Winterborn part 4

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19 - AN:  as I said, slight change in plans, and I realise there is a jump in the plot. But soon it will make somewhat sense.

Betaed by; Erestor Junkie, the remaining mistakes are mine

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Chapter 19 – Numb.

//I’m ever so lost, I can’t find my way//

Winter solstice had come, and as promised Maedhros had travelled with his brothers to their cousins feast. The greeting had been just as awkward as the last time, and on this, the night before the feast should take place, Maedhros felt as if he had tossed and turned in his bed for hours without end, the pillow was too lumpy, the duvet was too warm, and the bed too hard. In the end he gave up with a sigh, and sat up in the bed and reached for his robe, this night would not bring him any peaceful sleep.

‘This is it” he thought to himself, this would be his last night as high king, a title he had never wanted in the first place, then why was he so tormented? Why did he feel like he was being downgraded to just being that deranged son of his mangy father. insanity ran in the family. He could see them now, those who had not done him any harm out of sheer respect for his title; they would all throw rocks at him the first chance they got. Salty tears wet the inside of his hand as he wept bitter tears.

Maglor sat and read a book on the other side of the wall, he too was denied the luxury of sleep this night, and at first he had not thought much of it, but as it went on he was sure he heard someone crying. Closing his book he stood up, leaving the volume in his seat as he slowly walked out the door and into the dark corridor, there was no one on this floor other than their party from Himring, fearing the worst he walked to the next room and pushed the door open to Maedhros’ room. “Maitimo?” he whispered as he walked in. No answer came but as he got used to the dark in the room, he saw his brother sitting on the bed. Slowly he closed the door and walked over to his brother, Maglor’s light elven steps not making a sound on the cold stone floor. “Maitimo?” he whispered again, sitting down next to his brother, wrapping an arm around him, “why do you weep brother?”

“I don’t know brother” Maedhros groaned, “I think I must have lost my mind.”

“Why would you say that?” squeezing his brother gently he added in a gloomy tone “you knew what we would find here, this cannot surprise you.”

“Oh Maglor” Maedhros said “what will I be when I am no longer king?”

“You shall be the brightest of all princes,” Maglor answered

“You are my confidant, my brother, my blood and best friend Makalaure, do not lie to me in this hour” Maglor whispered his voice dripping with sorrow.

Maglor sighed, “When you are no longer king, you shall be Maedhros, nothing more nothing less, prince of Himring. A seasoned warrior who saw his share of battles, and you shall be free.”

Maedhros shook his head “I shall be nothing, I will be the king who failed to rise, the ruler who was too afraid to rule. And a disappointment to generations to come, no great songs shall be made when I am dead.”

Maglor took a hold of his brothers wooden hand, “why such dark thoughts? Think of the responsibility that will no longer be yours when you hand your title over to uncle,” he flashed a brilliant smile to Maedhros, “please Maitimo, this is your decision, and even if you know where I stand on this issue, it is your decision to make. And if you do not want to give your title to him, then don’t.”

“No, you are right,” Maedhros whispered, “This title was given to me, and I never wanted it. And now I have the chance to be free of it, without disgrace,” he paused and risked a little crooked smile “I should take that chance.”

“I think so,” Maglor said “but not if it makes you miserable”

“Fingolfin shall be a supreme ruler,” Maedhros said. “He is a fine elf, has the spirit that is necessary to gather the different tribes to war, overthrow evil. And... He is not a cripple.”

“You survived Maitimo, you came back to us, a lesser elf should have perished, yet you prevailed, this makes you stronger than the dark lord himself, and you ruled these lands for long, with great success,” Maglor’s voice faltered and came to a slow stop.

Maedhros added softly “You did, you ruled. I was lying cold to the core in a bed most of the time, and when I did not, you were the greatest adviser I could have wanted, you Maglor, you ruled these lands, I was merely a face.”

“Shh” Maglor hushed his brother. “What ever you choose I shall stand by your side, you know that. I made a promise once that I would never ever leave you, and I wont, even If I shall wander the shores till eternity as a doomed soul, I shall stand by you.”

Maedhros laid his head on his brother’s shoulder and took a deep breath, “You should marry and provide mother with another elfling, another heir to the throne of Fëanor, my beloved beautiful brother, how come you never married?”

“Same reason as you never did,” Maglor answered. “Mother and the throne of Fëanor has Celebrimbor, that must be enough.” He raised his hand and ran it soothingly over Maedhros’ hair, “do not speak as we are dead my brother, we shall live for many years to come.”

Maedhros chuckled with a hollow sound “my sweet brother, given the gift of foresight, and yet you can whisper such sweet rubbish, I am not a heartbroken lover you must lie to.”

“Forgive me,” Maglor just said lamely. “You should rest my brother, we shall have many meetings tomorrow, and I do not want you to be exhausted.”

“You are right” Maedhros said as he got free of his brothers embrace. “Will you stay with me?” avoiding Maglor’s eyes the eldest son of Fëanor sighed “please?”

“I will stay” Maglor said, as he rose from the bed to walk around it, and to the other side before lying down on the rich duvet. “Don’t worry the answers will come to you in dreams.”

Maedhros laughed softly as he curled himself around Maglor’s frame, and this time he drifted off to reverie listening to Maglor’s heartbeat. He could be right, maybe the answers would come to him in his sleep, oh how he wished it would be that easy.

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The next evening they had a giant banquet, Maglor lacked his appetite even if the food was the most delicious you could find any place on Arda, poking his food, pushing it around on the plate, until he heard a clanging on a glass, and a chair shuffle as someone stood up, to his surprise he heard Maedhros’ voice and he looked up at his brother, as he stood there, he was magnificent, the king of kings, in burgundy robes, making his hair shine with extra red. And for a second Maglor wished that everything had been different, oh how Maedhros would have blossomed and thrived had he not been caught, had he not been crippled both in body and soul.

Maedhros looked down the table to his younger brother, and flashed him a smile, as if trying to comfort, He saw the doubt and inner struggle in those large green eyes, and then he turned to Fingon. “Cousin,” he said. “We are all gathered here to celebrate you and your wife’s wonderful child. I hope he shall have his father’s spirit and his mother’s looks.” The other elves chuckled, and Maedhros continued “If I could I would give him the stars, the moon and eternal peace in his life, but sadly these are not times of peace dear cousin, and therefore,” he turned around and looked at his uncle. “I shall renounce my title and hand it over to lord Fingolfin, for he is a far wiser and braver elf than I. I hope he shall reign in prosperity for all times.” The court was dead silent, until Maglor came to his brother aid. “Long live the king” he yelled and then others joined in.

