7 - AN: nuttin much to say here.. other than I don’t know what the ME visions was on prostheses, I say they were possible and did exist *wink*

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Chapter 7. I am the silencing machine

Almost year had passed while Maglor had been serving as high king. He hated that duty with passion. But still, Maedhros did not seem to get better; his wounds had long since healed, but not the ones in his soul. This afternoon Maglor, had left his brother’s chambers with an ultimatum. It was over; he did not want to be high king anymore.

He closed the door behind him, noticing Maedhros standing on the balcony. “Maitimo?” he said loud, and walked across the room, towards the balcony. “A mighty fine day.”

“Yes…” Maedhros answered, and turned to look at his younger brother. Maglor fumbled with his crown.

“Here.” Maglor said, handing it to Maedhros. “It’s yours; I can’t do this anymore.”

“Nonsense.” Maedhros said, “You did just perfect.”

“How would you know? You have not been outside your door,” the black haired elf stated. “If you don’t want it, I say uncle Fingolfin is the righteous heir to the throne.”

“Fingolfin?!” Maedhros gasped, “Nay, I cannot give the crown and title to him.”

“And why not?” Maglor hissed, “He is father’s eldest brother, and this crown is Finwë’s, and thus should belong to the next in line, not you, not me, Fingolfin.”

Maedhros tried to get past Maglor, but his younger brother pushed him against the wall. “You better wake up from your self-pity soon; we need you to wear this crown. No one else can wear it right.”

Caught off guard, Maedhros looked down at his brother most confused “But you…”

“I? I choose not to.” Maglor sneered, and dropped the crown on the floor with a loud ‘clank’. He let go of his brother, and he walked into the bedroom once more. “We had an addition to the family a couple of days ago.”

Now, Maedhros curiosity was piqued. “What? Who, from where?”

“Curufin apparently had a son,” Maglor said softly. “His name is Celebrimbor.”

“You must tell me more.” Maedhros gasped, and quickly moved to sit down on the bed next to Maglor.

“Nay, you can go see him yourself. He is with mother, in the nursery she had made for him.” Maglor said, turning his head to look at his big brother. “He is the sweetest wee one; he even captured the heart of Caranthir.”

The red haired elf drew a deep shuddering breath. “Yes, you are right. I should go see mother.”

“Yes.” Maglor just said. “Come, Maitimo, I will follow you there.” He reached out to caress his brothers cheek gently. “She would be so happy…”

“Alright.” Maedhros whispered, “Hand me a tunic, and my boots.”

“Oh Maitimo, I am so happy.” Maglor said, almost shedding tears of joy. Could this be? Would his brother finally go out, even if it was just down the hall…?

Maedhros grabbed his tunic, and tried his hardest to straighten it out, to get a grab on it to get it over his head, but failed not having two hands to help him. The frustration was mounting, and he suddenly tossed the offending piece of cloth far away with his good hand. “Damned be!” he cried, and sat down on the bed, crying for all his frustrations and fears.

“Maitimo…” Maglor whispered.

But Maedhros turned his back to his brother. “I was right all along. What good am I as a brother, a son, or a king, if I cannot even dress myself…?” he sobbed miserably.

“Maedhros, listen to me.” Maglor whispered, as he wrapped his arms around his brother from behind, resting his head on Maedhros’ shoulder. “Your abilities for being a son or a brother does not lay in your hands.” He tightened his hold, and buried his face in the thick red hair of his brother. “Please Maitimo, you must believe me, I would gladly help you for the rest of our eternity, or find a way to teach you.” He heard his brother sigh and continued. “What if we went and saw the smith?” he mumbled.

“What can he do? Forge me a sword to cast myself upon?” Maedhros whispered back, wiping tears from his face with his hand.

“No, he can make you a hand.” Maglor whispered, feeling his own tears sting. “Please, if not for me, or your subjects, then for mother.”

“A hand?” Maedhros sniffled.

“Yes a iron hand, he showed me the draft of one”

“Do-do you think it would… wo-work?” Maedhros said, with a meek voice, “I’m afraid I would look like a monster with a iron hand.”

“No...” Maglor whispered, “You are Maitimo, you could never be a monster.”

Maedhros chuckled. “You are so terrible at persuading Maglor.”

Maglor bit Maedhros’ ear, and pushed him from the bed as when they were kids. “You always bite!” Maedhros whined with a smile.

“And you always tease.” Maglor spat back, and stuck out his tongue.

Maedhros got up from the floor and smacked Maglor over the head playfully. “You can help me, oaf!”

“Oh thank you, lord of a thousand goats.” He snapped back, but smiled as he picked up the tunic helping his brother get dressed, grooming the irate tresses of red hair into something resembling a hairdo.

And as he guided his brother out the door, he must have been the proudest elf on the face of Arda. “Don’t tell anybody I said this…” he whispered, and snaked an arm around the waist of his brother. “I love you.”

Maedhros laughed softly. “I will declare national ‘Maglor loves his brother’ day,” he teased, ruffling the black hair of Maglor’s head.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Maglor gasped .

“Are you daring me little brother?” Maedhros said clinging to his brother, trying to keep conversation light so he would forget he was outside his own rooms.

Maglor let his brother into a little room, who if Maedhros remembered right, used to be a storage room for old un-useful furniture. His mother sat by a tall candelabra singing softly to a bundle in her arms. For a second Maedhros looked at Maglor, Maglor just smiled reassuring and gently pushed Maedhros forward, as he closed the door behind them.

