Rebirth and Reunion

A/N: I wrote this as a birthday fic for Anu, and because there was a lack of either Maglor or Finrod fics out there. Put them together and here we go! Hope everyone enjoys, and happy birthday Anu! ::hugs::

Rebirth and Reunion

The Halls of Mandos were lit by torches, the fires dancing merrily in the faint, cool breeze that blew through the silent corridors. The walls were lined with numerous tapestries expertly crafted by Lady Vairë, who delighted in detailing the history of the elves. His footsteps echoed faintly as he walked the long halls, golden hair floating behind him. Dark robes, contrasting strongly with his hair, trailed in the wake of his steps, creating soft shuffling sounds upon the stone floor as he walked gracefully.

Finrod Felagund never thought he would pay the Halls of Silence another visit, at least not while he was still living. Given another chance at life, he made the most of his days and never regretted his actions. He often wondered about the comings and goings of life on the Outer Lands; he visited the Lady Vairë to be entertained with her evasive stories of events she would not reveal until they had been properly woven. On the occasions when the son of Finarfin had visited the Vala, he had been in open gardens and courtyards, never in the Halls of Death. Now that he was living again, it felt strange to Finrod to be walking the quiet, darkened halls.

“Finrod?”

His footsteps ceased as he turned at toundound of his name. Behind him, framed in the light from outside, stood Vairë the Weaver. Her dark hair reached to her hips in rich, wavy folds over a gold embroidered midnight blue gown. Her skin was pale, nearly white, but radiant; she wore little jewelry and walked barefoot within her husband’s halls. A kind smile was upon her face as she gazed upon the Prince of the Noldor, who bowed to her respectfully.

“Lady Vairë,” Finrod greeted politely.

“Come, I have been waiting for you.” With a sweep of her gown, the Vala had turned and led the way back outside. Finrod followed her silently, recognizing the path they were taking and wondering why he had been summoned. “Your questions will be answered in time, dear Finrod,” Lady Vairë said whilst gazing at him from over her shoulder. There was a mirthful twinkle in her almost silver eyes that Finrod found a bit unsettling. The Valar had something planned for him, he could sense it.

Soon they arrived in the open courtyard Finrod was so familiar with. In the center of a marble gazebo that had been built ages ago was the Vala’s weaving, half finished upon the wooden loom. Wordlessly she resumed her seat before the loom, adding a few strands to the tapestry with nimble fingers. For long moments she said nothing as she worked. Only when Finrod cleared his throat did Vairë look up, smile and motion him into a seat near her.

“Why have I been summoned, my Lady?” Finrod asked as he claimed the offered seat.

“Do you not know?” the Vala replied.

“The ways of the Valar are sometimes strange to me despite the years I have spent in your presence and councils. I do not believe I will truly understand your ways, therefore I do not presume to understand. I was summoned here to speak with you for a reason; now, I would like to know what that reason is.”

Vairë laughed richly at his eloquent words. “Your words are wise, dear Finrod. Yes, you have been summoned here for we of the Valar have a task for you.”

“What kind of task, my Lady?”

She turned from her weaving, fixing her silvery gaze upon him and regarding him quietly. Finrod was an excellent choice for this task; Vairë reminded herself to tell Manwë such when next she saw him. “We of the Valar,” she began, watching his reaction to her words closely, “wish for you to sail to the Outer Lands and reclaim Maglor, son of Fëanor.”

“Maglor? But why my Lady?” The idea confused Finrod greatly. Why was it necessary to bring Mr bar back to Valinor? Was it not self-imposed exile the reason Maglor had not already returned? Finrod couldn’t even begin to understand the nature of thartiarticular task; nonetheless, he sat patiently and waited for the Vala to continue.

“We feel that he has suffered and lamented for his lose long enough. The Valar have forgiven Maglor and wish him to rejoin the Eldar here in Valinor. Few of the elves remain in Middle-earth at this time; many of them will leave when the King Elessar’s rule has ended and his unborn son will reign. But we wish Maglor to rejoin us, now. For two Ages of the world he has been alone in self-exile and torment. It is time to welcome him home.”

