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Chapter Text

Glorfindel returned from his patrol even more tired than ever. And yes, he was counting the Balrog fight, all the times he did that. Only Erestor´s presence made him able to get back to his tent without falling to the ground and start to nap right where he fell. Well, his, Lhostor´s and his wife´s. It would be quite a pitiful picture to show to his in-laws now that he was meeting him again… one that his husband wouldn´t be amused by. As he dragged himself through the military camp towards the tent his subordinates had put up, he wished not for the first time that Erestor was to lay with him in bed. But as they haven´t technically married yet…

“I was waiting for you” the Golden Lord almost jumped out of his skin when his husband practically materialized on his side. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his rampaging heart. “Sorry”

“One day, you are going to be the death of me, I swear” Glorfindel said before offering his hand to his companion. “Your patrol already over?”

“Yes” the assassin said, yawning. He felt so tired that he could sleep with his armor on. “Sometimes I wonder how we keep going with how tired most of us are” another yawn exited his mouth. “Share a tent?”

“You read my mind” the Golden Flower smiled at him. “Have you eaten something yet?”

“No, but it can wait” Laurefindil was about to remind him how important it was to eat well, a lesson Lord Elrond took care to hammer into each of his subordinates, when Erestor continued. “We have an appointment for lunch with my parents in the Feanorian barracks when we wake up. They want to meet you.”

“Joy” frankly speaking, Glorfindel adored his husband´s parents. Lhostor was a joy to be around and Avahairië was great when you knew her, but… last time it had taken years to convince them that he wasn´t… playing with their son and something mean like that. He wasn´t looking forward to doing so again. But he had to. If Erestor had been able to stand Findis for him, he could do this as many times as it was needed. “But let´s leave that for another time. Sleep is the only thing in my mind right now.”

“Now you are reading MY mind”

As they entered the Gondolindrim camp, Glorfindel started to notice something. He had always caught eyes everywhere he went, but the stares he was getting right now were… hostile would be the best way to describe them. But that was not the worst. No, the worst thing were the plainly disgusted looks his husband was getting from several members of the House of the Harp, some of the House of the Fountain and, much to his horror, from his own House. He tried to put himself between Erestor and those that would send him those kinds of stares, but the elf only applied more pressure to his hand. The assassin kept his head high, returning the looks with his own prideful stare, as if daring them to do or say something to him. It concerned Glorfindel… but also made him feel proud. His husband didn´t have anything to be ashamed of and he knew it.

“You don´t need to protect me, I can handle myself in these situations.”

Yes, he knew. Sometimes, it was difficult to remember that Erestor was used to receive those kinds of stares. As Elrond´s personal attendant, he had received them plenty of times from courtiers, and as chief councilor of Imladrys he had received them from some of their allies before they were faced with an angry Elrond. In fact, he was practically used to them by now, as he had probably been receiving those kinds of looks and worse since birth. After all, Lhostor was a former thrall that had escaped from Angband directly and Avahairië was a second generation born in Egla. It would have been difficult for their son not to suffer the consequences of bigotry. Glorfindel wished it was not, but…

“I´m going to talk to their Lord anyway. And those from my House that dare to look at any former thrall that way, they are going to find themselves dismissed by the end of the day.”

“Really, I don´t need you to…”

“I want to” the Golden Lord answered, smiling sweetly at his partner. “Anyone that thinks that way is an idiot and I don´t want idiots in my House. Salgant could have them all.”

“My knight in shinning armor.” Erestor joked.

“And who are you then? My fair maiden?” Glorfindel chuckled. “Are you going to embroider me a favor to wear in my next fight?”

“I don´t know, are you still fighting a Balrog?”

“Perhaps”

They both laughed and settled down on the bed to sleep. Despite their humor, their eyes were really starting to weight a ton. So they let sleep take them, embracing each other. They barely had enough time to take a decent nap before they had to meet Erestor´s parents and Glorfindel refused to do something as rude as falling asleep in what was going to be his first encounter with his in-laws. His mother would have his hide when he returned to Aman if he did. He could already imagine Findis´ face…

The two woke up several hours later, sleep still heavy in their eyes. The desire to go back to their nap was incredibly strong, but as the trained soldier they were, the elves dressed up in their armors (normally they would wear something more formal to such an important event, but they were in a military camp, too close to Angband to ignore the threat of orcs even in the relative security of their fortified small camp.) and went to the Feanorian side of the encampment to meet Lhostor and Avahairië. Glorfindel felt a smile forming in his lips when he saw them. They were just as he remembered.

“Remember that they didn´t remember you, so act as polite as you did the first time. They are not yet convinced that you are the best of prospects for me” Erestor reminded him, then he put a smile on and introduce him to his parents.

Much to the surprise of the old couple, they found Glorfindel agreeable since the first moment. The Golden Lord really knew how to enchant people when he knew them… well, not all of them. But those were special circumstances, like Maeglin, who didn´t really liked anyone, or his cousin Curufin or…

“Sir? We weren´t expecting you to…”

“Where else am I going to get something that isn´t poisoned?” an apathetic voice answered the cook, as a lot of eyes trailed towards his owner. “Just give me a ration. You can give me less even, I don´t need much.”

“A knight like you should eat well, Sir” the cook said while he put a large portion on the plate that the warrior was holding. “I´m not going to let you go until you have finished it all.”

“Don´t worry about that”

And there went another one of the exceptions. Rúnawë. Or, if he wanted to get specific, Rúnawë of Nor-oi-Egla, knight of the royal guard of the Noldor since the times of Finwë and old sworn sword of Fëanor. He now served his sons with absolute devotion… enough to become one key piece in the Kinslayings, all of them, as the knight was one of the strongest and most effective fighters in Arda. His cold eyes landed on Glorfindel in that moment, who looked away from the elf in question. It never paid to anger someone that was known by the Noldor as Faerdhinemben and by the sindar as Dagor. As the apathetic man started to eat again, the Lord gave him a look over his shoulder again.

Erestor did the same, but much more carefully. He knew of Rúnawë´s reputation better than many others. Also that his husband had a certain… admiration for the elf. It was difficult to believe that the Balrog slayer had ever admired anyone, but everyone had been a child once and Rúnawë had been a legend for his strength and ability with all kind of weaponry, earning him the hate and reluctant admiration of many of his fellows. Little Laurefindil, son of Findis, had admired him a lot back in the Years of the Trees… before he got to talk to him, that´s it. The Golden Lord still remembered the first time he first time he approached his idol, still a little child, and was faced with his cold eyes, making an expression for the first time. But it wasn´t a kind or good expression at all…

“Well, that was good” Erestor said when they finally left the dinning tent. “They liked you a lot. My compliments, you really made it better than the first time.”

“It… it was difficult to make it worse than the first time” his husband answered, grabbing his hand. “I´m glad that they still have a good opinion of me, it would be hard to be with you while also having to dodge your mother´s knives.”

“She always had you controlled, no?” the assassin gave him a wicked smile. Then his expression turned into something more serious. “I saw you looking at Sir Rúnawë over your shoulder. Are you still interested in meeting him?” Glorfindel stopped as the former councilor lowered his voice even more. “You should know why you should stay away from that nér.”

“Yeah…”

Glorfindel knew now. When he was a child, he couldn´t understand and was a bit scared of the look and hostile words he got from the knight. Also, it was difficult to understand the hostility other knights had towards the man, even counting the envy they surely had because of his skills. It took Erestor´s explanation to truly understand why he would look at him like that. The nér was a second generation born to an ex-thrall. He was one of the first to be born in Aman, just like Míriel… his childhood friend. Apparently, Rúnawë seek knighthood so he could become her sworn sword and protect her. Her parents had asked that of him. His loyalty still belonged to them… and whoever shared their blood and views. He also apparently had a bone to pick with Finwë, who he had yet to forgive for having remarried, and Indis, because her marrying Finwë had led somehow to his father´s death.

“He should have let it go by now” Glorfindel spoke, sighing. “I mean… my grandmother didn´t exactly killed his father. Yes, she has a bit of the fault, but she didn´t…”

“People like Rúnawë never let it go” Erestor reminded him. “He will carry his grudge like a batch of honor and direct his anger, like a spear, to the closest target. You should also know that he was made Fëanor´s sworn sword for a reason.”

“I have heard enough of his loyalty…”

“I wasn´t talking about his loyalty, which is also an asset, but of his ruthlessness. He doesn´t enjoy killing, but he also doesn´t shy away from it. Sometimes, he scares even other… you know… many thinks he had spent so much time amongst the enemy.”

“Are we enemies now?”

“You know what I mean” the assassin said, exasperated. “We all have to put an armor around us to survive among your own, Glorfindel, even me. And people like Rúnawë… he forgot how to take the armor off.”

“Maybe he should…”

“Hello!!” they both stilled as they finally noticed someone behind them. Erestor actually blushed, what kind of assassin doesn´t realize he was being followed? Gwindor gave them a grin. “I learned from Avranc. Amazing, no?”

“Yes, amazing” the Golden Lord said, crossing his arms. “Don´t you have better things to do than follow people around? And why in the world are you here? Your camp is in the Nargothrond section.”

“I needed to bring Gelmir to the Feanorian healers, the ones Orodreth brought utterly refused to threat him and the others” he answered, shaking his head. “Better anyway, because I trust the ones here more than I ever would them. I only wish more of those of Egla had come, they are better at dealing with this kind of trauma.”

“Is Gelmir going to be alright?”

“They are optimistic… with time, he might make it a full recovery.” He looked away, then returned to them. “I also grabbed dinner, by the way, and saw you gawking at old Rúnawë. Still had a bit of that childhood crush, no?”

“It wasn´t a crush, I admired him for his skills” Glorfindel glared at the other noble.

“Oh, yes, they are amazing” Gwindor continued, smiling wickedly. “I had the pleasure of seeing them in an actual battle in person back in Aman. He made a short work of the sindar royal guards, cutting through them like a sharp knife on half melted butter. Old Greymantle and his offspring couldn´t believe it, not even when the blood of their men sprayed them…”

“Why does it surprise me that he was involved in that?” Glorfindel asked.

“Yes… some said that he actually smiled when Avranc put Thingol and his ilk on trees… just like they used to do with those they caught” the Prince continued to smile, something that was a little bit perturbing to the couple, but… they couldn´t truly blame them. They had lived under the protection of Elrond, who doesn´t tolerate bigotry in his lands. Safe. Gwindor had now. “Anyway, I hope that kind of situation doesn´t happen again.”

“Why? I thought… thought you enjoyed it” Erestor asked.

“Well, yes, but… it was… a dark kind of enjoyment?” the other nér continued to talk. “We were giving those that had given us hell everything back, but at the same time, we were falling into a darker part of our souls and that didn´t make us any good. It was like… falling down a well with no way out” his fist clenched. “Murdering and Kinslaying… It´s something that shouldn´t happen again.”

“Lord Elrond said something like that too” Erestor suddenly said. “He said that he raised his voice so others wouldn´t have to raise their swords, so something like that wouldn´t have to happen.”

“Lord Elrond was something else” Gwindor crossed his arms. “You could say anything about the Feanorions, but Maedhros and Maglor raised a good Lord and an even better elf. One with a great sense of right and wrong, despite what society says.”

Glorfindel couldn´t rebate that argument. Frankly, sometimes he wondered that Elrond and Elros ending up in the Feanorion´s custody wasn´t part of Eru´s plan. He didn´t know how the twins could have been if they were raised by Eärendil and Elwing, but… he was certain that Elrond wouldn´t have the same strong convictions if he was. Definitely not about former thralls. And that would be a shame.

“Yes, the Lord was something else” he answered with a smile.

-in another part of the camp-

Maedhros opened his eyes feeling his lids still heavy. He debated between returning to bed or getting up for the day for a second, but then remembered where he was and why he was needed out and pushed the covers aside.

“Ahhh, you are already up, dear?” Fingon spoke from his place on his desk. The redhead groaned. If even his husband was awake, it meant that it was incredibly late. He should have been out hours ago. “I sent one of your captain to do your patrol so you could sleep… you seemed a bit too tired last night.”

“I was tired, but no more than the nights before” the Feanorion said, touching his head. He could still feel the need to sleep and a bit of dizziness… was that because of the baby? Anyway, he needed to get up now. He would worry about medical issues later. “You said the patrol was taken care of? Then I should do my rounds around the camp…”

“Hey, easy” Findékanno approached, helping him to get up. “I was thinking that perhaps… you really look like you need an appropriate rest and are… you know” Maedhros could practically feel his gaze on his middle. “We are sending the first convoy of injured to Barad Eithel in a few days and I thought that perhaps you… can accompany them?”

“I´m needed here”

“Russo…”

“You already sent me to Gondolin several times and it didn´t do anything good to me. I agree that eventually I will need to leave, but that can wait until the symptoms of my sickness show up. Not before.”

Fingon was unsure that his husband would even tell him when the symptoms started to appear, but he let the stubborn elf go. He knew he would win nothing if he fought with him on this. Maedhros, for his part, got dressed and out of the tent. There were a lot of places where he needed to be that morning. First, he went straight for the tent that served as a forge. There, Curufin, Celebrimbor and Maeglin worked to undo Sauron´s work and free the Silmarils from the Iron Crown.

“I think we should try with… oh, uncle Nelyo!! You are there”

“I see that you are hard at work” he answered, smiling at Tyelpe. Curufin was sitting in a bench near the tools, his shoulder still immobilized because of the injury sustained during his fight with Sauron. Maeglin nodded to him from the other side of the Crown, a hammer on his hand and several shards of the crown on the table near him. “And you are making some progress!! That was you, Curvo?”

“As if I could help” his brother answered, offended.

“Don´t listen to him” Celebrimbor said, crossing his arms. “He is mad because I told him that if he even made a move to grab one of the tools, I would banish him from the forge. The stubborn fool, doesn´t know that he could mess his bones up if he works with such an injury” Curufin huffed. “Anyway, he is free to offer ideas, so…”

“I thought that you were having troubles breaking those spikes”

“Yes, we were. This is good work, even for a maia” Telperinquar bit his lips. He didn´t like complimenting his former friend and torturer. “We tried breaking them or even melting them, but they seemed to be fire and heat resistant.”

“How did you break some of them then?”

“I will show you”

Tyelpe nodded and then Maeglin walked to a corner of the tent far away from the roaring fire. He grabbed one thing… a feather?, then walked towards the crown. He put it right in front of one of the spikes. A little bit of frost seemed to materialize over the spike. Telperinquar gave it a hard blow with the hammer and it shattered, falling to the ground. Then it happened. The first of the two Silmarils fall to the ground with a small sound. No one made an attempt to pick it from the ground for a few minutes.

“Can you hear it?” Curufin suddenly asked.

“What?” Maeglin asked, looking at the elves around. All of them seemed surprised.

“You don´t hear it?” Celebrimbor inquired.

“Hear what?”

“The songs… they… I can clearly hear them” the Ringmaker said. “It´s like when we were on the road and I told you I heard songs… sad songs and I…”

“You cried” the Mole went down and grabbed the Silmaril. Everyone else seemed about to move to him, to make him release it, but he merely put it on the table. “Again, I don´t hear anything… maybe it´s because it´s your property?”

“I don´t know” Maedhros intervened again, grabbing the Silmaril. Again, everyone seemed tense, but calmed when it didn´t burn him. “Well, if it´s a song, then Kanno should have it. If someone knows something about songs, it´s him.” He sighed. “Continue working on the other one.”

“I wish we could, it was our last one” Maeglin explained.

“Your last what?”

“Feather. Our last feather from Nella´s bird” the Mole shrugged. “It was Curufin´s idea.”

“What idea?” Maedhros could already felt a headache.

“That if we couldn´t break it with heat, perhaps we could with ice. Besides, the Silmarils would keep that metal really heated, if the temperature suddenly drops too fast, it could become brittle and shatter. And we remembered that the bird was practically made of ice, so… me and Tyelpe went to get some feathers. But then, Nella caught us and told us to fuck off, that we couldn´t pluck her bird…”

“I will talk to her… or better, I will talk to Celegorm about this so he can convince her” the redhead grabbed the Silmaril. “I also need to talk with Kanno about keeping it safe for us and about that song…”

“Nelyo, brother, are you alright?” Curufin asked, worried.

“Yes, yes, I´m fine, only… a bit tired” he went to the entrance. “See you later”

Maedhros went away, trying not to make it likely for someone to realize he was escaping. First his husband and then his brother? If everyone continue to be concerned for his welfare, he would end up smothered. As he walked around the camp, he realized that the Feanorian side seemed to be kind of isolated. There weren´t soldiers of other armies there, as if they were in some sort of… he shook his head. He shouldn´t be thinking like that, not until he had to tell them about…

“Have you seen my brother Maglor?” to distract himself, he asked a passing soldier.

