Chapter Text
Betrayal
Rainel turned the sofa to the side. It had solid wooden legs, good for screws. The car arrived at the driveway. It was louder than most cars, but still she was proud of the improvements she'd made to it.
She measured the sofa and moved to the ornithopter.
Melkor joined her, and Sarnel soon after him.
“So what happened on that island? Maybe you can tell it in a less confusing way.”
“I'm not sure—” She glanced at Sarnel. “I threw the sword into the sea. The rest is rather emotional and private.”
Sarnel winced. “I told him that part. That part where I almost… almost shot that woman. But I don't remember the whole argument very clearly, and you talked with Dukan. Can we turn it back down?”
Rainel nodded and soon they two sat on the sofa while she was marking the ornithopter floor with a pencil. The large door in the back was open, letting her see the others.
“I told Dukan that you aren't that bad now. And that awful sword kept talking to me and I think I yelled too much.” She paused to measure where to put another mark.
“He thought we were worshiping you or something like that. And was rather mean about it, well, with the sword being there everyone was angry and they started fighting. One of them threatened us with a gun.” Another measurement.
“You should have kept it. You know how hard it is to get a gun?”
Rainel turned to look at him, dropping the measuring tape. “And what would you do with it?”
Melkor shrugged. “I thought you supported keeping weapons just in case.”
“I think a gun is one of the very things that could— it's one of the things you shouldn't get. Because it can end badly for all of us.”
He didn't reply and she finished putting the marks. Finally, he said. “Well, you may have a point there. So, you were quarreling with those people…”
“Yes. Gurthang was— I think it would have everyone kill each other. It was terrible. Not even saying the worst things — it was much easier than what Maglor had shown me — but it was… I don't know what to call it.”
“Yes, I remember it was quite fun. In a way you wouldn't like. And yet your legends say…”
“Our legends are wrong,” said Sarnel. “I told you.”
“Oh, right. So the sword wasn't that much of a problem after all. Maglor must be really upset,” he said happily.
Rainel took the drill. Metal was more difficult than wood, but the sofa was occupied, so she started with the holes in the lattice of the hull. She had already put the boxes for cargo on the other side, to keep it balanced. The boosters would be mounted on the outside.
She moved to drill another hole, worried. She'd have to fly with very rough estimates of the orbital speed. Rainel had never been good at astronomy, and doctor Dukan definitely wouldn't want to help her now. It was so close… he’d said that he would finish the calculations that week.
If they just hadn't flown to that island, everything would be much better.
Sarnel looked at her mom, biting her lip. They sat in the living room, with tea in the nicer set of cups. Rainel seemed even more nervous than her.
It was the older woman who broke the silence. “I assume you have something to tell me?” Her smile filled Sarnel's heart with pain.
“We aren't getting engaged. We are leaving,” she said, trying to not look away too much. “I'm not sure how to explain this to you, but Rainel’s plan isn't this— isn't stupid at all.”
Mom looked at her, puzzled. “How can you know that?”
Sarnel swallowed. “Those two men we work with. They aren't exactly human.”
Rainel nodded.
Mom closed her eyes for a long while, holding her teacup tight. “If Rainel told me such a thing, I would worry about her state of mind. If you alone told me that, I might have suspected that you're trying to make fun of your old mother. But with you both…” She paused. “You don't plan to come back, do you?”
“We’ll return if we can,” said Sarnel. “But it’s a slim chance, if any.”
Mom blinked intensely. “I knew I would have to lose you one day, but I thought you would simply get married, and not necessarily both at once. I don't know what to say. Take care of each other.”
“Do you want the details, or would you rather not hear them?”
“I’d love the more technical part. It is something I can mostly understand.”
Rainel smiled. “It turned out that my friend— my ex-friend, who was doing some of the calculations for us, sent them just before we had a falling out. They came in the mail just today. I suppose the post office is still celebrating the summer break, but at least they eventually did deliver his letter.” She spoke eagerly, ignoring her tea. “He sent me new estimates for the orbit—”
“I'm not good with astronomy. Tell me about your booster,” said mom, calmer now.