“Mother?” Maedhros whispered.

Nerdanel looked up and looked as though she had seen a ghost. “Maedhros, my little Maitimo, is it really you?”

“Yes…” Maedhros said, and stepped closer into the light of the candelabra.

Nerdanel started to cry, upon seeing her son he looked worn and twisted. Destroyed was the word that came to her mind. “Oh, my baby. What did they do to you?” she mumbled and extended a hand towards the tall elf.

Maedhros dropped to his knees, and grabbed his mother’s hand in his, rubbing it to his chin. “Don’t worry about that,” he whispered. He looked down at the baby in the bundle. “So this is Curufin’s heir…” he whispered, feeling tears threatening to fall.

“Yes.” Maglor said softly, as he gently pried the baby from Nerdanel. “Come Celebrimbor, we are going for a walk.,” he mumbled to the baby, who just waved his arms in response, half in sleep. He walked out the room, and closed the door softly behind him. They needed time alone he thought, smiling to himself. Things would be alright now. Hopefully

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Nerdanel kept touching her son’s face as were he a phantasm that would disappear if she closed her eyes. “I thought they had broken your spirit,” she finally whispered.

“They had…” Maedhros mumbled, and laid his head in her lap. “It has been a long journey, but now I’m here.”

“Yes, you are.” Nerdanel said softly, running her fingers through the thick red hair.

“I couldn’t bear that you should know, I didn’t want anyone to know.” Sobs shook Maedhros’ body. There had been a time where he would have thought he would never bear a touch again in his life, yet he had been yearning for his mother’s soothing voice. Just her presence gave him the illusion of that everything would be alright. “I missed you so terribly…” He took a deep breath and started crying harder. “I called for you, but you didn’t come.”

Nerdanel let out a shuddering breath, feeling her own tears begin to fall. “I could not hear you my son. Had I heard you I would have taken on Morgoth himself to safe you,” she said with a thick voice.

“I know,” he whispered, “I would have done the same for you.”

Nerdanel gently lifted Maedhros face with a hand. “You are very brave, so much more brave than you think. A lesser elf would have told him what he wanted to hear to just hope for a quick painful death, but you my son, you are indeed the heir of your father.”

“I was not brave,” Maedhros said with a little broken voice, and closed his eyes. “I was terrified, I thought I would never see any of you again.” He tried to wipe his eyes, but too late realized he had no hand on that side anymore, so he just wiped his eyes with his stump. “I begged for Fingon to kill me, yet he didn’t.”

“He loves you, he is your kin. And he sees the strong spirit within you,” Nerdanel said, taking a hold of Maedhros stump running her fingers over it.

Maedhros stayed quiet, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. Fingon had acted out of love, and what had he done? Sent him from his side in the most cowardly way.

“Will you join us now?” Nerdanel asked nervously. “Will you see your brothers, or will you hide yet again?”

“I promise, I won’t hide again.” Maedhros whispered.

“Good, we need your spirit and your guidance,” Nerdanel said. “We are your blood Maitimo, we will never scorn you no matter what those creatures threatened you with. They lied.”

Maedhros got a flash of claws ripping in his flesh. They had not threatened him. They had defiled him, made him unworthy of his family and of the crown.

“I am here now.” he forced himself to say.

Nerdanel saw the fear that flashed in her son’s eyes, and a deep dark part of her knew what had happened to him, but she would not ask, for even asking was too painful. “Everything is going to be alright,” she said with a firm voice, “I won’t light another pyre for a son.”

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8 - AN: I wrecked my brain trying to figure out how you’d make tooth prosthesis in ME. Don’t kill me, I stated that it was made off cow’s bones, because I figured that the men had cows, and to make it out f another dead persons teeth would just be too fucking morbid. – on the issue on the prisoner from Menegroth and the refusal of speaking Sindarin, its actually very much canon. – I had Calad disappear on me, dunno why.. Oh well, I asked my friend half elf lost, and she has betaed this, and will most properly be betaing more in the future if Calad do not come back.

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chapter 8 - I am the voice inside your head

Silence had once more claimed the household of Himring, Amrod watched Amras spend more time with Caranthir, and he felt left over. He did not know how to compose songs like Maglor and he knew nothing of war like Caranthir and Maedhros. He was only good at being Nerdanel’s little baby, and with the arrival of Celebrimbor that had changed as well.

His thoughts had circled in on the prisoner in the dungeon, he had thought of this for a while. Still, when he was on his way to approach Maedhros, he felt sweat spring forth in his palms as he knocked on his brother’s door to his office, his brother, the High King of the Noldo.

Maedhros looked up as the door opened, and saw his baby brother, looking terribly dishevelled “Pitya? What is amiss?”

Amrod moved through the office and sat down in a large leather chair. He looked at his brother, wrung his hands nervously and looked as if he would jump up at the smallest sound. “I wanted to ask you something” he finally admitted.

“Ask away.” Maedhros said and leaned against the heavy oak desk in the middle of the floor “I am listening.”

“The pri-prisoner” Amrod whispered “Did Caranthir...uhm…Interrogate him yet?”

Maedhros shook his head. “Nay, he needs someone who speaks the Sindarin tongue.”

“Why?” Amrod said, leaning forward, looking intensely at his elder brother.