“But.. Wait, good lords and ladies” Maedhros said as he fumbled to get his circlet out of his hair, “no king without a crown, this circlet belonged to my dear departed father, and now it is back where it belongs, on the rightful heir to the title.” He handed it over the table to Fingolfin, who still just sat and starred at the red haired elf.

“Thank you my lord” he said softly as he reached for the circlet.

“My king,” Maedhros said as he bowed his head respectfully before he sat down once more. This is my birth gift to you little one, he thought to himself.

The rest of the dinner was uneventful, but everyone seemed in a strange mood, and there were whispers in the corners, trying to figure out why on earth Maedhros had chosen this day and this moment to do something like this. Some thought he had found a common girl he wanted to marry, and some that he had lost his mind, none of them guessed that it was because he just wanted to be free.

Music played and the elves at Fingon’s party were making merry, but not Maedhros, he had withdrawn to the shadows until Maglor noticed and came and sat down. “Brother,” he whispered “are you sad?”

Maedhros nodded, “Did I make a mistake my dear Maglor?”

“Nay, you did what you had to. Do not fret brother; all shall be as it should be again.” Maglor kissed his brothers cheek before he stood up and held his hand out to Maedhros.

“I am not dancing with you,” Maedhros said with a little smile “that is just too pathetic.”

Maglor laughed, “No, I want you to come and see Fingon’s babe, it would be extremely rude of us not to.”

Maedhros nodded as he stood up as well, brushing his robes “you are right, let me see the child, and get this dreadful night over with, I want to return home as fast as possible. Mother should be told.”

They walked over to where Fingon and his wife sat. “Cousin Fingon,” Maedhros said softly and embraced the baffled elf “my lady,” he reached to embrace her as well. And after him, Maglor repeated the greeting.

“Maedhros, Maglor” Fingon said, “I am pleased that you came all this way to join in the rejoicing.”

“Of course my friend,” Maedhros said as he smiled “Maglor is dying to see him, can we peek for a second?”

“You can hold him if you want to” the lady said and held out the babe to Maedhros, but he just looked away in an awkward move, and Maglor jumped in “I would love to hold him,” he said quickly, taking the bundle, cradling it against his chest. “What a delightful child,” Maglor cooed to the baby. “Yes, you are.” The infant just slept, and after some time he looked up at Fingon, “Does he have a name yet?”

“No” Fingon said, “We need to think a little more, find something that fits him perfectly.”

“Ah yes, a name should not be taken lightly” Maedhros said with a little smile

“Oh Maedhros, I miss the time where Celebrimbor was this little,” Maglor said, smiling as the infant curled its little hand around his finger.

“I think we shall retire now my lord” Fingon’s wife said softly as she reached for her baby again.

“Yes, you need rest my star,” Fingon said and tenderly kissed his wife’s forehead before she and the baby disappeared out of the hall unnoticed by anyone else. “I am blessed,” he said as he turned to his cousins once more.

“Indeed,” Maedhros said. “Congratulations once more to you and your wife, now if you will excuse me,” Maedhros nodded to Fingon and Maglor as he retreated, back to the shadows of the hall, spectating the feast in his own thoughts. Most of all Maedhros just wanted to leave, but that would be considered rude, and hurt Fingon’s feelings, he wouldn’t have him thinking that he did not want to attend, or that he was not happy for him. For he was, some distant part of him was really happy that his beloved Fingon had finally got the child he so desperately wanted, and still his soul clouded over in darkness, this was something he could never be a part of, it had been right of him to send him from his side back then at Himring. Maedhros felt most of all like he was naked, stripped of all but pride. And pride was what held him there in the shadows of the hall until he also disappeared without anyone missing his presence.

Fingon and Maglor had refilled their cups, and seated themselves outside, “Cousin Maglor?” Fingon said running his finger nervously over the brim of the glass, “how are things at Himring?” When no immediate answer came, he smiled sadly. “Bad I take it. I can’t believe that Maedhros just did what he did, why would he give his title to our uncle? He is not entitled to this at all, you are.”

“I don’t want it,” Maglor said, “I tried and failed”

“You didn’t fail Maglor,” Fingon said as he looked up at his dark haired cousin. “You just had a rough time, that’s all.”

“Fingon, I have been meaning to ask you since we arrived, but the moment was never right, it is not even right now,” Maglor paused and took a sip of the sweet wine “have you heard news from Gondolin?” the skinny elf bit his lip nervously waiting for an answer.

“No, Maglor, I have heard no word from uncle Turgon” he reached out and laid a soothing hand on Maglor’s shoulder “I heard about your heartache my friend, and I wish there was something I could tell you, but I do not know how little Maeglin is holding out in the hidden city.”

Maglor sighed. “You know,” he shook his head lightly; “does every one on this damned piece of rock know what happens in my bedroom?” He couldn’t hide the irritation and hurried to take another sip.

“Relax cousin,” Fingon said softly “what I meant to say is that my heart goes out to you, you did a very unselfish thing, and undoubtedly the right thing too. It is cruel to set who you need the most, free.”

“He stopped writing me,” Maglor said lamely starring out into nothing in front of him. “I have gone trough his letters again and again, like a madman. To see if I could find any reason why he stopped writing, but I find none.” He tore his gaze off the horizon and looked at Fingon “you would tell me if you knew anything, right?”

“Oh Maglor,” Fingon sighed and drew his cousin in for an embrace, holding the other elf tight he whispered “Go there yourself my friend, if you do not solve this, it will haunt you forever.”

“Go there? Are you mad?” Maglor gasped “No! I wont go there and make a fool out of myself, he stopped writing, and apparently got over whatever we had, rather fast. I should just learn to live with that.”

“Hush.. You do not know what you are saying,” Fingon whispered. “Love doesn’t perish that easily cousin, when I look in your brothers eyes I see that he holds something else for me than contempt and indifference, I do not know what it is, but believe me when I say, I love him still.”

Maglor pulled away from Fingon and held him out in stretched arms, looking his cousin straight in the eyes. “Do you even realise what you are saying?” he said completely mortified.

“I love my wife, and I love my son, why can’t I also love someone else? Is ones heart that shallow?” he smiled at his cousin, “what I *am* saying is that you should not give up, if you need a purpose to go there, I shall find one for you. So if he truly has forgotten you and cast your love aside, then you can leave again without loosing face.”

“You would do that for me?” Maglor said with a hoarse voice, blinking rapidly so he wouldn’t cry, but failed and tears started to run slowly down his cheeks.

“Of course I would my dear, dear cousin” Fingon said, smiling as Maglor drew him in for another embrace. “Let your steps on your journey home be lighter than before, I shall write you the moment I solved this.”