Sarnel drank her tea, listening to the talk of solid fuels, forces and thrusts, and trying not to wonder how much mom would cry later, when she would think that nobody could hear it.
Her eyes fall at a small photograph of her father hanging on the wall. He stood tall, next to an experimental airplane, and for the first time Sarnel could understand the wide smile on his face.
The call of the unknown was dangerous, but it was also impossible to resist.
The ornithopter was ready, and the sun hung low above the distant city buildings.
“We’ll have to tie you up to this pipe next to the sofa,” said Sarnel. “Only the pilot seats have belts, and the start will be rough.”
Maglor looked at her. “I can handle myself.” In the blueish light of the ship’s internal lamps, he looked even paler than usual. His hair was partially loose, part of it was put into thin braids. He wore something blue and… elvish? Of course he would have something like this, even if old and with.
Melkor, not surprisingly, wore a suit. White, elegant and new. The sisters had their work clothes on, for safety and comfort. Their more elegant dresses laid in the cargo, along with gifts and other things.
Sarnel took a deep breath and looked at the star-shaped embroidery on Maglor's tunic.
Focus on the incomprehensible…
Why did she even have to do this? But better safe than sorry. And Melkor said that it was necessary. He was an expert on evil, wasn't he? And all that oath was definitely evil.
“Please,” she said. “I'll cut you free when we're stable in the air.”
“All right, if it matters to you, we can do it. It still seems more comfortable than the car.” He smiled.
“Rainel?”
They both tied him tightly, under his arms and in two places at his legs.
Sarnel took a deep breath and forced herself to look at Maglor's face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you the whole truth. You're going to spend the whole way tied. For safety reasons.”
“What?”
“You know whom we'll be passing by on our journey. And we all know what that means. I'm sorry.”
“But I wouldn't— I didn't—” Maglor closed his eyes for a while. “All right, I see. I wish you had just told me from the start. But I can understand, and I don’t blame you for lying in what seemed like an extreme circumstance.” His smile returned. “Anyway, you can’t tie anyone properly without tying their hands.”
They did, with his detailed advice. She looked her friend in the eyes once more. “Thank you, really.”
“Sarnel… You are probably too cautious. It isn't that strong. But I’d rather spend the journey tied than have you fear me. And indeed, with things like that, it’s better to err on the side of caution. Of course, this means he needs to be tied for the whole journey too. I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Yes, that’s the plan.” She took another coil of rope and turned to Melkor.
He stepped back. “I didn’t agree to getting tied.”
“I didn’t ask. It’s a condition. First, it will really be very chaotic at the start, that argument was true. It's dangerous. Second, you aren’t more trustworthy or predictable than Maglor.”
“Hey! I thought you trusted me. Somewhat.” He was tense, his eyes darted around.
“Yes. We trust you. We trust Maglor even more,” said Rainel, “and he's still tied.”
Sarnel nodded. “You’re both superhuman creatures with dark pasts, Maglor please don’t give me this look, I didn’t— We’re not going into an argument about morality here. I’m talking about logistics. The point is that you both need to be tied. Or we won't go today. We’re already running late.”
“We go today,” said Rainel. “We have ten minutes to start, we can do it.”
“I don’t like being tied,” said Melkor quietly, desperately.
“I get this. Nobody will do anything to you by force. But if we are to fly, we need to figure something out. Do you have any suggestions on how to make it easier for you?”
Maglor snickered.
“Please, don’t make it worse,” said Sarnel to him.
“Worse? You dance around his fragile little feelings, but what about my feelings?”
“I asked you.”
“And I didn't complain about being tied! I didn't blame you for lying to me. And he? He throws a tantrum about everything and you let him!”
Sarnel didn't know what to say, and Maglor didn't give her much chance to speak anyway.