“Because King Thingol once swore that he would never again speak the language of the Noldor.”

Amrod blinked, confused “But Quenya is the language of the Valar, is it not? Were they not enraged?”

Maedhros slowly shook his head “Nay little one, they were not. For Thingol had his reasons,” he took a deep breath, “He refused to ever utter a word, or let any of his subjects do it either, because it is the language of the kin slayers, yes Pitya, we are the ones that did him wrong in his own court.”

“Oh” Amrod said, feeling terrible stupid.

“So...this prisoner, this young one would never in his life have heard anything other than Sindarin spoken.” Maedhros said smiling. “Why did you want to know?”

“I just wondered if...I could help in any way.” he looked at his brother and offered a weak smile “Amras has his friends, and mother has the baby, and...”

“I understand.” Maedhros said “And you feel left out?”

“No, I...” Amrod said before he slowly nodded “...Yes.”

“That settles it then, you are to be my chief grey–elf prisoner caretaker, little one.”

“But I cannot speak Sindarin” Amrod said.

“I think we have books on the matter in the library.” Maedhros said with an encouraging smile and walking over to lay his hand on his little brother’s shoulder “And you like to read, right?”

Amrod nodded “Thank you” about to stand once more, but felt the hand on his shoulder hold him down. Maedhros set down resting on his heels, looking Amrod into his eyes “But I better not find out that you do not bring me every piece of information he gives.” the red-haired elf said softly, “Befriend him all you want, but he is still our prisoner, and perhaps the only link to where that damned gem is hidden.” Upon seeing Amrod paling, Maedhros added, “You do not wish for your brothers and father to have died in vain, so you can have a friend, do you?”

“N-no” Amrod said strangely weak. “I will not let you down.”

“Good, little brother.” Maedhros said with a sad smile. There was nothing he wanted more than to give this prisoner up and let his brother befriend the scared youth, but he couldn’t. All of Beleriand knew this elf was here. And they all waited for Maedhros’ next move. And as much as it saddened the king’s heart, they all expected him to be cruel. “Now run along.”

Amrod nodded and rose as Maedhros rose to his feet once more. Watching as his baby brother fled his office.

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Maglor walked out from the smithy, carrying a bundle covered in cloth. He had examined the prostheses himself, and he had to admit, it was beautifully made. He was very excited to show them to Maedhros.

He walking through the castle and came upon the door to the high king’s study. “Brother?” he called, knocking the heavy wooden door. “I have something for you”

“Enter” Maedhros called and looked up from the map on the table. As the door swung open he smiled a toothless smile, seeing his brother there. “Maglor” he said happily “What brings you here?”

Maglor smiled, feeling warm that his brother was so happy to see him “I come from the blacksmith.” he said as he turned to close the door.

“Oh” Maedhros sighed, and suddenly self-conscious, removed the arm stump from on top of the map.

Maglor walked across the floor and dumped the bundle of cloth onto the map. They both cringed when it gave a metallic ‘clank’. “It’s finished.” he said with a small voice.

With a shaking hand, Maedhros peeled the cloth to see what was inside. There was a strange device with some white looking squares. It looked an awful lot like real teeth. Maglor picked it up and turned it over in his hands “Tusk?”

“No, bones from a cow.” Maglor said with a little blush, “But I’m sure it will work; you just need a little training in talking with it, the smith said.”

Maedhros looked at his brother, as if he were he searching for an answer or maybe a blessing. When Maglor nodded encouragingly, Maedhros slowly opened his mouth and put the device in.

The tension lay heavy in the room, and when Maedhros removed his hand he smiled a little, testing, smile at Maglor. “Amazing” breathed the bard. “You look like... my Maitimo.” he admitted “It’s magic.”

“Fttfreally” Maedhros said, involuntarily spitting on the map, not used to having something in his mouth. Maglor turned and walked over to the wall, taking down a mirror and carrying it over to Maedhros.

“Look” he said, holding up the mirror.

Maedhros closed his eyes, afraid of what he would see. He remembered running his hands over his head, feeling bald spots where they had pulled out his hair. And he remembered the scars on his face with his fingertips.

“Please, brother, open your eyes.” Maglor said softly.

And with a shuddering breath Maedhros opened his eyes, bracing himself for the worst. But looking back at himself in the mirror was... “Oh” he breathed, feeling tears sting as he studied his face, his large green eyes shimmering with tears, running his fingers over his face.

“You are my Maitimo.” Maglor whispered again smiling happily.

“I look just like...me” the elder elf whispered, “You are right, it is really magic.”

Maglor put down the mirror and picked up the half arm made of wood and metal. “Come, let me strap it on for you,” he said.

Maedhros held out his stump and looked down on what his brother was doing. The arm was made so that leather would cover the part that was in contact with his skin, keeping the metal skeleton from gnawing into the stump of flesh. At the end was a beautiful carved hand in light wood. After strapping the device on Maedhros’ arm, Maglor looked up at his brother, as he pulled down the sleeve so only the wooden hand showed. “There.”

Maedhros twisted and turned his arm looking at the hand. “It’s uncomfortable,” he whispered “and it looks like dead branch.” He looked at his brother with a sad look.

“No, you are just not used to it, Maitimo,” Maglor said with an affectionate, gentle caress to his brother’s cheek “You will learn to like it quicker than you think.”

“But...” Maedhros said, feeling his mood darken and looking at the wooden limb. “I cannot touch anyone with it.”

