Barad-en-Elei (Fortress of Dreams)

Part Ten - Silmarili


The fortress took on the ambiance of a crypt, silent, cold, and forbidding, the entombed entity the peace and happiness wrought by the bonding of Maglor Makalaurë to Elladan of Imladris. The page vanished and nearly all the rest of servants deserted; Jatmâ alone remained and he was more taciturn and gruff than ever. The lovers avoided one another, the minstrel disappearing entirely; only the sound of his majestic voice distant, displaced, angry, and sorrowful attested to his presence somewhere deep in the heart of Himling.

Elladan haunted the place, drifting in spectral gloom from room to room, lingering in the Gallery and the memorial to Amrod and Amras, their twinned status promoting a sense of kinship he could not muster for any of the rest of Maglor's family, but spending most of his time in the cave with the Silmaril. He was torn, longing to go to Maglor but fearing the confrontation that must result. Once he tried to find him, following the eerie, disembodied voice down into a tunnel leading from the back of the gem's cavern. Before he reached the end of it, Maglor's words became clear and the lyrics of the dirge proved he was mourning for Elros again. That Elladan could not face and so he retreated to the safety of their suite.

For six days this continued, Jatmâ sympathetic but stern when he encountered Elladan, urging him to be strong like the warrior he was and confront his husband. Elladan countered that this sortie required a different kind of courage and he owned it not. The servant was not less firm with his master, exhorting Maglor to end the siege of silence and reveal his enlightenment to his husband. The minstrel countered that he was not certain he could claim Elladan as his spouse in truth, since the bond had been consummated under false pretences, and he was debating what to do about the young Lord of Imladris. As to that, Jatmâ was not above reminding the ancient Lord that he had not been concerned about lies when he failed to mention his wife in Mandos.

"Elros knew about her," said Maglor. "I thought he was Elros."

"You knew he had no memories of being Elros, regardless who he was- is- ai! You two are a pair of liars and deserve one another; that is why fate has brought you together."

"Is that what you think? Is this part of the punishment I must endure to gain atonement?"

"Why ask me? I am not Vala. But I think Ell-Adan is a gift, not a detriment and not a penance. You love him; you should tell him."

"How can I love someone I cannot trust? Ossë was right; Elladan has become enamoured of the Stone. Mayhap he came here to seek it. Maybe the rumour of the Silmaril has gone abroad once more and he was drawn here."

"Aye, he was drawn here but not to the Stone. He is the one for whom you have been praying, for whom we have all been praying; I am sure of it."

"I wish I shared your conviction. If only he would trust me enough to tell the truth, then I could believe the rest. I will have to send him away."

"You cannot! He knows all, or almost all, and Hîr Ossë will not permit him to take his knowledge back to Imladris with him. Do you want the sea-spirit to be the ending of him? Would you see him sacrificed to this madness as was D'râk?"

"You cannot blame me for D'râk," denied Maglor.

"Then who else? Ell-Adan? He knows nothing of our ways and did not understand. You do, B'rôna Kâno, and could have prevented this."

"How so? Can I control every person on Himling? Besides, he was warned; I tried. He chose the Pilgrim's Oath long ago and that was none of my doing. It was his fate."

"Fate? What do you know of it? You think the only destiny worth knowing is your own. If you understood anything about such concepts, you would not behave as though each person's fate is a singular thing, apart from all other's. Did you never consider that bringing Ell-Adan here might impact the lives of those who have dwelt in Himling Cove for centuries, serving you and the White Stone?"

"Yes, but I was not myself and was fooled. Had I been in my right mind I would not have done so…"

"Ai! You deliberately misunderstand," fumed Jatmâ. "You handled this with exceptional insensitivity, B'rôna Kâno. Your jealousy was pointless and unfounded; Ohtatyaro Nessa would never betray you with another's flesh."

"It is not lust of that nature that concerns me."

At this point the Avarin seneschal abandoned the argument and returned to the upper levels of the fortress, the plaintive tones of another lament following him through the passageways. He decided it was time to force the issue with Ohtatyaro Nessa. To do this Jatmâ had to reconcile committing a sin of tremendous proportions. For the first time since adopting the Noldorin Prince, he would have to break a solemn vow and go against his sworn oath of fealty to B'rôna Kâno.




"I demand you open your eyes and look upon the world you inhabit now. D'râk is gone but what if another should fall to the same affliction? Will you have Maglor assuage your fragile ego again? What means nothing to you can have grave consequences for others."