“That, my Lady, I can fully understand. But what I do not understand is why I am being sent? Would Maedhros, reborn from Lord Mandos’ halls, or one of the twins, Amrod or Amras, not be more appropriate for the task? They are, after all, Maglor’s brothers, his closest kin. I am merely a cousin, and we were not well acquainted when last we met.”

“Perhaps. But remember, Finrod, it has been many years since either of you have seen one another. Both of you have a compassion for others, a willingness to help when necey. y. Despite Maglor’s readiness in accepting his father’s oath and the consequences placed upon his actions, he knew and understood his responsibilities to this world. And, try as he could, he attempted to resist the temptation of the Silmarils and renounce his oath in the end. For that he has suffered, but it is time to end his suffering. And only you, Finrod, can help him.”

“I do not understand how, my Lady.”

Vairë smiled, laying a slender, pale hand upon the pr’s s’s slightly broader one. “In time, you will. We have already informed Círdan of your leaving. You will leave no sooner than twenty risings of the sun from today.”

“Twenty? Can I not leave sooner? Maglor has suffered e foe for so long.”

“’Tis true that he has been alone for much of his life. But nay, Finrod, we will not permit you to leave before the twentieth sunrise from today.”

He nodded, understanding what he was being asked yet unable to comprehend the reasoning behind the decision. Rising slowly to his feet, Finrod bowed deeply to Vairë before turning to leave. She watched him until he disappeared from the courtyard, before turning back to her weaving.

“In time, dear Finrod,” she whispered as her hands expertly moved over the loom as she wove Maglor and the prince’s fates, “in time you will come ndernderstand why we have sent you. In time, you will come to accept this gift we have given you, and embrace it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It had been long since he felt the Sea’s wind upon his face. Finrod remembered the difficult crossing of Helcaraxë, and was thankful that, for this journey to Middle-earth, he stood in safety and comfort aboard the white vessel of Círdan the shipwright. Seven days they had been at Sea since leaving the white sands of Valinor behind; during those days, Finrod had spent much of his time in Círdan’s company, getting to know the shipwright. They spoke of events, past and present, many of which Finrod had not been witness to. It had been a rather relaxing journey overall.

But now the rocky shores of Middle-earth’s Western coast were looming into view, and the wordsVairVairë returned to Finrod’s mind. He had to find Maglor and persuade him to return to Valinor, but where to begin his search? Vairë had not told him where the son of Fëanor was, nor did Círdan know specifically; the only thing the shipwright was certain of was that Maglor was somewhere along the coast they were approaching. When Finrod had questioned him on the matter, Círdan had replied that he had seen Elrond leave a small swaddled bundle near the entrance to one of the numerous small caves before the Imladris lord had left Middle-earth. When Círdan had returned a few hours later, the bundle had disappeared without a trace and light footsteps were impressed upon the damp sand.

After being reassured that Círdan would wait for his return, Finrod had set his feet upon the shore and began to explore the coast line. He took his time as he walked, trying to remember the lay of the land; he found the task impossible. All features of the Middle-earth he knew had changed with the reshaping of Arda in the Second Age. The prince began to wonder how Maglor managed to survive the reshaping, but knew that somehow he had.

Finrod spent the better part of the early afternoon exploring caves, hoping to find Maglor residing within one of them. He found neither elf nor any trace that indicated the caves had been inhabited recently. He was approaching the Northern most part of the shoreline when Finrod decided to stop and take some rest. Whilst nibbling on some lembas Círdan had provided him with, the prince of the Noldor sighed deeply, allowing the Sea breeze to rustle through his hair. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of the waves and the air, allowing them to calm him.

It was then that he heard it, a gentle voice filled with a great deal of sadness singing a lament. For a moment Finrod thought his ears had deceived him, but then he heard the voice again, a little louder this time and the words more distinct.