“No” Maglor whispered back “But you will learn to use it. You just need to get accustomed to it.”

“I don’t know Maglor,” Maedhros said and touched the wooden hand with his good one, “It looks frightening.”

“Its not frightening, don’t be silly,” Maglor said with a cheeky smile “We could have gotten you canines and a hook, then you would truly have been scary.”

Maedhros couldn’t help but chuckle “I suppose that would live up to how the elven lords see me in the first place.”

“Not true, you are our king; no one would dare say such a thing of you.” Maglor said hotly

“Don’t be so sure” Maedhros said softly, smiling at his brother. “You are the best brother anyone could want, Maglor.”

Maglor smiled sweetly and kissed his brother’s hand. “Everything will be fine.”

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9- AN: thank you Mel *huggles* - and sorry for this extremely late update but I have been meddeling about with bishies and creating a new lj community for the library of moria. – and I am aware that its quite the detour that Maeglin makes, but to mordor with that, otherwise the plot wouldn’t work.

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Chapter 9 - I take you where you want to go

He had not dared to waste time with sleep, or even rests; Maeglin had pushed on, making the distance from Nan Elmoth to what he believed to be the road to the hidden city. But as he had walked through endless passes and valleys he had realized he was lost. Tears of frustration came to his eyes as he continued to make his way through rocks and scarce vegetation.

Walking up to the top of a large cliff, he saw it: a stronghold. His heart leaped with joy, for he was tired, hurt and aching. An encounter with a mountain lion had left deep wounds in his back, and he silently cursed himself every time they hurt for not being more alert when the beast had attacked. But he had been too tired, too worn to see her. Now he reckoned that the wounds were infected; they had not yet closed and were still causing him discomfort, and his increasingly worsening eyesight told him he might be running a slight fever.

Almost falling off the large cliff, he rolled down to the path under him which led to the stronghold. Scraping his elbows and knees, he got up and dragged himself to the large doors leading inside into the safe haven.

“Stay still!” a voice barked.

Maeglin looked up, but only saw the outline of a person with his back against the sun. “I am Maeglin,” he whispered.

“Sure, and I am Sildin,” the guard said pushing the dark elf with his foot.

Maeglin fell over, wincing as he had to push himself up again on his bruised hands. “Will you at least tell me where I am?” he whispered.

“This is Himring,” the guard said, “stronghold of the high king. What is your business here?”

“The king...” Maeglin breathed, “I mean no harm…please…I am hurt and hungry…”

The guard turned to another guard. “Go and fetch Lord Caranthir.” The other elf hurried off, leaving Maeglin with the guard pointing a spear in his face. “Where did you come from? And why did you come here?” he barked.

“Nan Elmoth,” Maeglin said, “Doriath.” Pushing himself to a sitting position he looked up at the guard. “I got lost.”

The guard narrowed his eyes. “You do realize it sounds highly suspicious, don’t you? No one could make it alone from Doriath to the pass of Himring.”

“I did have a horse at first,” Maeglin stated in childish defence.

The guard rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder as Caranthir emerged. “My lord Caranthir,” he whispered, and bowed.

“Stranger,” Caranthir said, “I am Caranthir, the king’s brother; pray tell from where do you hail?”

“Nan Elmoth,” Maeglin whispered once more, “Yet I was merely born there, I hail to no one.”

“No one?” Caranthir said.

Maeglin lowered his gaze. “No, my lord.”

“Are you hurt, stranger?” Caranthir said.

“Yes my lord, I think I might be badly hurt, I implore you to help me…” the black-haired elf whispered.

“Those scratches? What kind of an elf are you?”

“No…my back…” Maeglin said weakly. Caranthir gestured to the guard to go and lift up the elf’s tunic.

Upon seeing the deep, badly infected wounds on Maeglin’s back, Caranthir paled. “By Eru!” he gasped, “you might be suspicious, but you are in great need of help, young Maeglin.” He turned to the guards. “Carry him into the healers’ house,” he barked. “I shall inform my brother.”

He turned and left in haste, as the guards picked up Maeglin and carried him off, less than careful.

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Days passed eventless for Maeglin in the healers’ house, but gradually he felt the strength return to his body. Only seeing the same two elves who were apparently the healers, he was lulled into a boring routine. They wouldn’t tell him their names or answer any of his questions to begin with. They only asked him the necessary, and examined his body. Then one day the elf he had met upon his arrival suddenly appeared in the doorframe, another red-haired elf behind him. It was easy for the darkelf to see they were royalty; their clothes were richly decorated and they carried themselves with an arrogant air.

“Stranger!” The dark-haired elf said.

“My lord Caranthir” Maeglin mumbled and slowly sat up.

“This is my brother Lord Amras,” he said gesturing towards the younger elf who stepped forth.

“My lord Amras,” Maeglin said, and swung his legs out over the edge of the mattress to greet the brothers.

“Nay, stay,” Caranthir said, “a servant will bring you some clothes, and then Amras is to take you to our elder brother, who is the king’s most trusted advisor.” The dark-haired elf narrowed his eyes and looked upon Maeglin; “I would advise you to be respectful” he whispered dangerously.

Maeglin swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, my lord Caranthir.”

“So be it.” Caranthir patted his brother on the shoulder. “I will see you later, brother,” he whispered, and left the room.

