Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“So moments pass as though they wished to stay.

We have not long to love. A night. A day....”

-Tennesee Williams, The Collected Poems

~ ~ ~

Maedhros was covered in blood, most of it thankfully not his own. How many elves had he killed; twenty? Thirty? Perhaps even more. All for the sake of that wretched silmaril which had just plunged into the sea. All for naught, he thought. More innocents dead, more blood spilled, and what do we have to show for it? Nothing but another failure.

But it was not the time to dwell on deeds already done. Maedhros sheathed his sword, clawed his tangled hair out of his eyes, and set off to find his brother Maglor, and to rejoin his soldiers. The only sound in the once-lively cobblestone street was the crackle of flames in the collapsing buildings to either side. The scent of smoke and the metallic tang of blood filled the air, accompanied incongruously by the briny smell of the sea, hundreds of feet below the city of Sirion.

As his feet mechanically propelled him forwards, Maedhros' mind wandered. What I would give to be free of this, he thought. Perhaps I am a good soldier, but I was not made to slaughter the defenseless or to burn and destroy the beautiful. But the Oath holds me to this, and I cannot rest until the Oath is fulfilled. I am bound to this fate. His steps soon fell into a rhythm: bound, bound, bound to the Oath, bound, bound, bound. . .

Stuck in his reverie, Maedhros failed to notice the burned piece of timber lying in his path. He stumbled, reached out with his one good hand to catch himself, but slipped on the slick paving stones. He fell painfully on his knee, and cursed the timber, the street, and his own obliviousness. As he began to rise, still smarting from the fall, he seemed to see a flicker of movement in the doorway to his left. Impossible, Maedhros thought. There cannot be anyone left here; we kinslayers do our work too well. And yet. . .better go see. Make sure everything is as it should be.

Maedhros drew his sword, crossed the narrow street in two long strides, and stepped over the broken remnants of the door of the house. It was dark inside, the gloom too thick even for his sharp Elven eyes to pierce. Maedhros advanced into the murky interior, sidestepping a broken chair, its legs splintered. Pottery shards crunched beneath his boots. He took a deep breath and spoke, his voice ragged.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

No answer came. Probably just an animal, Maedhros thought. Or your own imagination, Maedhros, you old fool. Better go and find Maglor. You’ve tarried here long enough.

Maedhros turned to go. Death hung over Sirion like a clammy mist, and he was suddenly seized by a desire for fresh air. Gasping, he moved towards the door, but as he did so, something creaked behind him. Maedhros whirled about, and saw something small and blue swiftly disappearing deeper into the gloom. He sighed and grimly gave chase.

Through the dark, stuffy house Maedhros ran. He passed a body, lying on its face in the hall, and turned his eyes away, focusing instead on the glimpses of his prey ahead of him in the gloaming. Suddenly, he came into the light. He blinked, momentarily blinded. Sun streamed in through tall windows, and the sea foamed and crashed on the cliffs below. The cliffs that Elwing had leapt from, the cliffs from which the silmaril had plunged beyond their reach. . .Maedhros wrenched his mind away from the jewel, and the oath that weighed on his heart.

The floor was littered with cushions, a few books, toys carved from coral. By the grace of the Valar, thought Maedhros. I am in a nursery. I am chasing a child.

Maedhros raised his gaze from the ground, and was confronted by two pairs of grey eyes, glittering like those of wild animals in a trap, the pupils dilated in fear. Realization dawned: I have been chasing twins, thought Maedhros. These must be the Peredhel children, Elwing’s brood.

And it is your lot to kill them, whispered the Oath. They are young, they cannot fight you, end it now! Spill their blood and avenge your father’s loss!

Maedhros looked at the children. One of them had pushed the other behind him, and had clenched his fists, preparing to defend his brother against their pursuer. Both of their faces were white, their shallow breaths were audible, every muscle in their bodies tensed to flee. Suddenly, the memory of other twins, other shaking, white-faced children, rose before Maedhros' eyes. Elured and Elurin. Dead in the woods, freezing and starving as they took their last breaths. I would not have these children meet the same fate, though the Oath dictates it. I will not have the blood of more elflings on my hands. I do not wish these children ill, whatever I may have sworn.

Maedhros sheathed his sword, blocking out the whispers of the Oath. Seeing an opportunity, the twin in front pulled his brother up from the ground and attempted to run past Maedhros. In a moment, however, he was pinned between Maedhros' left hand and the wall, and the other Peredhel brother was constrained by Maedhros' right wrist-stump. His arms were strong, even if one hand was lost, and wriggle though they may, the twins made no progress in their escape.

“What are your names?” said Maedhros. “I will not kill you.”

Neither twin answered. Maedhros could feel their frantic heartbeats.

“If you do not tell me, you will suffer,” Maedhros snarled.

Finally, the twin in blue, the one who had tried to run, spoke.

“You said you would not harm us.”

“No,” said Maedhros, his voice steely. “I said I would not kill you. You’d be amazed at what you can survive.” He held up his stump, smiling grimly. The other twin, dressed in red, whispered quickly and tremulously,

“I am Elrond and this is my brother Elros.”

Maedhros nodded. “You are the children of Elwing, are you not?”

“Yes,” came the reply, this time from Elros.

“But she l- l-l-left us,” whimpered Elrond. Tears trickled from his grey eyes. “Nana is gone. We don’t know where she is.”

Maedhros grimaced. “Stop crying. You are coming with me now.” “

We won’t go anywhere with a bloody kinslayer!” It was Elros who hissed the phrase, his eyes burning with hatred.

“I do not recall giving you a choice,” growled Maedhros. “Remember, I only swore not to kill you. If you try to escape, if either of you makes one move to run from me, I assure you that you will bitterly regret it. Am I understood?”

Elrond quickly nodded, but Elros still looked mutinous. Maedhros took Elrond by the arm. “Elros, if you try to bolt, your brother will face the consequences.” He squeezed Elrond’s wrist hard enough to make him cry out. “I am telling you both: I am not to be trifled with. I can hurt you easily, and I will not hesitate to do so should either of you defy me. I trust that you comprehend this. Now, come. We are leaving.”

Still holding Elrond, and trusting that Elros would not forsake his twin, Maedhros turned towards the door, but he was tugged back. Elrond turned his face up.

“We need clothes.”

Maedhros groaned and gestured for Elrond to show him. He was led to two small chests, one filled with red garments and the other with blue. Maedhros noticed this with some amusement, thinking of his own twin brothers, Amrod and Amras, who would often don each other’s clothing and confuse everyone around them. He snatched up a tunic from each chest, and again turned to depart.

But yet again, he was delayed by a tug from Elrond.

“Toys?”

Maedhros exhaled. “Fine. One each. And do not try to run from me.”

Elrond selected a stuffed thing half his size from the nursery floor, while Elros chose a small wooden ship.

Maedhros clasped Elrond’s small wrist, and, for the third time began to move towards the hall. This time, however, Elros’s voice stopped him.

“Can we take this also?” He was holding up a book, the cover embossed with gold. “It is my brother’s favorite. He needs it. Please?”

Why didn’t my father ever think of teaching us how to deal with captured elflings? thought Maedhros. But looking into Elros’s pleading face, he was once again reminded of Elured and Elurin, and their awful fate.

“Fine,” grumbled Maedhros. “But for now, it belongs to me. You may perhaps earn it back by behaving well.”

He plucked the book from Elros’s hands, shoved it into his pouch, and tightened his hold on Elrond. Together, captives and captor marched through the streets of Sirion, heading towards the center of the city, where the Fëanorians were preparing to depart. Ashes blew around them on the blood-tinged sea breeze.

Chapter Text

Maedhros scanned the square, searching for his brother’s dark hair among the bloodstained and sooty Fëanorians. His eyes roved across the soldiers and horses, searching, searching. . .and finally spotting Maglor beside a supply wagon on the other side of the plaza. Keeping Elrond’s wrist firmly clasped in his hand, Maedhros strode across the courtyard to his brother, Elros bobbing along beside him. 

Maedhros touched his brother’s shoulder. “Maglor. I--” But he was cut off as Maglor turned towards him. Maglor’s countenance was haggard. Tears streaked his ashen cheeks, and he seemed not to care about the dirt and ash smeared on his garments and face. 

“Maedhros. I-I-I. . .” Maglor began to shake. Tears streamed down his face. “Maedhros, the Ambarussa are slain. They were brought here by Mudion and his men. I can’t. . .”

Maedhros reeled. His hands went slack and the ground seemed to swim. Not Amras and Amrod. Not his vibrant, wild, red-haired brothers. Not the joyful youngsters who had switched clothes and befuddled the servants. It cannot be, thought Maedhros. They were alive today. I spoke to them. I saw them go, riding into Sirion with the van. Always too eager. . .always wanting to be in the thick of things. And now the thick of things has killed them.

Maglor took a deep breath and gestured to the supply wagon behind him. “They rest there, for the present. We will bury them at Amon Ereb. I would not leave them here as carrion. I cannot fathom it. . .that they are gone.” He reached out as if to embrace Maedhros, and happened to glance downwards, his gaze lighting upon Elrond and Elros. With a start, he raised his eyes to his brother’s face. 

