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At the last, when the war is over, Maglor chooses the road to Valinor.
And Maedhros argues and argues, but Maglor can still hear the screams ringing in his ears, feel the splashes of blood across his face, see the fire of burning ships when he closes his eyes.
But Maglor has children to think of, mistakes to atone for. The sons of Feanor swore an oath, yes, had been granted chance after chance and done terrible things with each of them. And here, now, is yet another chance, to do something right.
So Maglor, sitting alone by the sea, takes another oath. That he should become worthy of the gifts of his house. That his children should be proud and not ashamed of him.
He sings one last earthly song there, on the reaches, a song to the stars. To Elwing and Earendil, listening in the voids of time. To all those laid beneath the arms of Mandos, caught in the wreckage of his kin. To Manwe Sulimo. And, most of all, to his brothers and his father. An apology, for what he has done, and for what he cannot.
Maedhros raids their escort in the deep of the night, but it is Maglor who fights back. His brother has taken this last chance, and forsaken it. There is no kindness now.
So two of the Silmarils made their way back to the Undying Lands, and Maglor, son of Feanor, of the house of Finwe, followed the westward pathes back across the sea.
He took his penance there, wandering alone, giving his apologies to all that would accept them, until he could bear to hold that starlight again, until the brush of his birthright no longer felt like fire.
And Maglor went and bowed before Yavanna, and gave her one to plant.
There again upon the hill before Valmar, they sang it into life, for Maglor alone of his house could hear the Song at times, echoing along the plains of the world. Heard and ignored, for bound by his oath the music was forsaken. But Maglor had learned again to hear; to give it voice.
That tree was after called Eralda, which is the Lonely Tree; for it would be the last of Yavanna's great works in that age, and only an echo of the others. But it too glowed, gold and silver, and the light upon Corollaire was soothing to look on.
And the last Silmaril he took to the Teleri, but they refused it, though they took his apology.
So Maglor took it with him to his final askance, and when he thanked Ulmo for his warnings and his kindness, he offered it as payment. But Ulmo also refused it, and instead gave Maglor the shape of a rising current, as he had made Elwing a bird long ago.
Now, in the sky and the sea, there burn two great stars. And Maglor sings from beneath the waves, with the Silmaril bound upon his chest, to aid the lost and the weary. At times, when the seas are calm, he turns north up the rivers and into the Bruinen, to visit his last living son.
And thus the Silmarils found their homes; one resting in the heavens, one rooted in the earth, and one in the deeps of the sea, forever to light the westward roads.