Imladris - Chambers of Cerridwen

[Cerridwen]

Well , speak to me, then, who did this thing? Cerridwen had come to her home, but she stalked the rooms, poured wine, jumpy, angry, wanting to be out searching for the brute who had killed the elven woman and so disdainfully, even contemptuously, left her dead, as if she were a slaughtered fowl, for any-one to see.
Perhaps she was too centered on her own twin to have taken much note of other evils in Middle Earth, and perhaps her ignorance was a good thing, protecting her, making her anonymous. But she had known the woman, not well, for Cerridwen preferred male company, and male talk, and was always in any case, self-contained, remote, her inner vision fixed on other things. But perhaps of because of who she was , she felt a fierce protectiveness toward the elven race as a whole. There were not so many left in Middle Earth, after all. And since, grimly, almost wearily, she had long ago decided she would stay here as long as her twin did, she not un-naturally, wished those that remained, to remain longer.

[Saeren]

(Well.. doink! There is no bio for Nurutyave, yet, but there is one for Ghi Ghandir and Morsereg, which I assume you have read.)

Thinking of Sauron and your dearest brother has tunneled your vision, pen-vell, there are other powers for evil, and some are very old. Stay where you are! I have not tried to guard you these last Ages, to have you walk out and have you disemboweled, or decapitated, I do not waste things of beauty, they are too rare in these times. His will pressed down upon hers, his was stronger, of course, he could never have survived under Sauron and Morgoth had it not been. And that of course had been the whole damned point of his quixotic act of helping her to escape so long ago, so that she would be able to live like an elf, not as a slave. He's paid dearly enough for that, he was not going to see it thrown down the latrine.
He spoke to her then of other evils, which Sauron had known of and at whiles, spoken to him of, Morsereg Dindaedel, Ghi-Ghandir, Nurutyave, such things as had been known to Sauron, he also knew, although it could not be said that he knew in any great depth, for he had been one thing all those Ages, say it never so politely, slave to his sire.
What he did, were those things which Sauron desired him to do. His journeys to see his sister had always been fraught with peril, lucky that Sauron had his eyes fixed on other things! Knowing that his son would always return, Sauron had given him a certain leeway, but none of his orders to his son involved having anything to do with these other evil ones.
In that, they were more similar to Sauron or Morgoth himself, than to Saeren, who was , ultimately, a warrior with certain powers, not a Power with some warrior abilities.
There is more death out there, I would advise you to remain where you are. Until I come for you. No, Cerridwen, the time has come. You belong with me, and it would be a damn waste to see you with your throat cut, at least you know I value you alive. necrophilia never did interest me much. His mind voice dipped into a husky purr. I will not see you dead. Women like her came along far too rarely, even the night moths of Harad, trained to please men from childhood, did not posses the sheer burning,knowleagable, enthusiastic sexuality of his twin, in that they were absolutely alike. And he fancied she was just as much a sensualist as he was, liking to surround herself with beauty. Possessive as a lover, - without the faintest hint of love, - for that had long been burned from him - Saeren considered he owned her, and her death would be a personal insult to him. Besides, where would he find another like her? At root, he was a complete pragmatist.

[Cerridwen]

The sound of horns raised in the alarum jolted Cerridwen and she ran to the balcony which looked out over the valley.
Elven warriors were somberly bearing into the valley, shrouded bodies, on litters, even through the shrouds placed over them, cloaks of their companions, she could see the dark stains of blood. Sorrow struck her like an arrow, the bright sun which shone down seemed a mockery. She thought of what Saeren had said. it was not true that all those names were unfamiliar to her, just distant and until now, almost meaningless. She would know these elves too, she knew, and she uttered a silent prayer to Mandos, and to Iluvatar, that their souls would not dwell long in the Halls of Waiting.
Imladris had always seemed safe to her, except at times, when Sauron was in Eregion, and had attacked Ost-in-Edhil, slaying Celebrimbor, grandson of Feanor, and the maker of the Three Elven Rings.
but so many long years could pass here in tranquility, one tended to forget the outside world.
But the alternative... was Saeren... and that would be little short of captivity, she knew. Well she knew he played mind-games with her, knowing her mind with its battleground of love, hate and desire, and the bond, deeper than blood, that linked them .
As the day went on, she saw other patrols go out, closer to Imladris, wanting to create an iron fist around the valley, while, as evening came on, strains of sad music rose, laments for the dead.
She heard them with an uprush of fierce anger, against the killer. Surely if some-one wished to slaughter, there were enough mortals in the world, crude, ill favoured, brutish beings , who, in her view, deserved death, not these elves. Not any elves.
She did not light any lamps as dusk drew on . But she sat down at her desk and penned a missive, folding it up, sealing it , and asking her servant to deliver it to a house on the edge of the valley.
To Maglor. Maglor was one elf she avoided. She knew what had happened to him. Saeren had told her once, lazy and laughing, and sated, for the moment, and it had drenched her in utter horror and despair. How could you do such a thing to one who has already suffered so much! She had cried, and flown at him in a fury, while he fended her off, smiling that taunting , wicked smile.
How could she admit who she was to Maglor? From a distance she saw him, with his brilliant, wounded eyes, tall and glorious as all of that house, yet she felt such shame for Saerens actions she had never spoken to him. And superimposed on that image was the memory of he and his brothers riding into Doriath, terrible and terrifying in their glittering mail, killing and sacking, madness and hatred and burning will in those eyes, to reclaim the Silmaril Dior wore.
But now she feared something more happening to him. And so she wrote , and then waited.

