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It starts the way all his dreams tend to - fire and blood, tears and rage and despair. It's all variants on a theme, and well trodden. But he accepts them all the same - after all, he deserves it, does he not? He doesn't even try to hide from sleep - not if the nightmares are part of his penance.
(He would, just once, like to get some proper rest though)
He walks the sands of Alqualonde, and the water washing up the shore is red. Or it might be Sirion. All beaches start looking alike, after a while. He walks and the sword in his hand is heavy, but it's a weight he's well accustomed to, so he doesn't drop it. He might need it, he thinks, in the way of dreamers. That's why he's here, right? To fight for what he needs to stop the clawing madness of the Oath.
"Maglor!" A voice calls him, and he turns. Oh. Maedhros. He should find his brother, yes. This must be... Sirion, then?
"Makalaure!" And then he's being shaken awake, and he blinks up confused. What?
"Makalaure, what's wrong, you were crying?"
"Mae... " Not Maedhros. No scars, two hands, eyes still brigh and clear. "N-nelyo?" What?
"Yes, Kano, it's me, obviously."
A sigh, and his brother drags him into a hug, and Mag... Makalaure squawks, flailing. "Nelyo I'm too old for cuddles!"
"Not when you wake me up screaming, you aren't!" Mae... Maitimo's arms are warm and strong, exactly the sort of hug that comforts, and Makalaure relaxes into them, his dream fading into jumbled pain. From the hallway they both hear the thump of approaching feet. "Me, and all our brothers... " Maitimo muses, as the door slams open and Cel... Tyelkormo stands there.
"What the hell, I thought someone was being murdered!" He comes in though, Carnistir and Curufinwe peering around the doorway behind him, the Ambarussa in their arms.
"Sorry." Makalaure apologises, opening his arms to the young ones. "Just... bad dreams."
"I thought you were too adult for that." Tyelkormo mocks, but he comes over, elbowing a fondly protesting Maitimo aside to drag Maglor in and scruff his hair. "Look at you, all weepy about a dream."
"Awk!"
It doesn't take long before they're all piled together, minds humming in content to all be tangled together, safer than anything and anyone, and Makalaure relaxes, secure.
"Wake up." Maedhros says gently, and the weight of his brothers is suddenly too light.
"Wha...." Scars, grey in red hair, form blurring.
"This isn't real."
"Wa...wait... Nelyo, no!"
Maglor wakes, and his cave by the beach is empty, the fire gone cold.