have Elrond’s wisdom.”

“That sort of comment was hard enough to live up to, coming from Men,” Elrond said, joining them seated on the ground. “When it comes from people I first met as characters in heroic legends, I don’t know where to look!” 

“Maglor made me sound like a heroic legend?” Orodreth said, pushing back golden hair behind both ears and blinking in surprise. “Good grief.”

“That was Gil-galad, more than Maglor or Maedhros,” Elrond said, producing wine and cups and handing the first cup to Celebrimbor as the guest of honour. “Gil-galad was always very keen on tales of the heroes of Nargothrond. He even wrote a version of the Lay of Leithan which has far more about you and Finrod than the more popular version. You should ask him about it. He’d be terribly pleased, once he gets over being embarrassed.” 

“Really?” Finrod said, obviously amused. “But he’s so terribly formidable! Like Fingolfin, only more stern and formal! He was a charming boy, so far as I recall, though I honestly can’t remember much about him in Beleriand. But since I met him grown and returned from death, he has always seemed rather grim and daunting.” 

Celebrían laughed at her uncle, pushing her hair behind her ears and began to set out cakes on a plate. “But of course he does, to you and Orodreth! You are his great heroes. He wants you to be ever so impressed! He spent so much of his reign trying to establish a peace worthy of Nargothrond, and never quite managed it, at least not to his own standards, anyway.”

Elrond said, “And of course, when Gil-galad resolves to impress someone, then he makes a great effort over it, and does everything very thoroughly, since he is no mean heroic legend himself.” 

“Good grief!” Orodreth said again. 

“He would have come here to greet you,” Elrond said to Celebrimbor, who was eating one of the pasties with every sign of enthusiasm. “Only Finrod told him not to come, and he wouldn’t dream of ignoring Finrod.”

“Ignoring Finrod is the privilege of sisters,” Galadriel said smiling. 

“Hah!” Finrod said, unimpressed. “You ignore anyone who tells you anything you don’t want to hear, Galadriel!”

“Of course I do. What do you expect from a ringleader of rebellion against the Valar?” Galadriel asked him laughing. 

Finrod shook his golden head at her reprovingly “I was at least as rebellious as you!” he said. “Yet you got the Ban and all that time exploring Middle-earth, and I got stuck in Valinor, doing paperwork in Tirion! It’s horribly unfair.” 

“There, there,” Galadriel said, and patted him. “You did have your chance at a hopeless battle against Sauron, after all. We can’t all be Lúthien.”

“Both of you, I can’t help feeling, were considerably more rebellious than I was,” Celebrimbor pointed out mildly. 

Finrod made a face and looked away, his face suddenly serious again. “That’s true,” he said. “We could so easily have turned back. Not so easy for you, at your age. And yet it seems you were given at least as much of the blame as Galadriel. More.” He hesitated for a moment. “I did go to your mother and ask her if she wanted to come with us today, but I’m afraid...” 

“She didn’t wish to? I’m not surprised,” Celebrimbor said steadily. “She made her choice long ago, and so did I. I was old enough for that, and old enough at Alqualondë, too. Should I approach Olwë with apologies?”

Finrod grimaced. “You were barely grown. And Alqualondë...” He sighed. “It wasn’t like Doriath, or the Havens, after all. The darkness, nobody quite knowing what was happening... Even my Teleri uncles say they don’t know who was first to draw a blade, and they were in the fight from the start. I can’t see that any reasonable person could hold you responsible. Or at least, no reasonable elf could do so, whatever the official position of the Valar! I’m quite sure my grandfather doesn’t blame you at all, Celebrimbor. Do go ahead and ask him, if you want to be sure, of course. But he supported Elrond’s appeal to the Valar for your return from the Halls of Mandos, along with the rest of us. And he accepted an apology from Maglor on behalf of all your House anyway.”