“Maedhros, who are these young ones?”

Maedhros frowned and answered in Quenya, assuming that Elrond and Elros would not understand. “They are the Peredhil, Elwing’s children. Elrond and Elros, they are called. I thought perhaps. . .we could trade them for the silmaril.”

Maglor raised his eyebrows. “They are hostages, then? Is that the only reason you spared them?”

Maedhros darted a quick look at his brother. “Yes. That is the only reason . Now, we must make ready to depart. We have no more to do here, and I do not wish to linger in this place of desolation and death.”

Maglor nodded. “I will prepare our horses and notify our captains. We shall be on our way before sunset. The little ones can ride with us.”

At the mention of the twins, Maedhros cast a quick glance downwards. . .and gave a  jolt. The two elflings were no longer beside him. In fact, they did not appear to be anywhere in the vicinity. 

“Curse it!” Maedhros hissed. “They must have slipped away when I was distracted by the news of Amrod and Amras. But they cannot have gone far. I will find them!” Maedhros turned, but was stopped by a gentle tug on his elbow. Maglor looked up at him, his expression concerned. 

“Brother, do not do anything rash. They are children, and they are afraid. For Valinor’s sake, their mother just leapt from a cliff! Be gentle with them. Think of our twins.” Maglor gestured to the supply wagon.

Maedhros shook his brother off. “Yea, I think of them. But I think also of our oath. It is mercy enough for me to let them live. There is no need for gentleness.” 

Bless your kind heart, Maglor. You were always the more tender one between us. But I already struggle to quell the urgings of the Oath. I cannot allow myself to be gentle. I cannot allow myself to open, even for children. With this painful thought, Maedhros turned on his heel and strode off, intent on finding the fugitives. Maglor stared after him for a moment, his eyes full of sorrow. Then, with a sigh, he turned away and went to tell the captains to make ready to depart. 

Chapter Text

Maedhros paced the perimeter of the square, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of a blue tunic, most visible among the Fëanorians, who favored red garb. His eyes roved over the courtyard, and fixed upon two small shapes darting into an alleyway. For the second time that day, Maedhros gave chase, quickly overtaking the children. Hearing his footsteps, Elros began pulling Elrond along faster, more frantically. 

“Ow!” Elrond went sprawling on the uneven cobblestones, pulling Elros down with him. In a moment, Maedhros was upon them, pulling the terrified Elrond up from the ground and renewing his vice-like grip on his arm. Elros scrambled up from the pavement and stood slightly out of Maedhros' reach. 

“Children, it seems that you misunderstood me when I told you that on no account should you attempt to run away . If you make another move to escape, I will personally see to it that you regret it bitterly. Do not make me repeat myself again.” 

Elrond shivered with fear, but Elros glared at Maedhros, his eyes filled with hatred. Maedhros was unsettled by the force of the anger in the child’s stormy eyes. Does he make the connection between me and Elwing’s leap? Does he know that it was my comrades who chased her to her doom? Maedhros hoped not. . .but at the moment, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

“Boys, we are leaving Sirion before sunset. You will ride with my brother or with me.”

“Where are we going?” It was Elrond who had asked.

Maedhros looked down at his upturned face, pale cheeks smeared with dirt. “We go east, to Amon Ereb. It is a fortress. That is all you need to know. Now, come. We are going back to the square. I must make ready to depart.”

What am I doing? Maedhros wondered as he sheparded his charges towards the central plaza. 

~    ~     ~

The sun was sinking down over the sea when all had been readied for the departure of the Fëanorians. Maedhros had stowed the twins’ things in the supply wagon, beside the bodies of the Ambarussa, and now he and the two captives stood beside Maglor, whose face was tinged red by the sunset. He greeted Elrond and Elros kindly, but they only turned their eyes down and would not look up until his attention was elsewhere.

Maglor gestured to the horses beside them. “All is in readiness for us to set out. We shall ride through the better part of the night. If all goes well, we should reach Amon Ereb in four days' time.”

Maedhros nodded. “Then let us depart. I am eager to leave this place.” He pushed Elros toward Maglor. “You shall ride with my brother. Remember, do not try to escape from him or me. There will be consequences if you attempt anything.” 

Elrond cowered beside Maedhros, and suddenly, a light of resolution in his eyes, Elros grasped his brother’s shoulder and pushed him toward Maglor. 

“Can he ride with you? I promise he’ll be well-behaved.” Elros’s eyes were pleading. 

Maglor shot Maedhros a glance. They are obviously afraid of you, Maitimo; Elros seeks to protect his sibling by keeping him from you. What have you done to them? 

Outwardly, Maglor smiled. “Of course he may ride with me, if he so desires it.”

Elrond nodded in response and moved to Maglor’s side. Maedhros lifted Elros from the ground and placed him on his horse, but when Maglor tried to do the same for Elrond, the elfling shied away. 

“Have you ridden before, child?” Maglor asked.

A quick shake of the head from Elrond. He stared at the horse with fear in his eyes. Gripping the bridle, Maglor maneuvered the horse’s head down to Elrond’s level. 

“Come. He will not bite you. Will you stroke his nose? He would like it very much.”

Elrond hesitantly lifted a hand and touched the horse’s velvety nose with his fingertips. Gaining confidence, he placed his whole hand upon the whiskery muzzle, and at the soft warmth of the horse’s breath, something almost like a smile darted across his face. Maglor touched his shoulder.

“May I put you on his back? I will mount after you and keep you from falling.”

Elrond held out his arms, and Maglor swung him up onto the horse’s broad back, then hoisted himself up after. Maedhros gave the command to start, and the host of the Fëanorians began moving out of the city. The horses’ flanks shimmered in the light of the setting sun, and swords and shields glittered like gold. Or like the lost silmarils , thought many of the soldiers in that solemn company. 

With a clopping of hooves and a clinking of arms, the Fëanorians and their two young hostages left the Havens of Sirion behind, heading eastwards. Maglor turned back, watching plumes of smoke rise from the rubble of the ravaged city. Quietly, he shifted his cloak so that Elrond would not be able to look back at the destruction of his home. 

Let him remember Sirion as a place of beauty and calm, not as a burning ruin. He deserves that much. After all, he has lost everything. Memory will be all he has. 

Thinking this, Maglor felt his eyes brim with tears, and he let them spill down his cheeks, molten gold in the sunset. 

Chapter Text

The company rode through the darkness. A chill wind blew around them, ruffling the manes of the horses and causing the Fëanorians to pull their cloaks close around them. Maglor bent around Elrond, trying to protect the child from the cold, for he wore only a light tunic. Maedhros rode tall and straight beside him, staring out into blackness ahead, ignoring the child in front of him. Maglor looked at his brother’s profile, hard as that of a statue’s in the moonlight. 

Maglor often thought that Maedhros was divided in two. There was Maitimo, caring brother and joyful friend, who would never have let an elfling suffer in the cold. Then, there was Maedhros, the kinslayer, silent and cold and hard, as remote as the moon sailing above them. Sometimes Maglor thought that Maitimo was gone forever, but occasionally a gleam of him would shine through. Maglor shook his head.  I will not lose another brother to the Oath. I will wake Maitimo for good, and my brother will smile again, and all will be as it was. 

But of course not all would be the same. The Ambarussa were gone, slain on the field of battle. And now there were Elrond and Elros, who needed to be cared for. Maglor looked down at the small form in front of him and stroked the dark hair. He felt Elrond flinch away at his touch, gentle as it was, and let his hand drop back to the reins. 

On they rode, eastwards, against the howling wind. Clouds covered the moon, obscuring their surroundings. There were still many hours till dawn. Over the shrill moans of the wind, Maglor shouted to Maedhros.

“Maedhros! We should camp! This is not a fit night for travel.”

Maedhros looked over at his brother. “It is not raining. I see no reason for us to stop.”

Maglor rolled his eyes. “Maedhros, unlike you, not everyone here is immune to the cold. This wind is frigid. We can continue with all speed come morning.”

After a pause, Maedhros reluctantly acquiesced, and Maglor called for a halt. With practiced alacrity, the Fëanorians pitched their tents on the plain, and tied their horses for the night. Maglor slid down from his saddle and set Elrond on the ground. He looked up at his brother’s face.

“Are you all right, Maedhros? You look pale.” 

Maedhros gave a grim smile. “What is the meaning of ‘all right?’” 

Maglor merely touched his brother’s arm. Come back, Maitimo, please. Come back to me. It pains me to see you like this. 

A captain, the star on his breast glittering,  appeared out of the darkness, handing Maedhros a lantern. “Shall I set a watch?”

Maedhros turned to him. “Yes. We cannot be too careful. Gil-Galad’s forces may be nearby.”

The soldier nodded. “It will be done.” With a slight bow, he disappeared into the gloom. Maglor gestured to one of the tents. 

“Maedhros, I will not allow you to sleep out here. You need to rest. I am exercising my right as a military commander to claim this tent, and I am exercising my right as your brother to make you get some sleep. Come on.”