"What are you talking about?" Elladan reclined in the ample tub of Maglor's bathing chamber, the water up to his sternum, hot and redolent with healing herbs and soothing oils, and glared at Jatmâ. He was not uncomfortable to be naked in the seneschal's presence, knowing he had a wife at home, as he had been around D'râk. Despite his show of irritation, the servant's comment made him distinctly uneasy, as did any reminder of the lowly page who had disappeared so suddenly.

"I am saying you must accept responsibility for D'râk's dismissal. Why did you have to betray him? He could not help what he felt and meant no harm to you. Maglor has not touched him since your arrival on the beach that night. You must speak to B'rôna Kâno about this."

Elladan caught his breath, heat rushing to his cheeks as guilt assailed him. "Maglor told you? I did not mean to do that; I was in a difficult position and…"

"Hah! You did not sound as though the position was very difficult!" snorted the servant.

"You were listening? How dare you!" Elladan instantly went from abashed to provoked, sitting up in the tub, his glare equally accusing.

"Not for the reasons crowding your mind, Ell-Adan. I am not a voyeur by choice but I must protect those I am sworn to serve."

"I am no threat to Maglor; you know this." Elladan stared at the servant, confused for he could not see where the conversation was headed. Hadn't Jatmâ defended him before Ossë? "Is it for that Stone you fear? I am not a thief."

"No, you are not, nor would you seek to hurt Hîr Maglor." Jatmâ's stance softened and he shook his head sadly. "Ai! What a mess this has become! I know you would die before purposely harming him. Yet this secrecy must end and if you do not take the first step and explain all, it will end badly for everyone. Can you survive if your fear to act breaks him and he fades?"

"Fades! Nay, Jatmâ, you know I don't know want that, but I fail to see…"

"I know who you are and it is not Elros re-born," Jatmâ blurted out, folding his arms over his chest defiantly, watching as Elladan's mouth dropped open.

"Did Ossë tell you?" demanded Elladan as soon as he regained command of his tongue, fear coiling in his belly. He suddenly felt very vulnerable, naked in the bath with this stern-faced sylvan glaring down at him. "Does Maglor know?"

"Ossë explained his plan, but we have known from the very beginning."

"We? Do you mean Magl…"

"Be silent. I mean we as in the Avari people. We have lived here an extremely long time and we are strong, strong in faith and devotion to Yavanna and the works of her mate, Aulë, to this Arda we so love. We understood at once, without Ossë's convoluted and deceptive explanations, why Maglor was spared and what his purpose is. We embrace it; we have our part to play and it is vital.

"The Stone must be cleansed of the evil with which the Dark Lord infused it. This is Maglor's great work yet it has always been understood that there would be another, Barjânô, (Protector) not from among our people but his, Maglor's kin. We have always known he could not manage alone. The burden is too great."

"You think I…"

"Just listen, Ell-Adan. We believed this person was Elros, and he tried to fulfil that role but could not, for his heart was not where it belonged. He loved Maglor, but not as a mate and this was where we, the Avari, erred as much as B'rôna Kâno, mayhap more. We tried to make Elros accept a destiny for which he was never born and we have never forgotten our mistake or its impact. B'rôna Kâno has suffered so much since then."

"Jatmâ, are you telling me you tried to turn Elros into some kind of saviour? And now you have put me in this same position? Ai! It is Ossë's doing all over again!" Furious, Elladan stood and got out of the tub, wrapping a robe around him and glaring at the servant as he paced back and forth in the small space, so angry he didn't know how to react. "You are all involved in this elaborate deception going back into the last Age. That Maia uses Maglor for his plans, you used Elros, and now you both would use me," he seethed, halting and jabbing his index finger into Jatmâ's breastbone. "All without revealing what it is I'm supposed to do or what I must save him from."

"From himself, of course, from the curse of his Feänorian blood, from his deep sense of fealty and devotion to that which he most reveres. He needs aid and while my people do what we can, it is never enough and Phaja Narwâ is not satisfied. Your task is simple in comparison: just be honest with your husband and reveal who you are. All else will follow for your trust will inspire his. There is much you need to know and I have tried to convince him to confide in you, yet he is every bit as stubborn as you."

"Simple! You speak of the loss of the only one my heart can love and call that simple," scoffed Elladan, a harsh laugh leaving him as he combed frantic fingers through his sopping hair, discounting the seneschal's belief in a demanding fire god. He cast a wary look upon Jatmâ. "Are you going to tell him?"

"That is not in my plans; it is for you do." Jatmâ's conscience gave a mental wince as now he, too, was caught in the lie. "Do not fear. You will only lose him if you fail to trust him. You need to act soon; already he drifts back into the past, his mind clouding with shadows of frail memories to prevent him from feeling the hurt this betrayal gives."