“Yes, General, he is in the healing tent”

“Thank you”

The healing tent? That seemed to be more Elrond´s thing than Maglor´s, but the old minstrel surely missed their child a lot, specially after they had been told what was happening on the other side. Maedhros himself couldn´t be more nostalgic or worried… but there wasn´t much he could do. And he was sure that they would see each other again. He cleared himself on the door of the tent and then entered. The healers were as busy as bees around several beds, beds that didn´t just contain injured soldiers, but former thralls the first recovery teams had brought.

“Brother” Maglor´s melodious voice called his attention from a nearby bed, where he had just finished using a healing sound on a dislocated shoulder. He looked… horrible. Deep rings around his eyes and pale. “Wasn´t expecting your visit.”

“I… I needed to see you” the redhead sat near his brother, then revealed the Silmaril. “I think… you might find some use for this. I heard voices singing when I´m around it and…”

“I hear them singing all the time… and when that´s close, they are stronger.” He sighed. “I don´t even know how I learned this song. Or the one I used on the Balrog. I was walking aimlessly on the coast and they just… sounded around me… I learned them just to pass the time… I didn´t know what they could do” Maglor touched the Silmaril as if expecting it to burn him. “It´s almost like they shaped me into a weapon.”

“Perhaps we had already done that to ourselves by then” Maedhros passed the stone once he was sure that it won´t hurt his brother. “I still think you might do something good with it. Maybe even for this people.”

“Thank you, Nelyo, really” the musician smiled weakly. “There is one that is stronger. Can you hear it? It´s closer.”

“I barely hear all of them”

“A shame, they are beautiful. Beautiful and dangerous like the ice shards that fell from the sky” he shook his head. “I´m rambling now, don´t mind me” he rolled the stone on his fingers. “Perhaps I should search for a pouch to carry it in.”

“Please, do” Maedhros got up. “I need to find Tyelko now, so…”

“Nelyo, are you alright?” he stopped cold when he heard those words. What… “You know you can tell me everything, no?”

“Yes, I know” he forced himself to smile. “I will go now, see you later.”

He exited the tent, wondering what was with him today that got everyone worried. Yes, he was feeling somewhat lethargic, but he could deal with it. He went around asking for Celegorm, but no one seemed to know where his brother and his children had disappeared to that morning. As he advanced, he located another of his brothers, Caranthir, but just as he was about to go to him, he noticed that Moryo had Turgon cornered. He opened his mouth to demand the release of his cousin, but his brother did it by himself and walked away.

“Turgon” he said as he approached the King of Gondolin, who was rubbing his neck. “What happened?”

“Moryo and I had a little disagreement, that´s all” Turgon answered, letting it go. “How is the situation? Is there something I need to provide you?” he frowned.
“Perhaps a horse to go to Barad Eithel?”

“What is with people and asking me to leave?”

“In case you haven´t noticed, cousin, you don´t look fine at all. You have rings around your eyes and are pale as if you haven´t slept well in a year” he shook his head. “Perhaps Angband is affecting you more than you believe.”

“It´s NOT”

“Suit yourself, but you should consider it” the dark haired elf frowned. “Anyway, is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes, you could provide me with the location of Celegorm. No one has seen him or his children since the morning and I´m getting worried.”

“I´m sorry, but I´m completely in the dark about that too”

“The what about providing healers? Those in this camp are overworked and can´t provide enough attention for all the patients the recovery teams are bringing”

“Ah” Turgon said. “Then perhaps we should ask for Nandor or Avari healers…”

“Why can´t yours…”

“You know exactly why” Maedhros stopped cold. Yes, he knew about… that issue he had made a conscious effort not to think about since he woke up. “Listen… I will do what I can. Rog and Ecthelion can have some healers I could lend you. Maybe even Duilin and Egalmoth after I clear them, but I can´t do much. My city… a big part of the population had those believes, so I can´t really lend you so many. Perhaps some healing supplies would help?”

“Lend me what you can, we will make it work somehow” the redhead turned to leave.

“You haven´t told them, haven´t you?” Maedhros was stopped by a word again. “Maedhros, you have to tell them.”

The General grabbed the King of Gondolin and dragged him towards an empty supply tent, where they wouldn´t be heard if they whispered. He didn´t know what Turúkanno was thinking, speaking about THAT in the open when he knew his cousin still had to tell his family about the issue of… well…

“Nelyo, stop dancing around the issue, you have to tell them” Turgon spoke, crossing his arms. “It´s not only their right to know, but a safety issue. They would be better by knowing who they have to protect themselves of. All of them.”

“Oh? And YOU would tell me how to protect my own family? Or to tell a secret? Because, from where I was standing this morning, Findékanno still doesn´t know about THAT or that uncle Fingolfin was involved” it was now Turgon´s turn to frown. “You don´t know shit, Turgon, so stay away from…”

“I haven´t told my brother because he is a blabbermouth and, if you haven´t told him yet, he would spill the beans to your brothers in a second because that´s who he is. And I knew you wouldn´t want that.”

“And how do you know I didn´t…”

“Well, I was right, no?” the King faced him. “You, the Great General, didn´t got the gumptions to tell his brothers about a serious issue. You, who complained about your father not telling him or them when they…”

“Because I haven´t had time to think on that yet when I said those words, alright?” Maedhros said, making a herculean effort not to scream. “I found myself thinking about that lately, you know. About why atar never told us… or ammë, because I´m certain that she knew too… and I found myself thinking that… perhaps it would have brought us nothing good. That we were better without knowing.”

“Nelyo…”

“We had lives, Turno, good lives where we were happy. We didn´t notice that… and I know that someone has to do it, but maybe it just needs to be me and… and Tyelpe… the others could continue not knowing… because once they do… everything will change. Everything will break around them once they know…”

“But they deserve the truth”

“Not this truth, it wasn´t their fault” the redhead breathed in. “It wasn´t even Atar´s fault and he had to leave with the consequences.”

“No, it wasn´t his fault” he couldn´t believe he was saying that about his half-uncle, but it wasn´t. “But I know that if he was strong enough to survive, then so are you. You all got… that from him.”

“It´s the very first time I have heard you say something nice about us.”

“Don´t get used to that” Turgon rolled his eyes. “Take your time, Nelyo, but not much. Tell them.”

“I will… eventually”

They parted ways outside the tent, with Maedhros going outside to search for Celegorm again. Finally he found one soldier that told him that he had seen him and the Valarindi near their tent, dirty and covered in something that seemed like blood. Black blood. A little bit angry at his brother for going to hunt orcs with limited companions, he went to his tent and found Celegorm in a corner, his son and daughter nowhere to see. His clothes were indeed splattered with black blood, but his eyes.

“Tyelko?” he asked, carefully. “Are you alright?”

“No, Nelyo, I…” he lifted his head and Maedhros could clearly see his eyes were red. As if he had been crying. “I shouldn´t… shouldn´t be like… I have seen plenty of… horrible things… this shouldn´t…”

“Shhh” his older brother embraced him. “It´s alright. Whatever those orcs did…”

“There are worse beings than orcs” the redhead knew, he had even seen them. “Have I ever told you how glad I am that Findékanno got you out of that place alive?”

“No” he answered sincerely. “Why the sudden need to express your gratitude?” he frowned when he went unanswered. “Tyelko, where did you go this morning? What did you saw?”

“Horror, Nelyo. I saw horror”

Chapter Text

The first thing Celegorm realized when he opened his eyes was that… he was cold on one side. He turned himself to other, seeking the warmth of the body pressed to his… his eyes opened wide as it finally came again to him. The battle, the screams, where they were and what could happen to people who walked alone. He rosed immediately, shaking his son out of his dream, also cursing between his teeth. When he finds that young lady, she was going to hear him. The older Valarindi rubbed his eyes, looking around himself as his father dressed himself in a hurry, nearly tripping in the process.

“What is happening?” he asked.

“Your sister left” Tyelkormo answered, grabbing his hunting boots and making his best effort to put them on while still standing. “I´m going to look for her.”

“I go with you” the boy said, dusting his clothes.

“No need, I can handle myself alone” the elf countered as he finally managed to lace the last boot and grabbed his bow. “I will come back so…”

“I go with you” Luthe stated, not leaving room for argument. “My sister is an expert entering and getting out of Angband without detection. You are an excellent tracker, but won´t be able to find her alone. Me, on the other side… I have other means”

As the two of them walked through the camp, where the only ones awake that weren´t part of the guard were them, Celegorm grumbled about his daughter simply getting up and leaving. Yes, he was being a hypocrite there, considering how many times he had done the same to his parents when he was a young adult and worse, an actual child, but in his defense, he had been in the safety of Aman. Doing the same so close to the Black Doors of Angband… he shuddered just imagining what she could have encountered there. And yes, he now knew that she had done this plenty of times, but the last time she had gone in there, she ended up hanging from Thangorodrim just like Maedhros. That terrified him more than he could put into words.

“Here” his son brought his attention to what seemed like a hole on the ground. “It´s a tunnel. We will have to drag ourselves inside, but outside of that…”

“So long as we don´t end up in the middle of a group of orcs.”

“I don´t think so” the Valarindi frowned, then turned into a small silver dog. It reminded Celegorm painfully of Huan. Also, it was one of Luhte´s favorite forms when he was feeling down or fearful. He shifted back in a moment. “No, there is no orcs on the other side. Their smells are far away, as if they have moved far down.”

“So Nelyo is right, they are hiding for the moment, but still there” the Feanorion crossed his arms, trying not to think about dogs or what his daughter could be going through inside that place. “And your sister?”

“Deep… her smell is deep too”

“Fuck”

“But I can smell a clear track through the tunnel, we should reach her rather quickly.”

Celegorm followed his son into that tunnel… and then another and another until he couldn´t even tell which direction they had come through or where up and down were. The only thing he knew was that the air was turning harder and harder to breath, so much that his chest ached just from the effort his lungs were making. Also, he was getting dizzy and tired, so much that ordering his body to keep going was taking too much energy. Only thoughts of his daughter kept him going, that and a deep stubbornness he had inherited from his father. A stubbornness that helped him to keep going despite everything in the other life… and kept him going now too.

“Are you alright?” Luhte asked, helping him getting out of a tunnel. The boy then put a hand over his forehead and hummed a soft song. He could instantly feel better. “This air is full of the taint of Morgoth and his creatures, is not surprise that it´s hard to breath or has adverse effect in elves.”

“The more reason to find your sister and get away from here” Tyelkormo said, grabbing a wall for support. The dizziness hasn´t left him yet. “Where to now?”

“There, she is inside” he answered, signaling a door. “We are rather deep and close to where the remnants of orcs are, so keep your voice low.”

Celegorm was surprised that they had reached so deep into Angband so fast. What he was seeing… not even Nelyo had seen this, he was sure of that. And he had been held prisoner for thirty years in this wretched place. As he walked, trying to get accustomed to the lack of light, he nearly tripped with something in the darkness. Luhte grabbed one of the small, weak torches from the wall near the door and showed it. There, laying on the floor, were the corpses of two orcs, black blood still fresh on the stones beneath them. Celegorm examined one of the corpses… his throat had been cut from behind. Could that have been Nella? He didn´t voice the question, as his son opened the door in that moment. Instantly, all the symptoms returned with revenge. He fell to the floor, unable to breath, unable to do more than lay there as the desperation and impotence flooded his mind…

“I got you” Luhte was there, grabbing him from the arm. “This… this is not real, it´s Morgoth´s taint. He wants you to feel that way, to poison your mind so you stop fighting and he can corrupt you… but I got you… your brothers and cousins are waiting outside. Your daughter is inside… and I am here. I got you.”

“Sorry, I…”

“I am the one that should be apologizing” the Valarindi said. “I would have never brought you here if I knew we would face such a thing. I have seen the partial effects that a place like this has on people while in the Gardens…”

“That should have told you that coming here was a bad idea” Nella appeared before them in that moment form beyond the doors. “Come, I will take you outside.”

“No” he said, grabbing the wall again to get up from the floor. He knew that if he got out, his daughter was going to return there and do whatever she was doing alone. “I´m not going to let you inside there alone, not with…”

“You can barely stand, have never been here…”

“How did you fare the first time that you were here?” the girl didn´t answer. Apparently, she hadn´t fare that well. “And you still did what you came here to?”

“It´s different, I´m…”

“I´m staying” she seemed to want to say something else, but remembered how stubborn her father was. Stubborn enough to put her to shame.

“You better stay close to my brother, you might need his help again. And I will warn you, this is harder than you believe” she put herself on the other side to support him as they advanced.

“Where are we?” Celegorm asked, barely keeping the dizziness and nausea at bay.

“In one of the Hearts of the Taint” she answered, illuminating the place with her torch. The Feanorion´s eyes immediately landed on the closest wall, where some of the worst shaped elves he had seen in his entire life were chained. None of them seem to be doing so well, even with their injuries. How much time have they been in that foul place? In a second, his son was there, addressing their state.

“This is bad” Luhte said, opening the eye of the closest one. “They have been here too much time, the air is poisoning them to a level…”

“They are fine, everything considered”

“Fine?” their father asked, his hands flying to his hair where he kept a pin he could use to open the lock. He worked fast, as Curufin had taught him, hoping that the chains weren´t enchanted. “You call that fine?”

“I managed to get out several elves like them with my poor, untrained healing abilities. Walking” Nella spoke as she started to examine the ground and the walls. Then she illuminated the room, which seemed to be bigger than they thought. “Believe me, they are going to be okay once they get out.”

“I´m still worried” Luhte started using his healing on the elves. “Many of them have injuries that won´t heal well or outright kill them if they aren´t threated properly soon.”

“Fine, finish getting them ready to walk and lead them out. You can return once you finish” the boy seemed unsure. “I can protect us both, don´t worry about that. Just return ready to guide another batch, okay?” he nodded, biting his lip. “And Luhte, Feanorian patrols only, alright? You know why.”

“Yes, I know”

Celegorm wanted to ask why, but the captives were in such a bad shape that he decided that his questioning could wait. Once they were at least half- awake, his son left the room with them and disappeared through the tunnels. He turned to his daughter, who was still examining the place, and opened his mouth to ask her where they should move next when she started to excavate one of the walls and pull out something that looked like a bag. But it was not a bag. It was… it was an elf… enveloped in a thin layer of something that was almost like… like… Nella pulled out her knife and sliced the elf. Blood flooded from the injury.

“Nella, what are you…”

“Red, good, it´s not too late yet” she expertly sliced the bag and somehow forced the elf to breathe. This one opened his eyes once, his eyes to full of desperation that… “You are going to be fine, breathe, but not to deep.” She moved back to the wall and excavated again. “Dammit, where is Luhte when you need him…”

“Nella… what is this place?” Tyelkormo asked as he watched his daughter pull out another bag.

“Like I said, it´s one of the Hearts of the Taint… one of the places in Angband where Morgoth´s Evil is almost as strong as in Utumno itself” she frowned as she methodically repeated what she did to the first elf. “That´s why you are feeling so sick, this place is pure evil.”

“What… what does that mean? Why…” he seemed rooted to the ground. “Why does this…”

“Since Utumno was lost, places like this are the only ones where they can create new orcs” his daughter answered, raising her torch higher. Celegorm then looked down at his feet and noticed that, barely uncovered by him stepping on it, was another bag.

Two things happened in that moment. First, the hunter finally lost control of himself and ending up losing the meagre contents of his stomach on the filthy floor of that place. The second was that he felt on his knees, ending up looking at the barely uncovered face of the elf below. His eyes were open, expressive. They showed such desperation and fear that the other couldn´t even imagine what he had gone through and that was before he was… was buried alive to… to… he couldn´t breath for a moment, but then his daughter planted a hand on his shoulder and kneeled in front of him, holding a dagger, she made a small cut on the elf´s face, then examined the blade. Then she started to unbury him. That´s what got him moving. He helped her to free the elf and pull him out of the ground and back. It was a female. A female with horrible scars. Specially one in his throat… a cut throat…

“She is going to be fine… eventually” Nella said as she put the stranger with the rest. “I can take you outside now if…”

“How many times have you… done this?” asked him, not earning an answer. Several, eh? He couldn´t believe it… that or that he could feel prouder of his daughter than he already was. “Then you probably know that you will finish quicklier if you have help” he forced his hands to work on the ground. “Put me to work”

“Alright” she gave in unsheating a dagger from her hip, but Celegorm instead grabbed his own hunting knife. “Test their blood. Move to the next after freeing them if you see red, if you see black… tell me.”

“Understood”

They work in silence together, keeping their eyes on their work as they unbury more and more bags of bodies barely warm or alive. Several times they found bags with dead bodies, but those didn´t worry them. They could do nothing for the dead, after all, those alive, on the other side, were the problem. Many were not really fit to walk, despite Nella´s assurances. Unfortunately, if they wanted to save them all, they didn´t have any other option. So, every time he returned, Luhte made then fit to walk again and took them out. Celegorm had actually lost the track of how many he had unburied when finally, one of the elves he unburied shed black blood. He doubted for one second if he should tell his daughter, but then he noticed that she had stopped before one body.