Maedhros allowed himself to be led, but at the door of the tent he cursed softly and  turned, looking over his shoulder, back towards the horses. “Stop!” he shouted.

Elros, who had been attempting to boost his brother onto Maglor’s mount, gave a little cry and redoubled his efforts, but in a moment he was held in Maedhros' vice-like grasp, Elrond lying on the ground beside them. 

“Boys. What did I say about attempting to run away?” Maedhros' voice was steely and low.

Elrond squeezed his grey eyes shut, tears leaking out all the same. Elros glared into Maedhros' face for a moment, his eyes filled with bitter hatred, but his gaze dropped.

 With a scrape of metal on metal, Maedhros drew the knife at his belt. 

Elrond gave a wail, but Maedhros walked past both children, moving to rummage in his saddle pack. He pulled out a long length of rope, cutting it into four pieces. 

Maglor let out an inaudible sigh of relief. He understood what Maedhros was doing. He had been afraid for a moment, afraid that his brother had lost his struggle with the Oath. . .

Maedhros walked back over to Elrond and Elros, lying huddled on the ground. “Give me your hands.” The twins complied, their eyes still full of fear. They expect to be harmed , Maglor thought. Will they ever be able to trust after this?  

Maedhros bound their hands, then their feet, assuring that the ropes did not dig into their skin. He tested the knots; they were strong and would not give. Satisfied, he nodded. 

“Children, we dislike having to do this, but you give us no choice. I am sorry.” 

Maglor moved to his brother’s side, and they each lifted a twin from the ground, carrying them into the tent. Maglor took off his cloak, wrapping it around them. 

“I am going to go find something for you to eat. I will return soon.” Maglor left the tent, Maedhros following behind. They looked at eachother, and, with a sigh, Maedhros pulled off his cloak and fastened it around Maglor’s neck, letting its folds envelope him. 

“Maedhros, you don’t need to do that. I am fine.”

Maedhros gave him an amused smile. “Unlike me, some of us are not immune to the cold.” He rubbed his brother’s windblown black hair, and Maglor smiled, leaning his head on Maedhros' shoulder for a moment. 

“Maedhros, are we doing the right thing? Taking the twins, I mean.”

Maedhros sighed. “Don’t think about right and wrong, Maglor. It will destroy you.”

Maglor looked up into his brother’s face. In the pale moonlight, it looked old beyond reckoning, worn and sad. “But what are we to think of if not what is right and what is wrong?”

“I do not know, ‘Kano. I suppose we just. . . survive.”

Maglor nodded. He knew this, knew that they could only afford to look to the next moment. Knew that if he looked too long at the larger picture his heart would break. But perhaps it has already broken , he thought. 

“Maglor. You’re thinking things. I can tell.”

“I am always thinking things, Maedhros. It is a habit I cannot seem to break.”

Maedhros laughed softly, again stroking his brother’s hair. “Go back inside. Get out of the wind. I will find food for the little ones. Sleep, and dream of happier times.”

Maedhros turned and disappeared into the night. When he returned, hunks of dry traveling bread in his hands, he found Elrond and Elros curled around each other, sleeping peacefully, Maglor watching them with sad eyes. Setting down the food, Maedhros went to his brother’s side, and they sat like that, shoulder to shoulder, all through the cold hours before dawn. 

Chapter Text

The next day dawned cloudy and grey. The Fëanorians rode all day beneath the glowering sky, their faces grim. Maedhros and Maglor rode next to each other, but rarely spoke. Every so often, Elros or Elrond would let out a mewling wail, and the other twin would answer in kind. They often reached their small hands across the gap between their respective mounts, grasping at each other's fingertips. However, when Elros nearly pitched off of Maedhros' horse while stretching towards his brother, Maglor put a stop to the hand-holding.

“Children, it’s not safe. You could fall and be hurt.”

Maedhros nodded in agreement. “I speak from personal experience when I say that falling from one’s mount is an unpleasant experience. You do not want to find out for yourselves.”

“Neither of you would care if we fell. You’re murderers,” whispered Elros. “Evil kinslayers.” 

Maglor and Maedhros exchanged a look, but neither of them responded. After all, what could we say, thought Maedhros. We are kinslayers, they saw the proof themselves. We cannot prove to them that we are not evil when we are responsible for the destruction of their home, for the flight of their mother. They have lost everything because of us, let them be angry. If it were me, I would be. 

But Elrond and Elros stopped reaching for each other, and their cries grew less and less frequent. They seemed to be in a stupor, slumped and still. Sometimes they slept, heads lolling. Glancing down, Maglor gave a start.

“Maedhros, they sleep with their eyes closed.”

Maedhros inclined his head. “Yes. It is the blood of Men that flows in their veins. They are not fully Elven.”

Maglor nodded. “No. That is easy to see, even when they are waking. How old do you think they are?”

Maedhros looked down at Elros’s curled form. “Too young for this.” He shook his head and turned away from his brother, back to his own unhappy thoughts.

~      ~      ~

The days passed. Elros and Elrond became increasingly reluctant to ride the horses each day, but, try as he might, Maglor could not deduce why. There were no more attempts at escape, but the children were still bound at night. Everyone grew increasingly dirty, tired, and unkempt. Maedhros glowered. Maglor sang silly, happy songs, occasionally getting Elrond to join in quietly. 

“Maglor, if I hear about frogs sitting on a speckled log eating delicious bugs one more time, I will lose my mind.”

Maglor only laughed, and kept on singing. But try as he might to put on a good face, Maedhros could see the sadness lingering in his younger brother’s eyes. 

Maedhros worried for Maglor. He was always more sensitive than his brothers, always a bit quieter, a bit more melancholy. The Ambarussa had been exuberant, full of joy, and now that they were gone, Maglor only had Maedhros, and Maedhros was not exactly cheerful. 

Perhaps the children will help him. The thought popped unbidden into Maedhros' mind. He dismissed it instantly. The children are hostages. We are not their family. They are only bargaining chips. But Maedhros could not really convince himself of the truth in that, and it worried him. 

 ~      ~       ~

The morning of the fourth day out from Sirion dawned bright and clear. Overnight, the clouds had blown away, revealing a sky sparkling with stars. Elros had pointed up at the sky.

“Why is that star so bright?”

Maglor had looked up, and had seen a ball of white light, blazing brilliantly above the western horizon. Only one thing (or three things, really) could shine with such a beautiful glow. So, Elwing did not die when she leaped from the cliff. The rumors that she flew away as a bird must have been true, for she has flown to join her husband, and together they sail across the sky as a star. Perhaps it is for the best, that the silmaril is now out of reach of us all.

Externally, Maglor had shook his head in wonderment and smiled. “I do not know, Elros. We are lucky to live in a time of such great wonders.”

Elros did not answer, but continued staring up at the sky, clutching Elrond’s hand in his. Maedhros came up out of the darkness and put a hand on Maglor’s shoulder, and together, though far apart in thought, the two contemplated the star-strewn heavens above them, or perhaps the jewel-bright eyes of the two children by their side.

 ~    ~     ~ 

As they rode under the vivid blue morning sky, Maglor looked back on the night before with a savor of victory. It was the first time Elros had spoken to him without being spoken to first. Perhaps all of Maglor’s kindnesses had finally made an impression. . .or it was simply that Elros’s curiosity overpowered his fear. Maglor hoped it was the former. He did not relish being abhorred. 

Coming back to the present, Maglor looked ahead and saw the great grey mass of the fortress Amon Ereb rising up before them. It stood on a tall, sloping hill, its sides green and dotted with trees. Thicker forest was at its back, and a winding stone road led up to the summit. The way was not treacherous, and horses had good footing, but Elrond clutched at Maglor’s arms and at the horse’s mane and whimpered all the way up the hill. Elros had no such qualms, however, and stared back the way they had come. 

The solemn procession filed in through the gates and into a courtyard paved with great slabs of stone. The walls surrounding it were eight feet thick, and rose high above the heads of the company. Soldiers walked back and forth on the battlements, staring out over the plain and the forest. 

Swinging off of his mount, Maedhros pushed Elros towards Maglor. “Do me a favor, Kano, and find a place where they can bathe. They are filthy.”

Maglor laughed. “So are you, Maedhros. Gil-Galad’s forces will find us by our stink. They won’t even need to see us. You need to wash as much as the children.”

Maedhros snorted. “Bold words from someone covered in horse hair.”

Maglor shrugged and smiled. “Come on, Maitimo. Let’s go find ourselves some hot water and soap.”

Maedhros gravely shook his head. “I have a funeral to arrange.”  With a sad smile, Maedhros turned on his heel and left, disappearing into the crowd. Maglor looked down at the children standing beside him. 

“Come Elrond, Elros. Let’s get clean, and then we can find you a place to sleep and some food. Won’t that be lovely?”

Elrond and Elros merely leaned listlessly on eachother. Sighing, Maglor took their hands in his and together they walked through a carved stone archway and into the fortress that would be their home.

Chapter Text

Amon Ereb had many long and stony corridors, and to Elrond and Elros, it seemed like they walked many miles before reaching what Maglor called “a bathing chamber.”