"I have not betrayed him!" bellowed Elladan, fists tight and eyes wild. "No one loves him as I do! Never, never would I betray Maglor. I have abandoned everything to be here with him and here I will stay for as long as he'll let me. This is Ossë's doing!" Again Elladan raked his hands through his hair and set to pacing, a vile curse leaving his lips. "I heard that odious monster telling Maglor to get rid of me, and he didn't mean sending me back to Imladris!"

"Ah, as I suspected; you were listening." Jatmâ nodded, a grim smile on his lips. "Then you know I am not your enemy, Ell-Adan."

"Then what is all this about? I do not want to be the fulfilment of some convoluted sylvan prophesy or the saviour of the saviour of the last Silmaril. Valar! This is madness and I want no part of it."

"What do you want, Elladan?"

The question startled them both and servant and Lord turned to face the open doorway where Ossë leaned in casual menace against the jam. His piercing eyes burned into Elladan's and held him fast. Slowly he straightened and entered the small chamber, dismissing Jatmâ with a flick of his wrist, the seneschal vanishing as if he had never been there, all before he could raise so much as a whimper in protest.

"Ai! What have you done?" Elladan cried, staring at the empty place occupied by Jatmâ just seconds ago.

"Nothing, he is only confined to his quarters until I am finished with you."

"Hîr Ossë, I…"

"Oh, 'Lord' is it? Not 'odious monster'? I suppose that's an improvement," the Maia growled. "I expect an answer, elf-child." His presence filled the room and he towered over the dumb-struck warrior. "Maglor tells me you prefer the Silmaril to him. How does that fit with your bold testament of love and devotion?"

"That's a lie!"

"Ah, a subject in which you possess singular mastery."

"You created that lie; I never meant to reinforce it. I told him, tried to tell him," Elladan stuttered, backing away as the perilous Maia advanced. Soon he could go no further, the edge of the wash-basin pressing against his back. Heart pounding, Elladan wondered if there was any known defence against the kind of power this being could wield. Only one thought came to mind and he voiced it at once. "If you kill me here and now Maglor would be crushed. There would be no saving him again. He loves me and this you cannot change."

Ossë halted, his contorted visage smoothing into an expression of surprised amusement, and he laughed aloud, reaching out to settle his scaly palm against Elladan's shoulder, gripping tight when he felt the elf flinch under the contact. "Oh! You are great to have around just for the comedy you provide," he enthused once his mirth was expended. "Such talk of love, as though it is something grand and immutable, immune to the might of the Powers and the will of Eru. You know nothing about love, foolish elf-child."

"I am not a child and I know enough about it," insisted Elladan, heartened by this change in demeanour, and he dared hope there was yet a way out with faer and hroa intact.

"Hmmm, no, I don't think you do. Perhaps you need something of a lesson, an example of true selfless love to guide you to enlightenment. I assure you, the person I have in mind far outshines both your and Maglor's pitiful expressions of the tenderer aspects of the spirit."

"I don't understand you; are you referring to Thingol and Melian again?"

"Hardly! A more selfish and self-serving form of this much vaunted emotion is difficult to find. No, I speak of someone here in the present Age. I speak of D'râk."

"The page?" Elladan could not have been more surprised had the sea-spirit named Sauron. He looked upon Ossë's face, the pale eyes agleam with that malicious, sadistic hunger so chilling to behold. Shivering, he wetted his lips and asked what he now feared to know. "What happened to D'râk?"

"Why, you broke his heart, of course."

"Nay! His interest in me was not of the heart but the body."

"So the one cannot exist alongside the other? What then of your wild antics with Maglor? I saw you two in the training fields - shocking!" Ossë chuckled darkly as he backed up, pulling Elladan with him, and then with a thought removed them both to the lowest levels of the island's stony roots. Elladan's startle and gasp made him smirk. "Here we are. Don't you want to know what happened to poor D'râk?"

"He has been removed from the staff here. Maglor sent him away, nothing more." Elladan saw that they were in the corridor at the back of the shrine to the Silmaril.

"And all the other servants were so loyal to this lowly page that they've quit in a show of solidarity? Oh, how little you understand the Avari! How limited your knowledge of what drives the Feänorion soul!"

"I know about the Oath that drove them all to ruin. Maglor is the exception; he alone has atoned and been forgiven."

"Again you presume to predict the judgements of the Valar. Who are you to say who has atoned and who is absolved? You certainly possess the arrogance of Eärendil, but otherwise you are too pale a replica," he said, assessing Elladan up and down. Boldly he took the robe and pulled it open, freely groping the elf's lax genitals so that he yelled and squirmed to get loose. Yet Ossë held him fast, bonds of some terrible magic rendering him immobile and powerless. What happened next sent Elladan's mind reeling.