“I can never repay you for this,” Maglor sniffled reaching up to wipe his tears, smiling slightly.

“Oh you can, and you have,” Fingon said, looking darkly at his cousin. “You held true to your promise,” Maglor’s smile disappeared “do not fret cousin, to pursue your own happiness is not breaking your promise, you should not be alone Maglor, and I hate to see you this unhappy” Fingon paused for a second “you remind me of someone I know” he smiled bitterly and padded the other elf lightly on his shoulder “promise me to write me if there is anything in the world you need.”

Maglor nodded and fell silent, trying to digest what Fingon had actually said, if he loved Maitimo still, then why had he married that female? Why had they decided to have a child? He did not dare to ask these questions, and so they would remain unanswered. But Maglor could feel that whatever was to come, was like a tidal wave, these was not times of peace indeed, these were times of changing. Stagnation before the storm.

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20- AN:  I realised with dread that I made a typo in chapter 19. Turgon is Fingon’s brother, not cousin! Sorry, and thanks to you who pointed it out! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I should be beaten with an old wet issue of the Silmarillion on a public square at noon, I know. But since that is not happening *luckily*, then I hope you enjoy this chapter. Remember the HUGE timeline fuck-up! Im having too much fun to be hung up by little things like ages and years. (Havens of Sirion = where a lot of refuge elves of Beleriand went, including Elwing and the silmaril)

Betaed by; Erestor Junkie, the remaining mistakes are mine

This chapter was inspired by THIS picture. - used with permission.

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Chapter 20 - Valley of the scars.

A month later, Maglor received a parcel from his cousin Turgon. Fingon held true to his promise, and Turgon asked Maglor to tutor his only daughter, Idril. Reading the parcel over and over, Maglor couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, finally! Finally he had a way out of this tomb. For that was what it had become since their arrival, nothing could be heard beside the cold winds howling. Snow creeping in through every crack and opening of Himring, just as the cold of the winter paralysed the heart and soul of its inhabitants. And Maglor needed a way out, he felt terrible for leaving Maedhros, but Fingon had been right, it was his life after all, he could not live like this, disintegrating in the shadows of Himring, this grand fortress held nothing but sorrow and sickness, like it was a living creature set out to torture its prey.

At the dinner table Maglor sat silent, knowing that he would eventually have to speak up, he would have to make them aware that he intended to leave. Looking around at his brothers and mother, he suddenly did not have the heart. They looked so worn and tired, mother in particular. She had not taken it lightly that Maedhros had handed over his title, and therefore she had responded with simply not talking to her oldest son for weeks. Maedhros had on more than one night visited Maglor, pleading him to talk to mother, but nothing helped. Nerdanel was terribly disappointed in what she believed to be her son’s weakness, and lack of courage as a ruler.

Maglor cleared his throat and slowly stood up “Mother, family” he said. Feeling everybody’s gaze upon him, what did he have to say? The one that broke the long silence? “I am leaving” he just, murmured, unable to look at Nerdanel. When no one said a thing, he continued “Cousin Turgon sent for me. He asked me to teach his daughter the art of Noldorian singing, and I... I intended to accept.”

Nerdanel put her fork down on the plate and looked up at her son, “Will you be back?” she said with a voice that was meant to sound strong, but lacked in volume.

“Yes mother,” Maglor said. “When I have taught Idril what I know.” He turned and looked at Maedhros. “Brother, come with me. Come see the gardens of Gondolin.”

But Maedhros shook his head “Nay, gwador. My place is here,” he just stated and smiled bitterly, and Maglor could already sense what went on inside Maedhros. He felt betrayed, even if he had no reason to.

“Can I come?” Amras said with a hopeful look, but as he saw Amrod on the other side of the table, looking down at his plate with a sad face, he added “and Amrod, too?”

Maglor was cornered, he had to think fast, and so he smiled to his brothers “No, but you can come with me as far as to cousin Fingon, if mother wills it. For I go there first.”

“Can we mother?” Amras asked almost leaning in over the table in his eagerness. “It has been so long since Amrod and I rode out together, we could spend New Year, maybe Aegnor and Angrod comes.” He flashed his mother a brilliant smile, hoping she would agree.

Nerdanel sighed “yes,” she looked up at Maglor that still stood up “You will be sorely missed my son.” she looked over to Amrod who still sat sullen at the table “and to journey would do your youngest brother good, he has not left this place in such a long time, maybe your cousins can spark some life in you my son.”

Amrod looked up and smiled at his mother, less enthusiastically than his twin “Thank you, mother” he said.

Then Maglor sat down again, avoiding Maedhros’ gaze, and silence once again ruled Himring.

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That night Maglor knocked on his brother’s door, but found it locked “Maitimo?” he called out softly “open the door.”

Long moments passed, and he called twice; just as he was about to give up, thinking that Maedhros either slept heavily or refused to see him, he heard the key turned and the door opened slowly. Maedhros stood on the other side; dressed in thin pants used for sleeping, “Come in,” he said, and stepped from the door opening so Maglor could enter.

In this light Maglor could see the scars on Maedhros’ torso that would never heal completely, and without his prosthesis Maglor was reminded of his brother’s misfortune. “Maitimo, I need to speak with you.”

Maedhros reached for his glass and looked absent mindedly out the window. “It has been ages since I felt a warm body against my own, I thought I would never need that again, never bear that illusion that someone would find me fair. But lately I.. I” his voice came to a halt, and he took a sip of his drink, when he continued his voice was thick with grief. “Who would even bear my touch with this?” he held out his right arm that ended right below the elbow “this.. this.. thing”

Maglor took a step towards his brother, “don’t do this to yourself,” he whispered

“I remember it, every detail of his skin, how he sounds when he..” Maedhros paused “why do I remember these things, they just torment me, they haunt me in my dreams at night.” Maedhros turned his head looking at Maglor with eyes red from crying, “why do I remember being loved?”

“You are drunk, Maitimo” Maglor whispered, “You burden yourself too much.”

“I am drunk, yes. And who cares?” Maedhros said flatly “I see no reason for me not to be.” he downed the remains of his drink and walked over to the bottle he had on the desk. “Drink with me brother.”

Maglor shook his head but accepted the drink his brother handed him none the less. “Come with me, Maitimo,” he said with a persistent tone. “Please brother, this place holds nothing for you, nothing but ghosts and long lost ambitions.”

“No Maglor, this is where I should be. Don’t ask me to make you understand, for you never will,” Maedhros said leaning heavily against the wall next to his desk. “Are you going after Maeglin?” he suddenly said.