[Maglor]

At first, shown in to the main room, Maglor did not know what abyss of memory yawned before him. Her hair, he thought, he recognized, for even among elves, few had hair so long, or so vibrant, it sprang from her scalp as if exuberant, before tumbling down and down in cascades of thick waves to her knees, but it was only when she looked at him, he felt the crashing of memories. Because elves did not forget, ever, that was the dark side of the tossed coin of such long lives, - they remembered everything.
A forest, beautiful, and yet sorrowful, cries of battle, the clash of weapons, the madness of the accursed oath driving he and his brothers to its bitter end. A woman with hair like this, drawing a long dagger. And the eyes, golden as polished metal , blazing with rage and fear underneath it, flashes of power across his crazed mind that broke into fear as he wrenched the flowing silks from her, a body of alabaster and ivory, supple and wild and ... after, his overwhelming shame and horror at what he had done, so that he had backed away, leaving her like a smashed blossom in the sweet grass, - only smashed blossoms did not curse like that, nor look so fierce.
'' Oh holy Iluvatar no, '' he whispered, as their eyes met. She was here? All this time? The woman he had violated in Doriath?

[Cerridwen]

Cerridwen put hand up, as if to say Hush. She had never spoken of it, not to anyone. There were reasons... there were always reasons, and she was one who tried to find excuses even for her brother.
But no-one with any empathy in them, could look into his eyes , as she had that day in Doriath and not seen the marks left by that Oath. The sorrow had broken her attempts at fighting him, although she cursed him after, in a flame of bitter fury. but she was no maiden, and he was no orc, no sweaty human, he was Feanors son, and magnificent, perhaps even more so in his battle lust, which spilled over into lust for her. And that was, after all, her greatest weakness. At any other time and place, she would probably have tried seducing him herself.
'' There is danger here, Makalaure, '' She said and then stopped dead. Looking in those incredible eyes, she suddenly knew something else. Saeren! .
That was partly the reason Saeren had done what he had done to this one. Not only for his own pleasure, or on Saurons orders , but for revenge.
And when she saw him , with the survivors of Doriath, in Nan Tathren, although her pregnancy hardly showed, since Elven women gestated for 1 year, not 9 months as human women, she knew he must have seen. And said nothing. Iluvatar... that was cold...that was clever...
'' You know what happened today? '' She knew he kept himself very aloof, but he must be aware.

[Maglor]

He loosed a breath he did not know he was holding,
'' Ah, Valar.. who are you? '' He asked, his voice low and strained, '' Yes.. I know of the killings, but who are you! Iluvatar! I remember that time as if it were graven in my mind with hot steel! And yet you ask me to your house? I never even knew you lived here, and all these years I was in the realm of some-one I... despoiled so long ago. '' His long hands dragged into his mane of black hair as if he sought to hold on his head before it exploded. It might as well have been ysesterday, to him, for she looked unchanged, proud, gorgeous, with something he had been too wild the last time to notice, but did now, she exuded sensuality like a perfume, like the Noldor women of the First Age did, before the fire began to die, dimmed by sorrow and loss. But it had not died in this one. She was not avoiding his look, she did not seem reticent, edgy in his presence, her head was high, her eyes penetrating... those eyes, .... suddenly he stilled, he had seen eyes like that before, he still had waking nightmares about them.