You are here alone again
In your sweet insanity
All too calm, you hide yourself from reality
Do you call it solitude? Do you call it liberty?
When all the world turns away to leave you lonely

The fields are filled with desires
All voices crying for freedom
But all in vain they will fade away
There's only you to answer you, forever

In blinded mind you are singing
A glorious hallelujah
The distant flutter of angels
They're all too far, too far to reach for yo
I
I am here alone again
In my sweet serenity
Hoping you will ever find me in any place
I will call it solitude when all my songs fade in vain
In my voice, far away to eternity

“Maglor,” Finrod said, opening his azure eyes, and turning to gaze at the elf who was approaching him.

The son of Fëanor stopped upon seeing his cousin. Dark gray eyes regarded Finrod closely from behind strands of black silk. Maglor wore the faded colors of the elves that had inhabited Imladris before their departure; Finrod guessed that the garments were part of the bundle Elrond had left behind. Pain, constant pain, was etched into his youthful seeming features. He appeared thinner, more haggard looking than when Finrod had last seen him, but still healthy and very much alive. His hair shimmered in the afternoon sun, long and sleek, and his eyes still held an inner light.

“What are you doing here, Finr Mag Maglor asked. His voice was still musical yet a t a tone of sadness. He dared not step nearer to the golden-haired elf, but remained at a distance, his right hand tucked carefully within the wide sleeve of his robe. “No one has come to see me in years save for Elrond, and he came to repay the years I kindly fostered him and his brother. You owe no such debt to me, so why are you here? Why did you come back from Valinor? What purpose do you have on this Middle-earth?”

“I have been sent by the Valar, Maglor,” Finrod said carefully whilst rising to his feet and facing the other. He made no sound or movement as Maglor issued a none too amused laugh.

“The Valar?! To what purpose would they send you here? The elves have left the Outer Lands save for a few who have unfinished business. Men rule these lands now; what need is there for your return?”

“I was asked to bring you back, to bring you home to Valinor.”

Maglor’s eyes widened in genuine shock as Finrod’s words registered within his mind. The Valar wanted him to return? “Why? Why would they ask me to return? I should be banished from the Blessed Realm, banished and forced to live out my days on these rocky shores until the world forgets about elves and the deeds we have performed. I do not deserve to return to Valinor after what I have done.”

“The past is the past, Maglor. We cannot forget what has happened, nor can we change our actions. But we can start anew. Come back with me; you have been forgiven, and your brothers await you.”

“My brothers?”

Finrod nodded, daring to take a step closer. “Aye, they await you. Maedhros has been reborn; he is a mere one hundred years in age now. Amrod and Amras will celebrate their thirtieth conception year in a fortnight. Lord Mandos says Caranthir and your other brothers still have some time in the Halls of Waiting, but will be reborn one day.” He dared another step, bringing himself within an arm’s length from where Maglor stood rooted to the spot by his words. “They ask for you daily, Maglor. Come back with me and see them again.”

“I cannot.” He turned away from the piercing blue gaze, burying his hand further into his robes at the same instant. “I cannot return, Finrod. I cannot be forgiven this easily. Pain and injury have I caused due to my reckless actions. ‘Tis not right for me to return to the place of my birth. I should remain here until the end of Arda.”

“That is not to be your fate. You have lamented for far too long. Come back, Maglor; I implore you.”

Maglor lifted his gaze suddenly, pinning Finrod with a searching look. “Implore? Why, Finrod? Why do you care?”

“Because I do. Please…”

Hdn’tdn’t know what to say. Finrod seemed genuine in his admission, and appeared to want to help Maglor return to the Blessed Land. Did he really deserve to go back? His heart and mind warred with one another over what to do. Maglor wanted to return, wanted to be with his brothers again and forget all the ill deeds he had done in the past. But a part of him said nay, he had to remain because of those said deeds. Maglor decided to, for once, trust his heart rather than his mind’s reasoning. “I will return with you, Finrod.”

The news relieved him. The prince had been prepared for a battle but, surprisingly, had involved himself in nothing more than a mere skirmish. Finrod nodded his golden head, and smiled brightly at the other elf. “Círdan is waiting for us just down the shoreline. I asked him not to leave until I return; we will set sail as soon as you are ready.”

“I am ready now, but there are a few things I wish to retrieve.”