“Why, what..” Maglor asked big eyed. “How did you?.. Yes”

“Because I may be drunk, but I’m not stupid. I know you did not ask to tutor some second cousin brat, even for the splendours of Gondolin.”

“ You are right,” Maglor said softly taking his first sip of the potent liquor. “He stopped writing, and I must know why, I will have no rest until I know for sure.”

“Bedazzled by the dark beauty, are we brother?” Maedhros chuckled clearly amused.

Maglor blushed and looked away, a part of him had missed his brother’s teasing, and it had been so long since Maedhros had acted like the brother he used to have. “Maitimo?” he said, “may I ask you a question, a personal one?”

Maedhros nodded as he poured himself another drink, swaying slightly on his feet. “Ask away brother.”

“How come you don’t take another lover? It might do you good. Believe me brother, you are still fair.” Maglor said softly downing the rest of his drink, he knew the answer, but he had to ask.

“Because..” Maedhros walked over and sat on the floor in front of Maglor, leaning his head on his brothers knee, “because they are not Fingon.” he sighed. Maglor raised his hand and ran it slowly over his brother’s hair, smiling as Maedhros closed his eyes and smiled. “Don’t make my mistake,” Maedhros mumbled.

Maedhros dropped the half full glass and spilled it on his thigh, but he didn’t even register it, for he was lost in a dream world where he was the one to gallantly stride in and claim his lover.

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Turning in his saddle Amrod looked back at Himring, mother had been right, it had been such a long time since he had been out riding, but what of the Doriath prince? His stomach turned just thinking about it, and a fine layer of sweat formed on his skin. What was he supposed to do? Betray his family? Betray Elured? Or do as he had done, run far, far away. He could not say he was not a little glad that he did not have to stay at Himring for a little while. Even if he did feel guilty for his own cowardice, vows of love should not be taken lightly. Maybe he had broken his promise to help, but he had not told a single soul who the prisoner in the dungeon was.

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On the third day after Maglor, Amrod and Amras left, Maedhros lay in his bed unable to sleep. No matter where he went, no matter what he did the haunting screams from the poor elf in the dungeon ricocheted off the walls, echoing in his head. Fatigue finally caught up with him, and he closed his eyes and fell asleep. In his dreams he was no longer in his bittersweet world with Fingon laying naked on vast fields, feeling summer breeze upon his skin. No, he was still trapped inside Angbard. Blinking in disbelief he looked down and turned his right hand, no he was back! The pain of remembering what lay before him brought tears to his eyes, the pain, the torment and the fear. He had prayed for death, cried for his mother. But they had broken him, destroyed his spirit. Trying to move he felt the restraint of the steel. And a heart-wrenching cry rose from his throat.

Next thing he knew he was slightly shaken by soft hands, and he opened his eyes, only to look up at his mothers worried face “Shhh” she whispered “it is but a dream.” He ran her hands over his forehead and cheek, “only a dream.”

Maedhros, once high king of the Noldor, just wept, his entire frame shaking from his sobs. Quietly calming as his mother stayed with him. “I cannot stand it, mother,” he said, grabbing her nightgown with his left hand. “I cant take that poor elfs anguish anymore, I don’t care what Caranthir thinks, this must end.” His crying began again, “no one should have to endure that.” He shook his head vigorously ,“no one, not even my brother’s enemy.”

“Everyone is somebody’s brother’s enemy,” Nerdanel said softly. “ Honour is one thing my son, cruelty another.”

“That is why this must end, mother.” he blinked the last tears from his lashes “I should have listened to Amrod” he whispered “this brutality ends tonight.” Maedhros made a move to stand, but his mother kept her hold on him.

“Don’t do something you will regret my son, you caused me enough grief as it is, you are your father’s son, no doubt about it.” she said as she let go of her first born.

“I know mother” Maedhros said as he rose from the bed, now that the tears was gone, and the nightmare fled, his temper rose as a tidal wave. “But I am *not* my father, I am Maedhros, and this is my house still.”

Nerdanel just smiled at Maedhros, knowing that even if her son denied that he was like his father, it was Fëanor she saw standing there. She still missed her husband terribly every waking hour, but seeing Maedhros finally waking again, her loss was lessened, for she saw her beloved husband live on in his eldest son. She knew that nothing she did would change this tornado of rage his son was the epicentre for. But she still felt saddened when he stormed out the door, heading towards the dungeon.

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“Caranthir!” Maedhros’ voice bellowed throughout the corridor in the dungeon,

The door to the prisoners cell flung up with a loud bang. And Caranthir stepped out “Maedhros, what is amiss?”

“This!” Maedhros hissed and pulled Caranthir over to the cell, looking in on the young elf that was strapped up against the cell wall. “Are you mad brother?”

Caranthir tried to get loose from his brothers grasp “I.. tho..thought we agr..greed” he croaked as Maedhros had his at his throat up against the door frame

“No we never agreed, brother” Maedhros voice dripped with venom “this is cruel, you cannot tell me this is essential” he suddenly yelled, pointing to a iron device that was clammed on the prisoners genitalia, “that brother, is just.. Perverted” he shook his brother roughly “you are no better than those demented souls at Angbard, and this comes to an end now!” Caranthir looked at his brother wide eyed, he could not remember his brother ever being this angry, and so he just closed his eyes.

Suddenly the prisoner whispered something, Maedhros pulled Caranthir with him to the end wall of the cell before he let go of his brother, “fetch some water you imbecile” he snerred, as he started to undo the iron chains that held the young elf up, “shh” he whispered “its over” tears welled up in his eyes again as he saw the smile on the young elf’s face.

“Sirion” the elf whispered through his cracked lips “Havens of Sirion”

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21- AN:  oh my I have an overactive muse, and I have set my beta on hard work. I am even beginning to brew on a damn sequel.. in my head that is. I just got so many good ideas atm. I KNOW I fuck up timelines, but hey its AU, and I can do what I bloody well please *laughs* as long as its a fun story to write, and hopefully a nice story to read. And yea I admit I’m falling in love with Celebrimbor, we will see a lot more of him I guess. ( Formenos = the stronghold where Fëanor lived with his family after the banishment from Tirion, Nelyafinwë = Maedhros’ father-chosen name meaning Third Finwë in succession, Barad Eithel = Fingon and his fathers stronghold at the mouth of Sirion )

Betaed by; Erestor Junkie, the remaining mistakes are mine

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Chapter 21 – Northern wind.

Maedhros pulled the prisoner to his lap, using his right hand to soothe the feverish hot forehead of the young elf. “Shh” he whispered, as the other elf trembled.

“Amrod?” the prisoner whispered

Maedhros felt a bile taste rise in the back of his mouth, “yes I am here,” he whispered, looking at youngster in his lap. Fair features graced the elf, and he would have been a beauty beyond songs, had he not lain here broken in body and soul.