“I have talked to him about the Three Rings, too,” Galadriel said. “Our grandfather Olwë had kin in Lórien, Rivendell, and in Lindon. He’ll want you to come to dinner, so he can thank you properly for that.” 

“I’m glad they ended up being some use, at least,” Celebrimbor said with a sigh. He looked at Elrond. “Maedhros sends you his greetings, by the way, and...”

“And told me not to take any foolish risks?” Elrond asked, incredulous. Celebrimbor nodded, smiling. “Still? He’s a fine one to tell me that!” 

“Yes, that’s what I told him you’d say. He said, tell you anyway. I take it there is no news from the Valar about Maedhros and the rest?” 

“The Valar are still deliberating, so Ulmo told me,” Elrond said. “I spoke with him in person before I left Tol Eressëa. He has left the council of the Valar, for now, and returned to the waters. He has already decided on his vote, and made his case. So now we wait to hear what the others decide. It seems to be taking them a good while.”

“Why did you decide to appeal for us?” Celebrimbor asked, with a puzzled frown. “Not that I am complaining, you understand! But I wasn’t expecting anyone to appeal for me, let alone the rest! Not after I helped Sauron to make his Ring, ignored Elrond, Círdan and Gil-galad’s entirely correct advice, was rude to Galadriel, and left Middle-earth in such a mess. I honestly thought that if there was anyone left who still thought kindly of the House of Fëanor, before that, they would be thinking good riddance, afterwards.”

“No!” Elrond said. “Gil-galad would have gone to the Valar for you, anyway. He tried before, when he came back from Mandos himself, though it was only once the decision was made to lift the Ban from Galadriel that he had much hope for success.”

“Really?” Celebrimbor said, surprised. “He did not come to speak with me, while he was in the Halls. I thought he must be angry.” 

Elrond shook his head. “Gil-galad would not breach the prohibitions of Mandos,” he explained. It felt a little uncomfortable to be discussing it under Mandos’s somber walls, even if the Ruler of the Dead was not present in person. “He would have liked to speak with you, but it was not permitted. I know that Fingolfin and Fingon went to speak to Fëanor and his sons often, while they were in the Halls, but consider. Would you care to be one of Mandos’s humble Maiar and explain to Fingolfin, who gave Morgoth seven wounds, that he should not do exactly as he wished?”

Celebrimbor considered the prospect of an annoyed Fingolfin, and raised an alarmed eyebrow. “I see your point,” he said. “That does explain why we rarely received visits from anyone else.” 

“Gil-galad follows orders, even if he doesn’t agree with them. But he wasn’t angry. Upset about your death, and the fall of Eregion, of course! We all grieved for that. But if you hadn’t worked with Sauron, we never would have managed to bring him down. Oh, he did terrible things with the Ring, it’s true, but at least it could be destroyed. Gil-galad and I both count you several kinds of hero for that, even if it was not your original plan.”

Galadriel said. “There was no question in any of our minds that you meant well, Celebrimbor! I spent long enough in Middle-earth watching the ranks of my allies thinning, knowing I might be the last one left to face the Enemy.” She frowned at the slice of lemon cake in her hand. “I knew, if I was the last, I would lose, just as you did... I was very glad to have the Ring you left me: you were more help to me than most! I am certainly not holding on to grudges over an honest mistake. Or over...conflicted loyalties.” 

She meant, of course, that difficult time when Celebrimbor and Galadriel had clashed in newly-founded Eregion over who would rule, and whether Annatar, the strange new friend of the people of the Jewelsmiths, should be permitted to stay there. Celebrimbor had won. Annatar had stayed, with disastrous results. Galadriel had left and gone to Lórien. 

“Oh good,” Celebrimbor said, blushing a little.

Finrod said to his sister, smiling, “I’m so glad that it’s not only me who ends up having to deal with people who simply insist that they must listen to the House of Fëanor, and won’t consider the most reasonable arguments for anything else! It gives me hope that it’s not just a personal failing of mine.”