From the very air the Maia produced the Silmaril, bearing it in his free hand. Gently he traced it over Elladan's body, touching it to the most sensitive regions, rubbing it over nipples, across the tips of ears, down the lean torso to lightly traipse the length of the hardening shaft.

"Daro!" Elladan gasped out even as his hips rocked to bring the head of his penis in contact with the gleaming jewel. Everywhere it touched him warmth and passionate desire flowed and he could not tell if it came from the stone, from Ossë, or from himself. Both horrified and fascinated, he watched as the Maia circled the smooth facets of the gem over the brimming slit, the light of the Silmaril piercing it, infiltrating his cock, stimulating him from the inside. "Why?" he cried, tearing his eyes away to meet the gloating glare of the demi-god.

"You'd love it if I shoved this vibrant stone up your arse, wouldn't you?" he sneered.

"Avgaro!" Elladan's eyes widened to impossible proportions and he shook his head, his protest belied as he bucked into his own grip, masturbating under the cold mocking stare of the vile sea-spirit.

"Yet I would not sully the Silmaril, or my hand, with such base hungers." Abruptly Ossë muttered something beneath his breath and touched the jewel to the tip of the rigid erection, watching as Elladan howled in pain and grabbed his organ with both hands, staggering back to slump to his knees against the wall. "Burns a bit, doesn't it?" said Ossë calmly. "Now you understand something of the sensations that raged through D'râk whenever he was near you. Tell me, Elladan, do you want release?"

Elladan could barely focus on what he was saying, the pain in his penis so intense, a combination of icy heat and unbearable fulness, as though it would burst in his hands. He feared to open his eyes and look for certainly such searing heat had scorched him to a bloody mess. Yet the erection remained, hard as iron in his protective clasp, the tingling remnant of the incredible energy still dancing off the pinnacle of the abused organ. Gradually his thoughts cleared and his heart-rate slowed as the gelid agony subsided a little. He found he was shaking and gulping in noisy sobs of air. He felt violated, helpless. Ashamed.

The Maia stood waiting, watching, tossing the glittering white jewel of living light up into the air and catching it. "You are pathetic," he jeered. "Look at you, kneeling on the floor with your fists locked around you cock, dying for release and afraid to stimulate yourself."

"Why?" Elladan choked out, unable to raise his head and meet the watery aqua gaze.

"Do you think, feeling this way, that you would not follow through and finish the job? Ah, actions speak louder than words," smirked Ossë, his eyes trained on Elladan's hands, which were slowly stroking the aching column of red flesh. "Oh, look at the noble lord, so far above the lowly cravings that move a mere sylvan page's heart. At least he loved the one he lusted over, meaning you. I doubt you feel any tender feeling for me, yet there you are at my feet with your full cock in your hand. Yank on it all you want; it will not provide you with the orgasm you crave. Not until you've completed this little exercise in the depths to which love can make a person sink, or rise as the case may be." He laughed at his joke and went to Elladan, jerking him up to his feet so hard he pulled one of the hands off the inflamed penis. As Elladan groaned in wanton agony, Ossë took that hand and slapped the stone into it.

"Take it with you and go through the corridor. Have you ever visited Rôda Maril and faced Phaja Narwâ, that improbable God the Avari worship? Nay, you have not, for Maglor does not really trust you. He knows that once you see what is there, your so-called love will wither and droop like a spinnaker in the doldrums." He gave Elladan a little shove to get him moving but the elf could only stagger a few steps before sinking to his knees anew, trying to stifle a groan as he frantically worked his cock to no avail.

The need to spill was overwhelming and yet the more he pumped the worse it became with no comforting sense of imminent release. "Maglor, saes, tollo enni," he cried softly, longing for the Noldorin Prince to come and get him away from Ossë, convinced that once he was beyond the Maia's reach the spell would be broken.

"Ai Valar! Calling for him will do no good. Do you think he doesn't know what I'm doing? I told him to deal with you but he couldn't, so all the company you'll have through this ordeal is me." He came and crouched down beside Elladan and looked him over with loathing and disgust, tapping the tip of the engorged cock just to see it twitch. "Manwë's Breath, how could I have chosen you? Whatever smidgeon of Noldorin blood runs in your veins, it has been diluted to the point of extinction. You are not worthy to be the mate of a Feänorian Prince." He stood, dragging Elladan once more to his feet and keeping a firm grip on his elbow, escorting him down the passage, intending to see him all the way to the entrance to the cave if necessary. Before they had gone ten steps their progress was interrupted.