A smile slipped over the young elfs lips, “you came,” he whispered, before his breathing got more laboured and shallow.

A cold tinge went down Maedhros’ spine; these had been his exact words to Fingon as he hung upon the cliff. “Don’t..” he croaked, but the youngsters body convulsed, “no!” Maedhros groaned, and with strength he didn’t even knew he possessed, he rose to his feet, the young elf over his shoulder, and hurried off up the stairs from the dungeon towards the healers hut. He prayed to the Valar he was not late, that this young elf would not expire before he reached the healers. But as he gently laid the young elf on a bed, he recognized the ashen sullen look. “No! Damned be!” he cried and kicked the bed angrily. “Caranthir” he hissed, as he realised that his brother for long had known that this elf indeed was one of Dior of Doriath’s sons, and where the stone was taken. Yet he had taken pleasure in breaking this young elf. Amrod had tried to stop it, he knew this now, but in his own grief, he had not seen or listened to his youngest brother’s words. “Oh by Eru,” he groaned. “What have we become? This was not supposed to happen, the Valar pity is, and keep this boy safe until he once more can walk the white shores.”

Leaving the healing chambers he made straight for the hall of fire, encountering his mother and Caranthir talking in hushed voices “Caranthir!” he bellowed, striding up to his brother with long angry strides “I want you out within the hour, where you go is up to you, as long as you remove yourself from my sight, or by Eru there shall be another kin slaying within my own halls!” he yelled.

Caranthir just looked at Maedhros with wide eyes. “Maedhros,” he breathed. Frightened by the fire he saw in his brother’s gaze, knowing he was telling the truth.

“I know what you did!” Maedhros sneered “you are... you are.. “ his anger turned ice cold as he watched his brothers bright blue eyes, wide in horror. “Banished from here, for 5 years to come, do not call upon kinship, for none will listen until your banishment ends.” leaving his mother and brother in the hall, Maedhros turned on his heel and left the room heading towards his own office, he would give the son of Dior a proper pyre.

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Time passed, and Maedhros’ only comfort in these times was Celebrimbor that had grown into a young elf, much like he remembered Pitya. Dwelling here he knew years had passed, and that there had to be a reason for his brothers not returning. The eldest son of Fëanor had used all his time trying to communicate between tribes, thinking that this might finally bring the peace these lands needed, if they could by one joined effort banish evil, and together men and elves, he was sure they were strong enough. His nightmares had grown worse over the years, tormenting him so, in his dreams Fingon had found him on the cliff, but before he could shoot his arrow, not an eagle came to his beloved to aid him, but a Balrog. Scorching his lover as he stood there, turning him into a walking torch, screaming over and over. And him hanging there, unreleased to a grim ending. Sometimes he even woke having pains in the hand that was now not naught but dust.

This morning he woke bathed in sweat, tumbling out of bed, wrapped in his own bed-linen, the screams of Fingon roaring in his ears, even the smell of burning flesh lingered in his nostrils. It took him along moments to collect himself, as if he was coming out of a trance. He laid his head back on the mattress and closed his eyes. How pathetic and alone he felt right then, remembering how Fingon had wrapped his arms around him, and kissed the corner of his mouth, trailing a soft path down over his collar bone to his shoulder . ”Nightmares meleth, they are just nightmares,’ he would whisper tenderly. For years and years he had dreamt of swords cutting flesh, flames and screams. Those dreams had fled for a far worse one. Maedhros smiled bitterly to himself as he recalled the last time they had seen each other as lovers, the tent had been warm, and Fingon had been edgy and desperate in his need. That was such a long time ago, sometimes it felt like eons, or like it never happened.

Hard knocking on the door shook him from his dark thoughts, “enter,” he called out, but did not move.

The door opened and a young elf came in, shuffling his feet nervously as he saw his lord dressed only in a sheet, sitting on the floor. His red hair tussled from sleep, and his white skin almost glowing in the early light, the poor young messenger was lost in the sight, for even if his body was scarred Maedhros was still counted amongst the fairest of the Quenya.

“What? Speak boy,” Maedhros said with a slightly amused smile as the boy blushed, being made aware that he had been starring.

“A messenger arrived from Lord Fingon,” he said and smiled nervously “he left in haste, but passed a parcel for you, my lord.”

“I see,” Maedhros said, still amused over the boys nervousness. “Pray tell, what is your name boy?” he asked with a devious hint in his grey eyes.

“Polod, my lord,” he said, blushing ferociously.

Maedhros rested his good hand on the floor and turned, his long red hair dancing across the floorboards, he tilted his head up and looked at the boy with a suggestive smile “say Polod, do you find me fair?”

The poor young elf nodded “the fairest, my lord,” he croaked.

Maedhros slowly rose to his feet, holding on to the bed-linen. “Come here,” he said, ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind as the young elf came closer. Looking straight into the young elves large green eyes, Maedhros smiled. Touch me,” he whispered as he let the linen fall, pooling around his feet. The young elf reached a shaky hand out and ran his fingertips over Maedhros’ arm. Shaking his head Maedhros chuckled, not sounding amused at all “no, like you would your lover” he whispered, grabbing the young elfs slender hand and caressing his own chin with it. Feeling Polod’s hand tremble, disgusted with himself as he felt his pulse rise, and blood run to his groin, the young elf’s fear, turned him on.

“Pl.. Please my lord,” Polod whispered “I cannot” the young elf trembled even more.

Shaken from his pleasant spell, Maedhros tightened his hold on the young elfs hand, crushing it. “And why not? Were it not you that looked at me that way, no doubt thinking what my mouth felt like on your skin, or did you wonder how I looked as you would ram yourself into my hot willing flesh?” his voice had taken a tone of annoyance and anger.

“Not at all my lord” Polod answered desperately, afraid to move, but his hand hurt badly “I mean.. Forgive me my lord, but you are hurting me.”

Maedhros let go of the youngster’s hand, and sat down on the bed again with a bump “leave me,” he whispered.

“But my lord” Polod said taking a step forth

Maedhros just shook his head “leave the parcel here with me, and just go,” he said with a tired voice

“Will you not at least hear me out my lord?”

“And why should I?” Maedhros said, rubbing his face with his hand, looking fatigued.

Polod took yet another step closer “because you might want to hear what I say, my lord,” he kneeled at his lords feet, looking up at the red haired elf. “I am in love with someone,” he whispered “a close kin of yours, and therefore I cannot share myself with you, even if I want to. You are most fair my lord, and your offer is beyond any dream of mine. But I cannot betray the one whom I love.” When Maedhros looked down at him he looked puzzled “my lord?” Polod said.