“Alas not!” Galadriel said, smiling back. “I, Celeborn, Gil-galad, Círdan and Elrond have all known it too. It’s not just you!” Celebrimbor put both hands across his face for a moment, looking embarrassed. 

“Speaking of which, Celebrimbor, I don’t suppose you fancy running the Fëanorian Quarter of Tirion, do you?” Finrod went on. “I’ve been doing it for a terribly long time now — it feels like at least six times as long as it has actually been — and frankly, neither I nor the Quarter are entirely happy about it. I only ended up with them because the House of Fëanor had all most inconsiderately taken themselves off under a cloud of doom, and there was nobody else to do it. They would love to have you back. Most of your jewelsmiths are there,” he added, looking hopeful. 

“I’ll do my best, if you feel that would be helpful,” Celebrimbor said, dutifully, lifting his face from his hands. “Trusting Sauron is one mistake I can promise I won’t make twice.” 

Finrod put down his sandwich, and unclipped the jewelled fastenings from six braids one after the other, placing all the clips in a neat pile. Then he shook his hair out into a golden cloud that glinted in the sunlight, stood up, kicked off his boots, and danced joyfully in a wild circle in the grass around the picnic in the sunlight, avoiding the shadow of the walls of Mandos. Orodreth laughed and began to hum a merry tune for him to dance to. 

“I think he’s pleased,” Celebrían said, giggling. 

“Pleased? Pleased?” Finrod cried, still dancing wildly and gracefully among a cloud of golden hair. “There are no words to express my delight! I may have to devise an entirely new language!” 

He returned to pull Celebrimbor to his feet and into the dance. Celebrimbor got up resolutely, and with an air of careful concentration joined Finrod in twirling in a very graceful manner for one who had only regained his body that morning, his long dark hair, already loose, following him like a shadow. 

They circled the others three times, then Celebrimbor pulled away and bowed gravely. Finrod bowed back rather more flamboyantly, creating a waterfall of shining hair. 

“A rather more enthusiastic welcome than I feared!” Celebrimbor said, a little out of breath but smiling. “You know, I had wondered if you blamed me for not going with you and Beren.”

“What!” Finrod cried, scooping his hair back into a semblance of order. “Celebrimbor, don’t be absurd! You owed me no allegiance, and frankly that wasn’t the wisest thing I ever did anyway. I didn’t even drag Orodreth with me, I certainly didn’t expect it of you!” 

“Well, that’s a relief. I’ve wondered about that for years!” Celebrimbor said, sitting down and helping himself to another crayfish pasty. Then he paused before he bit into it, and gave Elrond a level look. “Elrond, you have only told me why you made an appeal for me. Yet you have asked for all the House of Fëanor to be returned to life. Why? It can’t be just that Finrod is tired of the Fëanorian Quarter!”

“I didn’t want to leave Maglor alone in Middle-earth,” Elrond said carefully. “So I spoke to Ulmo about Maglor, and arranged for him to come with me.”

“Just like that?” Celebrimbor exclaimed. 

Elrond shrugged. “Mithrandir helped me. He’s one of Nienna’s people, sent to the aid of Middle-earth. I suppose he was well placed to recommend mercy. But Maglor’s arrival in Aman caused a good deal of talk about what he had done. I hadn’t thought much about that for a long time; I knew them both as kinslayers from the start, of course. It made me think of Maedhros. I was fond of him, too, and sorry for him. But when I spoke to Maglor of Maedhros, he mentioned Caranthir. And when I talked of it with Celebrían, I had to admit that, unlike Maedhros, Caranthir had only obeyed his lord’s command to march against Doriath. Many others did the same. A couple of those who attacked Doriath are still people of our household, who came to us after Eregion fell, and many of the rest have returned from the Halls of Mandos. It just so happened that Caranthir’s lord was his brother, and his lord at Alqualondë was his father, and he had an oath to hold him to his purpose.” 