“Children, I am going to go and retrieve your clothing. I am trusting you to not leave this room while I am gone. When I come back, we will all wash up, and then I will show you a bit more of Amon Ereb. All right?” Maglor smiled and left them, and his footsteps soon faded away. 

Elros turned to Elrond. “He’s gone. Let’s go.” He grabbed his brother’s hand and started pulling him towards the door.

“But Elros, Maglor said not to leave the room.” 

Elros glared. “Why do we care what a murderer says? He’ll probably kill us if we stay here. He’s probably going to get his sword.”

Elrond looked doubtful. “I think Maglor’s nice. . .”

“Of course he’s being nice now , so that we trust him, and then he’ll KILL US!” 

Elrond’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Elros nodded vehemently. “Yes. So we have to go!”

The two children scurried out the door. Elros turned left, pulling Elrond with him, and they began to run down the long hallway. They dashed around corners, careened down staircases, hid behind columns when soldiers passed by. Panting, they stopped to rest in a side corridor, the end of which was lost in darkness. 

Elrond turned to Elros, visibly shaking. “El, do you really think that this is a good idea? I mean, we don’t know how to get out, and Maedhros said that he’d make us regret it if we ran away. . .and I think he really meant it! He would probably kill us if he knew we were here.”

“He won’t find us. He’s outside, not in here.” Elros took his brother’s hand in his. “You worry too much, Ellie. I’ll protect you from anything. Nothing bad can happen as long as we stay together.”

“You know, Elros, I really think you should listen to your brother more.” said a new voice, coming from the darkened end of the passageway.

Maedhros stepped out into the light, smiling grimly. “Well, fancy meeting you two here. I was under the impression that you were told multiple times not to run away, but perhaps I was mistaken. After all, you wouldn’t be foolish enough to directly disobey me , now would you?” 

Elrond and Elros stared at each other, then at Maedhros, quaking. Maedhros leaned against a wall, looking down at them. Quite suddenly, he was reminded of a young Amrod and Amras, hiding sticky hands behind their backs as Maedhros asked them where his sweets had gone. Maedhros shoved the memory away. It was too sharp and painful, like prodding an open wound. 

It is quite difficult to be angry when these children are so afraid. I heard them talking about me before. They really think I would do them injury. I hope that I am still more brother than I am soldier. I do not think I would harm them. Sometimes I wish that Atar had not been so. . .fixated, and that this was not my fate. 

With a shake of his head, Maedhros crouched till he was at eye level with the twins. The cringed back. Maedhros kept his expression grave.

“Elrond, Elros, please do not run away anymore. Amon Ereb is quite large, and you could get lost. Do not go anywhere unless you are with my brother or me, or have our direct permission. Now, you need to bathe. I could smell you all the way down the hallway. Come, we will go back to Maglor who has hopefully found some soap.”

Maedhros gave a small smile and lifted Elrond, who looked near fainting, took Elros’s hand in his, and together they walked back to Maglor, who had indeed found soap. 

~      ~     ~

“Maedhros!” Maglor looked up and down the hallway. “Maitimo! Agh, where are you?!” 

Maedhros emerged from around the corner. “What’s the matter, little brother?” 

Maglor threw up his hands. “Maedhros, the boys have saddle sores all over their legs. I have no idea whatsoever how to handle this kind of thing, because for some reason Atar saw fit to teach us how to amputate a limb, but not how to clean sores. Can you . . .figure something out?”

Maedhros nodded. “I’ll go to the healers. They’ll have something. In the meantime I think they should still bathe. And you should, too!” he said, poking his brother playfully in the chest. 

Maglor rolled his eyes. “The same goes for you, Maitimo. If it is possible, you are ranker than I am.”

“Quite probably.” agreed Maedhros. “Now, I’m going to go track down a healer and see what I can find out about saddle sore ministrations. Best of luck with bathtime.”

Maglor smiled and went back to Elrond and Elros, who were staring dubiously at the tub, cocooned in towels. 

“Come children, time to wash. It will be good to get clean, won’t it?”

Elrond nodded, but Elros glared murderously at Maglor. 

Choosing to ignore the look, Maglor lifted Elrond, then Elros into the tub. He sat on the floor beside them. Elrond turned to look at him.

“Maglor?”

“Yes, Elrond?”

With a shout, Elrond splashed Maglor, drenching the front of his tunic. For a moment, Maglor frowned, then with a laugh he splashed Elrond back. After a few seconds of this, Maglor held up his hand. 

“We can play later, but let’s use this time to actually get clean. Lean your heads towards me and I’ll brush your hair.”

Elrond happily complied, but it took several minutes of coaxing to entice Elros to go anywhere near Maglor’s brush. 

At long last, both twins were clean and dressed. Maglor ran his fingers through his hair. However did our mother take care of seven children? Two is a veritable army. Well, nothing for it but to keep going. It’s your own fault that they aren’t with their parents.

With that thought, a shadow crossed Maglor’s face, but before either twin could mark it, there was a knock at the door and Maedhros entered. He handed his brother a small jar.

“From the healers. They say it will make the sores less painful.”

Maglor smiled. “Thank you, Maitimo.”

Maedhros shrugged and turned to go. As he reached the doorway, he looked over his shoulder.

“Maglor, I found a room where they can stay. It is down the corridor from ours. At the moment, there are no blankets on the bed, but I will leave that for you to handle. I opened the window to allow air to circulate.”

“Thank you ver--” but Maedhros was already gone.

Maglor turned back to Elrond and Elros. “Children, this will help your sores. Will you let me rub it in?”

Elrond nodded and moved nearer to Maglor but Elros vehemently shook his head. That seemed to be his reaction to most things Maglor offered, but this time Maglor didn’t try to entice him. It had been hard enough to wrangle him into washing his hair, and, to be honest, Maglor was not in the mood to have his hand bitten again, as had happened when he tried to help Elros on with his tunic. If he wants to be in pain, let him. Perhaps Elrond will coax him into it later. 

With the salve applied and both twins clean and dressed, Maglor rose from the floor. 

“Let’s go, children. I will show you where you are to sleep, and then I will find you something to eat. You must be hungry.”

Elrond opened his mouth to answer, but Elros shot him a poisonous glance and he looked away. Maglor sighed and took their small hands in his. I hope that they can learn to trust me. I hope that they will be happy here, because it seems that this is where they will stay. I do not think that Maedhros really took them as bargaining chips for the silmaril, the silmaril which now shines from the heavens. Maglor lifted his eyes to the ceiling and sent up a silent prayer to whoever might be listening. Let me be better than my father. Please. 

Chapter Text

As they walked, Maglor gestured to the doors on either side of them. “In winter, this is a room for the sentries to warm themselves in, but in this season it is little used.” He tilted his head to the left. “And this room is Maedhros'. Do not go in unless you have his permission or I am with you.”

Elros pointed to another door. “Is that your room?”

Maglor felt the dull pain that had lingered in his chest since leaving Sirion turn to a sharp stab. “No. That is--was--my other brothers’ room. Amrod and Amras. They were the youngest in our family.”

Elrond wrinkled his brows. “Where are they?”

Maglor felt his eyes filling with tears, and, letting go of Elrond and Elros, he leaned heavily against a wall.

“They were killed in Sirion. Now it is only Maedhros and me. . .” he choked back a sob, but before he could straighten he felt something squeezing his legs. It was Elrond, who had thrown his small arms around Maglor’s knees, the only part of him that was easily accessible. 

“I didn’t mean to make you sad. I’m sorry!” Elrond’s grip on Maglor tightened.

Elros looked rather taken aback, though Maglor wasn’t sure if his reaction was to the deaths of the Ambarussa or to his own brother’s violent hug. However, after some internal struggle, he leaned over and awkwardly touched Maglor’s hand. 

“I’m sorry about your brothers. I would cry too if Elrond died.” 

For their sakes, Maglor wiped his eyes and patted both their heads. I cannot tell them that it hurts more when they comfort me. They know nothing of my terrible deeds. They do not know that it was I who chased their mother to her doom. I should tell them. . .but I cannot not bear it. Let them think I mourn only the Ambarussa.

Maglor mustered a smile. “Thank you, children. I am better now. Shall we continue to your room?”

~       ~       ~     

They passed three more doors (Maglor’s chamber, a storage room, and a stairway leading up to the ramparts) before coming to the end of the corridor. Maglor opened the last door, which led them into a small room furnished only with a bed and a small cupboard. As Maedhros had told them, the bed had no blankets or sheets, and when Maglor pressed it, a cloud of dust rose up. I shall have to deal with that, I suppose. There are blankets in the storage room. Well, at least Maedhros opened the window. 

Suddenly, Elrond dashed excitedly to the corner. 

“Look!” He held up a stuffed thing ( there really is no better word for it , Maglor thought. It is unidentifiable ). “From home!” He hugged it. 

Elros crossed his arms and looked at Maglor. “Will you still tie us up here?”

Maglor thought for a moment. “If the lock on the door works, there will be no need. If it is not functional, yes, you will be bound, but only until it can be fixed.” He tested the door. “I am sorry, Elros, but the lock is broken. I will have it repaired as soon as possible.”