“Lead the way then.” Finrod followed as Maglor turned and made his way along the shore back the way he had come. Only after a few minutes of walking did they arrive at a partially hidden cave; Finrod entered silently after Maglor, gazing around at the small but modified space.

A circular plot of white sand covered with a few worn cloaks served as a sleeping area; off to the side of the plot resided what Finrod recognized as Maglor’s harp. He was a bit surprised to find the instrument in good working order, not knowing whether the dark-haired elf still played after so many years. A pile of neatly folded garments rested upon a smooth stone, similardesidesign as the one he wore now; they, like the cloaks, were well-worn and their colors had faded with age. Yet, somehow, Maglor managed to make the robe he sported seem regal and elegant.

“How long has it been since you went into exile?” Finrod asked curiously as he claimed a seat upon a stone.

“I stopped counting the years long ago,” Maglor replied, gingerly removing his right hand from his sleeve and reaching for the pile of garments. He winced slightly but made no sound. “I spend the days alone,” he continued, “singing and lamenting. Only the birds hear me, but the idea of loneliness ceased to bother me ages ago.”

Finrod nodded, not quite knowing what to say. He sat quietly, watching as Maglor went about gathering and preparing what few possessions he still had. /He is pained. His hand…he was burned when he tried to reclaim a Silmaril. Maglor, you have repaid your ill deeds long ago. ‘Tis time to start anew back in Valinor./ Finrod thought back to Lady Vairë’s words of now twenty-seven days previous. Twenty-seven? The number struck him as odd. There was something about today that he couldn’t quite get out of his mind…

“Maglor? Today is your conception day, isn’t it?” The dark-haired elf froze at his words, nearly dropping the bundle he held in his hands. Yes, today marked the day that Maglor had been conceived nearly eight thousand years ago. /So that is why the Valar would not allow me to retrieve him before twenty days had passed. They wanted me to reclaim Maglor on his day of conception. But why this day?/ “When was the last time you celebrated on this day?”

Maglor sighed, sinking onto the nearest stone and allowing his small bundle of possessions to slip to his lap. “Ages ago. I remember Maedhros presenting me with a magnificent horse at the last celebration I had. I don’t want to think about those days.”

“You’ve been alone all this time, and you’ve never happily celebrated your conception day.”

“It’s just as any other day, Finrod. It’s just like any day in the long line of days since my exile. Conception day, summer day, rainy day, there really isn’t any difference. Besides, who wocelecelebrate it with me? The fish in the Sea? The birds in the air? Nay, they will listen to my songs, but they cannot celebrate with me. And I cannot celebrate the day alone. So, I choose not to celebrate.”

“’Tis a sad fate.” Feeling a touch bold, Finrod rose to his feet and stepped towards the dark-haired elf, who had turned his gaze to the ground. He knelt before Maglor, holding the other’s eyes with his piercing blue orbs. “But I am here now. Won’t you celebrate with me?”

“Such an idea! And what, pray tell, would the two of us do alone? Conception days are supposed to be a joyous celebration with family and close friends. What would two elves do alone on such a day? Besides, where‘s my cake?” The dark-haired elf smirked as Finrod laughed, the pair remembering Maglor’s fondness for sweets. He was rather intrigued as to what Finrod would suggest, but Maglor felt a little anxious at the same time. Everything the golden-haired elf had told him up to this point had been mind-boggling; Maglor was still trying to digest it all when Finrod had mentioned his conception day.

“We can do whatever you want. Círdan is not expecting me back until later in the evening, and I do not expect us to set sail until late in the night or next morn. Come now, Maglor; after over four thousand years of loneliness, surely there must be something you wish to do today.”

He thought long and hard on the matter, more for Finrod’s sake than his own. But, in the end, Maglor had to give up. Sighing dejectedly, he turned apologetic gray eyes towards the other elf. “Regretfully I can think of nothing.”

“Nothing at all?” He frowned slightly when Maglor shook his dark head. “Then, may I give you a present?”