“Caranthir wasn’t exactly charming,” Orodreth pointed out, over a slice of cake. “Or likeable. He caused a good deal of trouble through not being able to keep his temper. Maedhros kept them away in the East for as long as he could, to prevent them causing division. ”

“So I hear,” Elrond said. “ But that isn’t a great crime, is it, not to be charming, or speaking rashly? Not a crime to keep someone from life until world’s end? Gil-galad is not always charming either, but you could not have a better lord or a truer friend.” 

“Caranthir could have turned away from his lord, and refused his command,” Celebrimbor said. “I did. Twice, if you count Finrod.” 

Orodreth visibly winced. 

“Ouch!” Finrod said. He put his hand on Orodreth’s shoulder reassuringly. “I did say I didn’t hold either you or Orodreth to blame!”

“Still, you must agree, it is a precedent,” Celebrimbor said calmly. “Now I think of it, it’s three times for me, if you count Gil-galad too.”

Elrond said. “Maglor didn’t ever refuse his lord’s command. Probably he should have, but by the time that became clear it was far too late. He is charming, but I didn’t want to think that was the only reason that I spoke for him! Not because he caught at my heart with wit or with enchantment, but because he was kind, and regretted what he had done, and had very little choice about it.”

Celebrimbor made a face and looked away. “We should have known. I should have known. He said to me, Maedhros, at the end, before they went off to take the Silmarils; you are the last of the House of Fëanor. You must take command of our people and ensure their safety. But we always send a letter, first. I should have known it then. He was practically spelling it out to me, what they would do. I don’t know why I was so blind!” 

“You still had hope,” Elrond said. 

“I was an idiot!” Celebrimbor said. “Maedhros, Maglor, Annatar. At least Annatar was a master of lies. Maedhros barely lied at all, and Maglor simply said nothing and didn’t look at me.”

Finrod said, “I didn’t realise that you had spoken to them, at the end, Celebrimbor. I thought you had cut off contact after Nargothrond.”

“We saw them after the last battle. The breaking of Thangorodrim,” Celebrimbor said, gloomily. “Elrond and Elros and me. They were there to try to take the Silmarils before Eönwë got to Morgoth, but of course they had no luck with it. They had no luck with anything.”

“A lot of the thralls that came out of Angband were Noldor who owed allegiance to the House of Fëanor,” Elrond said, remembering the thin bodies climbing barefoot from the tunnels, the misery on their faces, and the prison-stink of them. “Thousands of them. They went to Maedhros, of course, seeing his banners. There were far more of them than Maedhros had people left free still with him, by that time. Gil-galad gave us permission to bring them aid and comfort, and to help them with the evacuation from the Anfauglith. It was all starting to fall into the sea by then, and there was no fresh water, they couldn’t stay there. Most of them were starving and had no shoes.”

“We thought evil was ended forever, and that the time for reuniting had come,” Celebrimbor said and sighed. 

“We might still manage the reuniting,” Elrond said. “Even now, we might. I appealed for Maglor, because he was my friend, because I thought he deserved it, and because the decisions of the Valar were not altogether fair or kind. And so, surely, I had to appeal for Amrod, for Amras, and for Caranthir, who all had done less evil than Maglor did, and never had the chance to undo it. And I wanted to appeal for Maedhros too. He was their leader, yes. But still, he wasn’t well, and he was kind to us. And Celebrían said to me, that it was only right, to want to help a friend.” 

“And so it is,” Celebrían said. “I still think so, and I’ve had a chance to get to know Maglor now. He’s not a thing of darkness, and I should know. And how should I, who was a captive of the orcs, and fled to the safety of Aman, judge Maedhros harshly, who was their captive too, and did not have that choice?” 

It was not often that Celebrían sounded like her formidable mother, but now she did. 