Elros glared, but whatever caustic retort he had prepared was cut off by a squeal from Elrond, who had jumped onto the bare mattress.

“It’s dusty!” He sneezed and Maglor laughed.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Maedhros poked his head in the doorway. “I brought blankets, though.” He handed his burden to Maglor and promptly turned to go.

“Maedhros, wait!” Maglor touched his shoulder. “I am sorry to give you yet another thing to do, but the lock is broken. Would you find someone who can fix it? Locksmithing is yet another thing that Atar did not think to teach us.”

Maedhros shrugged. “Anything for you, little brother. Now, I must go. I will see you later.” He bent down, lightly kissed Maglor’s forehead, and was gone. 

Maglor went back inside. “Children, would you prefer to sleep on the bed or on the floor for now?”

“Floor.” Elros immediately answered. Elrond nodded in agreement. 

“All right.” said Maglor, arranging the blankets into a nest for the two children. “There. Now, there are still many hours till nightfall. Would you like to eat something?”

Elrond nodded shyly, but Elros stubbornly shook his head, as Maglor had expected him to do. With a rueful smile, Maglor took the twins’ hands and left the room, heading for the pantries on the other side of the fortress.

~      ~       ~  

As all this was happening, Maedhros was surrounded by a mist of despair. He had made the proper arrangements for the funeral of Amrod and Amras, but he had chosen to prepare their bodies himself. In retrospect, this was, perhaps, not the wisest thing to do. That seems to be the motto of the Sons of Fëanor, thought Maedhros bitterly. In retrospect, marching on Alqualondë seems like a terrible idea. Doriath was a useless bloodbath. And now I have lost two more brothers to the same fate. One would think that we would learn eventually, but I suppose the Oath is stronger than our wills. 

Maedhros looked down at the faces of his youngest brothers. It was hard to believe that they had once been beautiful. That their hair had shown like autumn trees in the sunshine, that their eyes had always been dancing with mischief. It was practically impossible to imagine that they once had smiles that could light up the darkest night (or even that they had teeth at all), and that when they were born their ears were like perfect little leaves. Did every fleeing elf vent their rage on my dead brothers? Maedhros shook his head, heavy with grief. 

For the first time since leaving Sirion, Maedhros allowed himself to weep. He knew that he would continue living after this. The world had not ended when Celegorm was slain, Dior’s blade sticking from his chest, nor had the sun ceased to rise when Curufin and Caranthir had breathed their last. The unfeeling stars would wheel overhead no matter how many brothers and sons, cousins and friends, died. 

The only thing that would change was Maedhros himself. A few more cracks would appear in his already broken heart. A few more sizzling tears would trickle down his face. And then he would keep walking, because Fëanorians could not afford to give up. 

Chapter Text

By the end of the day, Maglor had developed a newfound respect for his mother. He could barely keep track of two children and she had brought up seven . Maglor groaned. It had been a long afternoon. Elrond and Elros had attempted to run away twice, but had been caught by guards both times and delivered unceremoniously to an increasingly frazzled Maglor. Now, after an hour of coaxing, cajoling, wrangling, and forcibly moving, both twins were asleep in their nest of blankets. Maglor had bound them, assuring them over and over that soon the lock would be fixed and there would be no need for the precaution. He had told them to shout if they needed anything during the night. He had promised that he would come check on them. 

It was with a twinge of relief as he closed the door. The twins were sweet--or at least Elrond was, Elros continued to glare murderously at everything and everyone--but it had been so long since Maglor had cared for his own younger brothers. He had forgotten what little children were like. Maglor smiled ruefully. Well, now I have an opportunity to learn all of those things again. Perhaps I will become who I was then as well. That would be welcome.

But deep within his mind, the Oath whispered. You can never go back to before. You will never escape your crimes. The children have one purpose only: to help you reclaim the silmaril. Affection is a trap and love is a cage. You have blood on your hands. Do you really think you can wash it away?

Maglor ran down the corridor and into his own chamber, slamming the door behind him as if it could repel such thoughts. He leaned against the doorframe, trembling. Self-loathing rose in his throat like bile. He sank to the floor, but a soft footstep made him startle.

“Oh. . .Maedhros, I didn’t see you.”

Maedhros knelt beside Maglor. His red hair caught the light of the taper in his hand. His eyes were sad. But then again, thought Maglor, his eyes are always full of sorrow now. 

“Maglor, what is it? You look awful.”

Maglor laughed weakly. “A ringing endorsement. Thank you.” 

Maedhros continued to look at him, as if he could reach behind his eyes and pull out his brother’s worries.

“Is it the Oath, Maglor?”

The light of the taper suddenly seemed to dim. The Oath was a tangible presence between them, cold and unfeeling. 

Maglor took a deep breath. “Yes. No. Perhaps. I am just so afraid, Maedhros! I am a murderer. How did I become a murderer?”

Maglor buried his face in his hands. The tears came, trickling down his palms. 

Maglor heard the sound of the taper being set down. He felt his brother's hand on his shoulder.

But there was nothing Maedhros could say. They were both steeped in blood, and they knew it. After a few minutes filled only with the sound of Maglor’s uneven breaths, Maedhros spoke.

“Kano, if I am sure of one thing in this world, it is that you are not evil.”

Maglor snorted. “No? Do you forget that it was I who chased Elwing off that cliff?”

Maedhros turned to face Maglor. “No, but I also do not forget that it was you who sang for hours as we rode to soothe her children. I do not forget that it was you who spent an hour bathing said children, and that you went all over Amon Ereb searching for honey so that they could have something sweet. If your fëa was truly tainted, then why are those selfsame children still alive?”

Maglor did not answer. Maedhros gently elbowed his shoulder. “See? Do not dispute the wisdom of your all-knowing big brother. And at the moment, your all-knowing big brother is advising you to stop this nonsense and go to sleep.”

Maglor laughed faintly and leaned on Maedhros' shoulder. The bitter taste of guilt still lingered, but he allowed himself to pretend that he was a child again, who could be comforted by embraces and sweet words.

“I won’t argue with that. Whatever else may or may not be true, I am tired.”

He rose, pulling Maedhros with him. Maglor was suddenly struck by a burst of intense love for his brother. His thoughtful, long-limbed, witty, sorrowful, sometimes laughing, sometimes weeping, Maitimo. Maglor wanted to speak, but finding that he couldn’t, he threw his arms around Maedhros and held on, burying his face in his brother’s tunic.

Maedhros squirmed. After Angband, he was reluctant to engage in physical contact with anyone, even Maglor. But since it was clear that Maglor was not planning on letting go anytime soon, Maedhros reluctantly allowed himself to be hugged.

Really, it wasn’t that hard to appreciate. 

Chapter Text

Elrond was watching the stars. Through the window he could see a small patch of spangled sky, occasionally traversed by a meteor. The room was bathed in silver moonlight, and to Elrond, everything seemed to have taken on an ethereal and enchanted quality, like a picture in a storybook. 

“Elros!” he whispered. “El, wake up!”

Elros sleepily opened his eyes. Blinking, he gazed around the room, seemingly confused. All of a sudden, memory came hurtling back at him, and he scowled. 

Elrond wrinkled his brows. “El, where do you think Nana is?”

“With Ada, maybe.” Elros answered. 

“But where is Ada?” 

Noticing that his brother’s eyes were filling with tears, Elros managed a smile and said the first thing that came to mind. 

“They’re sailing together! In Ada’s beautiful ship. And the sea all around them is blue and green and sparkly, like it used to be at home.”

“How do you know?” said Elrond.

Elros nodded with all the confidence he could muster. “I just do. And right now, they’re probably looking for us. They’ll come soon.”

Elrond’s grey eyes opened wide. He let out a little gasp. “Do you really think so?! Could they be coming for us? I’ll ask Maglor tomorrow!”

“No!” Elros whispered. “Do not ask Maglor. He’s a kinslayer . He’s killed people. And he probably wants to kill us, too!” 

Elrond’s face puckered. “What’s a kinslayer, El?”

“A kinslayer is an evil murderer. Maglor is one. So is Maedhros.”

Elrond fervently shook his head. “But. . .but. . .but Maglor’s nice! He sings, and he made my legs feel better, and he carried me when I got tired! He’s not evil. He couldn’t be.”

Elros pushed his face up close to Elrond’s. His voice was an angry hiss. “If you like Maglor, then you don’t love me, and you don’t care about Nana and Ada.” 

Elrond’s face collapsed. “Of course I love you, El! And I love Nana and Ada! But I think I have enough room in my heart to love you and like Maglor too.”

Elros rolled until all Elrond could see of him was his back. “I hate you, Elrond.” he whispered. “And I wish you weren’t my brother.”

Elrond whimpered and tried to roll closer to his twin, but Elros kicked at his legs and said nothing more. The room no longer seemed enchanted to Elrond. The moonlight lay coldly on both children, and made their tears sparkle like molten silver.

~        ~         ~

Elrond woke again with the pale light of dawn streaming through the window. The slice of sky he could see was now a pale pink, like the inside of one of the seashells that had littered the beaches in Sirion. “Sirion. . .” he whispered, like a prayer. Elros tossed and turned beside him but did not wake. 