“We want to be safe and have the one weapon that gives us any chance? We're idiots and he mercifully lets it slide. I show Rainel the truth about him? I'm starting a fight and have to go away. I don't want him to be left alone with you? Morgoth gets offended because he's vaguely reminded of how he got his due and you— you're nearly apologizing to him for it. But I can get tied and nobody asks whether I am comfortable with it or not? I compromise all the time and he— ”
“It is difficult for him.”
Rainel was talking with Melkor and Sarnel hoped he would miss at least part of Maglor's rant.
“You know what's difficult? To have a fucking monster chain your brother to a cliff and break him and torture him for years! To see him return and never be the same, and to not be able to do anything to help. That's difficult.”
Sarnel sighed. If they started fighting now…
“Just imagine. Imagine someone did this to Rainel. And I'm expected to take his fucking feelings into account? Really? He deserves all the difficulties in the world.”
“You're not expected to,” said Sarnel, “but I am taking everyone’s feelings into account. Nothing Melkor has done removes the need for basic human decency.”
“He's not human!”
“I am.”
Maglor looked into her eyes. “You cannot be friends with him and with me.”
Rainel joined in. “We can be friends with anyone we choose. We're much closer friends with you, but still, she's right, forcing anyone to do something that terrifies them is wrong.”
“It doesn't—” Melkor said, but Maglor cut him off.
“I'm glad we agree, because this describes a lot of his deeds. And ‘forcing someone to do something terrifying’ is an enormous understatement.”
Rainel smiled at Melkor. “If you're not terrified, we can tie you, right?”
“I don’t like being tied.” He looked down. “All right, I am. Going up there, with all the stars doesn't help. I— the last few thousand years have been too much.”
“You deserve all that and much more,” said Maglor. “All you deserve is lying defeated and begging for death.”
“Can we gag him or something?”
Sarnel out her hands on her hips. “We aren't gagging anyone! We respect you both no matter how hard you try to get us to pick a side.”
“So what do we do with Melkor?” asked Rainel.
“If it was you,” said Sarnel, “I’ll give you your old plushie. But I’m out of ideas. Maybe a few minutes break—”
“We haven't finished talking,” said Maglor. “Please, Sarnel, I thought we were friends. A friend doesn't ally themselves with someone who shattered your life. They just don't. Please. I beg you. You two are more important to me than anything.”
Rainel talked with Melkor and pulled something out of her bag.
Sarnel looked at Maglor. “Thank you. You are immensely important to me too. And to Rainel, I’m sure of it. The thing is, friendship is complicated. I can treat Melkor without needless cruelty, even though you hate him, and at the same time I can still care for you deeply.”
Maglor looked at her, expressionless. “You cannot. You have to choose, Sarnel.”
She swallowed. “If treating Melkor better than he had treated you and your brother will cost me your friendship, I will still do it. I will be there waiting for you, in hope that you change your mind one day. But if not, it’s still a price I’m willing to pay.” Her heart felt heavy, but there was relief in it.
He closed his eyes. “So be it.”
Sarnel turned away, so that he wouldn't see the tears following down her face. There weren't many of them, apparently the weight of loss couldn't be measured simply by the amount of tears. She dried them discreetly.
Meanwhile, Rainel finished tying Melkor, who seemed more relaxed now, and pulled curtains over the portholes.
“I’ll visit you when we’re on a stable course,” said Sarnel and both sisters went through the door to the narrow passage between engines, and then another door led them to the front part.
Sarnel buckled herself and started at the control panel.
“Ready?” asked Rainel.
“I'm not sure. That was…”
Rainel put a hand on her shoulder. “Don't worry, he'll get over it.”
“I don't think he will. Rainel, they have both been through more than we can imagine. People don't just get over their close ones being tortured.”
“I know,” said Rainel sternly.
“I'm—”
“But they should get over their friends not treating someone like a piece of trash only because he's— all that.”
Sarnel smiled despite the pain. “I don't think anyone has been in this situation before. Anyway, I will miss Maglor… At least we're ready.” She looked at her sister. “What did you do to convince him?”
“I gave him a part of the broken chain to hold. You know, instead of a plushie. To remind him that things got better.”