“What´s the matter, dear?” he asked, almost without voice.

“Black” she answered, clutching her dagger harder. “The taint has settled, it´s too late”

“Nella… Nella, what are you doing?” he watched as his daughter put herself over the body, her blade over the heart. “No, you can´t…”

“I have already done so”

“But… kinslaying…”

“Listen, I know this opens injuries for you, but it´s not the same. The taint is has settled inside him, he is too far gone to be saved by us. The only one that could save him now it´s Námo, but only if he is sent to him before it´s too late. So…” she stabbed the thing in the heart in one movement. “we give them the only mercy we could.” She turned around to him. “I can do it for you if you want.”

“No, I… I can do it…”

He can. This wasn´t so difficult, he had kinslayed before. He had killed several elves before in Alqualondë and Doriath, actual elves that didn´t want to die, innocents he had killed in cold blood because of property, because he was desperate. He was a kinslayer, a murderer. And this… this one wanted to… he could tell somehow that he wanted to be saved… to be sent to Námo… he had killed before, he was Celegorm the Cruel, this was nothing… so why was this so difficult? He had to practically drag his arm as he placed the hunting knife where the carotid of the creature should be. Why? Why couldn´t he do it? He had done it when it was crime, this shouldn´t be that difficult, not when he was doing this so the person could be saved, so he or she didn´t have to become a monster… so why was he trembling?

He felt something in that moment, a caress and something in his ears that almost felt like a song, a comforting song that he could almost believe came from Kanno. For a second, he saw in front of his eyes the image of a silver haired elf sinking a badly shaped stone knife in the throat of one of those creatures. Drops of black blood and tears mixed, but then he somehow could say that the dying thing was… was thanking his killer. Without thinking it anymore, he sunk the blade in his arms in his own creature and opened the throat, eyes closed. He was sprayed by the think black substance, not daring to open his eyes until he felt it stop. And once he did… there was barely light in those eyes, but he could tell that… there was relief. Relief and… and gratitude. This elf was truly thanking his killer, from the deep of his soul.

“Are you alright?” Nella asked, worried.

“Yes” he answered, pulling his blade out. “Let´s continue.”

Nella declared the room cleaned once no more bags were unburied from the ground or wall. Celegorm wasn´t sure how long it had taken them, but definitely more than expected, as there were at least three layers of bags on each surface. They both looked at the pile of bodies they had formed with those they couldn´t save. Luhte returned from escorting the last of the rescued captives outside, worriedly looking at his father and sister.

“There is no need for you to remain, atya” the female Valarindi said, also worried at how he looked. He shook his head. “Please…”

“I can still continue” he spoke, walking towards the tunnel. He barely noticed the strangled new orc on one side, a green vine around his neck. Good Luhte. “I have kinslayed before, so you don´t have to worry about me. It´s going to be alright.”

This assurance was as much to himself as it was to his children. As he dragged himself through the tunnels of Angband, he continued trying to convince himself that this wasn´t affecting him as much as it was, that he was happy that finally his experience as a kinslayer was used for something good… But it was more than that. The state of the captives in that place and in the many others they reached later and what Morgoth was doing to them, what he was twisting their essences, their very fear, into… it was horrible. And, as the corpses pile up and his clothes got more and more stained by the blood he was shedding, it actually dammed on him the magnitude of this Horror. Of Morgoth´s evil.

“Alright, it has been enough for you” Nella said after they got out of… Celegorm nearly laughed madly, he had forgotten exactly how many rooms like this they had cleared. “You need to get out.”

“No, I´m not…”

“Yes, you are. This is getting into your head, you need to stop and get out” Luhte intervened too. “I know you are worried, but… sister and I can handle this ourselves. And you need to rest before you actually got mad.”

“You said that this were… were only the ones you have discovered, that there were many more…” their father tried to reason with them. “You are going to need help…”

“I have the help I need. Besides, who said that you are done with this? I said it´s enough for the day. Tomorrow I´m going to need your help again” have this day not finished already? He could swear that he had been in the darkness for weeks, only cutting throats. He shook his head, maybe his children were right and he needed a break. But… “I´m going to be alright, I can deal with whatever orc it´s lurking inside here. Now leave.”

Celegorm actually followed his son when he guided him towards the exterior. He didn´t want to leave his children alone in that place, but Nella was right, this was getting to him too much. It shouldn´t… but perhaps it was inevitable. The evil in this place was so… he finally emerged and took the first mouthful of clean air. His lungs filled and, with a few of them, he felt better. A clearer head, nausea and dizziness remaining but slowly getting better. The blond groaned as he tried to walk towards his tent, only to notice that he was not alone. There were guards with the Feanorian star around him. From their armors, he could tell they were from his brother Maedhros entourage. And some were gawking… oh, he had forgotten for a moment that he was covered in blood. Someone pushed his way to the floor then. It was Avornion, one of his own captains.

“Are you alright, my lord?” the soldier asked. Tyelkormo didn´t know how to answer that question. Was he alright? “Here, have a drink” he handed his lord a flask. The hunter received it gladly and took a mouthful. “Do you need us to bring you to a healer?”

“What? No, I´m not hurt” besides, the healers would be busy for the near future if not overworked with worse cases than him. “I… just need to get the stench of that place off me.”

“Alright, I will send someone with water to your tent in a few minutes. Please, wait there”

Celegorm nodded and left towards his tent. The captain would deliver as promised, he had always do. So he walked back to his tent and sat down on the floor. He looked at his hands, still stained with blood. It was not the first time, why did he feel the need to wash them so much? Just like after Alqualondë? Why was this affecting him so much? It wasn´t as if he had killed innocent people that wanted to live, these elves practically pleaded to die, he had seen the relief in their eyes as he plunged his blade into their necks. So why…

“Tyelko?” he turned around. Nelyo was there, on the entrance, with that worried look he always had when one of his siblings was in pain. “Are you alright?”

“No, Nelyo, I…” Celegorm didn´t know how to explain what he was feeling in that moment. Or those that appeared now that he was seeing his older brother. “I shouldn´t… shouldn´t be like… I have seen plenty of… horrible things… this shouldn´t…”

“Shhh” his older brother embraced him. “It´s alright. Whatever those orcs did…”

As soon as he felt the comforting arms of Maedhros around him, he broke down. Why? He had no idea. Like he said, it wasn´t the first time he had kinslayed and he had no reason to feel guilty for that this time. He had done the only thing he could for those poor souls. So why did he feel so bad? If anyone see them now, they wouldn´t believe it. Big, bad kinslayer Celegorm the Cruel bawling like a baby in his big brother´s arms. He himself didn´t believe it. Tyelkormo was a damn grown elf, not an elfling who needed his big brother, atto or ammë to comfort him. But right now he was feeling so terrible and at the same time so damn relieved that they had recovered Nelyo before something like THAT could happen to him… feeling so much was definitely affecting him.

“I´m sorry you had to see that, Tyelko” Maitimo said as he helped his brother clean the stench of Angband from his skin. “Not even I saw that… and I thought I saw the worse that place had to offer.”

“I´m sorry I left you there for so long. I should… we all should have gone to rescue you, not wait until Findékanno arrived.”

“Everything is in the past, little brother, everything is in the past now” the redhead smiled at him, comforting, as he passed a wet rag over his blood-stained hand. “Don´t torment yourself over that.”

“Sometimes I think you are too forgiving for your own good, Nelyo”

“With brothers like you and Curufin, I have to be” he answered. “Besides, I´m not mad at you for not going to rescue me. I would have hated the very idea of any of my little brothers in that wretched place.”

“I guess…” they shared some silence as they worked. Then something came to Celegorm´s mind. “Nelyo, why did my daughter said that only people from our guard were to escort those we freed?” it was just a second, but Maedhros got stiff as a rod and his eyes showed some fear. Then he slipped the mask on again, but that didn´t fool his brother. “Brother, what is going on? It´s there something we need to know?”

“No, everything is fine” the eldest Feanorion answered, continuing with his work. “You know, Maeglin and Celebrimbor managed to free a Silmaril…”

Maedhros started to talk about that, going on and on about how Nella´s bird had been used for that procedure. Apparently, they wanted to get more feathers, but his daughter wouldn´t let them pluck her bird. It didn´t deceive Celegorm one bit. He knew there was something his brother didn´t want them to know. What could it be?

-In another part-

Mablung was silently trailing behind Beleg, trying to ignore the hostile looks directed his way as they crossed the Feanorian camp. When they had crossed the border from Fingon´s territory to his cousin´s one, he didn´t know, but it had been obvious when the scarlet and gold colors have become the dominant ones and the people started to stare with suspicion or just plain anger. He had tried to convince his friend to quickly leave, but for some reason, the Strongbow seemed captivated by the Feanorian people. He also had a great curiosity about the Caranthir corps, perhaps because one of it´s members killed him. And just like before, thinking about Avranc brought an unpleasant sensation to his chest. It never failed to remind him of the awful things that occurred, that he… he had done. It was horrible.

“Can we leave now?” he asked when the urge to rub his hands through his breeches became too much. “Please? We are obviously not liked here, we should…”

“Is that Cennedir?”

Mablung suddenly got completely still and his eyes shot towards where Beleg was pointing. Just as his friend had said, there was Cennedir. He was different from the last time he had seen him, but he could still recognize him despite the time that has passed and the changes in him. And what changes. He remembered the ellon as a cheerful thing whose joy was to walk beneath the trees along with his fellow marchwardens in hunting clothes, he remembered the elf as the soul of the feast, now he was donning an armor and had an expression that could only be called bitter, specially as he sharpened a sword like now. Much more when he had completely changed the green and silver of Doriath for the scarlet and red of the House of Fëanor. And more than that, because he was wearing the emblem of Celegorm the Cruel. As soon as he unfroze, Mablung wanted to leave, but Beleg was already approaching and he couldn´t leave the archer alone.

“Is that you, Cennedir?” Beleg questioned, approaching the ellon. This one raised his face, it had a horrible scar crossing it over his nose, just below his eyes.
“I… I´m glad that you are fine. Tell me, why are you here? Why haven´t you returned home?”

“Why are you talking to me? Have you come to taunt me?” Mablung put himself between Beleg and Cennedir. He knew that Beleg didn´t know, but even so… he thought he would have more sense than to talk directly to Cennedir now that he was wearing the emblem of the enemy. Well… future enemy. “Last time I checked I was not welcomed in Doriath.”

“Why would you think that? We…”

“Everyone here!! Alert!!” an elf suddenly appeared near there. “Several critical are incoming!! We need anyone strong enough to carry them to the healers and anyone with knowledge in healing report to the healing tents now!!” Mablung´s eyes went wide when he saw another known face. Avornion, another former marchwarden, also dressed in Feanorian colors and wearing the emblem of Celegorm. “WELL, THAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!!! MOVE IT, MOVE IT!!”

“Fuck”

Cennedir practically threw his sword to the ground before glaring openly at them as a final goodbye and marching towards where the healing tents were located. Mablung and Beleg followed, trying to find out what the commotion was about? Has there been an attack? Has a band of wayward orcs fall over a patrol? How many injured people were there? And why was Cennedir being allowed to help if he was not a healer? The two of them then remembered that their former companion was the son of a healer, so he had some healing knowledge. They saw him joining the triage area as if he had done exactly that several times already, examining and passing patients to the different areas.

“This one´s lungs are about to collapse, sent him to healer Madirion, he will know what to do. And this…” the elf froze in that moment when the next patient was put in front of him. An elleth with hair so dirty that it looked the color of earth, but in reality could be any color. “Captain…”

Beleg gasped and Mablung covered his mouth. It was indeed the former captain of Cennedir´s and Avornion´s unit, who had disappeared alongside with him. They recognized her despite the facial scar she now wore, one even worse than her subordinate´s himself, because she had also been an instructor for the younger marchwarden, including them, before she disappeared without trace. Captain Ruiwen.

“Do you know her?” someone asked near them.

“Yes, she… she was my captain. She was captured with me when…” Cennedir swallowed before continuing. “I never thought… never thought that I would see her again” he grabbed the elleth´s hands in his. “Captain, can you hear me? I´m Cennedir, I… I´m here” she opened her eyes and made a sound almost like a hiss. “Yes, captain, I´m here. I´m alive and well and… and you will too.” She made that sound again. “Guess what? Avornion and the other guys that survived the ambush are here too. We… we are all out and we are free and… and now you are too. You are free… and you are going to be fine…”

Mablung couldn´t take it anymore. He fled, feeling something in his chest that he hasn´t felt ever before. It was… hard to breath with it. This were the people he had… this people and their descendants… it was the kind of people he had hurt and killed while following the orders of Thingol and Díor in the old lives. In Nor-oi-egla and Brethil. They had been hurt so much, suffered more than he believed anyone could stand, been abandoned by even their own people and he… he had shed their blood and broke their well-earned peace just because… because… damn, he could feel his hands sticky and red with their blood. The marchwarden ran straight into the tent he shared with Beleg, where he grabbed a skin of water and a rag and started to whip his hands clean. But the blood didn´t get out.

“I´m sorry… I´m so sorry… forgive me” he repeated as he continued with the cleaning. “I´m so, so sorry…”

“Mablung, are you alright?” he turned around to see Beleg on the entrance. He must have followed him when he dashed out of the Feanorian camp. “Is there something the matter? Did… what Cennedir said bothered you in some way?”

“No, I… it´s just… I have never seen a thrall from Angband so fresh out of captivity. It was… an impression” he said as he forced himself to leave the rag.

“Yeah, me neither” the Strongbow answered. “In fact, I haven´t seen any in my life. Wonder where they are located in Doriath.” Mablung didn´t want to dash his hopes, so he kept silent about the fact that there were no former thralls in Doriath at all. “Mablung… you know that you can talk to be if anything is bothering you, no?”

“Why are you bringing that up? I´m fine” obviously, Beleg had noticed that there was something up with him or he wouldn´t be questioning. “Don´t worry about that, it was just the impression. I´m fine.”

“As you say, but if you ever want to talk, I´m here for you”

The other marchwarden nodded. Yes, he believed Beleg would hear him and even keep his secrets, but… there were things you didn´t tell to even the most intimate of friends. Why? Because they would hate you for that. And he didn´t want to lose Beleg.

-Later-

Maglor was feeling more tired than ever in any of his lives. He had helped in the healing tents until his eyes were dropping, so when he tried to continue despite the exhaustion, the healers kicked him out. With nothing more to do, the bard went to his tent and let himself fall in his bed, hoping that he could grab some sleep without nightmares or hallucinations. Without him knowing, the Silmaril rolled out of his pocket and to his hand. His dreams from then on were… disconcerting. He was surrounded by ice and snow, but he was sure that he had never been in such a place before. Yes, he had arrived to Beleriand in the ships, but this seemed to be more akin to the Helcaraxë than anything in that land. Or was it not? Because he was sure that the Grinding Ice didn´t have trees like that, or such a bountiful life…

He heard a voice humming softly near him, guiding him through the woods. Following it, he soon reached the edge of a big lake. There was ice on the surface, and the water that he could see was dark and… greenish? He realized that the greenish tint was not from the water itself, but from the sky. The Feanorion lifted his head to the sky and saw lights dancing in it. It was… so beautiful… even more than the snow of Himring. The singing voice approached, the same voice that had polluted his mind for so many years, that had taught him that song that worked so well on the Balrogs. But the voice now… the voice wasn´t just a voice anymore. A shadow accompanied it.

“Who are you? What are you?” he asked, taking a step to the back. “What do you want?!”

The shadow continued singing in an ancient form of Quenya he hadn´t heard before. But… he could detect the lisp his father liked so much in the thing´s speech. The shadow continued advancing until Magor could tell that… it was an elf. A silver haired elf dressed in white rags. This one lifted his hand and tried to say something else…

“Kanno? Kanno, wake up!!” his eyes opened to the worried faces of the Ambarussa.

“What?”

“You don´t know what?” Amras took a step aside so his brother could see the inside of his tent. There was ice everywhere. “You see now?”

“What is going on here?”

“You were singing in your sleep, brother. We entered when the temperature in this side of the camp started dropping too much.” Amrod said.

“Uh, ahhhh, I´m sorry” Makalaurë answered, touching his head. “I´m tired, that´s all, I haven´t slept well in a long time.”

“Kanno… you have been sleeping for almost a day”

The bard got completely still. What? But he could… then he noticed it. The Silmaril in his hand, touching his palm. It didn´t burn like before, but felt… warm. What could be happening there?