“You have a present for me?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Maglor was inclined to decline the gift, not quite being able to reason what it could possibly be. But Finrod seemed genuinely sincere and the dark-haired elf found himself nodding. A moment later, however, his eyes widened in shock when Finrod gently placed his hands upon Maglor’s knees, straightened his posture and captured the other elf’s lips with his own. It was a brief, chaste kiss but it was quite unexpected. Maglor could do nothing more than stare when Finrod pulled away and pinned him with his azure gaze.

“Why did you do that?” Maglor asked tentatively as he brushed his fingertips across his lips.

“’Tis my gift,” Finrod said simply. “You have been starved for affection all these years. Did you not miss the touch of another, Maglor? The embrace of your brothers, a lover’s kiss? Did you not miss them at all?”

“Aye, I did miss them,” the dark-haired elf replied sadly. “I missed them terribly. But there was naught I could do about it. I would have been shunned should I have sought out another.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“You think otherwise?”

“I sought you out, did I not?”

“By the will of the Valar you did. You did not come of your own free will.”

“How can you be certain that I did not?” Finrod gave him a small smile; he was beginning to understand why the Valar had chosen him. /Both Maglor and I have missed the touch of another. He has missed his brothers, and I have missed a lover. Amarië has taken someone else, and I have no one. Perhaps now that will change. We can heal together, Maglor./ “Who is to say,” Finrod continued, “that I would not have come on my own whether it was by the Valar’s will or not? I could have denied them.”

“And incurred their wrath?” Maglor looked positively frightened at the prospect of this golden-haired elf receiving punishment for disobedience.

“My father is the High King of the Noldor; I do not think I would have been punished.” He drew closer until his face was barely touching that of the other elf’s. “We both need healing, Maglor. Too long have our hearts wallowed in the darkness of loneliness. Let us find in one another what we could not find alone, or with others.”

Maglor swallowed thickly at Finrod’s words and their implications. “We cannot do this, Finrod. We are cousins, first cousins. Such action is forbidden between us.”

“We have the Valar’s blessing, Maglor. Why else would they send me?”

“To find me, retrieve me and take me back to Valinor. That is all.”

The prince smiled, drawing his companion closer until their foreheads brushed together, dark hair mingling with gold. “The will of the Valar is never so simple; you should know this.”

“Can we really do this?”

“Your brother and Fingon were forgiven for the love they bore for one another, the love they still bear; we are no different from them. I am willing to try, Maglor. The question is, are you?”

He nodded, almost without realizing he had done so; leaning forward, Maglor reclaimed Finrod’s lips with his own. He made a soft mewing sound when the golden-haired elf gently returned the caress, drawing Maglor from his seat until they were both kneeling in the white sand. A gasp left his lips as he drew back when Finrod touched his right hand.

Confusion flashed in Finrod’s eyes to be quickly replaced by understanding and sympathy as he gently took hold of Maglor’s hand in both of his own. “’Tis the burn of a Silmaril,” he whispered knowingly. “The pain you must endure for the oath you took.” He gazed down at the scarred palm, tracing the pattern of the jewel of Fëanor, now forever etched into the smith’s son’s skin; Finrod winced when he heard Maglor draw in a sharp breath at his touch. “It still burns you, even now after all your laments, regrets and pleas for forgiveness. Would that I wish I could take this pain from you.” Gingerly he raised the hand to his lips, bestowing a tender kiss upon the skin.

Maglor held his breath, expecting the nearly unbearable burning sensation to come again when Finrod placed his lips upon the scarred palm. But no pain came; instead, a warm, balmy wave swept through his sensitive flesh, soothing the aches he had felt all those long years. A relieved sigh left his lips as the golden-haired elf repeated the action. “It has been many years since I did not feel the jewel’s burn at a mere touch,” Maglor whispered.

“Then I am glad I could take away some of your agony,” Finrod replied before claiming another brief kiss. He turned his head, gently nuzzling the patch of skin below the dark-haired elf’s ear whilst moving Maglor’s hand to the top clasp of his tunic. His hands fell away in a silent request for Maglor to continue.