“Celebrimbor?” he asked

Polod nodded and blushed yet again “yes, my lord.”

“Does he return those feelings of yours?” Maedhros asked, raising the youth’s head with two fingers under Polod’s chin.

“Aye, he told me so” Polod stammered, his throat moving convulsively.

A soft look graced Maedhros’ features. “Then go to him, take the rest of the day off, and go to him.” He had almost added ‘and make him happy’ but he didn’t. He just caressed the young elfs chin tenderly “run along now” he said.

Polod looked absolutely stunned, but nodded eagerly before he hurried from Maedhros’ chambers. Leaving the prince to his own thoughts. Maedhros found it strange, but amusing that Celebrimbor was really that old, it seemed like yesterday Amrod had found him at the gate. With a sigh he flopped back on the mattress, closing his eyes as he reached down between his legs, encountering his flaccid member. But his mind wandered off as he ran his fingers up and down the silken skin, and it soon became hard. Spreading his legs further he ran his hand down under his sacks, breaching himself with a finger, little stars of lust spiralled up, and the red haired elf hissed from the sensation. “Fi..” he whispered, moving his hand back up, taking his member in his hand, stroking it with a unmerciful pace, finding his release quickly.

Later when he had had a bath, and had been dressed for the day’s duties, he suddenly saw the parcel laying on his desk. Walking over he picked it up, broke the seal and unrolled it, reading with dawning dread the news from his cousin.

Maitimo.

The babe has fallen ill, and my wife is bedridden with worry. My healers cannot tell me what is amiss with the wee one. They only stutter when they tell me we should give him a name soon. Maitimo my dear, dear friend, I call upon you in this my hour of need. Morgoth’s hordes have attacked Barad Eithel. Many have been lost, my father disagrees, but we cannot hold this storm on our own. Fret not my friend, your brothers live still, Russa have even found love here, but it shall all be in vein if we listen to my father, help us. For the sake of Eru! I believe him to have gone mad. If not for me, then for the sake of my son, and your brothers, we need aid.

Fingon.

Maedhros’ eyes grew big. Attack? For how long had this been going on? Why had he not been told until now? “By Eru!” he said to himself, before he hurried out of the room, clutching the parcel. “Celebrimbor!” he yelled “Celebrimbor! Get dressed, we ride now!”

Celebrimbor tumbled highly ungracefully out of his rooms, looking half asleep. “Maitimo? My Lord?” he said with a hoarse voice, blinking confused at the tall elf.

“We ride now!” he just said, but couldn’t help but to smile as he saw Polod in the bed in the far end of Celebrimbor’s room, pulling the sheet over his head, hiding in the sheets. His nephew opened his mouth to speak, but Maedhros just silenced him with a shake of his head, “Save the questions for the trip, we have days of hard ride before us. Get ready, now!” he said with a stern voice.

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As promised the ride was long, cold and hard. Maedhros had gathered whatever of his army that was not strictly needed to guard Himring and Nerdanel. Setting up camp at night pained Maedhros, and this night more than the others, in the morning they would be at the stronghold. He just wanted to go on, push through the night and come save Fingon. But he knew his marshal was right, he could not risk tiring the warriors and animals so. And on this the last night before battle, he was in a fell mood. Every elf avoided him, only entering his tent if they strictly had to. And as he sat in his large wooden chair and starred into the fireplace at the middle of the floor, he heard the tent flap open, and soft footsteps come in. “My Lord? Uncle?”

Maedhros turned in his chair, seeing Celebrimbor standing in the shadows, as he stood there he looked like Curufin, and he felt a pang of grief for his dead brother. “Child” he said with a warm smile “what brings you here?” he reached out with his right hand and gestured for the youth to step closer.

Celebrimbor came up and sat cross-legged on the ground next to his uncle. “Grandmother gave me my fathers tent,” he stated with a strange hollow voice “what was he like, uncle?”

“He was my brother and I loved him dearly,” Maedhros said. “He was the most skilled swordsman I ever saw.” He looked down at the young elf “he would have been a great father to you, unfortunately he never had the chance.”

Celebrimbor shook his head sadly.

“These are strange times my child,” he whispered as he placed his hand on the youth’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Cry not for those long perished, find your faith in the ones that prevail” he winked and smiled. Celebrimbor blushed, and Maedhros whispered, “He is fair and just.”

“How did you?..” Celebrimbor said with a low voice

“I just do penneth” Maedhros said with a fatherly smile “fight with all your spirit, you have a warm bed and the touch of a lover to return to.”

Celebrimbor smiled “I do, don’t I?”

Maedhros chuckled and whacked the youngster over the neck softly “oaf” he teased. Celebrimbor chuckled too, but quickly fell silent and serious again.

“Uncle, can I ask you something?” he said, Maedhros nodded and Celebrimbor continued “in all these years, I have never seen you with a lo.. Lo.. Someone special, to keep the long hours at bay, how come?”

Maedhros sighed. “oh, I did have someone special once, when I was at your age,” he absentmindedly bit a nail before he spoke more, “but that is such a long time ago, when we were still in Valinor.”

“You left her at Valinor?” Celebrimbor gasped.

“Him, not her. And no I didn’t, he and I were lovers still at these shores for some years.”

“What happened?” the youth said, mouth agape, trying to imagine his uncle as a youth in love.

“What happened?” the red haired elf sighed, and felt old, weary to the bones. “We got older” he knew he lied, but it didn’t matter, there was no use of laying the truth on the child. “Don’t worry about old tales like that, you should rest now, we have much to do in the morn, and you need all the strength you have in you.”

“Uncle, can I sleep in here? I don’t like being alone in that tent,” Celebrimbor whispered, hoping he would not be ridiculed.

“Of course penneth” Maedhros said with a smile, remembering how frightened he had been when he had been but a little older than Celebrimbor, and they were all banished to Formenos. He would have given everything to curl up next to his father. “When I was a child” he said to himself, knowing Celebrimbor laid in bed and listened. “I lived in a wonderful place, mother had to repair my clothes endlessly, she said I must tear them on purpose. Where as, Maglor did not ruin his clothing as fast as I. He was always mother’s favourite, but as father returned. He would embrace me first, I still remember that special smell of brimstone and sweat, and I thought it the most wonderful smell in the world. And as he smiled he smiled just for me, ‘Nelyafinwë’ he would say. Only he ever called me that.” Maedhros stopped and listened, the youth’s breath had steadied fast asleep. He smiled to himself as he rose from the chair and went to the bed and laid down next to his nephew, tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow my heart, we will be there.