Chapter Text

The first thing Turgon did that day was going around the camp, trying to see if his men had everything. He also needed to talk to his brother, but that could wait until he finished his rounds around the encampment. He didn´t know how, he must have really lost sense of time and space or something like that, but he ended up walking into the Feanorian side of the encampment. The amount of scarlet and gold in that place made him frown. It reminded him of a certain someone that he never liked… more than a certain someone. So he turned around and tried to find the way out of the camp and back to his own. Unfortunately, someone else found him first. One of the presences in scarlet and red that he wanted to avoid most, even if now he was wearing dark colors and an equally dark armor.

“Turno, cousin” Moryo said, approaching him with a well-practiced smile that would mislead several people… but not him. “I didn´t think I would find you here. Wanted to talk to you for a long time.”

“Perhaps later” Turgon answered, trying to get away. “I´m… kind of busy now.”

“Come on, we all have been too busy and rest little these days. I need to rest too, so have some WINE with me” the King of Gondolin froze completely when he heard the emphasis on that word. Caranthir advanced, pleased to get under his skin, and grabbed his arm. “Don´t try anything” he whispered. “I have two of my boys pointing right at you and will shoot if you make a move to leave before we talk.”

“Would you kill me in such a plain sight?”

“Who says something about killing you?” the Dark smirked for a second. “Your knees, on the other side… you can live with a crippling injury like that, no?”

“I don´t see your archers, would they manage such a shot? Or would they just kill me?”

“They never miss”

Oh, so Lanyafinwë and Isilmefinwë were the ones holding those bows. Or were their weapons really bows? Curufin had a lot of free time and equipment to make something more portable and better for his brother´s assassins. Turúkanno wouldn´t be surprised if he did. Anyway, the truth was that those twins had an aim as good as Ambarussa, just below Celegorm, and they won´t miss… not with the gamble their father was making there. Defeated, Turgon followed his cousin to the tent he was residing in those days. The both of them took a seat in front of the other, a small table with wine the only thing separating them.

“Your city must be impressive” Caranthir said as he extended a hand and poured some wine for the both of them. “You always had a knack for architecture… a craft really yours that no one could say was better.”

“You are saying that as if you are jealous”

“Not really, I already have my own craft and excel at it… well, two crafts, if assassination and information gathering could be called that.”

“One more than the other” Turgon didn´t touch the wine offered at him. Moryo took a sip, but he wasn´t going to risk it. “Can you get to the point, I have many other things to do and a reunion to have with my brother.”

“Something I should know about?”

“Ask the High King for an audience if you want to know” he put his hands on his knees to lift himself. “If you aren´t going to talk, I think I will risk your archers.”

“Crossbowmen and it´s not as new as you might think” Caranthir put his cup on the table. “Old enough for Curufin to make portable version of them for my entire corps, at least. They are inconvenient in battle, takes a dreadful amount of time to charge them, but for people who sticks to the shadows like us… well, it´s a good portable weapon. Specially with poison projectiles” he showed Turgon his wrist. There was something strange strapped to it. A weapon. “And talking about poison... you should leave this work for the professionals.”

“Like you?” he snapped. “I don´t know what you are talking about” something was flung in his direction. He caught it and froze for a second. “Is this supposed to mean something?”

“It´s the poison Ulfang and his sons were going to use to kill me and my brothers… or that is the official version we are going to give to the people” Moryo continue, taking out a knife and twirling it through his fingers. “You see, poisons could tell a lot about the people if in the right hand. You see, I don´t have a good hand with poison, but I know the basics.”

“Good for you, I guess”

“For me? Perhaps. For you? Not so much” the Dark smirked. “That poison in particular is very fast acting, very good if you want to finish something quickly. I have used it before, that´s why I know. The base is a plant that grows up in a mountain territory.”

“Ulfang and his people didn´t live on a mountain? If not, they could have gotten it from other tribe of edain or even from Morgoth…”

“The bottle suggests otherwise. You see the design? Elvish. Edain hands couldn´t make something so delicate like that and orcs are brutes… this bottle was made by elves. And if you need more proof, I can call Maeglin here and confirm what we both know. That this bottle was made in… Gondolin” he smiled in a wicked way. “Are you done with your little game?”

“Are you going to kill me now?”

“Should I?” he chuckled. “I guess I should, you tried to kill me. Worse, you tried to kill me AND my brothers, YOUR OWN COUSINS” his laugher grew louder. “We might have been kinslayers, but at least we never tried to kill someone of our own close family, someone we grew up with” he stopped himself. “If that makes us monsters, that what does it makes you?”

“I only wanted to put rabid dogs down before they could kill more innocent people”

“It´s that what you said to yourself so you could sleep better?” Caranthir shook his head. “Guess that´s a way to put it… until you reach how you killed Maitimo.”

“I didn´t kill him”

“Please, Turgon, we are both smart people. And your healers… you must have noticed that they weren´t threating my brother. Idril too… perhaps… or maybe she just didn´t want to see it… but you, I´m certain that you did and allowed that to continue… and let him die… also took his boy” he lifted a hand. “Perfect payback.”

“I didn´t…”

“And why did our healers manage to save him?”

“Gil Galad was better with…”

“Oh, so you did leave my brother to die the first few times, no?”

Turgon bit his lip, he was trapped now. Trapped in Caranthir´s web. He had to give it to his cousin, he had always been more perceptive. He had never liked his half-cousins like his siblings did back when they were all young, but if he had to pick one that he thought he could stand, it would be Morifinwë Carnistir. The others were loud, animated and boisterous by nature, but Caranthir always choose to sit in some quiet place and practice his knitting or needlework or his math sheet. The boy was quiet when he was not angry and left alone to his own devices. So he sat down near him to make the illusion they were on friendly terms and he worked in his designs in peace. Yes, Young Turgon thought he could stand being close to Young Caranthir. But that was before he was gifted a handkerchief one afternoon. One handkerchief with an embroider that… it freaked him out how much Caranthir had managed to know about him with only a few afternoons of watching him. Then he realized that the most freakish thing about his quiet half-cousin wasn´t his temper, or his skills at math or threads, or even the sharp mind he shared with his father and siblings. No, it was his observational skills. So he picked another place to continue with his work and left the younger nér alone.

“I have forgotten just how sharp you can be or how much you can see” he gave it to Caranthir, he was good at his job. “Yes, I tried to kill you all. And then I left Maedhros to die. Are you going to kill me now?”

“Should I? I mean… you clearly repented, that´s why you sent Maeglin to us, to stop your poison from killing us but still framing Ulfang so we could take him out of the equation… it worked because I handled the investigation and knew to keep some details to myself. If it hadn´t been I…”

“Your boys handled the investigation the first few times.”

“And who taught them?” Moryo drank more wine. “My boys know when a treat is more urgent than the other and that they wouldn’t be able to get a hold of you once you have slithered your way into your city again. So they took the more immediate treat and waited.”

“Guess they were guilty for Sirion too.”

“I don´t know, we never reach so far in the repetitions” Moryo left his empty cup on the table and refilled it. “I understand them… but I don´t understand YOU, Turgon. You were willing to do everything to survive, even leaving your own brother to die and killing your cousins. In cold blood… so what changed?” he asked. “Why did you repented?”

“I don´t know, perhaps… I understood that you were the lesser of the evils” he stared back at the younger elf. “Perhaps simply I got tired of having to kill family… I don´t like you, but you are family, wherever I want or not.”

“But why do you feel guilty now? You didn´t before. You would have killed me, my brothers, my boys if someone would have told you what they did to Doriath… you even planned to kill your own nephew…”

“Maeglin deserved it”

“Did he? Wasn´t he innocent the first few times?” he drank more wine. “But you never liked him, not in truth. You try, I give you that, but you see him as the son of the elf who killed your sister more than her own son. You can´t forget it… so you kept him on arms reach. Far away from you and your pretty daughter.”

“I made him my heir”

“You cover him up in honors because you feel guilty, because Irissë asked you to take care of him when she was dying, but you can barely stand having him near you… but we are deviating from the issue. Maeglin´s issue is done in your eyes and you are relieved. He has Celebrimbor now and he will be taken care of by someone who actually love him. You are free from your promise to your sister” Caranthir left his cup. “The issue is why do you feel guilty about what you did to us?”

“Does it truly matter?”

“It matters because you didn´t feel guilty before and now you do. You saw us as rabid dogs, like you said before, and put us down like ones as well… but then something changed. What is it?” Turgon didn´t want to answer. “Perhaps it had to do with how some people saw us in Tirion? Like we were worse than trash under their boots?”

“You knew?” he was surprised.

“It wasn´t hard to realize. The only question I have is why. I don´t remember ever having done something to earn those kinds of looks before Alqualondë and... the only clue I have is that my father once apologized to me for that and asked me not to tell my brothers…”

“It wasn´t his fault” Turgon let out before realizing.

“So you know what was happening”

“Yes… but if you want to know, you should ask Maedhros. He also knows and… ask him”

“I will” Caranthir said. “Then, we can end this conversation saying that you aren´t going to try again? To kill us...”

“I will protect my family, so if you don´t harm them, you don´t have anything to fear from me”

“I have little to fear from you in the first place, don´t confound dumb luck with true skill”

“Dumb luck worked once, why not again?” Turgon got up. “This conversation was enlightening, but, like I said, I don´t have more plans to get rid of you or your brother so long as we don´t harm our families. So let´s bury the war hatched” he walked to the door. “Glad to have this talk, cousin.”

“One more thing” Caranthir then pushed him violently outside and against another tent, sinking his knife in the tent´s support pole, just a few centimeters from Turgon´s neck. “Try to harm my family, ANY OF THEM, again and you will see exactly how much damage I could do before I finally slit your throat” he pulled the knife from the beam and stored it into his pocket. “Great chat, cousin, see you again soon.”

Turgon was genuinely terrified, even when Caranthir left. Even more because the damn fucker had done it in a way that no one had seen how he had threatened him with the small knife. Not even Maedhros, who saw them once they exited the tent. The following chat with the eldest Feanorion was enlightening to say the least. His dear half-cousin and brother-in-law didn´t want his brothers to know because… he believed that his brothers could still have a normal life after this all ends. That they can put all the horror behind and live like before, completely ignorant of the important issue. All but him. And Tyelpe, who already knew. That they could return to ignore it… but it was not an option anymore. At least not if they didn´t want to repeat the same mistakes of the past. Maedhros exited the tent first and lost himself between the people. Turgon stayed in for a few more minutes, then exited the place… and practically collided face to face with Findékanno.

“Brother, hello” the High King said as he smiled widely.

“Finno, what are you doing here?” he asked, surprised. “I thought that you were going to be busy with Húrin and…”

“I wanted to talk to you, can you accompany me to my tent?”

It seemed like this was going to be a day of uncomfortable talks. First, Caranthir realizes that he was the one behind the attempt on his and his brothers´ lives and then Findékanno practically drags him through the camp to his own tent. As they entered, his brother closed the flaps on the entrance and his eyes completely changed. Gone were the warm suns he was used to from his eldest brother, replaced by icy glaciers that could be compared to the Helcaraxë. It was as if Fingon was truly considering murdering him. His own brother… and he was considering killing him.

“Sit down” he ordered and Turgon obeyed. “I´m not going to ask you how much of what you said to Moryo is true, because I can tell when you are telling the truth, but I feel compelled to ask” he glared at him. “Did you truly let my husband die?” complete silence followed that statement. “And my son?”

“NO!!”

“So this is what we have… my own brother and vengeance meant more to him than my family.”

“Gil Galad would have had everything…”

“That´s a lie and you know it” he knew. NOW. Because his city had a serious trouble of bigotry and if he didn´t have Glorfindel awake and ready to protect him… well, things would have taken a darker turn for Gil Galad and Turgon knew it. “And what? Would you have treated him just like you threated Maeglin? Covered him in honors while secretly keeping a grudge?”

“You know what Maeglin did…”

“Yes, but you never said that you didn´t in the past. And Moryo really made you spat that this happened since Irissë died” he passed a hand through his braids. “We both should be glad for Celebrimbor, he truly is the support our nephew needed.”

“Never said I wasn´t glad for them”

“For them or for Maeglin stopping showing an interest on your daughter?”

“Do you truly believe I am such a selfish person?”

“Do I really need to answer?” the both of them stared at each other, angry. Well, Fingon had reason to be angry. Turgon too. Perhaps they should change theme. “What was that about Russo having to talk to his brothers?”

“What?”

“I have been trying to make him leave. You know that he is pregnant and in a… dangerous condition. Angband is not a place for him right now, but he refuses to leave. And I think it´s because there is something he still needs to do in this place… I thought he wanted to see it destroyed…”

“You still don´t know what to do with it? Haven´t you and all the leaders talked about it?”

“Not yet. We wanted to have a meeting after the convoys taking the injured to Barad Eithel, but I have rushed it a bit so Russo might depart with them, but after hearing your chat with Moryo…” he turned around, clearly worried. Gone was all the anger from before. “Is there something I should know, Turno?”

“Maitimo didn´t tell you?”

“No… but if he needs to tell me something… me and his brothers… I can find a place for all of us to sit down and talk. This afternoon if it´s needed” Fingon sat down. Turgon said nothing. “Does this have to do with uncle Fëanáro?”

“Yes”

“Did he do something…”

“He did nothing wrong, at least not in this case. It wasn´t his fault… but he had to face the consequences of it anyway. And they too” he sighed. “Finno, I… don´t know how to say this in a way that isn´t going to hurt. Also, it´s perhaps not my tale to tell. Ask your husband, he is the one that should be telling you this.”

“I will” the High King stared at him again. “I don´t want to be your enemy, Turno, but I will if you threaten my family again. And that includes my husband and Maeglin.”

“I also don´t want to be an enemy of my own brother”

“Good, perhaps our relationship is not lost after all”

-In another part of the camp-

“I don´t know. Perhaps we could use ice itself to cool the spikes down” Tyelpe said as he examined the last Silmaril trapped in the Iron Crown.

“And where are we supposed to find ice so cold, the Helcaraxë?” Curufin answered from the stool he had been staying in all day. “There is no other way, we need the bird´s feathers. Or something as cold as that.”

“Ice could work”

“Let´s say we have a source of ice at hand” Maeglin intervened, grabbing one of the spikes that formerly held one of the Silmaril prisoner. “And have in mind that the feathers were cold enough to burn your hands when you tried to grab one of them without gloves…”

“How is that, by the way?”

“Much better, atar. In fact, almost healed, so don´t worry about that” he rubbed his eyes. They were all really tired, not having slept since they collapsed after the battle. But he had to keep going. “Maybe there is some other sort of substitute…”

“So cold that it can cause such a violent shift of temperature?”

“I´m running out of ideas”

“Perhaps there is no substitute possible”

“Then what? We cross a Valarindi who is going to be pretty angry and probably turn US into ice statues. And she will, she got grandfather´s temper… along with a lot more” Celebrimbor yawned, but ignored the feeling of tiredness. “Perhaps you should talk to her, atar. About being a genius in this family.”

“In this family is not as strange as in others. You could say it´s in our blood” Curufin also yawned, followed by Maeglin. “Anyway, it could wait. We should all get some sleep.”

“Not before freeing the Silmaril”

“Tyelpe, the problem is going to be there tomorrow”

“Atar…”

“Come, let´s grab something to eat, then some sleep…”

“Don´t try to act like you have the right to tell me what to do?! Not after what you did in Nargothrond!!” the Ringmaker said, shaking his father´s hand away at the same time as he glared at him. Curufin took a step back, hurt, almost as if he was burned. Then he got out of the tent. Maeglin stayed in his place, looking at his husband but not talking. At least not until Tyelpe finally sighed. “I´m going to apologize later, stop seeing me like that.”

“I´m not saying anything. It´s just that… I thought you wanted to make up with him. And you said he used to be a good father.”

“Yes, he… he was” the other smith sighed. “I didn´t want to bring it up so soon, I just… Nargothrond will always be a gap between us.” He sighed again. “Did I ever told you that I don´t remember my mother? Curufin was my only parents… well, the whole clan raised me, but of blood he was the only one.”

“Better an absent parent than a bad one, I can assure you” Maeglin said. “I hated Eöl with all my being and was glad he was thrown from the mountain. My mother… she was my only real parent too. Yes, the bastard was there, but he treated us more as property than as people. It was a bad place to be.”

“He makes Curufin sound like a sweetheart, even after what he did in Nargothrond.”

“There you have, someone more despicable to your eyes than your own father.”

“Never said I despised him”

“And I don´t believe you do. You still love him, which is why you should talk to him before that anger you still feel ruins your relationship with him. And you should start by apologizing and doing what he said.”

“But the Silmaril...”

