First of all, a comment on the spoken languages. In my HC all people here speak Quenya, which is also reflected in the names at the appropriate places. Yerna-saira for example for Frodo; in Sindarin his name is given as Iorhael, which I translated into Quenya. For Bilbo, unfortunately, I did not find an elven name, but he certainly had one. For the sake of readability I decided to continue writing the old familiar names in the continuous text.

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Once Maenwen had listened anxiously to news from the Hither Shore, but those times were long gone. From the refugees at the beginning of the Second Age she had heard the end that had befallen the sons of Feanor, and from then on she had closed her heart completely to the sorrow of the Mortal Lands.

Once, long, long ago, she had dreamed of her own kingdom at Endor by her husband's side. Perhaps she had not pursued her dream as vigorously as Galadriel, but she had dreamed nonetheless.
Alqualonde had shattered that dream. She had not been able to bear what had happened there and wanted nothing to do with it. With a heavy heart she had renounced her husband and joined Finarfin's people. But love was not so easy to forget.

She had tried, for many thousands of years, and at some point her old pain was nothing more than a pale shadow, a dull throb that she could easily ignore if she did not concentrate on it. Her life went on.

Then the ring-bearers had come to Valinor, and when Maenwen learned of their stories, all that she had long believed buried within her had broken open again.

Now she stood outside the manor and hesitated. Several years ago, Celebrían had already settled here, planted orchards and started to make her own fruit brandy. Maenwen had not been interested in it any further, even though she sometimes enjoyed the brandy that was made here. Even though she had made a name for herself, Celebrían was just another refugee from Endor for Maenwen. Her interest had only been awakened when she heard that Elrond was her husband.

The two of them were currently looking for another helper for their estate. Maenwen had seized the opportunity. She put aside her old memories and concentrated rather on her curiosity about what she could expect from a Half-elf. Sure, Elrond's parents had lived in Aman for a long time, but they were far away in the north and Maenwen had never met them. So it was the first time she could see such a curiosity as the Peredhil with her own eyes, and now her curiosity was aroused. She knocked.

An old Noldo, unmistakably one of Feanor's former followers, opened the door. Stunned, she stared at the star that was shining on the elven armor. Then she looked up at him - and recognized him.

"Alacenandur!"

Rethtulu seemed no less astonished to find her here. " Lady Maenwen," he cried out. "I did not expect to find you here."

She meant for him to remain calm. "Shh, keep quiet. "I don't want everyone to know who I was. I'm here because I heard Elerondo was looking for a help."

Rethtulu remained calm on the outside, but she sensed his confusion.

"My master does not know you exist," he said reluctantly.

"And I wish it to remain so," she stressed. "So not a word to anyone about who I once was. That lies long in the past. Now I am just some Elven who is looking for a job here. Is there anyone else here who might know me?"

Rethtulu nodded. "Ceomon. I will pass your words along to him."

"Very well. Take me to Elerondo now."

"My master is with Yerna-saira at his uncle's grave right now. But if you are looking for employment here, you will want to speak to the Lady Tyelpetári anyway; she owns everything here."

With these words he led her into the house and led her to his lady. She was sitting in a study and seemed to be checking the finances of her estate. Maenwen was astonished to discover that Galadriel's daughter was pregnant and was apparently nearing childbirth. She had not expected this.
As Rethtulu led the guest in, Celebrían looked up. The resemblance to her mother was unmistakable, even if her features seemed much softer than Maenwen Galadriel had remembered.
Rethtulu bowed slightly. "My lady, this elf seeks employment with you at your request."

Maenwen stepped forward and curtsied. "They call me Maenwen," she introduced herself. Just one name among many. If Elrond did not even know she existed, that name would never mean anything to anyone here anyway.

"It suits me very well", Celebrían rejoiced. "I need someone to help us in the household, in the fields, in sales. Everything that I'm currently unable to do." She pointed to her belly.
"That sounds like work I can do," Maenwen assured her, "If I may ask, when will it be? If you wish, I can help you with the children's care."

Smiling pensive, Celebrían stroked her belly. "Twins. Again, this must simply lie in Eleronde's family. In a few weeks it will be time. And thank you for your offer, but my maid Laerwen is already entrusted with the task. She will be happy to have someone else assist her with the other tasks."

She beckoned Rethtulu to her. "Please help me up. Then we'll go and see my husband, so he can show the manor to Maenwen."

"Thank you, mistress!" Maenwen said quickly. Apparently Celebrían had already decided on the matter.

Rethtulu helped his mistress up, as her advanced pregnancy was causing her some problems walking.

" Lady, you know what Lord Elerondo would say if you were still doing the paperwork," he reminded her.

"Yes, yes..." Celebrían waved off. Then she led Maenwen behind the house.

Here the next surprise awaited her. She had heard that among the ring bearers were two representatives of a strange people who called themselves Hobbits, but who were better known here as Perioni. Rethtulu's mention of a grave had surprised her, but now she saw what he meant by it.

Elrond and a small, wrinkled fellow, who could only be Frodo, stood at the grave. Elrond himself had just brushed off the stone, having previously helped Frodo to look after the flowers that had been planted, as Frodo had grown too old to do the work himself. It was his Uncle Bilbo's grave.