A sudden spray of mist announced the arrival of one supremely disapproving and agitated Maian sea-goddess. Uinan slapped her husband soundly across his sallow cheeks, eyes ablaze with disappointed fury, the blow powerful enough to send him careening against the stony wall. At nearly the same time, she pried Elladan's fist off his erection and briefly settled her own there. Favouring him with a compassionate and apologetic look, her touch instantly removed all sensation of agonizing desire and returned his organ to its normal, unexcited dimensions. Taking his hand again, she placed it over the one holding the Silmaril and gazed into his eyes. Without speaking she conveyed to him that he need not make this journey, that he was free to return to his rooms and await his Lord in peace. After that, she rounded on her husband.

"Nay, Hervess (Wife). It is my duty and you know it. Do not speak to me of cruelty when so much is at stake. He needed a lesson for D'râk's sake. Indeed, I have been lenient on account of Maglor's love, else I would have destroyed him outright."

Uinan regarded her mate with silent censure for some seconds more, her figure melting into the molecules of the air until she was gone. It was enough.

"So be it. You heard my noble Queen of the Deeps, Elladan. You are free to choose. Go and see what kind of love is required of the spouse of a Feänorian Prince or resume your frivolous fantasy life with your gentle-hearted kin-slayer of a husband."

Elladan stood slowly and straightened, achieving his full height with effort, every bone in his body aching as though he'd been caught in a landslide and buried. He drew his robe close about him, trying to salvage his dignity and quiet the raging slogans of self-doubt and insecurity rejuvenated by Ossë's taunting words. The Maia was right, of course; he was not fit to be Maglor's chosen one. Somehow he'd ruined everything and couldn't understand where or when he'd failed. Everything hurt, his heart and his soul and his mind, bruised and battered by this detestable demon of a Maia for no reason he could name save the fact that he loved Maglor and would stay. Was that not what Ossë had wanted?

"I did. It went too far. He was not supposed to love you." Ossë answered the unspoken query, scowling. "At least, not enough to tell you our secrets. It is too late now; you cannot be trusted to remain loyal as he has done. He has reasons you could never imagine."

"Yes, I can. I know them for we have spoken of it. What have I done to make you doubt me?"

"It is what you will do that is the problem, Elladan. You half-elven folk of Tuor's line are all so self-righteous and sanctimonious, preaching about the Will of the Valar when you know absolutely nothing about them or their designs. You believe Maglor has explained what he does here on Himling? I say to you he has revealed only what he thought you would deem acceptable within your narrow, biased, and blind-sided notion of morality."

"Maglor does not see me thus."

"Enough. Another choice stands before you, son of Elrond. Make it."

"I will go on and see this example of pure and selfless love you judge me incapable of achieving," replied Elladan, lifting his chin defiantly though the effort to do so was greater than he might wish and he could not hold the Maia's gaze.

Marking Ossë's slight nod of acknowledgement, Elladan began his trek, his steps slow and shuffling for he was not recovered from the shock his body had received in the power of the Maia's manipulation, a sign of the depth to which he had resisted though this was not evident to him at the moment. The only thing he could focus on was placing one foot ahead of the other, bracing himself against the wall as he went, the Silmaril clutched tight against his chest. From it soothing warmth infiltrated his body, bathing his afflicted heart with tender and sorrowful apologies and soothing promises of protection and love. These were but vague and fleeting, for the allusions to protection elevated Elladan's fears and the gem had no wish for him to suffer more.

But it is just a stone. However pure and clean the power within it is, it remains confined and cannot truly provide either love or protection. It is only a cheat after all.

Considering how many had died over this compelling and hypnotic bit of fakery, Elladan felt sick. The Silmaril transmitted its own disgust over the notion.

The passage was natural, a great rounded conduit through which fluid must have passed for aeons of time, leaving the walls and floor smooth and polished. It was unadorned and without artificial light from either torches or lamps, which confused Elladan greatly for while the tunnel was by no means bright he could easily make out the walls and his own person. Light came from a source ahead. There were no side-tunnels or caverns opening from it, only the straight channel of the hollow tube, and he plodded along dismally, wondering where Maglor was and whether he truly knew what Ossë was doing to him. Had he given up on their love so quickly? The idea assailed Elladan's heart bitterly and all the soft prodding of the living light could not undo that wound.

What was he expected to find in this cave? Once he faced it, should he survive, what then? Would the Maia leave him be and let him live? Unlikely, his warrior's instincts warned. Whatever was in this Crystal Cave was surely meant to destroy him. Yet Maglor had come this way often and returned without incident. Elladan had heard him singing and playing his harp down here many times over the last six days. Still, if he knew what was here and was its master, then he would not be harmed. The image of a Balrog arose in his mind, for the passage was descending and the air growing warmer with every step. Elladan felt at his side for a sword that was not there.