Hesitating for a moment, almost unsure of himself, the dark-haired elf gathered his wits and, fumbling slightly, undid the first of many intricate clasps on Finrod’s garments. When he was half done, he felt slender hands working at the worn lacings of his own robe. Slowly, Maglor brushed the garment from the golden-haired elf’s shoulder, marveling at the play of lights over the luminescent skin, another trait he fancied came from the Vanya blood Finrod carried. He bent to kiss the smooth curve of skin, smiling faintly as he heard Finrod sigh in bliss. “’Tis a wonder no one has claimed you yet, meleth,” he whispered.

“Why is that?”

“Someone as beautiful as you is unclaimed until now? I find that a little difficult to believe.”

Finrod gave an amused laugh. “You intend on changing that fact?”

“Aye, I do.” Maglor kissed the golden beauty, exploring the pliant mouth with a curious tongue as he continued to disrobe Finrod, being disrobed himself in the process. With a gentle shove, he had Finrod sprawled over the spread cloaks, golden hair fanning out around him. Creeping on hands and knees, Maglor approached his prey, raven hair sweeping across the white sand. A lazy smile spread across his face as slender arms lifted and wrapped around his neck to tug him down.

Finrod sighed at the skin on skin contact, arching his back to press their bodies together. When was the last time he felt this free, this alive? He couldn’t remember no matter how hard he tried to recall. A blissful moan escaped him when Maglor’s lips fastened over an ear tip as the dark-haired elf’s hands began to roam the plains of hidy. dy. Burying his hands in the cascade of black silk, the son of Finarfin surrendered himself to the sensations. He gasped, eyes opening suddenly when Maglor’s hand closed itself around his hardening arousal.

His gray eyes were closed as Maglor concentrated on the feel of the elf beneath him. He felt Finrod squirm as his fingernails gently raked against the heated, overly sensitive flesh and his thumb brushed over the already weeping head, smearing pearls of pre-cum that had collected. Trailing kisses down the glowing skin, pausing once to nip a collarbone, Maglor replaced his hand with his mouth, taking Finrod in fully. Swallowing experimentally, he smiled as his partner shuddered at the sensation, panting and whimpering for more.

And more he gave, lavishing his lover with licks and nips to the most sensitive of areas; Maglor felt Finrod was about to come when his golden-haired lover began to thrust, almost uncontrollably, into his mouth. Pulling away quickly, he gave more kisses as he slowly crawled his way back up the slender body until he met the kiss-bruised lips again. The son of Fëanor greedily sucked on the tongue that darted past his lips and into his mouth as he pressed against Finrod, groaning when their straining erections rubbed together. He pulled out of the kiss as realization dawned upon him. “Finrod, meleth, I don’t…”

“I don’t care,” came the ga rep reply in his ear. “You won’t hurt me, melamin. Just…please…now…”

Not taking the chance, Maglor gave him another kiss before placing two fingers against Finrod’s lower lip. Obeying instantly, the golden-haired elf drew them into his mouth, lavishing them languidly with his tongue. Maglor bit his lower lip to keep from groaning at the erotic sight; he bent his head, beginning to suckle the skin of Finrod’s neck as he withdrew his hand and sought out his lover’s entrance. Massaging the puckered guardian ring, he slipped first one then two fingers in, slowly stretching his lover; Finrod suddenly tensed beneath him, gasping in surprise as Maglor located the bundle of nerves.

“Now…please…” Finrod was reduced to begging as his sensitized body trembled, hands gripping handfuls of raven silk in his fists. He forced his body to relax as he felt the blunt head of his lover press against him; letting out a slow sigh, he pressed back against Maglor as the other elf entered him in one fluid motion. Finrod sighed at the feeling of being filled, but was thankful Maglor had paused to give them both a moment to adjust.

He felt so complete, so light; Maglor couldn’t remember the last time he had felt such. This perfect being was giving him more than he had ever wanted, ever asked for in his entire life; he smiled at the thought. When he felt Finrod press against him impatiently, Maglor knew that it was time to complete the circle. Pulling out slowly, he pushed back into his new lover, gasping at the feel of velvet walls closing around him. He repeated the action, picking up speed; Finrod gasped beneath him, tightening the hold he already had on Maglor’s hair. Changing position just slightly, the dark-haired elf tested the angle, smiling to himself when he heard his lover whimper at having his prostate brushed again.