They waited in silence until the servant had come with the clothes, laid them on the bed, bowed to Amras and left the chamber. Maeglin stood up and walked over to the pile of clothes. His legs were giving him trouble, and he could feel that it had been a long time since he had used them. Suddenly he halted, and blushed. Amras sensed his nervousness and turned his back to the dark elf. Maeglin smiled in gratitude and stripped in order to dress himself. And after struggling somewhat with the leggings he softly whispered, “I am done, my lord Amras.”

Amras turned and looked at the elf. He looked like a real elf now, not like the maltreated shadow he had seen lying in this bed just days ago. “Follow me,” he said and left the room, looking over his shoulder to make sure that Maeglin was following.

The little darkelf was absolutely amazed as they walked though large halls and dark corridors; he had never seen anything this big in his life. “Excuse me lord Amras,” he said, “but do you really live here?”

“Yes.” Amras said simply, killing the conversation right there.

Maeglin just kept his questions to himself and followed the red haired elf to a large wooden door, which Amras opened. “Brother?” he called.

“Out here,” Maglor called back, sitting on his balcony, looking out over the garden.

Amras walked out there and Maeglin followed. “Brother, I bring you the stray elf,” he said, stepping away and letting Maglor look upon the black-haired youth.

“Thank you Amras,” Maglor said and smiled at his younger brother, “you can leave now.”

“Yes,” Amras said and bowed slightly, leaving the balcony.

The second he heard the door being closed to the corridor, Maglor smiled at Maeglin. “Sit,” he said.

“My lord,” Maeglin whispered and hurried to sit.

Maglor wished he could see the face beneath the drape of raven tresses that fell down in front the elf’s features. “Would you look at me?”

Maeglin looked up at the older elf, brushing his hair out of his face.

The son of Fëanor found his breath caught in his throat, looking upon this little piece of perfection, but he was trained to be diplomatic, and kept his façade. “What is your name, little one?”

“I am Maeglin, son of Adrehel,” he whispered, wringing his hands in his lap. “Are you Maedhros?” he asked with a blush. “My lord” he added.

“No, child,” Maglor laughed. “I am Maglor, the high king’s younger brother, and advisor.”

Maeglin’s mouth formed an ‘O’ but no sound came.

“Pray tell Maeglin son of Adrehel, what brings you to Himring?” Maglor said, taking a sip of his tea, looking at the young elf as if he were trying to imprint every little piece of him.

“I ran,” Maeglin whispered. “I searched for my sister’s brother and his hidden city, but I failed to find it, my lord.”

“You are a very brave elf, if that is the truth,” Maglor said, putting the cup down on the table again. “Do you realise what the odds were for you to even make it here?”

“No, my lord” Maeglin said with a weak blush.

“Zero” Maglor said. “It’s a long and very dangerous journey, and not even my brothers who are trained, brave warriors would take that trip alone.”

“Oh” Maeglin murmured, “I didn’t know that…”

“For what it is worth, I believe you are who you claim to be,” Maglor said. “My cousin married a dark elf and had a child; I do not know if it was a boy or a girl, or the name, so I cannot say you are not he.”

“She didn’t marry him,” Maeglin spat hotly, only to regret it seconds later when he saw Maglor frown, and he lowered his voice. “Forgive me, but she did not marry him, my lord.”

“I only know what rumour tells me,” Maglor said and raised a brow, smiling at the youth. Oh he was beautiful indeed, and even more with that pretty blush to his cheeks. He had to convince himself not to reach out and touch that skin that looked so soft, and the hair, it was the reason to compose an ode in itself, he mused. Like liquid night. But he was shaken from his day dreaming when he heard Maeglin’s voice.

“My lord?”

“Oh yes,” Maglor said “well in the high king’s absence I have decided, you are from now on our guest; any child of our cousin is always welcome here.” In reality he just didn’t want to see the beautiful elf gone, he couldn’t care less if he was who he claimed to be. He just wanted him close. But upon seeing the elf’s baffled expression Maglor continued. “A servant is to bring you to your guest rooms,” he told the confused beauty with a friendly smile.

“I...Th-thank you my lord” he whispered and smiled nervously at the elder elf.

“Sadly your mother’s other brother has just returned home from a visit here. But I need to send him some letters; you can add one if you please.”

“But I know not what to write, my lord,” Maeglin said softly, smiling nervously.

“Oh, but he knew of your existence, little Maeglin, and he has been searching for his sister for years, so he would be thrilled to learn of news,” Maglor said taking the last sip of his tea and putting down the cup a final time.

“I shall write him, my lord,” Maeglin said, not able to look into the large searching eyes of the elven lord.

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Later that night Maglor came to his brother’s study to find Maedhros slumped over a large map with a bottle of potent wine in his hand, trying to pour some in a glass, missing and spilling it on the map. “Oops,” he said to himself.

“Brother?” Maglor said in a hushed voice as he walked over to the desk. Taking the bottle from Maedhros he poured the red liquid into the glass; his elder brother looked up, and smiled. “Thanks,” he murmured and tried to compose himself, taking the glass. “Can’t sleep?” he said.

“No,” Maglor said and smiled. “Adrehel’s son is here,” he said blushing slightly.

“Oh I see,” Maedhros chuckled and coughed, “send him to Fingon then, he would wish for his nephew to join his household.”