What has any of this to do with D'râk?

Elladan paused, finding he was short of breath, and wiped his hand across his brow, shocked to feel a film of perspiration there. His throat was parched and he longed for water, the air stifling and dry. The logical thing to do was to stop and go back. Whatever was at the end of this tunnel was meant to do Ossë's evil deed for him. Yet if he reversed his direction he would have to encounter the Maia again, and Elladan could not believe the vengeful demi-god would permit him to simply go return unharmed to his rooms as if nothing had happened, no matter Uinan's assurances. Arguing with himself led nowhere and persistent but gentle prompting from the Stone won him over; after resting, he went on.

The passageway cut down and down into the heart of the submerged peak, the light increasing along with the heat, becoming an odd red glow similar to the last rays of Anor at day's end. His legs felt heavier with every step and his lungs laboured to breathe the thickening air. A faint odour permeated his senses which he could not identify, though its detection set off alarms simply because its source was outside his comprehension. The idea of poison filled his thoughts and his heart lurched. The urge to turn and run almost overcame him, but his courage held and he continued, recalling that Maglor had returned form this place unharmed. His grip upon the clear white stone grew tighter.

At last a sudden dip in the tunnel dropped him down a metre and brought him within sight of his destination. The mouth of a cave gaped a mere two metres ahead, the orange gleam spilling out of it bright and garish. A deep breath steadied his nerves and Elladan trudged forward, pausing on the threshold with a sharp gasp. He'd expected something horrible, something unspeakably vile and evil, but such notions could never describe the cavern or its contents. Awe struck, he stumbled in, peering around him and overhead in wonder, for the place was ablaze with the reflected light of a hundred thousand glittering red gems.

Whether they were rubies or garnets he had no idea, but they clustered over the walls of the cave in great bunches, some of them the size of his fist, others sprouting from the floor and the ceiling, hanging in long interlocking, interwoven chains of jewels where stone had spawned stone and all had grown into each other. The effect was dazzling and he wandered amid a garden of frozen blooms. Heat came off them and he recognised that, though it was stronger, more potent and somehow filled with hunger he could not comprehend. He reached out to touch one and at once the white stone in his hands gave off a violent burst of light that startled him and prevented the action. It was the reminder he'd needed; Ossë had not sent him here out of kindness. He had to keep his wits sharp.

The cavern was immense, cutting deep into the mountain, the roof of it high and vaulted, twinkling with the vermilion stones, dark as blood, lit from within by a light of their own. He wandered deeper, heading for a second entrance spied in the far right corner, drawn by an urge he couldn't name, something that superseded mere curiosity or stubborn determination to find and confront whatever lurked in this subterranean temple. The word came of its own accord and made Elladan halt. There was a presence here, a sentient soul calling to him, luring him in. He was at the second cave's portal now and leaned forward to gaze into the interior, for the way in was small and the room it accessed also much more compact than the great chamber in which he stood.

The light was not so bright inside but he could make out low forms, mounds or little hillocks, lined up in neat rows across the floor, all encrusted with the red gems. Elladan's eyes adjusted to the dimmer illumination and he realised his assessment of the cave's size was both right and wrong. While it was surely lower from top to bottom, there was no diminishment in its area concerning length and breadth.The cavern extended beyond the range of his vision, all of it filled with these tidy, ruby-studded humps.

Like individual tombs in a barrow long forgotten. Mayhap these are the graves of Maedhros' warriors, lost in the War of Unnumbered Tears, here enshrouded not in earth and decay but in precious jewels spawned from the heart of the mountain.

Thinking this, he entered with respectful deference, no longer fearing what he would find, and walked among the ordered ranks of bejewelled cairns, for he was certain his guess was right. As he passed, he looked upon them and found confirmation; deep within the facets of the flickering gems he could faintly make out the shape and form of elves reposed in permanent sleep. He could not discern features clearly for too many centuries of time had allowed the gems to multiply, encasing them in coffins of thick, translucent crystal.

The cavern seemed endless and the deeper he went the stronger became the feeling of being watched, or stalked perhaps. His instincts perked up and he clutched the white stone closer. In this environment of Maiar magic and unknown, potent power he knew it would afford him his only protection. Silently, fervently he begged the Silmaril'said, but no answering warmth returned. The gem was cold, its light stark.