[Cerridwen]

'' My father never gave me a name, but my brother did, it has no meaning, I am Cerridwen, '' She said levelly. '' And if, herunya Maglor, you are going to go into this.... crash of emotions now, over something which you did in a fit of madness to me so long ago... I pray thee, do not, after all, if I am going to be taken by force I would rather it be by some-one like you, than otherwise. '' her tone was crisp and matter of fact, but with a little thread of remembered excitement. Saurons .... taint had not entirely passed her by, it had made her crave , even demand , beautiful, exciting, even violent lovers. Or perhaps that was her brother.
'' Prince Maglor, you have repaid that over and over, '' her voice now was sad. '' I am the sister of Saeren, the Dark Prince. Why do you stay? I tell you now, you should go at long last, and as he has so plainly put to me, there are more evils than he in the world. One came right into this valley. I have watched you, there are not enough like you to be wasted in futile and violent death. ''

[Maglor]

Maglor felt shattering shock blast through him. Saerens sister.... and memory after memory forced itself to the surface of his mind, of Barad Dur... Saeren, who was cleverer than his sire, and more cruel, more artistic, more erotic, who knew ways to break that Sauron had never learned. And this was why? How he must have waited and gloried in that!

His eyes caught the moonlight that fell into the room like a burning glass.
'' I do not fear death, herinya, that is the last thing that I fear, '' his melodic voice shook, '' I was mad... and there is no forgiveness for what I did....in Alqualonde, in Doriath, at the Mouths of Sirion, '' he spun around, his fist caught the fine wood of the wall, and the skin cracked across his knuckles, for a moment, his breathing ragged, he rested his brow against the smooth grain of the wood. '' Your brother still enacts his revenge, '' he whispered. '' but I cannot go to Aman, I will not. ''

[Cerridwen]

Cerridwen knew she could hide things from him, but not from her twin. He was so subtle that she could not sense him in her mind, but that did not mean that he was not there. Some things she had hidden a long, long time. It was for her to reveal, or withold.
'' I can give you a reason to go back....! Trust me! Saeren has not finished with you yet. '' she whispered, intent, unblinking. '' And you know one of the things he truly wants, ''

(Check PM see what you think )

[Maglor]

His eyes darkened, '' What he desires is an impossibility! Lands have changed, coasts, the Silmaril ... cannot be recovered. And it would burn him, herinya, as they did Morgoth, as they will anything evil.
A reason to go? I have reasons to go, but I do not believe I will ever see my brothers, my father again . I think we will forever be apart, shut away from one another. '' That was what he truly feared. As it was now, he was lost to his family. But he truly did think that if he stepped on the shores of Valinor, he would be taken, in chains, and imprisoned forever, away from all light, to sit in darkness until the breaking of the world. A shiver passed through him, of age-long grief and loneliness.

( done )

[Cerridwen]

'' I have known one of the Ainur, Melian, '' Cerridwen exclaimed, '' I do not believe they are cruel, lord Maglor. Please... listen to me. You have a .... son, I bore you a son, in Arvernien. After the War of Wrath, he passed over the seas, where he could be unharmed, untouched, by Middle Earth. I never regretted him, he was beautiful, like you, with the fire of your House in his eyes. The Valar are not jailors, or torturers! I know what happened to you. You could not pay more were you imprisoned until the Dagor Dagorath. Will you not go for your son, lord Maglor? before the creeping evil of this new Age finds you again? ''

[Saeren]

Saerens voice sounded clear and very cold in her mind:
I would not wager any great amount on your son being in the Blessed Realm, Cerridwen. He knew that would drop like a lump of burning, heavy rock into her soul. He wanted Maglor here, for a damned good reason, and his twins sudden, ridiculous bearing of her - supposedly - greatest secret, annoyed him. How could she hide anything from him? Had she honestly thought she could? She was shaken by the deaths in Imladris, by his promise to come for her, by a very real concern for Maglor himself. But this was not the time.
And her son had never left Middle Earth.

[Cerridwen]

The blow was greater than he could have anticipated, she completely froze, for a moment, her eyes curiously blank, then she breathed, as if she had recieved a mortal wound, and again. She had loved her son, she had desired him to go, because things were too complex, and because it was one of the things she feared, that Saeren should somehow know and use him

No. It was a silent plea No, you could not have! She held herself with all her will not to stagger and drop down. One hand slid over her mouth and her eyes moved to Maglors face. Where is he!

[Maglor]

'' A ..son..? '' Maglors voce went thin as a lath, as he took a step towards her, then saw the change come over her, a look of horror, of anger and of anguish. A furious rill of thought leapt between them, something that bridged the gap between knowldge and understanding, '' Do not say he has my son! '' he cried .

[Saeren]

This is why you will stay until I come for you, both of you Saeren said crisp and incisive. And you WILL wait, Cerridwen, will you not? Now.