“Oh. Of course you would do something like this, you brilliant crazy girl. I think now we can start. We don’t have much time left.”
Sarnel closed her eyes on the explosion. No, they weren't falling, so it wasn't an explosion, at least not an unplanned one. Despite the booming noise and tremors they were climbing higher into the sky, and the shore below them moved with an insane speed, giving place to the ocean, now glistening red.
Still, something was off.
Rainel sat on her chair, looking at her compass — it was a new thing, pale blue and elegant — and at papers on her lap. “We should be—” She glanced at the controls. “Yes. The speed is within the margins I expected.” She had to almost yell to be audible over the noise. How bad must it have been in the back, closer to the boosters?
“Don't you want to look at the view?” asked Sarnel, though it was still hard to move around with all the shaking and she wouldn't risk unclamping herself.
“Later. Now it's the most important part. I have to make sure I use the boosters with maximal effectiveness.”
They flew for a few minutes and the noise gradually died. Sarnel closed her eyes, appreciating the relative silence. Now even the two engines working seemed like a gentle sound of the waves.
Waves… She opened her eyes, realizing something. “I thought we were going to go east?”
“Yes, to get to orbit— we— Oh shit. I must have read the compass— but it says—” She took the compass and turned it around.
Rainel swearing? That was something.
They were going over the sea, and the rising moon was on their left.
“Well, we can land somewhere in Ertanor, and call it a day,” said Sarnel. “It should be a safe area. And it's still a breakthrough in terms of flight. Maybe we simply weren't meant to reach the Undying Lands. Or, even better, we go back. You can safely land on the sea, even at night.”
“No,” said Rainel, frantically browsing through her papers.
“It would be safer. And how are we going to buy fuel after we land in some primitive mining colony?”
“Maybe we can still work it out. I'm not turning back yet. If the speed is high enough…” Rainel scribbled something with a pencil.
Sarnel kept the machine straight, admiring the view. They were higher than ever before, and the clouds, seen from above, resembled large blobs of purple and gray whipped cream, but more intricate. The sea below them was dark and it was hard to tell if the water grew more distant with time. It didn’t seem to, which was a bad sign for any plans of reaching the orbit. They would be safer if they didn't, but Sarnel felt a pang of disappointment.
Rainel slammed the papers down. “I don't get it.”
“Huh?”
“Dukan's calculations are utter rubbish and I haven't checked them enough before the flight. We would never reach orbit with this booster, even if the compass worked. And despite this, he gave me wrong angles, wrong speed… as if he expected…”
“He gave you this compass too, right? In the same letter?” Sarnel sighed. “You know, dates on stamps are easy to add and everyone can put a letter in a mailbox.”
“He could have killed us.”
“Maglor stopped them—”
“No, I mean with the speeds. He could have given me instructions that would—” Rainel shivered.
“He sabotaged us. That's bad enough. A few weeks ago, I would all be like ‘I told you so’. But I wonder…”
“What?”
“I'm not sure. Keep going.”
The stars appeared in the darkening sky, and the clouds were now lit from the side by silver moonlight.
Rainel sat in the chair slumped, without her usual energy. “We should think about the landing possibilities. We have enough fuel to reach Ertanor, but we need to find a good place to land. And how are we going to return? We need to turn back and admit that I failed. And devise a new plan.”
“Rainel. Please, give it more time. I feel that we should go further.”
They flew in the starlight.
After some time, Rainel asked again: “How are we supposed to ever get there when nothing works? Maglor hates us, we're going the wrong way, the booster is too weak… How many times will I have to try?”
Sarnel bowed her head. “I don't know. I'm sorry, maybe I'm not making much sense.”
“No, if you want, we can keep going. I like it here, it's so peaceful. Maybe… nevermind.”
They flew for about an hour in the darkness, steadily at the same height above the ocean, which with this angle was just a small dark part in front of them. There was no land in sight, even though the moon was high.
“Rainel…? How far have we flown?”