“I put that in my letter to Manwë,” she told Celebrimbor. “Not Eönwë, not Manwë himself, knows what it is like to be beset in a ring of enemies. To have their hands on you, to be borne down helpless into darkness and torment! But I do. You too of course, and Finrod. How can they know what that is like, when they are so strong, unless we tell them? And, too, I had all those long years in Imladris as a healer, trying to keep the Edain upon their feet, facing the Black Breath and the Shadow in Angmar. It’s not reasonable to expect anyone to come back from torment and go on to hold a frontier against the Shadow, almost without taking a breath! Not without taking hurt from it. Not that I need to tell you that, I’m sure. I wrote that too. I got quite cross, in fact.” She laughed. “Then Elrond took the letter away quickly and sent it, before I had time to have second thoughts!” 

“So that made five,” Elrond said. “Leaving us with Celegorm, and your father, and Fëanor himself. I couldn’t speak to Lúthien and Beren, but Nimloth knew Lúthien. I talked to her and to Finrod.”

“And I,” Finrod said “was forced to admit, with considerable reluctance, that on the whole, I’d rather that your father and Celegorm came back so I could explain to them rather loudly that yes, it was their Silmaril, and yes, attacking Angband was a terrible idea but that in fact, Nargothrond was mine and they should have kept their grubby paws off it. Oh yes, and also that using power of voice to set fear in my people and overwhelm their will was not very nice, and ultimately counterproductive. I think that would do it.” 

“Nimloth said something like that too,” Elrond said. “She’d rather ask them why, than have them held until world’s end, unable to explain, or apologise.”

Finrod nodded. “It did help that when I spoke to Maglor, he was clearly almost as cross with them as I was! There’s nothing more annoying than when the Sons of Fëanor form themselves into a sort of solid block and won’t listen to a word from anyone else.” He dusted the crumbs from his fingers, and began to braid his hair back into order. 

“So that left us with Fëanor to consider,” Elrond said. “I don’t know very much about Fëanor as a person, rather than a sort of... symbol of rebellion. But I do know that he never attacked Doriath, or the Havens of Sirion. I know Alqualondë wasn’t planned to be a battle. I know that he died fighting the Enemy.”

“All true,” Galadriel agreed. “But, you know, Elrond, we might have returned to Middle-earth to fight Morgoth, even if Fëanor had not taken the ships from Olwë. I had wanted to go there for some time before Morgoth struck at the Trees, and so did Fingon and Turgon.” 

“Me too,” Finrod said. 

“Well, yes,” Elrond said. “But how long would that have taken? As it was, Fëanor arrived too late for Denethor of Ossiriand and many of his people. He very nearly arrived too late for Círdan. Because Fëanor and Fingolfin forced the pace, my ancestors of the Houses of Hador and Bëor came West fleeing darkness, to a Beleriand that was at peace, to meet with Finrod, to join their strength with the House of Fingolfin in Hithlum, and the House of Finarfin in Dorthonion. If Fëanor had gone peacefully home to Tirion, or had waited outside Alqualondë and begun building ships, with no experience in that art and no help with it, it seems to me that when you finally came at last to Middle-earth, you might have found nothing left in Beleriand but Doriath, and all my ancestors among the Edain dead or serving Morgoth.”

He looked up at the tall walls of Mandos, and the sharp line of the black shadow they threw on the grass. “It took us long enough to fight our way back up across Beleriand to Angband, when the Valar finally did send help. Celebrimbor, you know how difficult that was. Imagine having to do that with only the Noldor, without the Vanyar host and with all the Edain fighting for Morgoth!”

Celebrimbor made a face. “Surely the Edain would not...” he began. 

“You didn’t see what happened in Númenor,” Elrond told him unhappily. “There was no time to delay. Perhaps it was less urgent to the Valar. But to me, it seems important. Neither the Valar nor the Eldar have the same idea of time as Men. At least Fëanor was in a hurry.” 

