AN:, to resolve all trouble there could be around this kid of Maedhros’. Erefinwë is probably not correct or anything. Loosely (very loosely!) translated it means ‘lonely – finwë’ or something along with ‘he-who-stands-outside finwë.’ You will figure that out soon enough. (Thanks Uli, you’re a gem) this poor child’s mother’s name, Séretur, means ‘peaceful ruler’ – Ireth had quite high expectations for her son, I recon. And besides, that is what my own name means! *snicker* and for this chapter mind the HET warning! I did mean that seriously! – Oh yes, and since I kinda said that elves don’t fade, then I figured it would make sense with an asylum, but still, I am not calling it an asylum, and I think of a place of healing, I don’t mean something like Bedlam. *laughs*

And this is not a case of lust, you see

It’s not a matter of you versus me

It’s fine the way you want me on your own

But in the end it’s always me alone.

I only know what I’ve been working for

Another you so I could love you more

I really thought that I could take you there

But my experiment is not taking us anywhere.

The Cardigans – My favourite game.

Chapter 7 – A stupid mission and a lethal fight.

Standing here with his son, Maedhros couldn't remember a time when he had felt calmer. Ireth was resting and the midwife had sent Maedhros away with the child. Honouring the family tradition, he kissed his son’s cheek, looking out over the moor. “This is where you live, far from others. You will never know another child, if it is not your own sibling.” He closed his eyes and smiled bitterly. “Under other circumstances, your entire family would be here to shower you with presents, and love. But they are not. They do not even know of your existence.” Looking down at the sleeping baby in his arms, he smiled and looked out over the foggy moor again. “There will be no naming celebration for you, my son, my poor ill-fated son. Your name shall be Erefinwë.”

He stood there and stared at the fog moving over the moor, until the midwife came to get him. It was time to go and see Ireth. She had awoken, tired and worn, but she was well enough to see them both.

_____________________________________________

Two months later, they had settled back into a familiar routine once again. Maedhros was sitting outside the house, watching his servants ride off to market, wishing he could follow, but he never did. He had not been into Tirion since he had left his father’s house. Squinting his eyes, he saw a horse with a rider that greeted the servants with a wave, before it again came closer. This could only be one! Standing up, Maedhros called for Ireth to come out. She came outside, carrying the babe, whom she had named Séretur, but they both just called him Erestor. The baby was trying to put his mother’s hair into his mouth, and gagged when he succeeded. “It’s Maglor, it’s my brother, I am sure!” Maedhros said excitedly. Ireth could see how relieved her husband, so she just settled down in a chair on the grass, putting Erestor down so he could crawl in the grass near her.

As the rider came closer, Maedhros recognized his brother and waved at him. Maglor waved back, and kicked the horse to go faster. Once there in front of the house he slid down, and buried his big brother in a tight embrace. “Maitimo,” he whispered, “My dear, dear brother, how I missed you.”

Maedhros felt tears of happiness fall from his eyes; they had not all forsaken him. “How are you?” Maedhros asked. “Mother? Our brothers? And father… Do they all fare well?”

Maglor nodded. “All are well.” He smiled and nodded towards Erestor on the grass. “And this, I take it, is my nephew?”

When Maedhros beamed with pride, Maglor chuckled before he walked over and hugged Ireth as well. “He is beautiful, dear cousin Ireth.” Sitting down in the grass to pick up Erestor, Maglor looked up at Maedhros. “I just saw Findis a few days ago. Why did she not speak of her grandchild?”

“She does not know of his existence,” Ireth said with slightly more venom than intended. “My husband will not let me travel into Tirion with Erestor and announce it.”

“Mother does not understand why you do not visit,” Maglor said, tilting his head, looking slightly accusingly at his big brother. “She misses you dearly, and wishes to see her first grandchild.”

“Did she send you?” Maedhros said with a sudden ice-cold voice. “I told you, and I told mother, I refuse to return.”

“Maitimo,” Ireth said softly, “you must return. Think of Erestor. Will he grow up this isolated? With the city full of his kin, whom you refuse access to your house, all because you see conspiracies that might not even be true.”