With a lurch, the events of the previous night came rushing back to Elrond. I hate you. I wish you weren’t my brother. You don’t love me. Elros had said those things. He had meant them. For the first time in his life, Elrond felt completely alone.

He looked again at the sleeping face of his brother, flushed in the morning light. His eyelids fluttered as he dreamed. His lips moved, but no words came out. Elrond loved that face, that face that was both his own and another’s. He had always thought of Elros as a tangible part of himself, something that would always be there. Something that he could not live without. 

But it seemed that he had been wrong. Elros had wished him away. He had not understood about Maglor. Maglor. Elrond did not understand it. Elros said Maglor was evil, but how could an evil person have such a beautiful voice, such gentle hands? Elrond did not think that even unsmiling Maedhros was evil . Frightening and serious, yes, but not evil.  

A thought struck Elrond. He would go and tell Maglor what Elros had said! Maglor would know where Nana was. Maglor would know if Elros really didn’t love him anymore. Maglor would know everything , and then Elros would understand that Maglor was good. Elrond smiled. Perhaps it was not such a hopeless morning after all. 

Chapter Text

It took quite a lot of wriggling for Elrond to roll himself out of the nest of blankets that Maglor had made, but he exerted all his powers of stealth to good purpose, and Elros did not wake. Once he was fully untangled, Elrond lay on the cold stone floor and took a few deep breaths. The air was cool, but quickly warming as the sun rose. His bound hands were tinted pink in the light of the rising sun. 

The ropes were causing a difficulty. He had not truly thought out how he was going to get to Maglor once he had disentangled himself. He could not crawl, he could not untie himself, and he could not stand up. What was he to do?

All of a sudden a memory came back to him. When he was very young, his mother had taken Elros and him to the high sand dunes outside of Sirion. He had run alongside Elros through the salt grasses, and they had rolled down the sloping sides of the dunes, all the way to the edge of the water. Their mother had come laughing after them, her dark hair a curtain in the wind, and. . .

Elrond pushed aside his homesickness and focused on the earlier part of the memory. They had rolled down the dunes. Why couldn’t he roll down the corridor?

It took several minutes of experimenting before Elrond figured out how to best propel himself across the floor. Opening the door gave him some trouble, but he managed to pry it open with his feet. Elros slept on.

Off Elrond went, down the long corridor. He wriggled and twisted and pushed. Dust smudged his tunic, but Elrond didn’t mind. He came to the cluster of doorways, and was struck by doubt. Which one was Maglor’s room? Elrond giggled to himself. He wouldn’t want to wake up the wrong Fëanorian and end up with an angry Maedhros! 

In the end, Elrond picked a door and kicked his feet against it. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

“Come in.” It was Maglor’s voice, muffled and sleepy!

Elrond kicked harder. Thud. Thud. THUD.

He heard footsteps approaching the door and it opened. Maglor poked his head out into the corridor, looking up and down the length of it, but not directly downwards.

“Is someone there?” He sounded mystified. Elrond opened his mouth to speak, but before could, Maglor took a step forward and stumbled over him with a grunt of surprise. He looked down.

“Elrond! What are you. . .do you need something?” He lifted Elrond off the floor.

“I just wanted to talk to you.” whispered Elrond. 

Maglor smiled and stepped back into his room, closing the door behind them. He set Elrond down on his bed and undid the ropes around his wrists and ankles. 

“How did you get here, Elrond?”

“I rolled.” Elrond murmured conspiratorially. 

Maglor wrinkled his dark brows. “Oh, Elrond, I’m so sorry! Why didn’t you call?”

“I didn’t want to make Elros wake up.” 

“Ah,” said Maglor. “I see. So, what can I do for you, Elrond?” 

“Well,” Elrond lowered his voice. “Well, first you have to promise not to tell Elros this. . .”

Maglor raised an eyebrow. “Not a word to Elros.”

Elrond leaned close to Maglor and whispered in his ear. “Can I take my shoes off?” He gestured to his feet. 

Maglor laughed bemusedly. “Of course you can, Elrond. I thought you didn’t want to when I offered last night.” He reached down and undid the laces. “But why is this a secret?”

Elrond sighed. “Elros said that if we took our shoes off you would take them away and not give them back. But you won’t do that, right?”

“Never.” said Maglor. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

Elrond looked down sadly. “No.  . .Maglor, do you think Elros loves me?”

“Yes,” Maglor replied. “I think your brother loves you very much. Why do you ask?”

“He said that he doesn’t love me because I like you and he said that he wishes I wasn’t his brother and he said I don’t care about Nana and Ada, and--” Elrond began to sob.

Maglor put his arms around Elrond’s small shoulders. “Shh, it’s all right. Tell me again, slowly.”

Elrond gulped and wiped his streaming eyes. “Last night, Elros said he doesn’t love me because I like you. He said that because I like you I don’t love Nana and Ada. Is. . .is that true?”

Maglor shook his head. “I don’t believe so, Elrond. I think that your heart is capacious enough to care for many people.”

Elrond nodded seriously, and looked up at Maglor. “He also said. . .he said that you and Maedhros are evil. He said you’re. . .kinslayers. That isn’t true, is it?”

Well, this is the moment I dreaded, thought Maglor. Do I deny it? Do I tell the truth and risk losing what little trust he has in me? After all, we Fëanorians are the reason that his home is in ruins. He has every right to hate me. . .but I have already been vilified by so many. I do not want him to revile me too.

Maglor sighed heavily. “Yes. My brother and I are indeed kinslayers. We made a promise, long ago, and that promise has led us to do terrible deeds. We have both killed elves, but we do not relish it. It brings us grief every day.” Not that that is an excuse. 

Elrond said nothing, continuing to gaze at Maglor with the inscrutability of small children. 

Maglor steeled himself to continue speaking.

“Elrond, I am truly sorry that I cannot tell you that your brother was all wrong. I only say to you that it is your decision whether or not to believe that Maedhros and I are evil. I cannot make you think otherwise.”

To the complete surprise of Maglor, Elrond leaned forward and put his arms about his waist.

“You’re not evil, Maglor. You’re too nice. I just think that you are a good person who is in a hard place.”

Maglor stroked Elrond’s hair. For a moment, the dreadful weight of the Oath and of the kinslayings slipped from his shoulders. Elrond did not hate him. This one child, whose home he had laid to waste, whose mother he had doomed, who had every right to abhor the Fëanorians, still trusted him. I just think that you are a good person who is in a hard place. A good person in a hard place. Maglor repeated Elrond’s words to himself over and over again. For the moment, he allowed himself to believe them. 

They could, perhaps, have stayed that way for a long time had a panicked shriek not shattered the early-morning silence. 

Chapter Text

Years of soldiering had given Maedhros lightning reflexes, so when the terrified scream reached his ears, he was out in the corridor before the wail  had ceased. Another cry pierced the silence. They were coming from the end of the hall. Maglor’s door flew open, but Maedhros was running too fast to pay him any mind. He thought he saw Elrond in Maglor’s arms, but he had no time to ponder how he could have gotten there. 

In the few seconds it took him to reach the end of the passageway, Maedhros ran through all the possible things he could find when he reached the source of the screams. A brawl between soldiers? Perhaps. Sometimes arguments turned to blows. A robber? No. Amon Ereb was too well-protected. Gil-galad’s forces attacking from the forest? If that was the case, Maedhros alone stood no chance, but the thought didn’t deter him. He no longer feared death. 

However, his guesses were far from the reality. Throwing open the final door, he found that Elros, tangled in blankets and ropes on the floor, was the source of the shrieking. He was thrashing about, apparently trying to free himself from his nest. Tears ran down his cheeks. He let loose another piercing cry when he saw Maedhros and redoubled his efforts to untangle himself. 

Maedhros closed the door of the room with a snap and crossed the floor in two strides. He lifted Elros and unceremoniously dropped him on the dusty bed. 

“Elros! ELROS!” Maedhros had to yell to make himself heard. “What is the matter?!”

Elros’s voice was shrill and panicked. “Where’s my brother? Where is he? What did you do to him?” He screamed again. 

Maedhros made his voice as commanding as possible. “Elros, stop screaming. I will tell you when you terminate this dreadful racket.”

Elros’s wails subsided a bit. He began to sob. “Please don’t hurt him. Please, please, please.”

Maedhros undid Elros’s bonds and moved him into a sitting position. “Elrond is fine. He is with Maglor. Don’t ask me how he managed to get there, because I have no idea. No one is hurting anyone. Now, wipe your eyes.”

Elros did so, still sniffling. He looked up at Maedhros. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Maedhros shook his head. “Not unless you give me a reason to.” That isn’t true , thought Maedhros. I would never hurt them. Never.

Elros tilted his head to one side. “Do you say those things--threaten us, I mean--because you really would do it? Or do you just not know what else to say?”

Maedhros raised an eyebrow. 

Elros continued talking. “Sometimes I tell Elrond that I don’t love him because I don’t know what else to do. I don’t mean it, though. Do you do that?”

Maedhros sighed. “Perhaps we all do.” 