“It’s a good point,” Finrod said to his sister. “I’ve always thought it unfortunate that the Valar said to the Noldor: you are free to leave, and yet they stood in the way of actually doing so. It was not only that our mother’s people would not give Fëanor ships. They refused to lend them, or to offer any help with ship-building, because they knew the Valar opposed it.” 

Finrod looked at Elrond, and applied the final golden clip to the last braid very deliberately. “That is one reason I went on when my father turned back,” he said to Celebrimbor. “The knowledge of how to build the ships and sail them, that was their own. They could have offered it to their friends, to their family. They did not, because that was against the will of the Valar. And so we were not free to leave, not really. What Fëanor did was... it really was pretty appalling, there’s no question about that at all. But there was something not entirely right about the other side of it, too. You know, if I had it all to do again, if I stood there, hearing the Doom of the Noldor, still I would not choose to turn back and sue for pardon. I would go on. For Bëor, and Barahir, and Saelind and all the rest, if nothing else.”

Elrond smiled at him, and looked at Galadriel. “I know that Galadriel thought he was a menace, of course.” 

“I did,” Galadriel said. “But I was very young then, and had not fallen under the Ban of the Valar myself. I must admit, that made me think, and so did years of opposing Sauron and his lies. Fëanor did try to force his will upon his people, when he was overwhelmed with grief and anger. And he was proud, and would not listen. But nobody has ever said that Fëanor was stupid! I can’t imagine him choosing to make the same mistake repeatedly. Exciting new mistakes that nobody has ever thought of, yes. But the world would be sadly lacking in songs if nobody ever made those.” 

Elrond said, ”In the end, it seemed the right thing to do, to ask for Fëanor, too. I hope I did that because it was right. Not just because no-one else can unmake their oath, and the dead in the Halls of Mandos can neither make nor unmake... I asked Ulmo what he thought. Ulmo said he thought that the fates of Elves should be decided by Elves, not by the Valar. In the end, even Fëanor is only one of our people.” 

He looked at Galadriel again. “After all, I am rather used to rebels against the Valar! We would have had a very hard time of it, in Middle-earth, without them. I’ve never felt that Ulmo took rebellion personally, even if some of the others did.” 

“I suppose you have spent a good deal of time among rebels of one kind or another. When did you find my uncle?” Celebrimbor asked. Celebrimbor was of course unusually rich in uncles, but under the circumstances, he must mean Maglor. 

“Not long after Elros died,” Elrond said. “I stumbled on him behind a sand dune. I had been looking for some time.” 

Celebrimbor’s grey eyes widened. “So long ago? Why didn’t you tell me? I was still in Lindon then! I spoke to you regularly! You never said a word!”

“He didn’t tell me, either!” Galadriel said. “Not until he absolutely had to!”

“He wasn’t your last living uncle,” Celebrimbor said. “It was my own House and I didn’t know!”

“We did discuss it, hypothetically,” Elrond pointed out. “When you were first working on the plans for Mithlond, only a few years after the war. I asked if you’d heard anything from him. From them; we didn’t know about what Maedhros had done then, of course. Anyway, you said that you would of course tell Gil-galad, if any word about the sons of Fëanor came to you. I said I would look for them. You said, be careful not to take unnecessary risks. I said I would be careful.”

“Oh!” Celebrimbor said, looking startled. He sighed. “I thought you were testing my loyalty! You sounded angry. I didn’t realise that you meant it literally!” 

“I was very young,” Elrond pointed out. He shook his head and laughed ruefully. “And yes, I was angry. I wanted to shake them both. Perhaps shout at them for a while. Make them explain. But I think perhaps you and I were having two very different conversations at the same time.” 

“I think we were. I truly wish you had told me! I spent years worrying about them. Whether they were still alive. Whether they were sane, or would come down on us as enemies one dark night. Whether they were all right! I didn’t even know that Maedhros was dead until I got here.” He waved at the looming dark walls of the Halls of Mandos to the west. Elrond wondered how they looked to him. 