“Not yet,” Maglor said and took the glass out of Maedhros’ hand, emptying it himself. “I will send the news to him first; he might be busy.” Maglor choose his words carefully, since he had actually heard from another messenger that Fingon had found himself a bride. But no matter what his brother would say, he knew his heart, and he would not like to be the one to deal such a deathblow.

“Busy!” Maedhros spat and snatched the glass back filling it with more success this time.

“Maitimo? Will you write him a letter also?” Maglor said kneeling at Maedhros’ side, “you really should…”

“No,” the high king said, his voice dripping with venom, “and don’t address this matter again.”

“I take it you heard the rumour then…” Maglor said softly, placing his hand on his brother’s wooden one.

“Silence!” Maedhros yelled, “I said do not address this matter again!”

“I think you are in the wrong, Maitimo,” Maglor whispered, “but if it makes you happy, I shall not speak his name ever again.”

“Thank you, brother,” the red-haired elf said more relaxed and took a deep breath. “So tell me, what is it about this elf of yours, why are you so keen on him staying?”

Completely taken off guard, he cursed that his brother knew him too well. “I…I...” he mumbled and looked down at his hand resting on Maedhros’ prostheses.

“You are transparent, brother mine…” he said softly, and gently ran a hand over Maglor’s hair.

The black-haired brother smiled. “He is beautiful,” he whispered and slowly looked up at his brother, “just you wait and see.”

“Can it be? Did my icicle of a brother get struck after all?” he teased.

Maglor just blushed. “Keep this a secret, please?” he pleaded.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you.” Maglor said as he stood up. “Come, you should go to bed.”

“It’s no use,” Maedhros whined, “I cannot sleep.”

“Oh no? With all that wine in your head, I am sure you will pass out before you hit the mattress,” Maglor said, pulling his drunken brother to his feet.

“Will you stay with me?” Maedhros said looking at his brother with a hidden plea.

“Yes,” Maglor answered with a smile, “but let us just get there first…” He started pulling the drunken elf down the corridor and towards his bedroom. Once inside he guided his brother to the bed and sure enough Maedhros was asleep before Maglor pulled the blanket over him. He kneeled down and gently opened the clasps and pulled off the wooden hand, placing it on the bedside. “Sleep tight,” he whispered and lay down on the other side of his brother on top of the blanket, wrapping an arm around Maedhros. Then he too drifted off to sleep, with sweet dreams filled with liquid darkness.

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10 - AN: what to say? I tried to portrait the family some. And yes I promise I will have some actual smut soon, it just don’t fit in the plot right now, but it will come.. (she said ‘come’ – hur hur) – but I need one thing from you girls.. I am trying to make up my mind about something here, so I need to know... should Maglor get some bootay? – Betaed by Half elf lost.

Pic that inspired this chapter (house of fëanor, by Jenny Dolfen)

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Chapter 10 -I am the Bullet in the Gun

(A month later…)

Amrod felt like he had studied till his head hurt, he had taken piles of books on the Grey Elf tongue with him to bed and read until the daylight broke. He was so determined to show Maedhros that he could do this; he would not take the honour he had shown him lightly. Besides he hoped he could buy some time from Caranthir and his interrogations. Last night he had heard screaming that echoed throughout the halls and corridors. They had even woken up Celebrimbor who had started crying, and moments later he had heard the light patter of his mother running barefoot down the hall.

Amrod had hurried to Caranthir first thing in the morning and tried to get some information on how the prisoner was. But his older brother was a mask of silence and he had given up. He would ask Amras later; Caranthir told Amras everything.

The young elf had gone to the kitchen and asked the servants if he could get some of the leftover food from the meal. They had allowed him to take it, not really caring if he fed the Lord’s huge dogs with it.

Now he was walking down the long stone spiral staircase to the dungeon carrying a tray with food and water. And the further he went the more he felt sorry for those poor sods who never saw the sun for as long as they were here. But this was nothing; what his big brother had to endure with the Dark Lord must have been a hundredfold compared to this measly dungeon. Amrod shook his head, pushed these disturbing thoughts aside, and walked down the narrow corridor. He nodded to the keeper and said, “Open the door for me please.”

The keeper just smiled and opened the prisoner’s door, shaking his head at the young prince. Caranthir had told him that the High King had allowed this, so he should just amuse the young princeling.

Amrod slowly walked inside and put the tray down on the stone floor “Eat,” he said in Sindarin, hoping that the other elf would. “it is from the dinner table,” he said softly and pushed the tray closer to the huddled form in the shadow.

Nothing happened. Amrod scooted closer to the prisoner, “It’s good,” he said with a smile, picking up a chicken wing, taking a little bite, but the shadowed elf did not even look up. Without thinking, Amrod reached out and lifted the prisoner’s head with a finger under his chin. “Look,” he whispered, taking a bite of the wing. The shadowed elf looked up at him with large frightened dark blue eyes and Amrod felt his heart fall. The prisoner was nothing but a youngster about his own age; what a cruel fate to sit here and rot. This was the first time he had seen his face, and as the young elf trembled under his finger, he decided to remove it. “I won’t hurt you” he said, “Here, eat,” he handed the chicken wing to the prisoner. And this time the youngster took it, taking a little bite while looking at the intruder in the rich robe.

Amrod felt a bit sad that the elf was so frightened of him, but what had he expected? He called out to the keeper if they could get a candle; the keeper came with a torch and fastened it on the side of the wall where there was a metal device made for this purpose. The door closed behind him with a metallic ‘Clang’ and Amrod was once more alone with the elf.