He reached an area where the buried soldiers were not from so great an Age ago, judging by the lesser density of the overlapping gems, and he wondered how that could be for Himring had been inundated at the close of the First Age. He imagined Maglor having the dead brought here after the Last Alliance, so to provide a decent burial, yet the notion seemed far-fetched. He paused for the ranks of barrows came to an abrupt end, the row shortened and the last tomb bearing only a thin film of rubies. He bent and looked upon the face beneath, gazing down into amber, upturned eyes and a softly smiling face. An Avarin face. Elladan's heart froze. It was D'râk.

"Nay!" He shouted in horror and staggered back. This could not be. The page had only been dismissed, sent back to his home amid the trees. His indiscretion had not warranted this! "Nae, Maglor!" he wailed in misery, for he could not escape the conclusion: his husband had condemned this ellon and seen to his execution, all because Elladan had feared to admit his lie.

He turned and stumbled deeper into the cave, finding his way to a raised platform of rock, upon it another altar of pearly flow-stone, so pristine, so white compared to the gauche and garish crimson of the devouring rubies. For that is how it seemed now; these blood-thirsty stones were drawing the energy to grow from the decaying bodies entombed so far beneath the wholesome light and air where green trees sheltered the colony of sylvan elves. The altar beckoned, its flat surface inviting for he was weary in body and soul, his heart shattered to know his beloved's hands were still covered in blood, the very hands that caressed him in love dispatched these elves. How many? Too numerous to guess; he hadn't thought to count them as he passed between the bejewelled graves and now he had no desire to put a figure to this infamy, this holocaust.

Elladan leaned against the altar, tears rolling down his cheeks. Why? What reason could justify such mass destruction? There were more bodies lying here than he'd ever seen on any field of battle on which he'd fought. Did Maglor kill off his Avarin lovers after he'd tired of them, feeling some bizarre need to punish them for his betrayal of Elros' remembered love? Nay, there were far too many for that. It made no sense and with a sick and defeated heart he realised that only madness could encompass such carnage and yet permit the perpetrator to go on living. He sank down to the floor, back pressed against the altar, clutching the Silmaril against his breast, and stared up at the glaring, fiery rubies covering the roof of the cave.

"Ai, Maglor, beloved, not this, not this."

Ossë's cryptic warnings made sense now. How could he love the person capable of such murderous acts? Was it done on this very altar, so white and clean? The thought made him shudder in revulsion and he made to rise and get away from it, seeing rivers of blood pouring down its glistening sides. He found it difficult to get his feet under him, his legs heavy and his head buzzing with a strange, foggy noise that cluttered his thoughts and muffled his senses. Elladan dropped back in hazy alarm to his knees, elbow propped atop the gruesome slab. He was poisoned or drugged, that sickly sweet smell carrying his doom into his lungs. So Ossë's predictions proved true to the last: the one he most loved had sent him to this gruesome end in these red catacombs.

He wanted to lie down upon the altar, to sleep and forget this nightmare, to wake in his own bed in Imladris, never bound in matrimony to a murderer.

Mayhap it would be best never to waken. How could I face Maglor? How can I explain to my parents? I cannot be the one to reveal his grotesque insanity, his lust for killing. Valar! There must be hundreds! If I die, no one will know what is happening here and Maglor will be spared.

That seemed the best course to his impaired brain and Elladan resigned himself to join the uncounted others who had gone before him, those who had loved Maglor and paid for it with their lives. It was right; had he not been the one to cause this fate to be visited upon D'râk? Aye, even Jatmâ said so; the page was his responsibility. He'd broken his heart and sent Maglor to finish him. A sob left him; he was a kin-slayer now, too. He managed somehow to crawl onto the altar and sighed a sad lament, thinking of his parents and his brother who would not know what had become of him. Ah, but that was better than the ugly truth, was it not?

He stared at the red stones overhead, noting with faint interest that they seemed to be pulsing and getting closer. Was the cave collapsing? Nay, he'd have heard the rumble of the stones falling. The ruby gems almost seemed to be moving, clumping together, forming an extension that reached down for him, almost like a limb. He laughed at that thought even as the idea gripped him; now he could make out eyes and a face in the crystals above. A strangely familiar face, the features discernible even beneath the mask of sanguine light, an elven face. The arm that had formed was nearly to his chest now and Elladan gazed at it in surprise, comprehension dawning as the hand reached for him, a still and lifeless hand, a hand crafted from pure mithril to replace the living one cut off by Fingon on Thangorodrim.

"Maedhros."

The head tilted to peer at him, a quizzical expression in the strange glittering eyes that traced his face as if looking for a clue to reveal his identity. The hand descended and the tip of a mithril digit touched Elladan's forehead. He jerked and gasped; the sensation was so cold, ice turned into steel, more frigid than anything he'd known before, and the next instant changed to melting heat. Elladan screamed. The creature's gaze registered surprise and the devastating hand lifted. Desperate to get away, Elladan tried to roll from the altar and found he hadn't sufficient energy to manage it, his body heavy and unresponsive, paralysed, so weighty it might be made of the stone.