“You aren’t going to shout at Maedhros though, are you, if they do decide to release him?” Celebrimbor asked. “He’s still not entirely... Well, I didn’t shout at him. Not that I was in much of a state to shout at anyone, to start with. But I did get better.”

“I didn’t even shout at Maglor, by the time I found him,” Elrond said. “I was just pleased to see he was alive. I should have told you. But Maglor asked me not to, and I thought if I spoke about him, he might vanish entirely. And I... I wasn’t sure what Gil-galad would do, if you went to him and he had to take official notice. ” 

“He would have had Maglor killed, of course,” Celebrimbor said and shrugged at Elrond’s uncomfortable expression. “Oh you know he would have, really, that’s why you didn’t say anything, and why both of us had our minds so carefully closed while we spoke. He was High King; as determined to rebuild as you or I, but more cautious. Wiser. He would have made sure you weren’t there to see it, given fair judgement and sent the last of Fëanor’s sons quietly off to join his brothers. After Doriath and the Havens, it would have been only the just and cautious thing to do. It might even have been kinder than what he did to himself.”

“He wasn’t entirely alone all of the time,” Elrond said, hurt. “I saw him when I could. And Eönwë did order that they be allowed to go free.”

“Eönwë is a Maiar, and has odd ideas about both justice and kindness. He let Sauron slip, too,” Celebrimbor said. “Both you and I were overtrusting, I suppose — though knowing what you were concealing casts an interesting light on your advice to me not to trust too much! Still, I’m glad Maglor was not entirely alone all of the time. And very glad you got away with it.”

“I knew Maglor!” Elrond said. “Sauron was a liar from the start. Maglor never pretended to be anyone or anything he was not. He never came to me, or asked for anything. It was I who went looking.” 

“Gil-galad knew Maglor too,” Celebrimbor said. “When he was a child, and innocent, and loved all his cousins. Then they attacked Doriath. And the Havens. And the Hosts of Valinor. He stopped offering second chances. I wish I had.” 

“Are you saying I should not have done it?” Elrond asked. “You would not have been left in peace. Gil-galad would have asked for you as soon as Galadriel was allowed to come home.”

Celebrimbor raised his dark eyebrows sceptically. “For me, perhaps. But who else would choose to appeal for the entire House of Fëanor, and stand any chance of being listened to? Still, I’m glad you did. It would have been a long and lonely time in the Halls of Mandos, for me, save for their company, and despite it all, they are still my family.” 

He gave Elrond an enquiring look. “And yet, I notice that Maglor is not here. Surely he is not counted as one of an excited mob that might be too much for the poor delicate spirit emerging from the Halls of Mandos? I have just left behind six of his brothers, after all!”

“Maglor is staying on Tol Eressëa,” Elrond said, glancing up at the looming walls of Mandos. “We thought that safest. I’m not very well informed on the law codes of Valinor. Maglor is, but he is several thousand years out of date, of course. I do know that If he were in Númenor, Arthedain, Cardolan, Dale or Gondor, there would be a different set of rules covering his situation in each case! But Tol Eressëa belongs to Ulmo, and Ulmo has said that Maglor’s deeds have been pardoned. That seems clear enough at least.”

“I’m not sure that the law codes of Alqualondë, Tirion or Valimar have much provision for a situation like Maglor’s,” Finrod said, frowning. “It’s somewhat unique. Presumably that is why the Valar are taking their time making their minds up about his family.”

“Apart from me!” Celebrimbor said, and stood up. “I am not sure how I feel about being judged the least controversial of the House of Fëanor, but since it means I am here, having eaten an excellent meal in good company, and about to ride away from the Halls of Mandos into the lands of life, I’ll take it.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Elrond said, getting quickly to his feet. “And now I have proved to myself that I am entirely an Elf and nothing else, by picnicking carelessly for all this time under the very walls of the Halls of Death, please can we go somewhere else?”

Celebrían put a comforting arm around him, as they called the horses back ready to ride away.