“It´s still going to be here to trouble us tomorrow”

“They are not going to be free until they got all three. And I want my family back” Celebrimbor said. “Besides, we still got to recover the last one without a Kinslaying, on either of their sides…”

“And both the Oath and Thingol´s bigotry is still going to be our problem tomorrow” Maeglin presented him with a vial of medicine. “Now go apologize to your father, let´s grab something to eat with him and then some sleep. Perhaps that´s all we need to figure it out.”

Tyelpe nodded and went out of the tent, searching for Curufin. In the way, he passed Ambarussa, who seemed busy carrying things from one side of the camp to the other. Amras stopped just enough time to point the direction where his brother had gone to. Celebrimbor found his father and apologized, then the three of them went to grab something to eat. He grabbed two trays (he wasn´t going to let Curufin carry anything until that shoulder had completely healed) and then went to sleep. He was woken up by the sounds of alarm around him. Curufin was already on his feet when Celebrimbor was barely rubbing his eyes. He didn´t know how many hours he had been sleeping, but they surely were many.

“What is happening?!” he demanded once he was out, followed by a barely awoken Celebrimbor. Was it only his idea or everything was colder than before? “Has there been an attack?!”

“No, my lord, but something… something is happening with your brother”

Curufin ran towards the place, only to find ice on the ground and everywhere. Also a very tired and worried looking Celegorm with his children. His clothes were stained with something… was that blood? At least it was black, Celebrimbor thought with relief, even if that meant that his uncle had fought a bloody battle with an entire squadron of orcs. Maedhros was also there, watching the tent with worry.

“Kanno is in there” the blond Feanorion stated. “It started a few hours ago, the temperature around the tent where Kanno was sleeping started to drop. Ambarussa ran in first… but we couldn´t follow, it´s too cold. I´m worried.”

“Yeah, me too”

Celebrimbor got closer and picked a piece of ice from the floor. It melted in contact with his skin, not burned, but it was ice. He might be able to work with it. Storing it would be a problem, but he was already thinking about ways to do it. In that moment the temperature started to rise again and the twins exited the tent with a surprised looking Maglor. Maedhros intercepted them before they could take him to the healers and dragged them away. The rest of the Feanorions plus Celebrimbor followed.

“What happened, Kanno?” asked the oldest redhead, worried.

“Apparently, I was singing in my sleep. A song of Power” they all looked at each other in confusion. It wasn’t the first time their brother sang or compose in his sleep, but it was the first something like this happened. “I don´t know how I was doing it.”

“You were also singing in such an old form of quenya that we struggled to understand you” Amrod supplied. “How did you know it?”

“I… am not sure” Maglor lifted his hand to show the Silmaril, which he still carried. “I think that this might have something to do with this.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn´t have it with you” Caranthir said, extending his hand. Maglor doubted, carefully extending the stone. They all watched holding their breaths, Maedhros ready to rip Caranthir from the stone if it burned him. It didn´t. “Okay, I will hold it for now.”

“Alright” Makalaurë nodded. “But if something strange happens or if you dream something strange, then you tell us.”

“Dream?” Maitimo frowned. “Kanno, what did you dream?”

“I… was in a very cold place, surrounded by woods and snow and… there was an elf. A nér, approximately my size and silver haired. He was also… singing… with the voice I always hallucinate with. And tried to reach out to me…”

“Silver haired, you said?” Celegorm frowned. “When I was… in there…” he shuddered when he mentioned his small trip to Angband. “I think I saw a silver haired elf slitting the throat of one of those… unfortunate souls. I thought I was hallucinating, but…”

“You could have been hallucinating, Tyelko, but we can´t ignore what happened with Kanno” Moryo looked at the jewel with mistrust. “Perhaps it would be safer if we passed it around whenever we are going to sleep?”

“Yes, that seems like a good plan” Maedhros was relieved. “Let´s do the same when we have the other. Curvo” he stared at Curufin. “how is it going?”

“We are trying, but we need more feathers. It´s the only thing that works.” He threw a nasty glare to Celegorm.

“Why don´t you pick up the feathers she herself disposes of?” the blond raised an eyebrow. “Nella said that you couldn´t pluck her bird, but I don´t think she would be against you cleaning her nest a bit for her. That thing sheds thousands of feathers by herself.”

“That sounds well, I will go to pick up the feathers later”

“You are not doing anything like that with that shoulder. I will send Lómion later for the feathers, while I prepare. Will send a message when it´s finished too.”

“Alright” Maedhros finished the family meeting. “Everybody back to their tasks.”

-Later-

Maeglin walked through the camp with a bag of feathers. He pleaded that they had not melted when he arrived to the forge, they still needed them to break Sauron´s work and free the Silmaril. He then noticed a big group of people arriving at the healing tent, where the freed captives were being held. Nellasilef was also there, scanning the recently arrived with a critical eye. He knew what she must have been thinking… and knew why she wouldn´t trust them immediately, much less with those she had recently saved.

“I´m surprised to see you here” she spoke before he could leave. “Are those feathers from my bird?”

“Yes, but… I didn´t hurt her, just pick up the feathers that were on the floor near her nest”

“I would have known if she was hurt” she looked over her shoulder at Angband. “She is flying over there now, seeing to troubles.”

“I´m surprised you are not with her… or in Angband”

“It´s too dangerous during the night, even I wouldn´t dare to walk the corridors while it´s dark. I always found a nice, dark corner of the library to lightly sleep in during them if I had to spend the night.”

“So I better sleep lightly tonight… if I could sleep”

“Perhaps you are lucky for having slept during the day, like I said, it´s dangerous during the night” she turned towards the healing tent. “They are going to be lucky if they could sleep something in the next months.”

“The healers or the patients?”

“Both” she took a step back. “If you excuse me, I have some things to do. It´s going to be a… tiring day tomorrow.”

“Does it have to do with the orc blood on your armor?”

“Perhaps” she smirked before leaving.

Maeglin sighed and opened his bag to take a look at the feathers. They were okay, for now, so he put it in it´s place to continue his way. But before he could leave, he saw Rog exiting the tent, looking sick. What was Rog doing in the Feanorian side of the camp? He thought that the Lord of the Hammer didn´t want to be recognized as a former thrall or even sympathizer. So why…

“Maeglin” Rog recognized him before he could leave. “I see that you are hard at work.”

“Yes, I´m working with Tyelpe and Curufin to free the Silmaril” he answered. “And you?”

“Escorting the healers from Gondolin here… well, those that were cleared to work with… you know” he sighed, then looked at the tent with a scared look. “It´s the first time I have seen elves in such a horrible state. Even Lhostor and I were better when we…”

“Are they going to survive?”

“Some will, some not, it´s inevitable that we lose some… but those that live will have to deal with the consequences” the Hammer seemed lost in thoughts. “I was told that Lady Nellasilef sneaked in with her father and brother and saved them. And that she has done it thousands of times” he smiled truthfully. “If I didn´t know it, I would thought that I´m in the tale of Telenmacil.”

“In what?”

“How could you not… oh, of course” Rog said. “Why don´t you and Celebrimbor come to eat with me and the other Hammers tomorrow. I will put you up to date with the tales of the former thralls.”

Chapter Text

Caranthir still doubted that letting Turgon live was a good idea. Perhaps a bit hazardous for their continuous living, but killing the brother of the High King when everything was going so well would cause more troubles than he was willing or capable to smother. Better leave sleeping dragons sleep and, if someday in the future it turns to be a mistake, then he would finish the issue himself. After all, he was quite proficient in the use of crossbows himself and of many more weapons. Anyway, that could wait.

“Atar?” Silma entered in that moment, carrying some papers in his hands. “This are the supply lines reports you asked for. I took the liberty to take a look for you and to prepare a short resume for time reasons.”

“Good” Moryo answered. “The resume?”

“We have already sent requests to Barad Eithel for more medical and food supplies, from High King Fingon´s own hand. The weaponry necessities are already taken care of, but as soon as the convoys departed, we are going to need fresh troops if we want to keep those that remain here safe. Lord Azaghal has already sent for more men, as well as healers and miners…”

“Miners?”

“Apparently, someone proposed to bring Thangorodrim on them after the rescue operations are over and he wanted some of his miners to evaluate the option. If it were possible…”

“Impossible, there are not enough miners or exploding powder in the world to bring that monstrosity down” the elf sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Even I know that” he yawned. “Water?”

“It was ordered along with the food and the medicine” his firstborn advanced towards him. “Atar… you are going to have to forgive me, but you look awful. Have you even slept since our little nap after the battle?”

“In what moment? Maedhros needs someone to handle the supply lines and the Corps also needed to…”

“We can handle that for a few hours without you” Caranthir immediately opened his mouth to refuse him, but his son wasn´t having any of it. “Father, you are exhausted. In that state, sooner or later you are going to commit a mistake. You need to rest” the elf doesn´t seem convinced. “Besides, if Elenammë discovers that you are like that and I haven´t made you take a rest, she is going to have my head.”

“That girl… she sometimes reminds me so much to her mother that it´s scary” the Feanorion said. It was true, his daughter was the child that resembled Haleth the most. She had his eyes, but little else. Her fierceness and talent in battle also came straight from her mother, in his humble opinion. “Alright, I will close my eyes for a few hours. Don´t you dare to make a disaster while I´m at it.”

“We won´t dare”

Caranthir nodded and let his son help him out of the armor. Once out of it, he laid on the cot he had in his tent and let sleep take him. As he slipped into unconsciousness, the elf thought it was strange how it smells like. It was… like something was burning. The next second, he was in a known place. It was… green… and there were trees around him. It felt like home, despite it not being the place he remembered from his childhood. But it was home indeed, the home in where his children have been born, the home where he had been happy in his limited time with Haleth, the home where he could savor peace despite not being able to visit as often as he should or even stay, despite the Oath…

“Moryo…” a known voice made him turn around. “Moryo…”

“Haleth” he finally dared to say. How much time has passed since he had last seen his wife´s face? Heard his love´s voice? It was not the first time he dreamed about her, but for some reason it felt different. Something was… strange. Obel Halad looked exactly as he remembered but there was definitely something wrong. “Haleth, where are you?”

“Search for me, Moryo, I´m waiting for you”

He did. He searched for her like a possessed man, screaming her name as he looked for her all over Brethil. The elf entered the house they had spent their times together in… it was just as he remembered, as if he and her hadn´t left. There were even toys from his boys and girl´s childhood thrown around, but as he searched, he found more and more memories and no people. He continued looking in places related to her, to them… Hisleth´s house, Halathor´s house, even Haldan´s above… then he remembered it. The last place he had seen his wife in before her death was the Hall of the Chieftains, so he went there.

“Moryo…” he heard Haleth´s voice again as he reached the doors of the Halls. He pushed them open and entered. Haleth was there, sitting in the place of honor. “Welcome, husband. It´s been a long time since you have graced the place you helped me build.”

“Haleth, I…”

“And that you let burn along with my kin”

“I…. what? I would never…”

“Never let it burn? But my dear, you did. And all because of your stupid Oath. You didn´t protect my people, you let my kin died… you are the reason the sindar attacked Brethil. If it hadn´t been for you, they would have been able to live” he opened his mouth to say something. “Don´t try to deny it, Moryo, I have witnesses. They are all here, our dear nephews and nieces and grandchildren… all here to tell us the truth.”

“If only you could have arrived a few hours before, I wouldn´t have become an orphan” Haldan appeared from the shadows. Haldan, who his wife had raised like her own and he alongside her, who gave him the first taste of how it was to lose a child… “If only you have been faster, my father and grandfather would have been there. It´s your fault, uncle.”

“I… I rushed as much as I could to your aid… I did everything I could… it was too late by…”

“I joined the War because I loved you, uncle” Halmir appeared from behind his father, the injury that killed him still visible. The terrible slash from that orc blade… “I joined because you were family and I protect my family. If it wasn´t for you, I wouldn´t have joined the Union, I wouldn´t have left Brethil, I wouldn´t have died.”

“I´m sorry… I´m sorry you died, pityo, I truly am…”

“I died for your King, for your brother´s husband. Me and my brother, slain in a senseless battle. If it wasn´t for our love for you, we wouldn´t have died protecting your family” Hundar appeared there too, his throat slashed deep. “My wife died of grief, my poor love, and that is your fault too.”

“I´m sorry… I´m so sorry…”

“You lost us, uncle. With the men we lost in the Nirnaeth, we couldn´t effectively protect our lands. Or protect anyone. We couldn´t help Nargothrond and they couldn´t help us” Handir walked into the light too, his chest still bleeding from the orc blade that pierced his chest. “Brandir died too because of you too, because your defeat brought Túrin Turambar to us.”

“That… I didn´t have a hand on that… I didn´t…”

“You got my son and grandchildren cursed” Hareth was there too, wearing the same dress he had sewn her for her wedding. Her wedding to Galdor. “If it weren´t for you and your brothers, my Húrin would have never ended up cursed, suffering by seeing his children dying. He joined the Union because you asked him to, because your brother asked him to and he was family through you.”

“No… Húrin would have joined anyway” he didn´t remember having much contact with Húrin or Huor before they were adults. Hareth… he had known and played with her a few times, even sewed her dresses, but he hadn´t been able to see her since her wedding, nor meeting her sons. And the one that truly convinced Húrin to participate in the War was Fingon, through his friendship with Turgon and as his Lord. “They would have joined…”

“The curse killed me, uncle” Hardang said. “It dragged Manthor to darkness and it killed me…”

“The hate of the King of the Sindar followed you here, grandfather” Halathor also stepped into the light, the injuries from his terrible death at the hands of the sindar still fresh. “He killed us because he hated you. Because your and your brothers´ blood rushed through our veins.”

“He killed us because we were your family, because he wanted to hurt you” Hisleth continued, her dress stained with blood. Caranthir let out a sound of anguish at seeing his granddaughter like that. “He killed us in a way that you could see we suffered, a way that would make you suffer, as my poor baby suffered.”

“Avranc…”

“Great grandfather, time had passed” Avranc also showed up. But unlike the others, he looked alive in the armor Caranthir himself had gifted him. Alive… and with the hands stained red with blood. “I´m still alive, but wish I hadn´t. I became a kinslayer, a cursed murderer, just like you. I painted Aman red with the blood of my kin” the Dark cried in anguish. “I don´t know who is more pitiful now, those who died or those who lived. We ended up bad anyway.”

Moryo covered his ears, he didn´t want to keep listening. It was his fault, his damn fault. It was his fault that Díor decided to attack Brethil, it was his fault that his mortal family members died terrible deaths and even his boys´ deaths were his fault because he had dragged them with him to the kinslayings. His girl probably was miserable in Aman, being known as the daughter of a kinslayer, and having lost nearly everything… it was his fault, all was his…

NO

What?

NO, THIS IS NOT YOUR FAULT. THIS HASN´T HAPPENED YET, THEY ARE NOT DEAD.

But… it happened. In the past life, when…

THEN YOU KNOW WHAT TO AVOID, WHAT TO DO BETTER. CREATE SOMETHING NEW, A NEW FUTURE FULL OF LIGHT WHICH YOU CAN ALL ENJOY. STOP DROWNING IN GUILT FOR PAST MISTAKES WHEN YOU WERE OFFERED A GOLDEN OPORTUNITY TO FIX EVERYTHING.

Caranthir doubted for a moment. He didn´t even know how he was understanding that voice, it was talking in ancient form of quenya, but somehow he could tell what it was saying. Or more likely, singing. And this thing felt… comforting. It´s presence made him feel better and realize that… this was a lie. Haleth would have never told him that it was his fault that the Haladin fell, she would have told him and her people to get up and continue fighting. The others… the others were warriors to the bone, just like her. They wouldn´t blame him for their or their children´s mistakes. But even so…

THIS IS NOT REAL… THIS IS A NIGHTMARE MADE TO EXPLOIT THE DARKNESS INSIDE OF YOU… YOU NEED TO WAKE UP.

“Moryo, stay with us in the darkness. It´s just, you brought it over us” Haleth said. Well, not Haleth. The nightmare that took her appearance.

IT´S NOT REAL…

“Stay with us, uncle”

“Stay here, grandfather”

WAKE UP!!!

Moryo shoot up from his bed, his eyes wide open as he gasped for air. He looked around in complete, finding everything just as he had left it. No, not as he had left it. It was dark outside the tent now. And he was not alone.

“Eru, you scared me for a moment. I thought you would never wake up, uncle” Haldir said from his place near the cot. “Have been trying to wake you up for nearly an hour.”

“And… and Silma… and the others…”

“They are fine, Hundar is with them. They wanted to be here, but they are busy with organizing things at the camp” he shrugged. “The one that actually worried us was you, seeing that you seemed trapped in an endless sleep…”

“Not endless” Caranthir pushed away his covers and got out of bed. He still felt lethargic and for some reason dizzy, but everything beat being inside that nightmare. “What are you doing here? I thought that…”

“Well, I was busy, yes. We wanted to come before, make you know that both me and Hundar were fine… we know how it affected you when you heard father died in battle” it sent a sharp pain right through the elf´s heart. “But after the battle I was busy organizing everything and making sure the injured were attended, counting the dead… a real logistic nightmare.”