“I think so.” Elros agreed. 

They sat together in awkward silence. Elros stared at Maedhros. Maedhros stared at the ceiling. Elros, say something that does not involve talking about my feelings. I would rather fight Gil-galad’s forces alone than discuss my emotions with you.

“What happened to your hand?” inquired Elros. 

Really, Elros? Really? That is what you thought of other than feelings?  

Externally, Maedhros sighed. “I was captured and tortured by Mor--the dark forces.”

Elros looked puzzled. “What is torture?” 

“When someone hurts someone else for amusement.”

Elros’s eyes grew wide. “They did that to you? They cut your hand off?”

“No,” Maedhros said. “My friend did. He had to rescue me from. . .a difficult place.”

Elros’s mouth made the shape of an “o.” “Did it hurt?”

Maedhros nodded. “Yes. It hurt quite a lot. And if you don’t mind, Elros, I’d really rather not discuss it.”

Elros nodded. “Can I ask one more thing?”

“Yes, Elros.”

“Why did you and Maglor come to Sirion?”

Maedhros sighed. “Your mother had the jewel.”

Elros wrinkled his brows. “I know. It glowed. Sometimes. . .sometimes I think Nana cared about it more than she cared about me. Because she took it with her, but she left me and Elrond. . .but what does that have to do with you?”

Maedhros took a deep breath. I am in control. I can talk about this. “Our father made the jewel. We made a promise to him that we would  get it back.”

“Why did you kill so many people?”

Maedhros passed a hand over his eyes. “We were blinded by lust. We do not relish killing, nor are we proud of our actions.”

“What is lust?” Elros asked.

Maedhros' mind immediately jumped to a kind of lust that Elros definitely did not need to know about. 

“Lust is when you want something very much.” Maedhros answered. 

“Oh.” replied Elros. “Can I ask another thing?”

Maedhros inclined his head.

“Maedhros, are you evil?” Elros’ forehead was wrinkled in consternation. 

Maedhros smiled sadly. “That is for you to decide, Elros. I have done terrible things. But every day I am guilty. Every day I regret my actions. Every day I curse myself for choosing this fate, for listening to my father.”

Elros pondered this for a moment, resting his head on his hand. He abruptly sat up, as if he’d come to some sort of decision. “I’m changing my mind.”

“Oh?” said Maedhros. 

Elros nodded. “I used to think you and Maglor were evil. But. . .if you were really terrible, then you wouldn’t have brought Elrond and me here. You would have killed us. And. . .and. . .I was thinking that maybe here--in the real world, I mean, not stories--people aren’t just good or just bad. Right?” 

Maedhros said nothing. He was utterly flabbergasted. He had expected Elros to scream and kick and maybe even bite. He had expected hatred, especially from Elros, not forgiveness. How I wish I could change the past, thought Maedhros. I would never have sworn the Oath. I would have found Eluréd and Elurín. I would have--

“Maedhros?” Elros’s voice  broke into his thoughts. 

“Hm? Yes, Elros?”

Elros looked seriously up at Maedhros. “I lust for a hug.”

For the first time since the kinslaying at Sirion, Maedhros really smiled. “Elros, don’t say that. You have to be older to use that word. Much older.”

Elros nodded sadly and crinkled his grey eyes up like a puppy.

Maedhros sighed. “But yes, you can have a hug.” 

With much more enthusiasm than Maedhros would have expected from him days ago, Elros flopped against Maedhros' chest and buried his face in his tunic. Maedhros wrapped his arms around him, stroking his tangled hair. For the first time in a long time, he was not lost in a memory. His mind was not in Angband, nor was it in Doriath or Alqualondë. Maedhros was in Amon Ereb, hugging a child, and he was happy to be there. He could not remember the last time he had been really, truly, happy. 

Elros pulled back and looked up at him. “Can we go find Elrond?”

Maedhros nodded, but his response was cut off by Maglor’s voice from the doorway. “No need. We’re here.”

Maglor smiled and came into the room, Elrond behind him. Elros slid off the bed and immediately started whispering to Elrond who listened intently to whatever words of wisdom his brother was imparting to him. Maglor came and sat beside Maedhros. 

Maedhros looked at him. “What? I feel that you have some bothersome remark to make.”

“Bothersome? You insult me, Maitimo. I was merely going to ask if I get a hug too.”

Maedhros rolled his eyes. “Oh, so that’s what you’re smiling at. Your lack of maturity astounds me. Weren’t you always the serious one?”

“I am perfectly mature! If we’re comparing the two of us, I’m a paragon of solemnity.”

Maedhros snorted. “You? Never.”

Maglor laughed and leaned against Maedhros' shoulder. “One more thing.”

“Knowing you, Kano, it’s sure to be at least four things, but go ahead.”

Maglor’s expression turned sly. “You only took the children as hostages, am I correct? You saw them and immediately thought we could trade them? What you told me in Sirion was the complete and utter truth?”

Maedhros sighed. “I should have known you would bring this up. Are you trying to get me to admit that you were right all along?”

Maglor smiled. “Wasn’t I, though?”

“Ugh, yes. You were right. Happy now?”

Maglor turned and looked Maedhros in the eye. “Yes. I am happy at the moment. Are you?”

Maedhros' mouth quirked with a smile. “I suppose I am.”

Maglor’s expression turned sad. “The Ambarussa would have loved them.”

Maedhros exhaled. “Yes. They would have loved them.”

The bed creaked as Elrond and Elros flopped down beside Maglor and Maedhros, apparently tired out from the morning’s exploits. They gazed at the two people beside them, no longer so frightening or strange, and Maglor and Maedhros looked into their wide grey eyes and saw light that rivaled that of the silmarils glowing there, and in that small room, lit by the newly risen sun, sorrow and joy, tears and laughter, existed side by side.

Chapter Text

The days turned to weeks and the weeks to months, and still there had been no move to send Elrond and Elros away. The twins had quickly stolen the collective heart of the denizens of Amon Ereb, and they were almost universally accepted by everyone they encountered. They ran and played in the dank corridors of the fortress and their laughter was like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

Winter came, bringing freezing winds and icy snow. Elrond and Elros huddled together by one of Amon Ereb’s many fireplaces or bobbed in Maglor or Maedhros' wake as they went about their business in the fortress. They had lost all fear of their erstwhile captors and delighted in sticking to them like burs on a dog. 

Maglor taught them songs in the evenings and their sweet voices echoed all over the fortress. Maedhros taught them Quenya, and soon they were speaking it as if they had always done so. They were no longer bound at night and they often would wander into Maglor’s or Maedhros' respective chambers and sleep there. The nightmares came only occasionally. 

Elrond and Elros grew much faster than typical elflings. With winter’s thaw, they seemed to grow as fast as the new grass. They delighted in the birdsong from the forest, and had all but forgotten the sound of the seagulls from their home. Sometimes Sirion seemed to them a distant dream, or a vision from some other world,  but the face of their mother never blurred in their minds. She was like the stars: clear and bright, but distant and unreachable. Something in their child hearts told them that she was not coming back for them. They stopped waiting by the windows, hoping to see her walking across the plain towards them. They stopped looking back towards the sea, wondering if their father was sailing to them. 

Summer settled like a brocade tapestry over Amon Ereb. The days were shot through with gold. Elrond and Elros reveled in the buttery sunlight and the bright blue sky. One day, a bored Maedhros began teaching them how to use a sword. Elros lapped up his tutelage, Elrond, who preferred to listen to Maglor’s stories and songs, learned because his brother needed a partner. Maedhros saw to it that they both could fight with either hand. 

Somehow, without any of them noticing it, a year passed by. It was autumn. The leaves in the forest turned to crimson and the stars stood out like crystals in the night sky. Maedhros, Maglor, and the twins would sit on the battlements in the evening, Maglor pointing out constellations. 

Telumendil. 

Remmirath.

Menelmacar. 

Soronúmë.

“They’ll always be there to guide you, children. If you’re ever lost, look up at the sky.” Maglor said one night. 

Elrond leaned on Maglor’s shoulder. “Are we a constellation, Maglor?”

“What?”

“You, and Maedhros, and me, and Elros. You said constellations are families of stars. Are we a family of stars too?”

It was Maedhros who answered. “Maybe we are. Maybe we are, Elrond.”

Elros yawned sleepily and snuggled under Maedhros' cloak.. “We’re the best constellation in the sky.”

Elrond smiled up at Maglor. “We’ll never get lost, will we?”

“No,” said Maglor. “Not ever.”

“And we’ll always be a star-family?”

Maedhros looked over. He smiled but his eyes were sad. “For as long as we can, Elrond. Some things don’t last forever.”

Elrond wrinkled his brow slightly, but relaxed. After all, he was safe here. He had Maglor, and Maedhros, and his brother, and the stars were burning brightly above them, and the stone beneath them was strong and weathered. He slipped his hands into Maglor’s. We’ll always be together , Elrond thought. The stars are forever and we are too. 