“Five hundred miles, more or less.”
Sarnel held back a smile. “Shouldn’t we be passing an island chain?”
“...we should.”
They exchanged looks but didn’t speak. Sarnel unbuckled and stood up, looking through the side window.
The sea at their side ended less than a kilometer from the ornithopter, and behind its dark edge began the sky, like a second ocean below, but brighter and full of stars. An infinite expanse of black and silver, cut in half by the narrow strip of the water which guided their flight.
She laughed loudly, holding onto the chair to not fall down.
Rainel also stood up and looked around. “Oh my. I didn't plan it like this, but—”
Sarnel hugged her sister. “I think turning our plans upside down is a part of how it all works.”
That stood in silence, contemplating the Straight Road unfolding below.
When the ship stopped shaking like a feverish horse, Maglor finally had time to think. It would be much easier if he didn’t.
How could she? How?
He'd been never before betrayed by a friend. Enemies, of course — mostly one Enemy. Acquaintances, followers, allies, and of course he’d betrayed himself many times too.
But he was never before betrayed by a close friend. It hurt.
Even when they abandoned him by dying — Maedhros, Elros, each in his own way — it was different. It was a choice they had the right to make.
But nobody had ever chosen Morgoth over him.
Now the monster was standing in front of him, and the two girls navigated the ship to whatever end. And they had assumed that he would, what, try to hijack the vessel and go for Earendil? That he was the treacherous one?
As hours passed, the last remnants of the sunlight visible through the curtains on the pothole disappeared. Maglor stood tied to a pipe, in a small room lit by a few ugly light bulbs. He had imagined the trip very differently. Much less humiliating.
Sarnel came to the back part, but he pretended to be asleep.
“We did it,” she said. “It turns out that with you two on board, we could have simply sailed. Or maybe it’s us. Or both. I have no idea.”
“I knew you’d do it,” said Morgoth cheerfully. “Can you untie us now?”
“No. I told you. You're fine, aren't you?” There was definitely too much care in Sarnel's voice.
“It's not that bad. But I'm bored.”
“Then you stay tied.” She lowered her voice. “Do you think Maglor will be more approachable when he wakes up?”
“Knowing the Noldor, he’ll never stop complaining about it. And probably make a couple songs about how much he hates you.”
Sarnel left without another comment.
Complaining? More approachable? She’d spat on his trust and thought he’d simply be angry for a few hours and then what, accept her alliance with Morgoth? Forget that she renounced his friendship?
It burned his heart more than the Silmaril would.
Silmaril… Maybe attacking Earendil wasn’t such a bad idea. Maglor had lost everything anyway, and the Valar weren’t likely to pardon him. Nor were they able to.
If he could die an honorable death, with a Silmaril in his hand, maybe that would finally make him whole?
This felt like something the black sword would say. But wasn’t it right?
To make it worse, Morgoth started speaking. “I know you don’t take advice, but you should probably talk to Sarnel or something. Your armor is good, but what gets through those cracks looks like your— it looks like some really bright fire.”
Maglor clenched his teeth.
“I didn’t mean to offend your father out loud. It’s not my fault I like— Nevermind. I’m not the best at talking to you, alright? But Sarnel deserves better than you hating her for not hating me enough. They both do.”
Did Morgoth think anybody cared about his advice? He kept talking. “And, while I know it’s not exactly the same situation, eight thousand or whatever years is way more than thirty. Maybe that helps.”
How dared he? How fucking dared he?
Images flashed before Maglor’s eyes.
Maedhros, barely alive and even less recognizable. His father burning. Maedhros screaming into the night in nightmares, impossible to wake up. Silmarils. Maedhros throwing himself into the fire. We are bound to fire.
Maglor had always restrained himself. He had been a coward. He wouldn’t be a coward anymore.
He’d waited long enough.
He breathed slowly, crystalizing his anger into something more stable, more controlled. After waiting for thousands of years he could wait a few more hours.