“You were never one for logistics, nephew”

“No, so thank Eru that I have uncle Halathor to help me with that” Haldir also got up. “Anyway, let´s talk later. From what I heard, there has been some problems in the camp, uncle, and they might need your help.”

“What now?”

“I don´t really know. Like I said, I have been here trying to wake you up. You better ask Silma if you want to know, he is the one in the middle of everything.”

Caranthir nodded before putting on his armor. During a moment he had a light spell of dizziness that nearly sent him to the ground, but recovered quickly. He wondered for a second how his nephew was there… he was supposed to die in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad just like Halmir… and Hundar too. How did he survive now? Could it be… oh, of course. His nephews and most of their men died covering Fingon´s attempted retreat. With Maglor freezing the Balrogs, the loses suffered by the Haladin weren´t as devastated as then and many managed to survive. It made him feel a lot of relief.

Once outside, he realized that there a buzzle of activity. It seemed that a lot of soldiers were running from one place to another. Some of them were carrying medical supplies in their hands, others were transporting people in stretchers… elves. All of them were elves. And all of them seemed to be unconscious.

“Yes, you were not the only one who went to sleep and didn´t wake up” Halmir said. “I was about to call for a stretcher when you suddenly opened your eyes.”

“Just like yesterday” Caranthir said as he remembered what happened with Maglor the day before. They thought it had something to do with the Silmaril, but perhaps it was something else. “Anything else?”

“None of the affected seemed like they are having nice dreams” Silma appeared, looking significantly more tired than that afternoon. “Great to see you up, father.”

“It definitely wasn´t the time for a long nap” the elf answered, rubbing his eyes. First Kanno was hearing singing voices and now he too… he already dreaded that his brothers found out. “Anything else?”

“The healers are working at top of their capacity again” Silma informed. “They just received another influx of captives in critical conditions and now this… I don´t think they are going to be able to attend to so many. At this rate, we will have to push forward the transport of injured for Barad Eithel and critical for Amon Ereb.”

“Amon Ereb? Not Barad Eithel?” this surprised the Feanorion. “Why? We brought the most of our healers here, Amon Ereb wouldn´t be prepared to…”

“The General ordered that any member of our host and any captive freed from Angband should be taken to Amon Ereb, no exceptions” Caranthir bit his lip. That was frankly strange, specially of his brother who should know which of the locations was more ready to attend to the injured. But Maedhros definitely must have a reason, he always had. In that moment Silma seemed to have a fainting spell, distracting him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I… I only felt a bit dizzy. It´s probably the smell…”

“What smell?” Halmir asked. “I don´t smell anything.”

“Really?” Caranthir asked, frowning. “Because I can smell it too” he saw Hundar with Lanya and called them to him. “Can you feel that smell?”

“What smell?”

“Are you serious? It´s all over the place”

The cousins started to argue, while Caranthir stared into the horizon. The wind was blowing from one direction that night. That smell… only elves or those of elvish descent seemed to be able to perceive it. Why? He wasn´t sure, but perhaps it had to do with the mortality or the fëa hröa connection. The lack of effect on the edain could meaning it only affects eldar… or that it affected the edain in a lower or simply another way. And the direction of the wind…

“What is happening here?” Tyelkormo asked, practically being carried by his son. He coughed hard. “Why does it smell here like in those damn dungeons?”

“Dungeons…” Caranthir´s eyes opened wide as his brother nearly fall to the floor. He finally understood… and feared. “It´s the wind… it´s bringing something from inside Angband… like a poison…” he turned around, pulling a piece of cloth from his pocket and putting it in front of his nose. “We need to…”

“Help!!” Curufin´s voice was the next. “I need a healer!!” he was trying to drag both Celebrimbor and Maeglin out of the tent. They were unconscious and looked really bad. “They aren´t… aren´t waking up…”

“It´s the wind” Caranthir explained, going to help his brother, followed by his sons. He was only going to hurt himself if he carried two bodies with that shoulder. “What are you two doing? Cover your mouth and nose with something. In fact, all of us should cover our mouths and noses. RIGHT NOW!!!” he turned around towards his nephew. “Do you have enough men to cover the security of the camp for the night?”

“If we join with Húrin and Bór´s men…”

“Fantastic, I want edain guards all over the place, only edain. This wind affects you less than us, so you should be able to remain awake even if we fall. We will change guard as soon as the win changes again. You” he went to his other nephew. “Exactly how exposed Tyelko was to that foul air?”

“A lot, we reached the deep parts of Angband to free captives. Even my sister haven´t…”

“Great, so why isn´t he unconscious like the others right now?”

“I healed him a bit…”

“Then go to the healing tents right now and do whatever you can for those that are” Caranthir ordered Luhte, then turned to his sons. “You, tell everyone in the camp what is happening, to wake up everyone. No one sleeps tonight. It seems like we are more vulnerable in our sleep.” He clapped. “MOVE IT!!”

-A few hours before-

Telperinquar couldn´t say that he wasn´t having fun. He was. The Hammers were a cheerful crowd when they weren´t trying to conceal their status. They would go along marvelous with the Feanorians… perhaps a little bit too much. And some of them were very knowledgeable in the lore of the former thralls. Also seemed to have a low opinion of Rúmil, at least because he refused to work on that lore like he did in the usual one. It seems that, despite sharing the loremaster´s views on living avoiding detection, they still were proud of their survival, their history and traditions.

“You really celebrated the Great Escape and didn´t knew why the date was important?” Rog asked, raising an eyebrow at Celebrimbor. The Feanorian was really amazed at how many traditions his family shared with the Hammers despite their lack of knowledge about the issue at the moment.

“It was something my grandfather insisted in celebrating, like a birthday from a distant relative that we didn´t know but was important for some reason.” He shrugged. “Frankly, I thought that it was a celebration for one of his inventions.” He took a drink from his water. “What does it celebrate?”

“The Great Escape” the Lord of the Hammer answered, his eyes turned dreamy. Both Maeglin and Celebrimbor looked at loss. “The only successful massive escape from Angband? Back before the Great Trip… we know because it´s a great myth, even among those that were brought after. They said that Thingol hates Telenmacil because of that…”

“Who is Telenmacil?” Maeglin asked.

“Really? You don´t know who Telenmacil is?” he asked. “It´s a great hero of our people. The architect and leader of the Escape and the guerilla leader that formed a barrier between Angband and the realm of elves… despite no one acknowledging it” the avari smiled. “I remember when I heard the tale from my father before I even put a foot in Angband. He was my childhood hero… after I was put into that wretched pit he became much more. I wanted to be as strong, as brave as him…”

“That sounds like hero worship”

“It is… most of us are fans” another of the Hammers said, approaching from behind his Lord. “But the real deal are those choker wearing lunatics… we might admire Telenmacil and his legacy, which helped us and our ancestors to stay alive in that pit, but we aren´t going to expose ourselves like those weirdoes.”

“Dínethor…” Rog warned.

Tyelpe bit his lip. Choker wearing lunatics… he had heard about them from Rúmil. And Erestor was one of them. And his grandfather was apparently the original one. Now that they were mentioning it, he remembered Fëanor wearing a choker every time he went to court. As a young elfling, Tyelpe had always believed that it was a show of extravagance from his grandfather, that big golden thing with red citrine jewels, but now that he knew why he wore it, he found himself wondering for it´s fate. He had already gotten the idea of forging one for himself once everything was said and done… and he had really talked to Curufin. He already dreaded that conversation.

“And… is there any other history about Telenmacil? Perhaps where he ended up?”

“No one knows for certain, or at least no one that I know” Dínethor said, ignoring the looks Rog was sending his way. “Some say he and his troops eventually found their way to Aman during the Great Journey, some others that he died trying to stop Morgoth from advancing to the south… perhaps he is still alive. He and his pet snake.”

“What?”

“The legend said that he domesticated and owned a snake, a poisonous one. They said that every one that got bitten by it, visited death´s door in a few minutes”

Celebrimbor and Maeglin stayed for a few more moments before leaving to work on the forge again. Curufin was already there, preparing everything the best he could. The rest of the afternoon, they worked on freeing the second Silmaril from the Crown. Finally, they managed and the stone fell with a cling. Father and son looked at each other, almost as if asking if the other should pick it. Finally, Maeglin grabbed it, admiring it for a second before putting the jewel on Tyelpe´s hand. Curufin seemed ready to take it out of his hands if it began to burn, but released a sigh of relief when it didn´t hurt his son.

“And… should we rest?”

“Why? We slept yesterday.”

“I think we are supposed to do that every day, especially when we slept as badly as yesterday” Maeglin reminded him. They were too close to Angband, it caused him nightmares. So bad that even with medicine he ended up waking up every hour. And Tyelpe wasn´t much better. Curufin also had it rough with them both. “We already finished here, we can begin forging weaponry tomorrow.”

After a little bit more arguing, they decided to take a short nap. Celebrimbor closed his eyes after taking a sip of his medicine. As he closed his eyes, he sunk surprisingly easy in a deep sleep. He turned around and found… were those shackles in his wrists? Shackles that… he started to hyperventilate when he recognize the walls, the smell, the… the chains… a hand passed through his hair in that moment, nearly sending him to a panic attack. The only person who did that apart from his father was… was…

“You could make it so much easier, Tyelpe” the voice made all the hairs in his body stand on end. But how was he there? He was sure that… that he had removed the head from his body. There was no way that… “Oh, you certainly didn´t think that you had freed yourself from me, no? Poor, poor Tyelpe, so naïve…”

The chains tightened, holding him in place when he tried to run. Being back in Mordor, in Annatar´s… Sauron´s care was his worst nightmare. The chuckle he heard next as his former friend walked away, smiling in a disturbing way.

“Or perhaps… you are sad that you were left alone? You should have said so!!” Sauron laughed. “Don´t worry, Tyelpe, I got you the best company you could ask for. Look” he took a step back to show him Curufin chained to the wall. “Someone dearly missed” he did so again to reveal Lómion. “And someone dearly beloved”

“Tyelpe, help…”

“Leave my son alone, you fucker”

“Now choose, dear Tyelpe” Sauron said, passing a hand through Maeglin´s hair, who started sobbing before doing the same with Curufin, who tried to bite him. “Who is going to join us in the fun first? Your dear father or my old pet?” Celebrimbor tried to bite him when he tried again. “Oh, it seems that we have a winner.”

“Help… Tyelpe, help me…” his husband begged as Sauron grabbed him.

“Leave him alone!!”

“Why? We are barely beginning”

“Help!!”

“NOOO!! LEAVE HIM!!”

“My old pet, you already know what to do, no? After all” he licked his cheek. “you have already tasted thousands of others.”

“Help me…”

A song started to sound and suddenly Celebrimbor was alone again. Even Sauron´s image had disappeared. The shackles released him, making him able to look around. He wasn´t really alone. Where the song came from was an elf. A silver haired elf whose face he couldn´t really discern. And the way he was singing… was that proto-quenya? And why was he able to understand that he was singing protection? He opened his mouth to ask who he was, when the elf talked directly to him.

IT´S NOT REAL. YOU ARE CLOSE TO ANGBAND AND SOMEONE HAS OPENED THE DOORS OF DARKNESS. IT´S POISONING YOUR AIR, TRAPPING YOU IN NIGHTMARES. IF YOU ARE NOT CAREFUL, YOU WILL LOSE YOURSELVES IN THEM.

“Why are you…”

THERE IS NO TIME, YOU NEED TO HELP YOUR BONDED. HE IS TRAPPED IN A NIGHTMARE JUST LIKE YOURSELF. I CAN´T REACH HIM, BUT YOU CAN. REACH FOR YOUR MARRIAGE BOND, SEARCH FOR HIM, HELP HIM. REMEMBER THIS SONG, TELPERINQUAR, AND PROTECT HIM. REMEMBER THIS SONG

“Who are you?”

THERE IS NO TIME, DO IT OR LOSE HIM.

Tyelpe bit his lip, choosing to save Lómion over finding out who the mysterious elf was. He reached for his marriage bond and sunk himself deeply into the grey and black of it. Suddenly, the smith found himself in a very similar place to Mordor… but it was not Mordor. It was… Angband. He heard Lómion scream and he rushed towards the source of the scream. His husband was there, chained, surrounded by several orcs while Morgoth and Sauron laughed. He rushed towards them.

“Ups, it seems that we have some uninvited guests” Mairon said when Celebrimbor approached. “Which one of them are you? I want to know the name of our new special prisoner.”

“You are not real… Lómion, they are not real!! You are having a nightmare, you have to wake up!!”

“Oh, we are very real. Your real worst nightmare” Melkor said, his grin freezing Tyelpe´s blood on his veins.

Even so, he didn´t let himself be intimidated. He used his own memories to remind Maeglin of what had happened. He made him remember that they defeated Sauron, that he beheaded the fiend, that Morgoth was defeated and his hand cleaved by Húrin. As he did so, he started to sing the protection he had heard before. He was never as good as his uncle Maglor, but he wasn´t an inept either. As he sung, a light appeared over them and the image of Angband was replaced by a beautiful sight full of snow and ice, with the lights illuminating the night sky. The both of them admired it for a moment…

“TYELPE!!” Curufin hugged him tightly when he finally woke up. By his side, Lómion coughed and did the same, Celegorm over him. “Are you…”

“Fine, just a bit… tired” it was strange. Wasn’t he sleeping until recently? “What happened?”

“The wind carried some sort of toxin from Angband” Caranthir explained. “I don´t know what it is, but it affects elves in very strange ways. Dizziness, fainting spells, general weakness… and some go into a deep sleep and can´t wake up. Luhte is working on it, but even he has some troubles with the unconscious ones” his uncle looked straight at him. “How did you wake up?”

“I don´t know, I… I saw a silver haired elf that was singing protection and then… I entered Lómion´s mind through our marriage bond and…” he frowned, not understanding. Why… he suddenly felt something on his side and he searched his pocket. He pulled the Silmaril out. Had he had the Silmaril all the time? “What the…”

“Do you think the Silmaril could…”

“It´s bad” Nella entered the tent in that moment. “Someone inside that pit had the idea to use the Hearts of Taint that we freed as weapons. They are using the wind to spread that taint towards us, like a poison… it´s creating an atmosphere as if we are close to Utumno.”

“Utumno?!” Celebrimbor started to freak out. “What are we going to do?”

“It´s temporary” she explained in a calm voice. “They can´t keep it up, not without the wind blowing in this direction. And they can´t keep it up for long without Morgoth present” she growled. “But they can do repeated attacks.”

“What can we do?” Caranthir asked.

“Bar the Hearts” the Valarindi answered. “It´s going to be complicated, even more than blowing up a dragon, but it can be done. With our help.”

“Then we…”

“HELP!!!” Fingon suddenly rushed in, completely out of it. “RUSSO DOESN´T WAKE UP!!”

And silence descended over the room again.

Chapter Text

Caranthir was the first to unfroze, rushing after Fingon. His brothers, children and nephew followed behind. They arrived to the camp of the High King in minutes, to the tent in even less time. There, watched by the King´s own valet, laid their oldest brother. He was pale, covered in cold sweat and didn´t seem to be having a nice dream. The servant was cleaning the sweat, but his expression was somber. The Feanorion cursed inwardly. They should have definitely forced Maedhros to leave. In his condition, he was easily one of the most vulnerable people in the camp. Angband was already a bad place for him to be near, but with an elfling in his belly… dammit!! They should have made him leave immediately after the battle!!

“Nelyo” Maglor got into his knees near the bed where their brother rested, grabbing his hand. “Nelyo, please, wake up. I can´t do this without you. Don´t leave us all again.”

“Russo…” Fingon also seemed lost about what to do.

“Him and the child are in danger here, my King” the valet said, leaving the rag he was using to clean Maedhros´ brow with on a nearby table. “You should send them away.”

“Not… not now… I… maybe we should wait until he wakes up” Findékanno answered. “I… am afraid that they might be hurt if we move them before Russo wakes up.”

“Perhaps, but…”

“Make way” Celebrimbor pushed everyone aside as he made his way to where his uncle slept. He then pulled something out of his pocket. A Silmaril. “Who has the other one?”

“He” Amrod signaled his twin. “We were going to…”

“I don´t care, give me” Amras passed the stone to his nephew. Tyelpe put both of them over Nelyo´s chest. “This helped me wake up, it can do the same for him. And after saying this…” he looked at his father and husband. “we need to get to work on how to chain the entrance to whatever it is Nella calls a Heart of Taint.”