He handed the elf the rest of the tray, and the prisoner took the large cup with water and drank as his life depended on it. And then Amrod noticed, big red welts on his feet and hands which had been hidden by the shadow before. Now the angry red colour seemed to stand out. Amrod paled thinking back on the screams he had heard the night before.

“Wh-what is your name?” the prisoner asked with a hoarse voice.

By Eru! The voice was just as beautiful as the elf himself, Amrod thought with a light blush, scolding himself for even thinking it. “I am Amrod,” he said “what is yours?”

The prisoner just shook his head and the chains rattled slightly “It was kind of you to bring me food,” the youngster whispered.

“I figured you were hungry,” Amrod said with a warm smile. After the first setback, he had not even counted on hearing this beautiful young elf’s voice. Amrod blinked and realized he was staring, but the other was hauntingly perfect.

“I was,” the elf said, pushing some of his raven black hair behind his ear, “I take it you live here.”

“Yes,” said Amrod, suddenly feeling unnerved. He had never for a second thought about what hate this elf might bear for his brothers and kin. He did not want to lie, but neither did he want this beautiful elf to hate him for something he had no part in. And besides, the other elf did not know his brothers and parents as he did.

“You do not strike me as a cutthroat like the rest,” the prisoner said. Amrod must have looked mortified and the prisoner continued, “Did you not hear what they did to us? All of us, females and children as well. Bloodthirsty and cruel I tell you.”

“Not all of us...” Amrod started but the dark-haired prisoner cut him off.

“Now run and tell your king that, and tell him I won’t tell him anything even if I’m flogged; I won’t tell his spies, no matter how inviting, nice, and pretty as they are.”

“But...I am not...” Amrod whispered.

“Haste to your king and his cruel brothers, run and tell them all. I will not tell you anything!” the prisoner barked.

“I am no spy,” Amrod said “I am only your caretaker.” he whispered, feeling most of all like he had just been slapped. This divine being hated him with all his heart, and for some reason this saddened him beyond anything else. He would have to keep his identity a secret otherwise he would never be able to speak with this elf again. “I am Varlin” he lied.

“Greetings Varlin” the prisoner said, not even moving a muscle.

“And what may I call you?”

“You may call me Idun,” the prisoner said.

Amrod smiled and slowly rose to his feet “I shall see you tomorrow Idun,” he said softly “and I shall see if I can arrange for some warmer clothes and a bath for you.”

The prisoner smiled a genuine smile up at him, “You are most kind,” he said.

Amrod felt like his knees would give in - this smile. Never had he seen anything this magnificent. And right there and then he decided he wanted to see that smile more, much, much more. “Until tomorrow,” he said and smiled back, hoping to the Valar that the heat in his cheeks did not show.

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Amrod made his way up from the dungeon and gave back the tray to the servants before he walked to the large hall. Seeing his mother sit in front of the fire sewing a cape, he walked over behind her and rested his head on her shoulder “Is that for Celebrimbor when he grows into it?” he whispered.

“Yes” Nerdanel said, resting her handiwork in her lap and reaching up caressing her youngest son’s cheek “Where have you been? You smell like mold.”

“The dungeon. Maedhros let me attend to the prisoner,” he said smiling into his mother’s palm.

“And is he the reason for your smile?” Nerdanel asked.

Amrod stiffened. He hated when his mother could see through him. “I am just glad I get to help. They all have their duties and now I have mine as well.”

“Don’t forget your tutoring,” Nerdanel said, chiding her son slightly.

“But Amras doesn’t have to go,” Amrod replied in childish defence.

“No, Caranthir asked for your brother to use his time learning the way of the sword instead.”

Amrod moved away from his mother’s shoulder with a sigh, and went to sit at her feet instead. He felt the fire warm his back.

Maglor and Maedhros made their way to their mother and brother and without a word they sat down next to Amrod. Maglor leaned his head on his little brother’s shoulder. “Maglor?” Amrod said softly “would you sing us a song?”

“About what Pitya?” Maglor asked.

“Would you sing the song you always sang when it was harvest time, before we came here. Before...” he took a deep breath and stayed silent.

“Yes I can sing that song,” Maglor said with a smile “I had forgotten that until you reminded me.”

Amrod looked up and saw Nerdanel run her fingers through Maedhros’s hair, untangling it, and Maedhros rested his head on their mother’s thigh, closing his eyes in reverie, smiling as Maglor began to sing the happy harvest song of their childhood in Aman. Amrod would not have been surprised to see their father come in the hall, black from sod and smelling like brimstone.

Do you know the man who danced with me?

Yellow leather pants he wore

But my husband he wore green

Do you know the man who followed me home?

Black leather boots he wore

But my husband he wore brown

Do you know the child in my lap?

Maja on the mountain that is her name

But my husband’s girl is Stina

Do you know the one who brought me such joy?

Now he is old, now he is grey

But my husband lives on.

As Maglor stopped and looked up at Amras who stood in the doorway looking at them, he was carrying Celebrimbor who was sleeping “I remember that tune,” Amras said and looked fondly down at the sleeping toddler “you managed to sing him to sleep brother” he said with a smile.

“Good” Maglor smiled back and moved slightly as Nerdanel got up from her chair to carry the baby to bed.