Maenwen looked at the two of them and hoped that her curiosity would not be seen too much. She had never been so directly confronted with the concept of mortality. She wondered what it was like to know that one day one would cease to exist.

Elrond was the first to notice them. He stood up and hurried to Celebrían.

"You should not move so much anymore, indo-ninya," he admonished. Then he turned to Maenwen. "Who's that?"

So that was a Peredhel. Maenwen wasn't really sure what to expect. But certainly not to face an elf who had to be looked at very closely to see that he counted men among his ancestors. Having lived in the Hither Shore for more than seven thousand years and worked tirelessly against the Black Foe had nevertheless left its mark on him.

But what interested Maenwen much more was the light in his eyes, which only the elves who had lived in Aman at the time of the Two Trees possessed. But that could not be! Unless he had seen one of the gems of Feanor. If he was Elwing's son, then that might not have been so unlikely.

"I am Maenwen, Lord," she introduced herself. "Your wife was kind enough to offer me a job here as a temp."

"You've been telling me about it long enough, indo-ninya," she added with a laugh.

Elrond looked relieved, as if a great burden had been lifted from him.

"Then come with me and I'll show you around," he said. "And you, Tyelpetári, sit down and rest." He looked at her sternly but Celebrían seemed heartily unimpressed.

Elrond now took care of Maenwen and led her around to show her her new workplace. She had heard that he was able to fathom the hearts of elves and humans, but all the while he did not give the impression that he had recognized who she was. She had no intention of changing that too quickly, and preferred to watch him silently.

In the weeks that followed, she would find that although stories from Middle-earth were one thing, they often told surprisingly little about the one they were about. Maenwen quickly learned not to speak of Elwing or Earendil in this house. Instead, Elrond openly acknowledged Feanor's eldest sons since he had been in Valinor.

Most of all, however, she was surprised that Maedhros was among them again. Maenwen must have just missed him, though, for he had only recently been called before the Valar to repent. He was not expected back before Celebrian's delivery. What amazes Maenwen most about this is that Maedhros lived with Elrond, and Elrond called him his uncle and seemed to be very fond of him. Maenwen remembered what she had heard about the end of the First Age. It had been Maedhros who had attacked Arvernias, destroyed Elrond's home and kidnapped him himself. But when Elrond spoke of him, it seemed to Maenwen that none of this had ever happened.

Maenwen wondered if Elrond's affection for Maedhros would also apply to Maglor.

Nevertheless, as soon as Maedhros would return, her little masquerade would be blown up. She didn't know whether to be worried or happy, especially since she couldn't ask Maedhros not to reveal her like she did with Ceomon and Rethtulu.

The moment was to come sooner than assumed, and above all completely differently than she had expected.

Maenwen was just about to sift through the empty crates in the cellar and prepare them for the next harvest when she heard nervous voices calling through the house. The basement window opened to the terrace and she heard what was being discussed there.

"Gandalf, how good to see you here," Frodo said, only to immediately add with a worried tone, "Who is this? What has happened to him?"

Frodo had spoken Westron. Maenwen had not been able to pick up much of this language, but it was just enough to understand Frodo's words.

"That, my dear Frodo, is Maglor," replied Gandalf. "Now please tell me where I can find Master Elrond so he can take care of him."

Maglor...

This name alone brought back to life what she had thought lost forever more than three ages ago. Tears filled her eyes. Even knowing that Maedhros was among them again, she had not dared to hope.

She carelessly dropped the box she had held in her hands and stormed upstairs. She had just arrived when Elrond laid his patient in his own bed and immediately began nursing him back to health. Outwardly he seemed calm and routine, but Maenwen sensed what a storm was raging inside him.

With a suppressed groan Maenwen sank against the door frame. There lay Maglor indeed, but what a cruel fate he had suffered! He looked haggard, his clothes torn and his hair dull. Apparently he was not in his mind, his eyes were empty and his fea far away. And then his hands! Horrified, Maenwen turned away.

"Father, all will be well," she heard Elrond say emphatically. "Do you hear? All will be well now! Now I'm with you again."

Maenwen shivered when she heard Elrond speak to Maglor. He had called him father. But how could that be?

She hardly noticed someone tugging at her dress. When she looked down, she saw Frodo.

"Are you all right?" he asked worriedly.

"That's Makalaure," she repeated breathlessly. "Feanáro's second eldest son, the greatest singer this world has known. It was said he was lost forever and no one saw him since the end of the First Age. How can this be?"

Gandalf, who had brought Maglor here, looked over at her. His eyes flashed in recognition, but he said nothing yet.

"Not all those who wander are lost, as Bilbo used to say," he declared instead. Addressing Elrond, he continued: "The deeds Makalaure committed are not forgotten, neither the bad ... nor the good. Because of you, the Valar allowed him to return to his old home, which he once turned his back on at his father's side. He is released from his oath and has repented long enough for the blood he has shed.

With tears in his eyes, Elrond looked up at him, but then he immediately went back to work. Under his expert and gentle care, he soon succeeded in relieving Maglor's worst agonies and calming his shrouded fea. Maglor seemed to regain consciousness. He blinked, his gaze clearing her.