“Nelyo is laying there helpless, trapped in a nightmare, and you want me to work?” Curufin looked at his son in disbelieve. He was supposed to be the kind, understanding one. Why was he suggesting that? “You have to be…”

“Absolutely right” Caranthir interrupted the younger Feanorion. Curufin sent him a glare, but the Dark returned him one of his own. “That place is where the poison that is affecting Nelyo, and let´s not speak how many more of our troops, is being produced. Lowering the amount of it in the air might help him.”

“Are you sure?”

“It´s the only thing I can think of that will help him” Moryo said. “Apart from the Silmarils, of course.”

“I will begin to work on that” the smith finally got up, sighing.

“I need to go with my daughter” Celegorm suddenly said, trying to get up and failing miserably. “She was going to go to another of those places… I know” he lifted his hands when he saw the look Caranthir sent his way. “The healers are overworked, but there are people there that won´t hold another day without help. Besides, I can do some recognition work while I´m at it, to help Curvo close them all.”

“Tyelko, you can barely stay awake. Another of those trips will outright put you in the same state Nelyo is.” Moryo made a sign at the twins. “Ambarussa will take your place until you have recovered. Stay with our brother, Kanno too” he clenched his fists before adding. “I need to run the camp, keep up appearances… but do keep me informed, alright?”

Caranthir left the tent along with Ambarussa and the smiths as the rest of them looked back at Maedhros in worry. They knew what Angband had done to him, seen him when he was barely out of that wretched place. The last thing they wanted was for their gentle brother and husband to be trapped in his memories of those days… more than once Maglor and Celegorm tried to reach him with osanwë, Fingon too through their marriage bond, but there was no use. Maedhros was blocking them out, wanting to protect them but only preventing them from helping him. It was frustrating.

“Come back to us, Russo” the King cried. “Come back to me.”

-Inside Maedhros mind-

He screamed again as another of the knives went into his flesh. He still remembered them… and the enjoyment their master showed when they were hurting him. Hurting anyone. The redhead sent Sauron a glare, challenging him to try to break him. It didn´t work last time, it won´t work now. Even if Sauron or Morgoth himself showed him illusions of his brothers, nephews, nieces or husband there being tortured, he did not fell. He knew they weren´t there, the Alliance he created hadn´t perished in dragonfire this time… they had won… they had to be alright… and he won´t lose hope. He might have been captured again, but they haven´t. He won´t let those monsters trick him. They could rip his nails out, whip his back into shreds or pull his hair out, he won´t let them…

“You are entertaining, my pet” Sauron talked as he left his knife. “Just as I remember. Gripping into a hope that won´t become true no matter how much you want…”

“Fuck you”

“I only let my master do that, pet, but you certainly didn´t need that. Someone has fucked you, no? I can smell it… and it´s consequence” the creature´s hand flew to Maitimo´s middle. His blood ran cold when he realized what he was meaning. Ereinion. Then retired it as the door to the cell opened. “Ah, master, welcome.”

“You are taking your time with him, Mairon, and I want to have some fun too” Morgoth said, his smile full of cruelty.

“Good, because I have something fun to share with you” Gortahur talked, getting closer to his master. “Our pet is expecting, my Lord. I can feel the fëa in his body, hear the thrum of life that beats inside of him.”

“Expecting?” the smile of Moringotto´s face widened. Fear filled Maedhros´s mind. “I haven´t had a pregnant one in ages!! They usually let themselves and their offspring die before allowing them to enter here!!” he approached. “I love when they come here before they are born. It´s so easy to twist them…”

“NO!!!”

“To make them one of mine own creatures!!!”

“GET AWAY!!”

“I already can imagine the creature you are going to birth, pet!! A little orc that is going to kill your people for me!!!”

“EREINION!! NOOOOO!!!!”

GET AWAY FROM THEM!!!

Maedhros heard the voice, one that was not Morgoth´s or Sauron´s, but a completely new one. Suddenly, the whole cell was enveloped by a white light. The images of his torturers disappeared and the shackles keeping the redhead´s hands up opened, releasing him. He felt to the floor, gasping for air. It smelled just like he remembered, the foul stench of corruption all over the air, but now it was somehow… lighter. As if he had gotten away from the place despite still being trapped. He covered his fresh injury with his hand, trying to stop the bleeding. Lifting his head, he noticed that he was not there alone anymore. A silver haired elf was there, a soft singing sound accompanying him. He could barely make out his image, too, and couldn´t exactly see his face. It was… distorted.

“Who are you?” he asked, not trusting.

THIS IS A NIGHTMARE, YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP.

“Who are you?! How do you know this is a nightmare?!” he continued, ready to fight the intruder even if he had to use his fists. This one didn´t seem impressed. “Answer me!!”

PLEASE, LITTLE ONE, YOU DON´T STAND A CHANCE AGAINST ME. I HAVE FOUGHT THE DARKNESS FOR AGES…

“I asked who are you?!”

WE DON´T HAVE TIME, YOU HAVE TO…

“If you didn´t want to tell me, then I will have to seek the answer on my own.”

Maedhros did something he had never done before, he used osanwë as an offensive weapon. It wasn´t supposed to be used like that and, objectively, he knew he was doing something stupid, but he wasn´t trusting a stranger. That would be even more stupid. What he had not expected was the next thing that happened. As soon as he managed to throw the other elf out of balance, before this one had time to react… or he maybe hadn´t want to react… Maedhros found himself flying over landscaped, pulled by what seemed like a bond. What kind? He didn´t know, but he could see… many places as barely a blur… forests and rivers and mountains… a big lake with many rivers arriving to it… and then he was sucked into another pit. A darker, smelly, even worse pit… he felt like he couldn´t breath… what could be worst than Angband? The only answer could be this place and he… he couldn´t…

WHO ARE YOU?

Maitimo looked around for the voice that spoke. He couldn´t locate it´s owner, the only thing he could see was… darkness… that and feel the presence of Morgoth everywhere, permeating the place. The original voice was soon followed by others, many others that talked in such a disarray that he couldn´t tell how many of them were. There was a female one… and many male ones. They seemed to be awakening from a long slumber.

IT´S BEEN A LONG TIME… A LONG TIME SINCE WE HAVE FELT LIGHT ON OUR SKIN…

I WANT MORE, I WANT…

YOU HAVE TO RETURN… the female said firmly… IF YOU REMAIN TOO LONG IN HERE, YOU WILL BE TRAPPED JUST LIKE US, AND WITHOUT YOU, THE FËA THAT DEPENDS ON YOUR OWN WON´T SURVIVE.

“Who are you?” Maedhros asked.

WE ARE THE SOULS OF THOSE ERU PUT ON THIS EARTH TO FIGHT THE DARKNESS, OF THOSE THAT WERE SHACKLED TO THE DEEPEST PIT BY HIM AND LEFT BEHIND BY THOSE CALLED OUR KIN…

WE WOULD LOVE TO CHAT AND HEAR WHAT WE HAVE LOST.

BUT YOU NEED TO LEAVE… one of the males stated, as firm as the woman… NORMALLY, YOU WOULDN´T BE ABLE TO, BUT WE CAN SEND YOU BACK TO WHERE YOU COME FROM. LISTEN TO HIM THIS TIME AND WAKE UP.

AND TELL HIM…

“What?” he couldn´t hear that last thing over the singing that started to grow stronger around him. The same bond as before pulled him towards the ceiling. “Who are you?! Why are you doing this for me?!”

BECAUSE WE WANT YOU TO LIVE… LIVE…

“Why?”

LIVE…

Before he could ask another question, he was thrown back over the landscapes, finding himself back in that cell in Angband. He could hear steps coming towards the doors, but they stopped as the silver haired elf from before stepped in front of the door. He seemed a little bit pensative now. His songs were… stronger for some reason.

IT´S BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE I HAVE HEARD HER VOICE, SENSED HER PRESENCE… I NEVER FORGOT HER… AND SHE DIDN´T FORGOT ME DESPITE THE DISTANCE… he sighed… THANK YOU. REALLY, THIS MEANS A LOT FOR ME.

“Are you telling me who are you? Or those people?”

YOU NEED TO LEAVE. YOU MIGHT NOT BE IN IMMEDIATE DANGER, BUT I CAN´T PROTECT YOU FOREVER. YOU AND YOUR SON WILL EVENTUALLY BE AFFECTED IF YOU CONTINUE LIKE THIS. SO WAKE UP.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

WAKE UP

“Answer my questions!!”

WAKE UP!!!

Maedhros shot up as his eyes opened, the two Silmarils rolling from his chest as he adopted the seating position. He breathed in and out a couple of times, trying to make sense of what just happened. Suddenly, he found himself with an armful full of crying Fingon. Maglor and Celegorm were also there, looking relieved. He nodded to them, trying to make them see that he was fine. Better than fine, in fact. This was his and husband´s tent in the camp, not a cell in Angband. And they were fine, they have won. Morgoth fled, Sauron was beheaded and his hröa burned… everything was fine.

“Do… do someone have some water?” he asked in a raspy voice. The minstrel moved quickly to get it for him. The redhead was surprised that it was Maglor and not Celegorm the one to get up first. And now that he was looking at him, the blond seemed a bit sick. What had happened? “Are you alright, Tyelko?”

“Me? You haven´t woken up for the better part of a day and you are asking ME if I´m alright?” the hunter shook his head. “You should worry a little bit more about yourself, Nelyo.”

“I´m fine, it was just a… nightmare” he finally got a glass of clean water from Makalaurë. “Thanks, Kanno” he gulped the entire thing down, his throat felt like sand. “I´m also feeling a little bit hungry, so if someone can…”

“Understood, my King” the valet said, getting up. The redhead sighed, some servants were really dotting on him since the news that he was pregnant extended through the camp. And some others… it was better not to think about them. “You might want to talk about something while I´m away, no, my King?”

“I…” Maedhros looked at his husband, who seemed uncomfortable. “I was thinking about sending some of the injured to Barad Eithel earlier than scheduled. They should be better attended there and those that arrive will be able to send refreshed troops and healers from the city.”

“That´s a good idea” the General said. “What else?”

“I´m sending those affected by the… Angband air to Barad too. The healers are positive that exposure was the reason they are trapped in a nightmare so… they might wake up once they are out of it´s area of influence.”

“That too” Nelyo returned his glass of water to Maglor, so it could be refilled. “What are you not telling me?”

“I…” Fingon swallowed once, gathering the gumptions to tell his husband what he had decided as he slept. Russo will get mad because of that, but he was doing this for his own safety. And Ereinion´s. “When they departed, you are going to depart with them.”

“WHAT?!”

“I´m sorry, Russo, but I can´t let you stay with what is happening. I just… you weren´t waking up, Russo. Do you know how I felt when you remained there, suffering, and I couldn´t help you? Helpless, Russandol, that´s how I felt. I thought I was losing you and Ereinion too. I´m not going to allow that, not anymore.”

“You can´t sent me away now!!” Maedhros understood his feelings, but he was also enraged. He wasn´t some fragile damsel or tiny elfling to be protected, he was a warrior. “I´m the General of this Alliance!!! My duty is to remain here with my men!! Seeing this to the end!! And what about the meeting with the leaders of the free people?!! You need me there!!”

“One of your brother could represent…”

“I won´t leave!! I´m going to be there and…”

“Russo, it´s decided. Don´t make it more difficult, just prepare to…”

“I´m not leaving and you can´t force me” Maedhros got up, not caring that the Silmarils rolled on the bed or fell to the floor. Maglor grabbed them, holding both stones to his chest as he saw the two fighting.

“Nelyo, I think…”

“I´m FINE” the redhead stated, glaring at all the present. Including the sickly looking Celegorm. “I´m not leaving and that´s final.”

He exited the tent in that moment, not caring that he was not wearing armor. He was in the middle of his own damn military camp, he won´t be attacked any time soon. As he wandered around, giving some instructions as he passed. After a few hours, the General started to feel tired and even more hungry. As he searched for the place where the food was distributed, his eyes fell on a tiny figure that was near one of the tents. It looked so out of place there, with his bare feet and completely devoid of armor… it was unbelievable that they owe their success in the war partially to him, Yavanna´s gift…

“Ah, master Took” he saluted the hobbit, who jumped a bit in surprise. “I thought that you would already be on your way home.”

“I had hoped for that, but my guide seems to be busy with something else” the small mortal smiled. “I don´t mind, really, it has given me time to explore this nice camp. I even have a chat with some nice dwarves about genealogy… do you know that dwarves tell histories in their braids? Even of entire families. I wanted to study that art more, we hobbits are enthusiastic about family histories…”

“I´m glad you are enjoying your stay here” Maedhros smiled at him truthfully. “Have you eaten yet? I had just sent for some food, but I´m not in the mood to return to my tent…”

“We hobbits are always eager to accept an invitation to eat. Lead the way”

The General guided the hobbit towards the tent that was serving as a dinning hall. It was empty at that time of the day, giving them privacy to speak as they eat. Maitimo also managed to arrive there just as his husband´s valet entered with a tray of food and a frown. He gave him the tray without much fight, but the elf decided to remain there to guard him. As Maedhros put small bits of meat in his mouth, he listened to Pallando as he told him old family anecdotes. His anger had almost disappeared when suddenly the hobbit said something that gave him pause.

“You know that other hobbits say we Tooks are weird?”

“Yes?” Maedhros asked, leaving his knife to the side for a moment. “Why?”

“Well, there is a rumor that says that one of our ancestors married a fairy. That he had a child with her and that the fairy left to her own land with their son, only returning him to our people when he was of age.”

“And it´s true?”

“The part of the marriage not, but the other…” he snickered. “You are not the first tall kin we have encountered. According to our histories, the first hobbit to see one of you was Isumbras Took when he and his father were travelling. They were ambushed by a band of orcs, then rescued by a golden haired warrior wearing a orange sun in his clothing.”

“Orange… Finrod?” Maedhros eyes went wide. He knew that Finrod was the first elf to interact with Men, but with hobbits too? “Finrod spent time with your people?”

“According to our family´s history, not much” Pallando answered. “He took little Isumbras from his father´s corpse and took care of him until he was an adult. Practically raised him as his own son… in fact, his son visits our home from time to time in secret to see if we are fine, even if Isumbras has been dead for a long time.”

“Gildor”

“Yes, he visits… and that´s why I was not scared of you.”

“You didn´t seem so calm either”

“Well, no one would in the middle of a war. I haven´t seen a war in all my life!!” the hobbit answered, moving his arms. “And afraid of offending the wrong person and ending up in a cell somewhere… I have never seen royalty face to face!!”

“You did really well for someone that hasn´t interacted with a king before” besides, Pallando talking some sense into their thick heads was just what they needed to finally win this war. “Master Took, I haven´t had the opportunity to thank you for all you did. Really, you helped us a lot to win the war.”

“I don´t remember having done much…”

“Maybe you don´t remember, but you did.”

“You are welcomed then, master elf” the creature focused completely on Maedhros then. “Maybe it´s not of my business, but you look a bit pale. Have you been sleeping well?”

“No, but… I can´t say many are so close to Angband” he answered, thinking about his nightmare. “Nothing to be worried about.”

“Is someone worrying about that?”

“My… husband and brothers” Maedhros finally conceded. “The air coming from Angband affected me while I was sleeping. I had a nightmare and… they are acting overprotective now” he frowned. It was an overly simplified version of the tale, but he wasn´t in the mood to give more details. “They want me to leave for Barad Eithel.”

“And they have sound reasons to want that?”

“I… well, maybe” his hand instinctively went to where Ereinion was. He knew that he was being selfish and more than a bit stubborn, but he could take care of himself. And he refused to abandon his troops while there was still work to do. He needed to finish this. “It´s just that there is so much to do in here.”

“And are there not more people to do it for you if you leave?” the hobbit continued. “I´m not trying to tell you what to do, but if your family is worried about you and they have motives, maybe you should listen to them. After all, who is going to watch your back and see for your best interests but your family?”

“Like I said, there is still so much to do and also there is an important meeting coming soon…”

“And, like I said, there is people that could be in there for you. Your brothers and husband… do you really think they wouldn´t watch for your best interests?” yes, they would. “From what I have been able to see, you have been fighting for a long time. You deserve some rest to take care of yourself.”

“There are people who had been fighting for longer time.”

“Really? Because I think you haven´t stop fighting for much more.”

This hobbit… he certainly had something of Finrod in him. That insightful mind was just like his cousin. Being sincere, he was tired. So, so tired. Fingon, Turgon and all of the others had some peace in Middle Earth and in Valinor before they were thrown into this. What had him and his brothers have? Fight, war, death, the Halls of Mandos where they were reminded of their crimes until they nearly turn insane and then the Void. They all deserved a bit of peace after all of that… but why should he get it if the others didn´t? Only because he was going to have a baby? He remembered the nightmare in that moment, how scared he felt that something could happen to Ereinion… perhaps leaving was not such a bad idea. Getting some rest, prepare for his son´s arrival before the first symptoms of his sickness start to show… but his brothers also deserved some rest. What to do?