Maedhros turned around and raised his hand to slap his wife. “Silence, woman!” he roared. But for a split second he saw her eyes big and scared, and he let his hand fall. “You ride to Tirion if you so please, but you will not take my son,” he said with a hard but low voice.

Ireth got up from her chair and picked up Erestor from Maglor’s knee. “You are worse than your father,” she hissed as she brushed past her husband.

Maglor sat in silence for a long time, until Maedhros sat down in the chair, shaking his head, grabbing the chair’s edge so hard his knuckles went white. “I will not return to them,” he whispered behind clenched teeth. “They took Fingon’s innocence and think nothing of it, vile beasts, only concerned about power and politics. They have no compassion left in their hearts.”

“Brother,” Maglor said softly, scooting closer to Maedhros, “you should reconsider your harsh choice. You might be upset with lady Ireth, but she is right. You cannot condemn your son to this life.”

Maedhros took a deep shuddering breath. “They destroyed him, Maglor! They darkened my heart and drowned my soul.”

“But you have lady Ireth,” Maglor argued softly, taking his brother’s hand. “Think of her, and think of your son.”

Maedhros smiled a strange strained smile. “Have you seen him? I need to know.”

Maglor frowned. “No, I have not been to uncle Fingolfin’s house. And if you wish that information you must visit yourself. Surely our uncle will not forbid you to see your cousin.”

Maedhros saw the servants returning from the market in the horizon. “Will you stay for dinner, brother? It would mean a lot to both me and Ireth.”

Maglor shook his head. Ireth was indeed right when she claimed that Maedhros was a copy of his father. “Yes, I will stay for dinner. I am looking forward to holding my nephew some more.”

“Erefinwë,” Maedhros said flatly. “That is his name. My wife calls him Erestor, and I must admit that even I find myself calling him that.” He smiled softly. “He will love you, Maglor. I know this because it is impossible not to.” Maglor laughed and rose to his feet, and followed by Maedhros, they went inside the house.

___________________________________________________

Three days after Maglor left, Maedhros lay in bed, looking up in the ceiling. Was he really the one in the wrong? Had his temper gotten the better of him? Was he really being unfair to both Ireth and Erestor? Smiling, he felt a cold wet body crawl over him, hair dripping with wet little droplets. “Ireth,” he laughed and squirmed as something tickled him, “You are cold.”

“I know,” she whispered seductively, kissing her husband’s nipple, slowly moving downwards, her cold wet hair dragging down Maedhros’ chest. Purring as he realised her intention, he placed a hand on top of her head, pushing her slowly and wordlessly downwards. “Erestor is a prince,” she whispered, nibbling on Maedhros’ inner thigh. “Let him claim his title.”

Maedhros nodded and spread his legs further apart, until Ireth could lie between them. She smiled wickedly. Eyes on her husband, she ran the tip of her tongue in a trail up the entire length of his erection. Maedhros’ brows furrowed and a little sigh escaped his slightly parted lips. “Answer me, Maitimo,” she whispered again. When he didn’t answer, she did the same again, while a long nailed finger ran in lazy circles around Maedhros anus. Whimpering in frustration, Maedhros reached out for his wife, but she quickly removed her lips from his swollen member. “Answer me, and I shall give you want you want,” she purred, adding pressure to Maedhros’ guardian muscle.

“Yes...” Maedhros half moaned, “Yes, yes, yes.”

Pushing her finger inside, she aimed for the spot she knew would have her husband a writhing mess in minutes, as she blew little puffs of air on the aching head of his erection. “Yes what, my dear?” she said, watching Maedhros’ face as she brushed the little bundle of nerves inside him.

“I.. I...” Maedhros whimpered, “take him, take him to fa.. mmmmmmm, ah,.. Father.”

“Good boy,” Ireth said with a smile, before taking the length of her husband in her mouth, giving him exactly what she knew he loved the most.