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21- AN:  As I said on my LJ this will be the last from me for now. I have to be without internet for some time, 2 months or so. But I promise I will return with some stuff for you. The end of both DBTW and Winterborn. Thangorodrim = The three mighty peaks that Morgoth raised from the Iron Mountains above the gates of Angband, and from the middle peak he hung Maedhros from his right wrist, as a punishment. And oh, I realised I spelled Ereinion’s name wrong throughout this chapter, I’m really sorry. I will get around to fixing it soon.. I am just so scatterbrained sometimes.

Betaed by; Erestor Junkie, the remaining mistakes are mine

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Chapter 22 – My spirit sleeping somewhere cold.

When they arrived, Maedhros first thought it was a bad dream. The stronghold was almost empty, only a few orcs scattered about, trying to pry the corpses of those slain. Maedhros jumped off his horse and ran into the building, calling for his cousin, feeling fear well up inside, dread capturing his soul in a death-grip. “Fingon! Fingon!” he called over and over. Running from room to room. Upon entering what he knew to be his cousins bedrooms, he saw a figure on the floor laying tossed aside in a pool of blood, he quickly walked over, and as he turned the dead body he saw it was Fingon’s wife. “Oh Eru!” he whispered, letting go of her arm, the dead elven lady fell down with a thump into the pool again. At first Maedhros was just scared that Fingon was injured, and then dreaded his passing, but now. Now his blood turned to ice, believing his beloved cousin was a prisoner. There were some things worse than death, he thought to himself. “Fingon” he cried. Climbing to his feet, ready to run again, when he saw the open door, tip toeing there, he peeked inside, his weapons drawn. “Fingon?” he whispered, waiting for an answer or an attack. Then he heard it, a soft wailing. The babe! Tossing caution at the wind Maedhros stepped into the poorly lit room, seeing soft toys and a crib, ah the child’s room, he thought to himself.

Searching the room he pushed the crib aside, and there, against the wall he saw it. “Fingon!” he gasped tossing his sword, Fingon sat with his eyes closed against the wall, leaning on his side, as had he been protecting something, a deep gash bled from his side, and yet another from his arm. With shaking hands Maedhros touched his cousins neck searching for a pulse, when he found one he felt tears starting to fall from his cheeks. Turning Fingon so he had his back against Maedhros’ chest, he gently pried the precious cargo, which Fingon had been protecting, with his life. The babe. He offered the child his knuckle to suck, to keep it quiet.

“Maedhros! My Lord!” he heard someone call from the corridor.

“Here,” he yelled, “come quick, I need help, the kings son is alive”

Celebrimbor and two soldiers came rushing into the nursery and the youth fell to his knees next to Maedhros, leaving the two soldiers at the door. He didn’t say anything; he just gently lifted the child from Fingon’s protective arms. He looked up at his uncle, not saying a word, his eyes asking the question his lips would not pass. “He lives,” Maedhros said with a strange raw voice, “for now.”

The youngest Fëanorian stood and cradled the baby in his arms, “get the blanket,” he said to one of the soldiers “the one with the silver stars.” The guard handed Celebrimbor the dark blue blanket with silver stars, and the youth quickly wrapped it around the child. “I shall go to my tent with the wee one,” he said with a soft voice.

As he turned to leave Maedhros said, “Ask Fárëa, his wife had 3 babes, he will know what to do.”

“I will,” Celebrimbor said as he strode out of the nursery with grim determination.

“My Lord?” one of the soldiers said as he stepped closer “I have word from your brothers Lord Amras, and Lord Amrod. They are both alive and unharmed.”

“Thank you, tell them I shall see them later,” Maedhros said with a thin voice. “You two, help me get Lord Fingon to my tent.”

“But my lord, he is..”

“NO!” Maedhros snapped, turning his head to face the soldiers. ”He lives, and he is to be taken to my tent, and lain in my bed. Now!”

The soldiers went to pick up Fingon when Maedhros swatted away their hands. “I changed my mind, I shall carry him myself,” he said with a flat tone. He stood up with a laboured move and with great difficulty picked up Fingon, the soldiers tried to help, but Maedhros wouldn’t allow it.

Seeing Amrod and Amras once they came to the campsite, they helped their elder brother getting into the tent. And Maedhros lay Fingon down as gently as he could. “Brother,” Amrod said “you might not need my counsel on this one, but please let me fetch a healer for our cousin.” Maedhros didn’t answer, but Amras picked up where his twin left off, laying a hand on Maedhros’ shoulder. “Pitya is right, cousin Fingon needs medical treatment if he is to survive.”

Maedhros ran a hand over his cousin’s black hair, now covered in blood. “Who did this to you,” he whispered. Feeling nauseous as he looked upon his old lover’s broken body, it brought back unwanted memories. He ran his hand along Fingon’s chilly cheek down to his neck where he encountered the fine silver chain, pulling it gently he saw the rings still there, all this time. And his cousin still carried these next to his heart.

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The healers managed to nurse Fingon until they were fairy sure he would survive the journey to Himring. The journey in itself was eventless and in silence, in addition to their precious cargo of the high king’s son and grandson, they also had Amras’ newfound love with them. Counting no casualties amongst their own army, they all just ached to see Himring’s grey walls as quickly as possible.

Nerdanel stood alone as the cortege came through the great gates, her heart heavy with apprehension, no messenger had reached her to tell her that her sons were alive and well, but when she saw the twins she let out a breath she had not even aware that she had been holding. Amrod and Maglor went to greet their mother as the first thing. Amras keeping back, not knowing how his mother would react upon him courting this maid. Nerdanel on the other hand came over to where Amras stood, and buried her son in an embrace, meaning so much more than any words. “Mother?” Amras whispered letting go of her, still holding on to her hands. “I have an something to say to you, but I fear this is not the moment,” he blushed a little and looked at his feet.

“My dear son, there is never a fell time for news of the reason for your smile,” she said, smiling her self, upon seeing Amras smiling a little timid smile.

“Mother when I was at Fingolfin’s court, I lost my heart,” he paused and looked at Nerdanel, “I brought her with me, for I do love her dearly.” Squeezing his mother’s hands Amras looked at his feet again. “I realise that the bond I wish to share with her, has no political or financial gain for our family.. but..”

“shh” Nerdanel hushed her son. “Look at me Amras,” she said, and her son looked up meeting her gaze. “You have yet to tell me your beloved’s name.”

“Rukima” Amras whispered, trying his hardest to keep his mothers gaze.

“Ah” Nerdanel said with an understanding nod “,and where might she be?”

“Here milady,” a little voice said, as a black-haired young elf maid stepped out behind Amras. “I am Rukima,” she curtsied and blushed under Amras’ acknowledging smile.