Amrod looked at Maedhros, who sat up in the rocking chair their mother had occupied, and Maglor leaned against his leg, pulling Amrod with him and Amras came to sit next to the fire as well. No the prisoner Idun did not know his family, not like he did, they were all just trying to get their family together again, after so many of their loved ones had perished. Worst of all, they had lost their father, he who had been their beacon for so long.

Caranthir made his way to the hall as well, having heard his brother’s song. He too came to sit at the fire. “Sing that again, please brother” he said.

And Maglor did. Smiling as he stopped, “I am a far better singer than ruler,” he mused, looking at his brothers who usually bickered and fought amongst themselves sitting here leaning up against each other with smiles on their faces.

“Speaking of kings,” Caranthir said, “Brother, when can we interrogate the prisoner thoroughly?”

Maedhros opened his eyes and frowned, “You will kill that child,” he said softly.

“Brother, I implore you. We must know if he is who we think he is. I beg you to remember your oath,” Caranthir said.

“You are cruel!” Amrod suddenly snarled, “you find pleasure in his pain, do you not? I saw what you did to him, so do not call upon any oath. You are nothing but a butcher” he cried.

“Silence Pitya!” Maedhros barked and then he looked at Caranthir, “a week, give the prisoner a week, and let us try Amrod’s approach.”

“You say I am cruel,” Caranthir hissed at Amrod, “but yet I am not the one claiming to be his ally.” With that the dark-haired elf rose to his feet, “A week,” he said with a curse under his breath, “a week Pitya.”

Maglor suddenly saw someone in the shadows, and recognized him right away, “Maeglin, come sit with us,” he called, and the dark elf stepped into the light and walked slowly over to them. His pitch black hair braided into a single plait that snaked down his back gave him an adult air as he walked to the others.

“I didn’t want to intrude,” he said softly, smiling at Maglor.

“Oh, you do not intrude,” replied Maglor and yelped as Maedhros pinched him.

Amrod rested against Maedhros’s leg, closing his eyes and listening to his brothers’ playful bantering. A week. All he had was a week.

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11 - AN: I am aware that Maedhros is a dramaqueen, but hey! I am PMS.

Betaed by; Mel the princess of pervyness, who was bored like shite.

* brother/toron[-rni],onóro

(From http://home.netcom.com/~heensle/lang/elvish/elvish.html - quenya dictionary)

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Chapter 11 - I am the end of all your dreams

Carrying the letter to Fingon, Maglor made his way through the stronghold, lost in his own thoughts. He had finished it all now, and just wanted to know if his brother had changed his mind and wanted to send something with the messenger anyway. He almost missed the little shape in the shadows, but a sudden move made him look twice. At first he wondered who it might be, but as he squinted he could make out Maeglin’s form. “Maeglin,” he whispered, stepping back as the raven-haired youth stepped out into the sparse daylight of the corridor.

“My lord,” Maeglin whispered, and bowed slightly.

The haunted look in the young elf’s eyes broke Maglor’s heart. He wondered what on earth could make the beautiful elf hide in the shadows like that; it seemed to Maglor that he was always looking over his shoulder.

“There is no need to be on your guard here, my friend,” Maglor said softly, hoping that the beautiful youth would relax a little.

“Forgive me, my lord,” Maeglin said, and smiled a crooked nervous smile. “I do not mean to offend you.”

“Oh, I am not offended in the slightest, young master Maeglin,” Maglor replied. He was not sure what to do with this youngster, and nor did he really care; all he knew was that he wanted to have him close. “Will you take a walk in the gardens with me?” he asked with a smile that made him resemble an over-eager host.

“But of course, my lord,” Maeglin said, pushing some hair behind his ear in a nervous move, but following the tall elf nonetheless.

“Let me show you my favourite spot,” Maglor said with an encouraging smile, folding his hands on the small of his back as they strode along. “I composed many a tune there,” he added.

“I see,” Maeglin answered, turning around, trying to take in the beauty of the strange garden inside this otherwise large and grey stronghold. “This…” He turned back to Maglor, and gestured out towards a vast rose garden. “Who founded this garden?”

Maglor smiled, feeling that finally they were actually talking, instead of him making suggestions and Maeglin being one big excuse for him. “My mother and I,” he answered.

“It’s the most beautiful vision I have ever seen,” Maeglin whispered as he followed Maglor to a bench, sitting down next to the king’s favourite brother. “They look just like what I imagined when my mother told stories from Gondolin.”

Maglor chuckled as Maeglin twisted and turned in his seat to see everything around him. “I too have heard the tales of Lord Turgon’s gardens, and I am afraid nothing I crafted can measure up to his paradise.”

“Oh but it can, my lord,” the raven-haired youth said. “This garden is breathtaking.” He turned to look at the tall lord next to him, smiling a big genuine smile. “Though I must admit I wish I had found what I set out to do - to see the city of Gondolin,” he blushed slightly, “not that I am not grateful that you took me in.”

Maglor laughed and patted the youth’s shoulder, willing himself not to run his fingertips over the silky black hair, quickly removing his hand again. “Young master Maeglin, it is only natural.” Smiling at the youth, he continued. “I trust you would tell me if you were lacking something to take up your time. I would not have you fade from boredom here in my brother’s halls.”

“Oh, I like it here a lot, my lord,” Maeglin said offering a nervous smile, silently wishing that Maglor would have let his hand linger on his shoulder. “I love the tranquillity here.”