When his mind was ready, he hummed, first quietly, below the noise of the engines, then gradually grew louder and louder, until Morgoth fell limp, asleep in his ties. Maglor added words to his song, changing the melody into a faster, silvery one, and twisted his hands until the ropes fell off from them. Then he pulled out one of his knives and cut himself free.
Far behind the pothole, the evergreen lands of Aman glistened in the light of the dawn, and above them another light ran its course, silver, brilliant and impossible to mistake for anything else.
Maglor stood in the center of the compartment, calm like a sword, cold and new. He braided his hair, loop by loop, into the battle pattern he hadn’t worn since— Since Maedhros had been alive.
It was as if the all time in between had been a dream, a sad dream of a weak mind. There was only war.
And now it had to end.
He looked at his sleeping enemy. Luthien’s tactics were good, but there was one thing Maglor could do, that she wasn’t able to. The mortals had thrown the black sword away — he should have known their true loyalty by then — so the knife had to be enough. And even if it wouldn't be, what did he have to lose?
He cut Morgoth’s throat, letting out a gush of blood. It was bright red, deceptively normal.
The monster didn’t even wake up.
Maglor smiled and opened the door to the engine compartment.
Rainel was shaking, cuddled with her sister in the corner. What had happened? Otherworldly shriek, slamming doors, terror… Sarnel shook too.
“Hey, calm down. That was quite pretty.”
They were in the back part of the ornithopter, and the machine was turning back up from its landing course. Melkor, still tied, was covered in blood. And smiling.
Rainel held tighter to Sarnel. “What happened?” she asked through ringing teeth.
“Maglor tried to kill me, I think. And he failed,” replied Melkor in a confused tone. “Oh, and he put me to sleep with a song, how original. And he’s probably doing something really stupid right now.”
Rainel closed her eyes. She'd been through worse… Maglor had been through worse, at least. He deserved better than whatever terrible things he was planning to do. She took a few slow breaths and managed to get up.
She sat still shaky Sarnel on the sofa and cut Melkor free.
“We need to give her a while, Sarnel doesn't like the sight of blood, and there's so much that even I feel dizzy. And this whole thing was a bit too much. Whatever he did to us—” The ropes fell down. All the front of Melkor's suit was drenched in blood, and there was some on the floor too, now soaked into the wood. “Wow. You really are hard to kill.” She smiled too.
“And that's a good thing,” said Sarnel slowly. She sat on the sofa with closed eyes, but stopped shaking. “All right, nobody is really hurt… Yes, Maglor is doing something stupid, he threw us out of the front and shut the door with— with some kind of magic.”
Rainel tried the door but it was jammed.
Melkor’s face grew serious. “He actually tried to kill me.”
“He went crazy,” said Rainel.
“I don’t care.” He turned to the door, tense.
“Please, don't hurt him,” said Sarnel. “Even after he ditched my friendship, I don't want him dead.”
“Give me one reason not to.”
“Because he's harmless to you,” said Rainel. “We threw that sword away, and anyway it was probably meaningless. Look at yourself: Maglor cannot do anything to you.”
She talked in a lowered voice. How much could Maglor hear over the engines? Hopefully nothing.
“He put me to sleep, I don't want to see what more he can do with singing. Not a good reason.” Melkor still looked at the door. “How stable are those engines now?”
“What are you going to do?”
“Blast those doors open.”
Rainel felt dizzy again and sat on the sofa next to her sister.
Melkor came closer, which wasn't probably the best idea. The blood on his suit was still wet and bright red. “All right, I think you should have a say in that. We can sit here and let Maglor do whatever idiocy he wants, which likely will end up with the two of you dead.
“Or I can try to increase the combustion enough to blast one of the engines, which will open the door or at least loosen them. Probably. If it blows up the wrong way, we’ll end up with the machine exploding and you also dead.
“But if it works properly, I can get to the front part and get rid of him.”
“Why engines—” said Sarnel.
“Any other ideas?”
Rainel took a deep breath. “No. That's… hard, but no. Whatever gets you there. But we need to find a way to stop Maglor without killing him.”