________________________________________________

As he sat on his horse the next day with Erestor in front of him, he didn’t feel quite as coy. Sending his wife a venomous glare, he kicked the sides of the horse and started the first journey into Tirion he had ever taken as a father. Ireth rode off in another direction as they entered the city; she missed her mother and wanted to see her, while Maedhros with a thundering heart rode straight to his father’s house. His entire family fell over themselves to greet them. Even Curufin embraced him, and he could see that the claim that he had missed him was genuine. And truthfully, he had missed them all as well. He walked inside the house, as Amrod and Amras fought over whom got to hand over the gift their mother had made Erestor.

“Mama?” Maedhros said, looking at his mother with sad eyes, “where is he? Where is papa?”

Nerdanel smiled with her eyes red from crying happy tears, and new tears found their way to her eyes as she heard her son call her by his childhood endearment. “Your father is in his study.”

Maedhros nodded and walked up the stairs. His heart hammered so hard he thought it would break from his ribcage. He had failed his father, and he was not sure his father would embrace him as the rest of the family had. The mere statement of him not coming to greet him, even if he knew he had been sent for, spoke for itself. Taking a deep breath as he came to a standstill in front of the black wooden door, he knocked. “Father?” he said, and exhaled slowly as he took a hold of the door handle and found the door open.

Fëanor sat in his windowsill, trying to look indifferent. Maedhros knew better. When his father looked indifferent, he was in fact furious. “I… brought my son,” he murmured.

“Oh?” Fëanor said, still not looking at his son. “Why were we not sent for when he was born. We should have been there to celebrate his birth.”

Maedhros looked down unto the wooden floor, and sighed. “Would you have come, had I sent for you?”

Fëanor didn’t answer. “Why are you here?” he asked instead, as he sat up, and for the first time looked at his son. “What do you think you will achieve from coming here?”

Wringing his hands nervously, Maedhros cleared his throat. “I just wanted you to see Erefinwë,” he said in a small voice.

Fëanor raised a brow. “Liar,” he spat, knowing his son was the spitting image of himself, which both made him proud, and fearful, but most of all sad, knowing how much heartache his son would have to endure in the wake of his temper.

Maedhros shook his head. “Ireth pleaded me to take him to his family, and how can I refuse my wife?” he said softly. It was not the truth, but not exactly a lie either.

A slow smile spread on Fëanor’s face that Maedhros did not see. “She tricked you?”

Maedhros blushed and nodded. “Aye..” he whispered. Looking up at his father, and at the sight of his father’s knowing smile, he blushed crimson. “Will you see your grandson?” he asked, fighting a smile.

Fëanor nodded. “Aye, I will see Erefinwë,” he said, taking a step forward, enveloping his son in a warm embrace, not offering his son any words, but this fatherly touch. Letting go, walked over to the cabinet and filled two glasses with clear alcohol. “Father?” Maedhros said “is it true what Maglor told me, that cousin Fingon was sent home in disgrace?” Seeing his father frown, Maedhros quickly added, “I wish to see him, but I know not where he resides.”

Fëanor sighed. “Aye, he was sent to his father’s house to mend.” Turning around, he gave his son the glass, and then added, “He never did, and has not spoken a single word since the accident in the falconry. I don’t think it is wise for you to visit. Last I heard, Fingolfin was thinking of sending him further up the coast to a place of spiritual healing and mending, for he himself has lost hope.”

Maedhros paled. “He is sending him away?”

“I believe so,” Fëanor said. “But I have heard no word of his departure.”

“And the culprits?” Maedhros said. Fëanor looked thoughtful for a moment. “They hung, I was there, believe me, they are dead.” Tucking a strand of red hair behind his son’s pointed ear, in a strange tender gesture, Fëanor whispered “I know you shared yourself with one of them, but he never hurt you, did he? You would have told me, would you not?”

Maedhros didn’t quite know what to make of this, but he just nodded. “Aye, Ciryatan.” Puzzled by the urgent look in his father’s eyes, he added, “No papa, he never hurt me.”

Fëanor seemed to let out a breath he had been holding. “Good, my son,” he just said. “Now, let us drink a toast to your firstborn son, and speak no more of ill times gone by.” Maedhros smiled and toasted with his father, and right at this moment, he shone in his father’s undivided attention, something he had always longed for, and only seldom had gotten.