But it was not Elrond he first noticed.

"Maenwen?" he whispered in disbelief and in a rough voice that had surely not been used for many years.

Immense astonishment was on Elrond's face as he turned to her.

There was no stopping Maenwen. She rushed to Maglor's side and took his hand. Tears of joy ran down her face.

"Yes, it's really me," she replied. "I thought you were lost forever!"

"You... you are not a dream?", Maglor asked uncertainly. "You won't disappear just like that?"

"No, definitely not." Crying and laughing at the same time, she held his hand to her face so he could feel that he was really and truly with her again. "I let you go once and thought you were lost forever. I won't let that happen to me again, my love."

Maglor still didn't seem to really understand that he wasn't dreaming. When he finally noticed Elrond, he just seemed all the more incredulous.

"It can't be," he breathed. "My son ... Elerondo ... where am I? Why is Maenwen with you? She left me so long ago and never came with us."

"Father!" Elrond sobbed and took him in his arms. "I thought I would never see you again."

When the first surge of emotion subsided and Celebrían had joined the group, Elrond released Maglor. Then he looked at Maenwen on the other side of the bed.

"How do you know uncle Makalaure?", he asked astonished.

With love in her eyes, Maenwen looked at Maglor. Obviously unsure how he should approach her after all that had happened between them, he returned her gaze.

"Because he is my husband," she opened, "we parted after Feanáro attacked Alqualonde, for I could not answer for what had happened there. And so it was that I had never left Aman. I had hoped that I could forget what had happened, but love is foolish. And today I'm glad I never forgot."

Elrond stared at her speechlessly.

Maglor's fea had been pale and gray. But when he heard her words, a faint glow returned to it. "I thought you lost to me forever," he whispered. "You had renounced me, and I was foolish and proud enough to let you go. So I never spoke of you again as if you had never existed. What a fool I was! Can you forgive me?"

"Yes, I can, even though I know what you did. Love is foolish." For years, Maenwen had doubted if she could ever forgive Maglor for what he had done. But now, when he had come back into her life so suddenly, all doubts were wiped away.

But then she saw how Elrond still watched her speechlessly. His look made her shudder.

"Who really is your mother?" she asked fearfully.

Elrond seemed confused. Maglor was also irritated at first, but then he seemed to understand.

"My heart, I have always been true to you," he assured her. "Elrond and Elros are the children of Earendil and Elwing. But after what we, my brother and I, did in Arvernien, I took them in as sons. They were only children of six years."

"Uncle Makalaure has always been more like a father to us than Earendil," Elrond added. "I have no memory of Earendil, and the little I did remember of Elwing has long since faded as well."

"I suppose that makes Maenwen your mother, little one," Maglor said with a smile. The conversation had awakened more and more of his life's spirits.

Maenwen's heart was overflowing with joy. She had heard that Elrond had had something to do with Maglor in his past. That's why she had come here: to keep an eye on him and see what that something might be. She never suspected that her husband might have adopted him.

"But tell me, Elerondo, where is your brother? He is never far away from you," Maglor wanted to know.

Maenwen felt the mood change suddenly.

"Uncle... Father... I have failed you, I have not looked after Elerosse as you wanted," Elrond confessed. "He died in my arms on our 500th birthday. There was nothing more I could do for him."

Maenwen saw the stunned horror on Maglor's face. He must really care for Elrond and his brother and they have been like sons if this news shocked him so much.

"How?" gasped Maglor. "Why?"

"He was old, Uncle, that's why," Elrond said regretfully. "We followed you when you went north to claim the silmarilli, but Eonwe told us you had already gone. And he also said that the time of our choice had come. Elerosse chose the fate of men unlike me. He died as King of Númenor."

Suddenly the grief was heavy on them. Gandalf had long since led Frodo outside so that they might enjoy their reunion in private. Celebrían had stayed behind, now comforting Elrond with a hand on his shoulder.

Maglor seemed paralyzed, something Maenwen had never seen before. He was no one to look back, not even when Finwe had been murdered. But much had happened since then. He had committed three kinslayings and had disappeared without a trace for two ages. Maenwen wondered what marks this had left on him that she would only see in time.

There was only one thing she knew for sure: she would stand by Maglor and never leave him alone again.

"Uncle, I want you to meet someone," Elrond said softly and took Celebrian's hand. "This is Tyelpetári, Artanis' daughter and my wife. You will very soon be grandfather to twins. And Uncle Maitimo is here too."

That did indeed seem to brighten Maglor's mood. "I was not there when you needed me most," he said softly. "Please forgive me, son, for my failure as a father. But... I'm here now."

"Yes, you are here now," Elrond repeated, "and we can be a family again."

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Yerna-saira – old-wise, Qu.; translation of Frodo's Sindarin name Iorhael

Elerondo – Quenya translation for Elrond

Tyelpetári – Quenya translation for Celebrían

Perion – Halfling, Hobbit (pl. Perioni); Qu.

indo-ninya – my heart; Qu.

Fea – soul, spirit; Qu.

Elerosse - Quenya translation Elros