Melkor looked eerily calm, and that was worse than all the blood. “He wasn't so considerate.”
“But we are.”
“I'm not.”
Rainel managed to look at him. “Do you want to become better or not?”
“That's not being better, that’s being naive.”
Sarnel opened her eyes. “Melkor, please. Can you do it for me? Can you spare him?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“Because that would be basic human decency? Well, I'm not human.”
“Because I don’t want him to die! You want me to treat you like a Vala? Fine!” Sarnel's voice broke. Rainel reached out for her arm, but Sarnel fell to her knees. “I beg you, don't kill Maglor. He's my friend whether he likes it or not. I—”
Melkor caught her by the arms and pulled her up, back to the sofa. “Don't kneel before me! It always ends badly. Just don't. I don’t want to—” He sat on the floor opposite of them with face in his hands. “It ends badly for all involved parties. All right. I'll try to deal with him without killing, if possible, but that's blackmail.”
“Let's figure out a plan,” said Rainel, “that doesn't involve murder, kneeling… or, ideally, explosions.”
“Explosions are the least priority,” said Sarnel. “I’d rather risk one than have you two kill each other. Even if Maglor went insane.”
“He's not insane, he's evil. I can pull him farther. Make him more reckless. I'd rather play with fire than with that, but if you think it helps—”
The sisters protested equivocally.
“The order of priorities,” said Rainel, trying to sound calm, “is first: no pulling anyone towards evil no matter the circumstances; second: no more violence than necessary; third: we all survive, including Maglor. And fourth: if I still have most of my ornithopter in one piece, it would be wonderful.”
“If you— of one engine goes off, we’ll lose power and we may start spinning. I don't think I can pilot with all that. Even if he doesn't he shrieks again—” She shivered. “Anyway, if it happens, you need to—”
“Yes, I remember, spinning was the interesting part of your lectures. But it doesn't solve the problem of what to do with a murderous Elda.”
“Maybe you can talk a bit of common sense into him,” said Sarnel. Her eyes were closed again, but she spoke calmer now. “It won’t be easy, but I have some ideas.”
Maglor sat in the pilot’s chair, the sunrise behind him painting the land before him in tones of gold. The silver light hung right in front of him. Vingiloth was still tiny, no bigger than a snowflake on the window would be, but Maglor could discern the silver flaming sail, the stern castle, and the smaller, brighter, mesmerizing light which blazed in there.
His doom.
His destiny.
And now, more people would die for it. If he could find a way to spare the sisters, to end only his own life, this would be perfect.
But he couldn’t and it was too late to give up. And they did deserve it after all, didn't they?
Maybe he should give up. Maybe they would forgive him. No, they were with the Enemy now.
The light pulled him, and for the first time in ages, he felt so much hope—
It wasn’t hope. It was wrong.
It was all he had ever wanted. It would make his father proud. It would give Maglor redemption for how he had left Maedhros alone. It would heal him.
It would save him.
Explosion from behind boomed in his ears.
The door shook and opened. Yellow lights appeared on the dashboard, but the ship kept flying steadily. Maglor turned back to—
To see Morgoth, covered in blood, enter through the broken door. “You know it's all mine? All what you feel and what you're doing now?” he said casually in Westron.
What an absurd juxtaposition: the language, the fancy suit, now covered in blood, and the ship they were in all belonged to the Fourth Age. Everything else was ancient — vengeance and hope awoken after slumbering for thousands of years.
“I—”
“Yes, you failed to kill me. One may think if you hate me so much you wouldn't do things that please me, but here you are, throwing the lives of others away, chasing after your stupid oath yet again. What are you actually planning to do after you get it?”
He stood in the doorway, lit by the silver light, with a combination of sneer, smile, and sadness on his face.
“That's none of your business. Now, get out or I'll get you out.”
He got in and looked at the controls. “If you don't turn down, we’re going to fall.”
“So what?” Maglor pulled the steering lever and the ship turned upwards. “I'm done with my life.”