Valar! If this was why he had been sent to retrieve Maglor then Finrod was all the more glad he had accepted. Surrendering himself to the sensual dance of their joining, he closed his eyes and reached between them. Finrod hissed as his fingers gripped his weeping arousal, pumping it in time to their rapid motions. Maglor’s hand wrapped about his own, adding to the stimulation whilst his other hand was captured and held in the one scarred by the Silmaril. He curled one slender leg around Maglor‘s thigh to force the penetrations deeper. Stars twinkled and danced behind his closed eyes as he felt something pooling in his groin and tightening. With a choked scream, Finrod came, spilling his orgasm between them in creamy waves.

Once his lover had reached his climax, Maglor felt mes ces clenching about him tightly; he came, releasing himself inside Finrod, coating the surrounding velvet walls with his essence. His arms trembled, unable to support him any longer after his overwhelming orgasm. Sinking to his elbows, Maglor fell into the warm, welcoming embrace of his lover as sleep came and claimed them both.

~~~~~~~~~~

He awoke to gentle hands combing through his hair, brushing wayward locks from his face. Blinking once to clear the haze of sleep, Maglor smiled, lifting his head and claiming a kiss. “Thank you for this gift, meleth,” he whispered before replacing his head upon Finrod’s chest and snuggling up to him.

“It was nothing,” Finrod replied, bestowing a kiss upon the dark crown. “’Tis your conception day.” He smiled as he felt Maglor kiss his neck; for a moment neither spoke. “How does your hand fare?” Maglor’s head suddenly lifted at his inquiry as gray eyes scrutinized the scarred palm in question. Finrod watched as his lover flexed his fingers once, twice.

“It no longer pains me,” he whispered in disbelief. “For the first time in years I feel nothing.”

“’Tis a gift from the Valar,” Finrod said knowingly.

“Nay, you are their gift to me. I cannot remember a conception day that I enjoyed so much. I shall cherish this day.” He stared down at Finrod with a hint of hope in his eyes. “Will we have more days like this? More days spent in bliss and complete forgetfulness of the outside world?”

“Of course, melamin. Our fates our bound together now.”

Maglor smiled, stealing another languid kiss. They parted as the sun began to set and the voices of Círdan’s crew was heard, calling Finrod back to the ship. In silence they dressed as Finrod helped prepare the last of Maglor’s possessions for the journey. After another kiss, they left the cave hand-in-hand, and made for the white ship that would carry them back to Valinor.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Mag” M” Maedhros threw himself at his brother even before Maglor had fully stepped off the gangplank. Amrod and Amras bounded after him, their identical copper colored hair blazing in the sunlight as they dog piled atop their two elder siblings to the shouts of ‘gwanur!’ The sons of Fëanor blended into an unrecognizable mush of arms, legs and hair with the sound of Maglor‘s laughter filling the air.

Finrod smiled affectionately at his laughing lover as he stepped off the ship and onto the white sands of Valinor; he had been away no more than a fortnight, and yet nothing, as expected, had changed.

Fingon came to join his cousin in marveling at the sight of the brothers, reunited after being apart for so long. How many nights had he comforted Maedhroen ten the eldest son worried about his brother; and now the worry was over, for all of them. “I don’t know how you did it,” Fingon said, “but you managed to convince him to return. What did you do?”

“Nothing. Just talked some sense into him and…”

“And?” He arched an eyebrow in question as Fingon turned to his golden-haired kinsman.

“And gave him a present.” Finrod merely smiled at Fingon’s blank, confused look as he turned back to the brothers and locked gazes with Maglor.

Seeing the golden-haired beauty staring back at him, Maglor ignored his brothers’ incessant questions for a moment and concentrated on Finrod. His lover had done more than bring him back; Finrod had given him something Maglor thought he had lost a long time ago. He had given him love. For that, Maglor would be eternally grateful. It had been a happy conception day indeed--even without the cake.