_____________________________________________________

It was several days before he once more left the house of Fëanor, promising he would never stay away for this long again. He should pick up Ireth, but instead of riding to see his aunt Findis, he rode to his uncle Fingolfin’s house instead. Receiving a measured, official greeting, Turgon showed him to where Fingon was, taking Erestor on his hip back to the house, waiting for the messenger to return with lady Ireth, as Turgon has sent as soon as he had heard that his cousin had left his wife at her mother’s house. Turgon found this to be outrageous, but he could do nothing but make sure that the lady knew where her son was.

Walking down the pebbled path that Turgon had pointed out to him, Maedhros’ breath was caught in his throat as he saw a figure sitting in a chair, covered in a white sheet, his hair tussled from sleeping, and he was not prepared for the vision that met him as he walked around the back of the linen clad elf. It was Fingon; it was easy to tell by the large blue eyes surrounded by long black lashes, longer than any girl Maedhros knew. But his face had fallen; he looked ashen and sick, and much too thin. Maybe Fingolfin really was doing the right thing by sending his son from his side, for he was indeed not mending.

“Cousin?” Maedhros said as he squatted down in front of the other elf, resting his elbows on Fingon’s knees, taking his cousin’s cold hands in his. “Findekàno,” he whispered, “It is me, Maitimo, can you hear me?” No response came from the elf who looked like a living corpse. “No, you can’t hear me, can you?” Tears welled up in Maedhros’ eyes. “Please wake up, please mend,” he whispered with a broken voice full of tears. Seeing no change in his beloved cousin’s face, Maedhros gave in and wept. He buried his head in Fingon’s lap, caressing his own cheek with his cousin’s cold limp hand, now wet from tears. “I am so sorry, I should never have kissed you, I should never have promised you anything... I am such a fool,” he murmured as he cried his heart out, “but I was in love,” he whispered. Sitting up again, he looked up at Fingon’s emotionless face; the only indication that the elf was actually alive was the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. “I cannot visit you again for some time,” he whispered. “I have a family now, and you...” he croaked on his own words and a sob tore his throat. And tears came once more. “You will be sent where I cannot go, oh Findekàno, please smile.. Just once, just for me,” but nothing happened.

Maedhros heard voices and knew that Ireth had come; he could hear her, Turgon and Erestor walking down the pebbled path towards where he and Fingon sat. “Out of time, again,” he said with a little smile. “Father time seems to haunt our steps.” Kissing two fingers, he placed them tenderly on Fingon’s lips, before he stood and wiped his tears in his sleeve. Looking up over Fingon’s shoulder, he saw the trio walking down the path. Ireth waved at him while Turgon carried Erestor.

Reaching Maedhros and Fingon, Ireth let out a started yelp, seeing the sorry state of her cousin. “By Eru!” she looked to Turgon who nodded. “He arrived this way. Fëanor apparently had no use for a falconer who drools on himself.” The words carried such venom that Maedhros just stared at Fingon, not answering Turgon, in what he knew was the start of a argument if he gave in. “You are right, cousin Turgon,” Ireth said. “Your father is right sending him up shore, as it seems like hope itself has forsaken his poor soul.”

Turgon nodded. “If they cannot mend him there, then there are none that can besides the Valar themselves.”

Maedhros itched to scream at Turgon that he should have faith in his brother, but he did not. He just ground his teeth, and wiped away the new tears that had formed as he stood and stared at the elf that had been so vibrant, loving and alive the last time he had seen him. Those eyes had been full of sparkle and mischief; they were now but mirrors, blank and expressionless. Ireth shook his shoulder. “Come Maitimo, we should leave. Erestor is hungry, and we have a long ride home.”

Maedhros nodded and croaked, “Yes, you are right, you three go along and I shall follow. Let me say goodbye to my favourite cousin.”

“He cannot hear you,” Turgon said. “you are wasting your breath, cousin, I say take your son and your wife and return home, and leave my poor ill brother to his illness.” It was actually more of a command than anything else, and once more Maedhros just sighed and wrapped his arms around the limp elf, whispering “Fare well, Findekàno” before he let go of Fingon and took his grinning son from Turgon, following his wife up the pebbled path.

TBC