The hand approached again and he struggled to evade it, but the finger dove in, relentless, and pressed against his chest this time. His heart was being torn from his body, only that could account for such horrific agony and Elladan no longer registered the shrill shrieking that filled the room as his own voice. The torture increased and his ability to resist diminished; he felt the disgusting thing drawing his life off the way a spider drains a captive bug. The instinct to survive demanded a last effort and somehow he raised his arm, pushing against the dreadful mithril hand with the pale white stone still locked in his rigid fist. A blinding spark of blue and white burst from it upon contact with the entity and when it cleared the pain had ceased.

Elladan was inside the Silmaril again, safe and protected, and within the sanctuary of the crystal lattice he beheld the eldest of Feänor's sons. He watched the last days of the last of the Noldorin Princes unfold, seeing their final effort to secure the Silmarili thwarted, not by the action of the host of the Valar but by the brutal history of their own bloody deeds. He saw how madness overtook them and each fled to his separate doom: Maglor to the sea, Maedhros to his mountain fortress. Into its heart he raced, the pain of the burning stone more than he could stand yet he would not give up the gem.

A convulsion of the earth heaved through Himring; the Valar had begun the destruction of Beleriand. A great rent appeared in the bowels of the mountain and from it an incandescent fountain spewed high into the tunnels. The spray fell upon Maedhros and burned him. In despair he looked into the simmering lava welling up from the deeps and cast himself into it, the Silmaril still clutched in his charred and bleeding hand.

But that was not the end.

The Powers called upon Ulmo and he answered, ordering up his oceans to inundate the lands, creating the island as it now stood, and as the sea water met the molten rock, great were the explosions beneath the surface of the mountain. The lava broke new channels and poured through the foundations of the isolated peak, pooling as the waters boiled off, quenching quickly to freeze around huge bubbles of gas given off in the fomenting eruption, forming the empty caverns that remained as the gases seeped out into the atmosphere.

And even this was not the end, for nothing is ever lost, merely transformed into something new.

The fortress remained hot and periodic invasions of the ocean into its depths created steaming fluids rich in minerals and the living substance of both the Silmaril and Maedhros. Deposited in the caves, the crystals began to grow. No longer pure like the Silmarili, the red gems were infused with all the flaws of the Feänorian Prince but little of his consciousness for it was dispersed amid the many jewels. Mixed with the potent power of the living light, and still tainted by the evil of Melkor, the stones grew, demanding an abundance of energy to increase in size, driven by some incoherent need to break free, to escape the confines of the geode in which they were trapped.

And all of this was as the Valar deemed just. Maglor was called to tend what remained of his brother, lured by the promise of the white jewel that was his to hold if he would do this thing. At first, that was all he could be made to realise, so deep was his break with reason, but Elros refused to desert him and so he was employed as well, without knowledge that the stone had truly been found. How could he believe such ravings, such wild claims that Maedhros was entombed within the growing crystals, the light of his Silmaril now blended with his blasted soul? When he at last learned the truth, it was enough to turn him from the Valar, and from his own kind, forever.

A blood-freezing scream of rage, terror, and despair jerked Elladan from his comfortable seclusion, free of the rending pain and sapping tap of the mutated remnant of Maedhros and the Silmaril. He inhaled loud and long, finding himself on the ground, thrown free of the altar. He felt as though his insides had been liquified and squeezed out of him through his very bones and groaned in misery. Hands reached for him and he shrank back, trying to get away from the terrible entity, only to hear his name and see above him a face he knew. He could not find strength to keep his eyes open to be certain and closed them, felt his mind slipping away.

"We must get him out of here!"

He knew that voice and loved it.

"Maglor?"

"Then go; take him and I will deal with Phaja Narwâ."

Jatmâ, surely.

"No, he is my responsibility. Take Elladan back to Himling Cove. Use the underground passages lest Ossë try to drown you both."

"I know what to do, but how will you stop Phaja Narwâ? Once awakened, he must be appeased."

"Give me the Silmaril, Elladan." Maglor's voice pleaded and carefully he pried the stone from the grasping fingers wrapped around it. "I am sorry; this was not how I wanted it to be. Jatmâ will see you back to Imladris."

"Nay," Elladan tried to protest and found his strength rebuilding now that he was beyond the reach of the devouring rubies. He struggled to rise, clutching at Maglor. "Let me stay; I love…:"

A blinding flash of pain assailed his temple and he fell unconscious.

~ More to Come ~

Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.