And as the darkness drew down its soft veils around the four figures on the wall, it seemed to Elrond that they were sailing on a vast ship, and that the rustling of the grasses on the plain below was the crashing of inky waves. He could hear Maglor humming softly, and the night creatures rustling in the forest, and Elros’s sleep-soft breathing. Maedhros sat beside them, looking out into the night, seeming strong and solid as the stones holding them all. Maglor stroked Elrond’s hair, gently combing out a tangle. Elros smiled slightly as he dozed, wrapped snugly in Maedhros' cloak. 

My star-family, Elrond thought. 

And he fell asleep and dreamed of ships and song. 

Chapter Text

This tale does not end happily. Few of the great stories do. But we tell them anyways, hoping against hope that perhaps this time it will turn out differently.

  ~    ~     ~ 

Maedhros is standing on the edge of a cliff. Flames roar upwards. Hungry flames. Everything is bathed in a terrible red glow. Everything, that is, except the jewel in Maedhros' bloody hand. It shines with a brilliance like the moon on a summer’s night. Like the stars that wheeled above Amon Ereb. 

Telumendil. 

Remmirath.

Menelmacar. 

Soronúmë.

Maedhros is crying. He looks up, up above him, searching for the stars. They’ll always be there to guide you, children. If you’re ever lost, look up at the sky. 

All he can see is black smoke. He is shaking with fatigue, with pain, with grief. There are no stars above him, and the jewel in his hand burns.

“I am lost.” His voice is a dry, cracked whisper. He thinks of the unseen reaches above him. He thinks of how the stars glimmered. They are not there now. Not for him. 

Star-family.

Some things don’t last forever.

For as long as we can, Elrond.

Are we a constellation?

Maedhros looks down into the fires below him. He thinks of his brothers, who died in vain. He thinks of poor Maglor, alone. He thinks of two pairs of shining grey eyes that once looked at him with love and trust. The great and noble heart of Maedhros Fëanorian swells with sorrow and love and regret. 

And he steps over the edge. 

~      ~      ~

Maglor is far away. He kneels at the edge of the ink-dark sea, the foam silver in the starlight. It is beautiful but he does not see it. He is looking down at the jewel in his hand. The jewel that is searing his skin. The jewel that he lost everything for. Tears run down his face and splash into the sea. The songs of Ulmo are no comfort, not anymore. Not for Maglor. 

The stars shine coldy above him. He turns his face upwards, but they seem to stare down at him like accusing eyes. 

Telumendil. 

Remmirath.

Menelmacar. 

Soronúmë.

Varda created them to bring joy to the peoples of Middle Earth. To guide the lost and give hope to those in despair. 

But Maglor has no hope left, and the stars are only a reminder of the days that lie behind him, of happiness, all too bright and fleeting, turned to grief. 

He looks down once more at the silmaril glowing in his hand, and in one fluid motion he rises from his knees, pulls his arm back, and hurls the jewel into the sea. It flies through the air for a moment, like a comet fallen to earth, but in a moment its light disappears beneath the waves. 

It will be told later that Maglor walks the shores forever, singing lamentations for the loss of the jewel, but this is not true. He is singing for his brothers, slain too young, he is singing for all the broken things the Fëanorians left behind them, he is singing for himself, lost and alone, but most of all he is singing for Elrond and Elros, children caught up in a war, whom he orphaned twice over and who walk their paths alone.  

~     ~      ~

Elros is a king, though he does not yet feel the weight of a crown. The wind whips his dark hair over his shoulders as he stands on the newly constructed walls of his city. His face is turned towards the sea. The starlight glimmers in his grey eyes, his gaze far away. Standing so still, he could easily be taken for a statue of some ancient monarch, or noble warrior.

However, there is nothing ancient yet, not in Númenor. But with every stone they carve, with every shining hall they raise, with every song they sing, they build history. They will be remembered forever, and their deeds will be sung until the world is made anew.

But Elros does not know this, not yet. He is simply watching the stars.

Telumendil. 

Remmirath.

Menelmacar. 

Soronúmë.

He remembers all the constellations that Maglor taught him, so long ago. Elros sighs. He misses his brother. He misses Maedhros and Maglor, though he tries not to think of them. He misses his mother, even though his memories of her are few. 

Elros lies down, his back against the still-warm stones. The stars glitter above and about him, a map of possibility. He reaches out a hand towards the brightest one in the sky, shining with white fire. It seems close enough to touch, but he knows that it is unreachable. Eärendil the mariner is doomed to never again sail the waters of Middle Earth. 

Elros lets his arm drop. His father was never there, not for his children, and does not even dwell in his memories. Elros tries to be angry at him, to hate him for leaving, but he cannot. He tries to hate Maglor and Maedhros too, for their crimes, for disappearing, for driving his mother away, but he cannot hate them either. Elros loves with a warrior’s ferocity, and with the patience of a king. 

He will be great. He will be wise, loved by his people. He will be strong. Elros Tar-Minyatur will be remembered long after his spirit leaves this world, to tread the unknown paths that await mortal Men. But at this moment, he does not know that. He is wandering in the past, his gaze turned towards the stars. 

Elros falls asleep and dreams of all his fathers, who are gone, and of his brother, who is far away. 

~    ~    ~

Elrond curls himself tightly into a window embrasure. The corridor is lit with moonlight, and everything seems to sparkle. He runs a hand over the book in his lap.

The cover is embossed with gold, and the pages are gilt-edged. It is a tome of lore, tales of heroism and magic. Along the spine, tree branches stretch towards an unseen sky, and birds are cunningly painted among the branches in bright hues. It is beautiful.

They didn’t have many beautiful things in Sirion. Elrond is not sure how it came to be there. Perhaps Dior slipped it into his infant daughter’s blankets as she was taken from his arms? Perhaps Eärendil brought it back from some distant voyage? Whatever the answer may be, it is lost to time. 

Elrond tilts his head back and looks out of the window beside him. Lindon spreads beneath him, glittering with lights, and beyond that, the sea shines silver in the starlight. 

Lost in his thoughts, Elrond fails to hear the soft footsteps coming up the corridor until a shadow falls across his lap. He looks up, startled, and immediately jumps to his feet.

“High King Gil-galad! I. . .didn’t see you.”

Gil-galad smiles and gestures for Elrond to resume his place. They sit together by the window, Elrond nervously tapping his fingers on the cover of the golden book.

Gil-galad still frightens Elrond a bit. He is so noble, so proud and strong. He has been nothing but kind to him since Elrond arrived in Lindon, unkempt and sorrowful, but he is still the high king, lord of Lindon, a brave warrior of much renown. And Elrond is, well. . .Elrond. Young and shy and alone. 

Gil-galad turns his head towards Elrond. His dark hair, pulled back into warrior braids so tight that they must be giving him a headache, sweeps over his shoulders. 

“What are you reading, Elrond?”

Elrond shrugs. “Just a book of lore, my lord.”

Gil-galad sighs. “Elrond, you don’t have to use honorifics with me. We have spoken of this.”

Elrond looks down at his lap. He wishes Elros were here. Elros always knew what to say. But Elros’s path has diverged from that of his brother. He is far away, building a kingdom, while Elrond scurries after Gil-galad and tries not to think about the past.

“I’m sorry, my--I’m sorry.” Elrond flushes with embarrassment. Gil-galad must think him a fool. 

After a few moments of silence that seem interminable to Elrond, Gil-galad speaks again.

“I do love the stars. They are quite bright tonight.”

Without thinking, Elrond gestures out the window and begins to name the visible constellations.

“That’s Telumendil, in the east, Remmirath is a little further on, that bright one right overhead is Menelmacar, and if you look carefully you can see Soronúmë by the western horizon. . .” Elrond trails off. Gil-galad probably knows all of the names, he doesn’t need Elrond telling him about astronomy. And he might ask where Elrond learned that, and that cannot be spoken of. Fool, fool, fool, Elrond mentally chides himself.

Gil-galad smiles, eyes still fixed on the sky. “You seem quite well-versed in the heavens, Elrond.”

Elrond shrugs. “Er. . .I know a bit. Maglor taught me when I was small.” Elrond wished he could swallow his sentence or consign it to darkness forever. Why had he mentioned Maglor? Why? He had tried so hard to push away the memories.

Gil-galad turns his bright gaze back to Elrond. There is no judgement in his proud face, only interest and a trace of sorrow. “Were you happy, Elrond? With Maglor and Maedhros, I mean. I have often wondered. . .”

Elrond exhales. “Yes,” he says softly. “I was happy.”

Gil-galad nods. “Elrond, this may seem strange, but would you tell me about them?”

Elrond leans back against the wall and turns his eyes back to the constellations. He wonders why Gil-galad could possibly have any interest in the doings of the Fëanorians, his enemies, but he does not ask. He is familiar with secrets and sorrows. 

“What do you want to know, High King?” Elrond whispers.

Gil-galad smiles and rests his chin on his hands. “Everything,” he says. 

Elrond looks down at the book in his lap, stroking the cover. “Once upon a time,” he begins, and Gil-galad’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “There were two brothers who were all alone. . .”

The constellations are beginning to fade into the rosy dawn by the time the tale has been told. 

~    ~     ~

“Some things are more precious because they don’t last long.”

-Oscar Wilde