Nerdanel looked at the maid with a calculated smile “I am Nerdanel, mother of Amras, and wife of Fëanor.” seeing the girl pale a little she patted Amras’ hand and let go of her son. “You are free to stay for now young Rukima” she said with a motherly smile “I am sure Amras will help you get acquainted with the premises and customs here.”

“Yes, thank you milady,” Rukima answered, and Amras just leaned over and kissed his mothers cheek. “I love you mother,” he whispered, before he grabbed Rukima’s hand about to walk off with her, when Nerdanel’s voice stopped him.

“Amras, where is Maedhros, where is my eldest son?”

“He rode beside one of the wagons for the entire trip, I have not seen him since our arrival,” Amras answered before whisking off with his lady.

Nerdanel gave up finding her elusive son, and walked back into the stronghold. Only to be met by Maglor who lingered at her door together with Celebrimbor. “Mother, please share a moment with us,” Maglor said in an odd stiff voice. Nerdanel, sensing something wrong, just knitted her eyebrows but opened the door and let them in to her private chambers. Gesturing for them to sit, she seated herself in her favourite rocking chair, waiting for Maglor to speak.

“Uncle Fingolfin’s stronghold was utterly destroyed, everyone missing, kidnapped or killed,” Maglor said with a low soft voice “all but some. Maedhros came upon cousin Fingon, and his child, they both lived.” he looked at Celebrimbor for a second, and then back to his mother before continuing. They are very weak, but we brought them here.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Nerdanel said with a cold voice.

Celebrimbor pulled the blanket of the bundle he was carrying to the side a little, and a little child was revealed. Nerdanel felt her heart ache, as the wee one looked more like a birds young, than a baby. “He needs a name,” Maglor said with a little voice, he needed not explain more, they all knew what he meant, this child was dying, and no soul should perish from this earth without a name, if it had no name to give the great Valar Namo, then he should not be able to welcome it into his halls.

Nerdanel stood up and gently pried the child from Celebrimbor, she looked down at it and smiled as the child opened his big blue eyes and looked directly at her. “There is hope for you yet, descendant of great kings.” Maglor came to look over Nerdanel’s shoulder, at the child in her arms, for less than a minute ago they had all just waited for him to stop breathing, and now the wee one smiled and reached out for Nerdanel’s face. “From this day on, you shall be known as Erenion,” she whispered.

“Erenion” Maglor whispered smiling at the baby. “Yes, there is hope for you still little star.”

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Leaving the baby fed and sleeping with Maglor, Nerdanel made her way to the healers house. News had reached her that her son would linger here, and that this was the reason that he had not come to see her yet. But what she saw upon entering the dimly lit house she had not been prepared for, Maedhros sitting on a chair resting his upper body on the side of a cot, where another elf lay, ashen and close to leaving his earthy shell. She stepped closer and now she could see it was indeed Fingon. “Maedhros,” she whispered, and her son stirred on the bed. “Maedhros,” she repeated softly, and awareness stirred in his eyes.

“Mother?” he whispered, he sat up and stretched his back, clearly in pain from being seated in so uncomfortable a position for so long. “The child?” he asked as he rubbed his arms.

“Is well for now,” she said with a smile, knowing this would please Maedhros. “My son, why don’t you go sleep. And I shall watch your cousin.”

“No,” Maedhros said, taking a hold of Fingon’s cold hand rubbing it gently. “He saved me, when all others lost hope, including me. I will not abandon him now.”

“Your brothers never lost hope,” Nerdanel said as she sat in the far end of Fingon’s bed. “Nor did I.”

“You are no adept liar mother,” Maedhros whispered as he rubbed his cheek with his cousins limp hand, “he *came* for me mother,” the red haired elf said with a strained voice, it was like a little prayer in itself and Maedhros did not care explain further.

Nerdanel stayed silent and watched her son caress his cousins hand, “I named his son Erenion,” she finally said, at loss for word.

“That is a powerful name,” Maedhros whispered.

Nerdanel nodded “rightfully worn by a powerful soul, that child is a fighter Maedhros.” she said “He should have perished a hundred times over, from lack of correct food, cold, loss of his mother, trauma to the head, shock even.”

“He is Fingon’s heir,” Maedhros said with a little smile “loved by the Valar.”

“Son,” Nerdanel said as she reached in over Fingon, and with two slender fingers forced Maedhros to look up and directly into her face. “Stop tormenting yourself so, you and your brothers are different from other elves, you have but this one chance to do everything right, your cycle of rebirth is cut off from you. Believe me could I somehow change the Valar’s doom over you, my sons. I would!” Nerdanel smiled a little strained smile. “You my son, you have to make every minute count, you do not have the sweet promise of a glorious afterlife in the halls of waiting.”

Maedhros didn’t answer his mother, but unshed tears of fatigue and fear welled up in his eyes.

“Had the Valar truly hated you, they would have struck you down at the very shore of Valinor,” Nerdanel said softly, brushing a tear from her son’s cheek with a thumb. “Trust me Maitimo, your part in shaping this world is not over unless you will it so.”

“I was so afraid, mother,” Maedhros whispered, closing his eyes.

“Of what penneth?” Nerdanel asked

“T..That he would be repulsed of what I had been reduced to,” Maedhros whispered barely audible “that he would stop loving me, that he would wish he had just granted me my wish upon Thangorodrim.” He opened his eyes and looked at his mother, feeling weary to the bone, and in need of a confession, he had held this inside for too long. “For as long as I remember there has been no other in my heart.”

Nerdanel winced as Maedhros looked away from her, and she raised his chin again. “My son, I pass no judgement upon love, love in its purest intentions is more powerful than anything, even more powerful than the great Valar of Mandos.”

Maedhros felt relieved tears starting to steam down his cheeks as he turned his face to kiss his mothers hand. “I love you Nana,” he whispered.

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AN 23: almost there! This fic is not the longest, but the goddamn slowest one I ever wrote. And even if I love Winterborn, my first big silmarillion project. Then I will be glad when it’s finished, both for the rush of a finished fic of course, but also that I really want to write something else. I just can’t stand the idea of dumping a fic. And I still have all Marja’s loverly notes to work from. If there is one thing I learned in the process of writing this, it must be, write the damn storyline before you write the fic’s first chapter. It stinks going dead in the middle... slashus fictus interuptus -laughs- never mind that! I still got 2 chapters left in me for this fic, and here we go –smiles- and three cheers for my laptop, heh allows me to keep a better eye on my kids *wink*

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Cherish the thought

Of always having you here by side

I cherish the joy

You keep bringing into my live

Cherish the strength

You got the power to make me feel good</