He was too tired to do anything powerful. His hand blazed with pain, impatient to get burned again.
Morgoth sat on the other chair. His casual pose made an eerie contrast to all the blood, and his scars, which were now more visible. “Listen, I'm sorry I kidnapped your brother and tortured him for thirty years.”
A silver arrow passed the ship at the side. Too fast, shot from too far away. Earendil’s bow was better than Maglor had anticipated. And the mariner apparently realized that the collision course wasn’t accidental. Maglor turned slightly. How much could one zig-zag with a flying vessel?
“Take your sorry attempt at an apology and choke on it, I shall never forgive you. Not even if you apologize properly. ”
“I wasn't expecting your pardon now. We'll work on that later,” said Morgoth, still in the language of the wrong era and the tone of an everyday conversation. Not even his Valinorian poisonous politeness, nor the flat voice of when he was really angry. “I simply wanted to apologize. It happens sometimes.”
What was his ploy? Maglor kept watching his enemy, ready to be attacked. “It doesn’t happen to you, unless you have an ulterior motive. What is it now? You want the gem too, don't you?”
“My ulterior motive is you being mad at Sarnel, and acting dangerously crazy. She asked me to apologize to you to calm you down. I am not happy with what I did, quite the opposite, so that’s in fact more of an ulterior excuse than a motive. If—”
Another arrow hit the second wing on the right and everything became lighter and started spinning. Earendil’s light — no, it wasn’t rightfully his — danced, disappearing and reappearing behind the window, as if many nights and days passed in a few heartbeats.
Morgoth blocked the wings and grabbed his control stick. The dance of the light slowed down, the ship rotated slower and slower until it steadied, plummeting down. The wings shook, and the angle was too steep. Too fast. Too late.
As it should be.
Morgoth was still holding on to the lever. “You could help,” he said over the noise of the wind.
Maglor smiled. One so powerful, now he couldn't even pull this thing properly? How hard could that be? They would crash anyway, why did he care? Why did he— Maglor's smile widened. “Maybe this will kill you.”
“It’ll kill our friends.”
Our? They were Maglor’s friends. And had betrayed him.
Or did they?
They said terrible things, but— But apparently the vilest person in the whole world cared more about them than Maglor.
He definitely deserved to die.
“Just pull the fucking thing, please.”
He deserved to die, but the girls deserved better.
Maglor took the stick and pulled, fighting hard against the force of the air on the wings. The lever slowly moved and the ship turned up. He pulled until he couldn’t feel the wings anymore and had to correct down again.
The brilliant green landscape dotted with colorful buildings, too beautiful for this situation, grew closer still too quickly. They wouldn't be able to land safely. He helped too late.
Feeling nauseated, Maglor asked: “It wasn’t a lie? It was all — yours?”
“Yes. Oath, kinslaings, this now—”
“Then no matter how much I hate you, I have belonged to you for millennia. And I thought there was hope...”
Morgoth didn't even look at him, still focused on the steering. “I'll give you to someone responsible. Like your mother.”
“You– mean it?”
He nodded. “First thing after we land.”
“We’ll crash.”
“Anyway.”
Something pushed him down and forward, and the land outside the window slowed its approach. A mighty roar sounded at the wings. They were caught by a wind, a powerful, very smooth wind blowing in the exact direction they needed.
Morgoth sighed. “And now I'll have to thank my all-too-perfect brother. Well, on the positive side, the ladies won't die. That's not such a bad deal after all.”
“But I won't die either.”
“It's your problem, not mine.” He finally turned to look at Maglor. His scars were red now, instead of white, and he looked… tired? “I don't need you dead. I just want you far away from me and handled by someone reasonable. I may also appreciate you being less self-destructive, because that’s what Sarnel and Rainel would want. And I meant what I said, excuses or not.”
The wind slowed them to a halt as they touched the ground.
Morgoth got up. “Oh, and in case this wasn't clear enough, trying to kill me was self-destructive as fuck.”
He limped to the door without looking at Maglor again.