“Nelyo, can we talk?” Caranthir showed up in that moment. The hobbit mumbled something about going to find the dwarves and left. “Kanno said that you didn´t take the news about your hastened departure really well.”

“I´m not leaving, Moryo. There is no way I´m leaving you alone in…”

“You are” the Dark stated, firm. As if he was talking to a child.

“Moryo…”

“Every second that you remain here, we worry about you” he stated to his older brother, whose eyes widened. “Want it or not, you are vulnerable. You could fall into sleep and never wake up again or…” he sighed. “We also talked to the healers. Madirion said that it would be better for you to stay away from Angband. With the wind carrying who knows what from there, you can have a number of adverse reactions because of your captivity that might affect your son… they also say that it could make your pregnancy sickness worse…”

“Moryo…”

“We are worried about you, Nelyo, don´t want to lose you because you were too stubborn to realize that remaining is a bad idea” Caranthir continued. “You don´t even need to worry about that meeting Fingon said you wanted to attend, I can take care of it. I won´t let them screw us up, you know that I always…”

“I never put your negotiation skills into doubt, Moryo” Maedhros stopped him. “I only… have the need to be here because… I want to fulfil my role. I would be a very poor General if I leave now, even if the battle is already over.”

“You would be an even poorer father if you risked your child like that. And I know that you are not” this stopped the redhead. “Atar raised us better than that.”

“He went mad”

“He was a very good father until that. He put us over everything else until…” Caranthir looked away. “What I want to say is that…”

“I think I get it” Maitimo sighed. “Alright, I will leave. But first…” it was now or never. “I need to speak to all of you. It´s about something that we all should have known for a long time. Perhaps… it will make some things clear.”

“Nelyo…”

“Only a chat, that´s all. Then I will prepare to travel to Barad Eithel as you and Fingon want”

“Fine” Caranthir got up. “Give me a few hours to gather all the brood in my tent so we can talk about whatever you want. Fingon too, I suppose?”

“Yes, and… all the others too” it was better if they knew too. “Orodreth, Turgon… Gwindor maybe. He would be able to shed some light on the matter too.”

“Whatever” Moryo got up from his seat. “I will have them gathered at the tent in a few hours, so please…”

“Atar!!” Silma suddenly entered the dinning tent with a scared face. “Uncle Kanno has disappeared from the camp!! And he took one of the Silmarils with him!!”

Maedhros and Caranthir rushed to their brother´s tent, finding it empty as the peredhel had said. The Dark grabbed the Silmaril before exiting, joining his brother in searching for the missing minstrel. All the soldiers pointed them in the same direction. Angband. But why would Maglor go there? And through the front entrance… what was he expecting to achieve? Anyway, they needed to retrieve him before he got hurt or worse.

-A few minutes earlier-

Maglor went out of Fingon´s tent with the Silmarils, the voices he kept hearing in his mind stronger but calmer. The one voice was also a little bit happier than usual, his tone different than the usual nostalgic tune he was used to. Normally he would try to ignore this, telling himself he was only making this up, that this was only in his very sick mind… but as this was progressing he was starting to believe that it was not. That something else was happening there. His theory was supported by facts. For once, the silver haired elf that kept appearing in his and his brother´s dreams, the one that sang with the voice of his so-called hallucination. Besides… that song he used with the Balrogs. He shouldn´t have known it. Iron Hells, he shouldn´t even be able to sing in such an old form of quenya… it was all very weird and he needed to know what was truly happening. So he did the only thing that came to his mind. Maglor laid in his bed with his father´s Silmarils and closed his eyes. He opened them in the same lake as before, the lights in the sky. And the same elf in front of him.

“Who are you?” he asked the elf. “What is your name?”

The elf pointed to the sky, to the lights. Perhaps his name had something to do with the dancing lights that illuminated everything in a green and lilac color.

“What happened to you? Why are you helping us? Or… why did you follow me?”

Whoever it was, he seemed to want to answer those questions, but was unable to. Instead, he seemed to pull Maglor into his mind. Osanwë? He wasn´t sure. The Minstrel could see… a village in the snow. A nís with silver hair dancing under the green sky. Morgoth wielding Grond and shattering a mountain, debris and snow falling upon the village full of elves. Him and her, trying not let of each other´s hands as the snow dragged them away from their home. Him and her escaping, her belly growing with life. Parties of orcs following them… his lips on her head as he kissed her and his hand caressing her belly… before he tossed her into the cold water of a river, a rushing river that carried her away. He turned around and faced an entire battalion of orcs that had caught up to them. His voice was in tatters, but he could still sing. And he had a sword. He would take as many of them as he could before falling…

He was captured and dragged to the Enemy´s throne. He was in Angband at the moment, not Utumno, so there was where he was kept prisoner. A cage suspended from the dark ceiling, where he withered bit by bit… the only contact with the exterior was when he let his fëa wander… years and years… and he saw him. A silver haired young elf that cut the necks of those that were taken to the Hearts of Taint, that didn´t lose hope, that led a revolt… using the last of his life, he sang a last song and broke the walls of Angband… a sword was thrown and it nicked Morgoth´s face… a face full of challenge to the Dark Vala was the last he saw before his last breath exited his throat… but Morgoth was crueler than he thought. He turned his corpse into the prison of his fëa and he couldn´t leave… he couldn´t follow the path… he couldn´t be free to see them again…

“You want to be free” Maglor´s eyes opened as he said those words. He grabbed one of the Silmarils and held it to his chest. “You freed our ancestors from Angband and protected me in my wanderings… you must have been a very powerful singer in life.”

He could hear a song, like a caress near him.

“I know what to do now.”

Chapter Text

“We need to go after him, there is no other choice”

Maedhros wasn´t about to contradict his brother. Maglor had gone alone, a stupid move on his part, and with a Silmaril. A lot of things could happen to him, things he wouldn´t wish inflicted on his worst enemy (perhaps in Morgoth´s and Sauron´s case he did), much less on his little brother. They would lose him… he didn´t want to lose another sibling. No, he didn´t want to lose another member of the family.

“Yes, we do”

“You are not going anywhere near that place!!” at least ten voices in the tent yelled at the same time. The General raised his hands in defeat, as he faced the daring eyes of not only his brothers and their offspring, but his husband and brother-in-law.

“It´s not that…”

“I mean it” Fingon said. “I don´t care if I have to tie you up to a chair in our tent and put a guard around it to make sure you don´t escape, I won´t let you go anywhere near that place ever again.”

“I was going to offer to draw a map like I did for the search teams”

“We already have copies of that map” Caranthir continued glaring at him. It hurt, not to be believed in by his own brother, but he had given him enough reasons. “And Nella is going to come with us. If someone knows how to move inside Angband, it´s her. So you don´t need to worry about us.”

“I still…” Maedhros stopped talking. “You are right, I will stay in my tent.”

“Then you won´t mind if I send Runawë your way to keep you company and protect you while we are away, no?”

“Shouldn´t he go with you? He is one of my best warriors”

“He is more needed protecting you” from your own stupidity, Moryo didn´t add.

The oldest Feanorion didn´t like it, but he accepted the guard that was imposed on him. Runawë was someone who knew them from early childhood, he had been Fëanáro´s sworn sword since he was young, as trustworthy as you could get. Even in the height of his paranoia, their father never doubted Runawë´s loyalty… or his skill. But he would also prevent Maitimo from doing anything stupid and running into Angband to help his brothers while pregnant definitely felt into the definition of stupid. So he would be trapped in the camp, happened what happened, unable to help.

“Hey, don´t look so down, we are going to be alright” Amras said as he fastened his sword belt around his hip. “Or do you doubt our skill?”

“Never” he smiled at both the twins. “I´m proud of all of you and know that you can handle your own.”

“So there is nothing for you to worry about”

There was much to worry about according to Maedhros. They had died once on his watch, all of them except for Maglor, despite him thinking that they could handle themselves. He didn´t want to lose them again now that everything seemed to be finally fixing itself… but also knew that it was a bad idea for him to accompany them. So he accepted to remain behind, Runawë´s protection and departed for the royal tent as his brothers disappeared into Angband and Fingon remained on the frontlines to prepare if something chased the Sons of Fëanor on their way out. When he arrived, the valet was already there… preparing a big, unnecessary banquet. He shook his head, this would kept the camp feed for an entire day. And he still haven´t reached that point in the pregnancy where he needed to eat more.

“Surely Fingon couldn´t expect me to eat all of this” he said as he grabbed a glass of water, settling down on a nearby chair as his silent companion took stance near the entrance. After a long moment of silence, he decided to rant to feel less upset. “And he is being overprotective. I´m not going to get that sick…”

“I certainly doubt it, my prince” Maitimo was surprised. It was the first time he had heard Runawë talk while he was on duty. Or to contradict any of them. “If you are anything like Míriel, then you are going to need all the care your King can provide.”

“You… you knew haruni Míriel?”

“Your father never told you? She and I were childhood friends” what? This was first notice. And the way he talked about her… had Runawë ever been… “She was… an annoying little girl that never left me alone, kind of like the little sister that I never asked to have” he exhaled in deep annoyance at the memory, then he turned melancholic. “But she was the only person that could get me out of my shell, to make me laugh… to feel happy besides my father, so I… cherished her. And her family was always good to me, so… I was loyal to them.”

“I thought you were part of the royal guard”

“I was, but I entered only so I could protect her. My loyalty was and will always be to her family. That´s why, when she died, I promised to protect her son. And her descendants.”

“Did you love her?”

“Like a sister, yes. She was too annoying to be something else... and I prefer males, if you need to know” Runawë answered. It sounded truthful. “Míriel was definitely a better Queen than the Vanya woman. I don´t know how people could think otherwise.”

Maedhros should have expected something like that from his guard. He knew the nér was close to Fëanor, had been his sworn sword since early childhood, so some of his dislike for Indis must have transferred to him. Also he had just confessed that he used to be very close to Míriel, so… to the knight, Finwë remarrying must have felt as if he was replacing his sister for another woman. As a brother, Maedhros knew he would have been upset… wouldn´t blame him if he outright hated the couple. But…

“Something is happening” a servant poked his head inside.

“What?! What is happening?!”

“You should see it yourself”

The redhead practically ran outside of the tent, with Runawë following him close as to stop him if he tried to ran into Angband. Also to jump into action if it was needed. But there was no need or at least they didn´t thought there was. Why? Because… a strange light was coming from inside of Iron Hells, illuminating the place. A light that shone in different tones of green and purple and…

“It´s beautiful” he commented, not able to stop himself.

Beautiful? Yes. Strange? Even more. Angband was supposed to be devoid of light except for the Silmarils. Where had this come from? Then he remembered that this was not the first time he was seeing this. No, this same light had been present in his dreams, when he talked with the mysterious elf. How had it appeared in reality? In Angband of all places? He didn´t have time to dwell on that, because his brothers rushed out of the pit in that moment. All of them. He let out a breath of relief.

“I´m so happy to you all fine!!” he said as he embraced an uncomfortable looking Caranthir. Then turned to Maglor. “Kanno, what were you thinking?! Going into that place, all by yourself and armed only with a Silmaril… what in the Iron Hells, Kanno?!”

“I needed to go for something” he said, showing him his cloak. He was using it to carry something, almost like a pouch.

“What is that?” he asked, confused. The pouch opened and revealed what it contained. It only became more macabre… and confusing. “Is that a…”

-Earlier-

“Of all the fucking stupid things one could do… I expected this from Nelyo, not from Kanno… No, even Nelyo isn´t that stupid” Caranthir muttered as he secured the Silmaril in the improvised setting Curufin and Tyelpe managed to make. “When I find him, whatever he finds inside of that pit is going to be the last of his problems!!”

“Who do you think you are, Moryo? Atar?” Curvo asked, crossing his arms over his armor. “You are a bit too young for that, no?”

“Says the one who had a child before two hundred” he answered, then sighed. “If you haven´t noticed, atar is not here. Nelyo, the one usually in charge of mothering you all, is busy with his own child, Kanno is being fucking imprudent right now and you can never trust Tyelko to…”

“Trust me for what?” Celegorm entered the tent in his own armor.

“Oh, no. You are not coming with us” the blond returned him a glare. “Seriously, Turko, you haven´t even completely recovered from your little incursion into the bowels of angband with your children entirely. You are not going in there.”

“Well, you are not my boss. You are not even my older brother, so I don´t have to listen to you at all.” he picked a few arrows from a nearby table. “I´m going, end of the history.”

“Great, another one” Caranthir shook his head. He wasn´t going to be able to dissuade that idiotic brother of his, no? “Put something around your nose and mouth, it will protect you at least a little bit against the air.”

“Got it”

All of them reunited in the entrance, ready for the incursion. They were a small group, like the patrols they had sent to recover the captives earlier, as it wasn´t part of the plan to go too deep… at least they prayed that Kanno hadn´t decided to go too deep alone. According to Nella, there was a great congregation of orcs in the deeper part, near to where the Hearts of Taint laid. And it would be nearly impossible for them to breath safely there. Moryo hoped that they didn´t have to go too close to there or that the orcs didn´t decide to emerge and ambush their small group. It certainly didn´t make a great history to have survived the Nirnaeth Arnoediad and die as orc food in a pit.

“This place is nauseating” Amras commented as they got deeper. “I can´t believe someone can survive in here.”

“We should be grateful that they can” Caranthir snapped back. “All of us”

“Yes” Celegorm said as he prepared his bow for something. He made a hand gesture that the twins seemed to catch on it fast and pointed at the place he was signaling. The many years on the Hunt were certainly showing in that moment. “Ready.”

Moryo grabbed the Silmaril to point the light towards the place, Tyelko put away his bow to grab his knife. The light of the gem revealed a door. The blond moved and opened it, ready to stab whatever that was behind it… it was an elf. A dishelmed, pale, barely clothed elf with purple bruises and leash marks all over his back. The mysterious elf was barely conscious, his eyes closing more and more each second. Tyelkormo kept his knife, just in case, and pulled the elf towards their small group. He didn´t look in conditions to attack anyone, but you never know.

“Hey, are you alright?” Amras asked as soon as their new guest was in the middle of the group. “Are you hurt anywhere? I mean… recently? Here, have some water.”

“Hummm” the elf groaned as the water skin was pressed to his lips. As soon as the first drops of water fell on his lips, he started sucking it as if his life depended on it. And perhaps it did. He seemed more conscious now. Also surprised to see elves in armor… he didn´t seem to have seem many of those in a long time. His eyes locked on Celegorm as soon as he managed to see him. “Va… Varilëedur?”

“Easy there, there is more from where it came from.” Amrod stopped him from trying to get up. The elf continue trying, only stopped by how weak he was.

“Varilëedur? How… Have you come back for us? I… I am sorry… sorry for making you come back… I just… I didn´t have the courage… I was so scared… I´m sorry… I was too scared of what could fall onto me to escape with you guys…”

“What do you mean?” the Hunter asked him, but was quickly put away by Caranthir.

“Hey, where do you come from?”

“From… from dungeons… through that way” he pointed. There were dungeons that way? Nelyo haven´t told them. Neither did any of the captives. Or perhaps he didn´t know, this place was a maze. “I… I managed to… get through the bars… skinny enough” he coughed. “I wanted to be brave… for once in my life… and they were scared… the orcs are in a disarray… something has their hackles raised… many think that we are going to get eaten… I hid when I heard someone coming… didn´t think I would find elves.”

“We won´t allow that” Celegorm intervened again. The elf seemed a bit more reassured, his eyes tracked the blond wherever he went. “We are going to get you out of here, your friends too, but… first you have to tell us, did you see someone walking somewhere while you were hiding? An elf?”

“I… perhaps I did?” he answered, not sure. “He went… it think he was going to the Throne Room, but…” he laughed a bit. “Your lover out to do something dangerous again, Vari? Not surprising. For a genius, he can he quite reckless sometimes.”

“Ewww” the blond said. “Who would want to do Kanno?”

Caranthir didn´t respond, his mind was working fast as he ordered Elenammë and Cenda to go outside with Luhte and the mysterious elf and alert a patrol to interrogate him on the location of the other captives. He didn´t like it at all, to shrink their little group even more and dispense of one Valarindi, but the captive would only slow them down. They also couldn´t leave him behind, it wouldn´t be fair. And he couldn´t be there if they leave him there until they find Kanno. As Luhte went away with two of his children, promising to return as soon as they were safely out of Angband, Nella escorted them to the Throne Room. The difficulties to breath didn´t even have to be waited. At least in the ones that didn´t held a Silmaril… or the Valarindi.

“This way” she pointed the way as Moryo passed the gem towards Amras, who started to breath better. Whatever the gem was made of, it worked wonders against Angband. “Can you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Someone is singing” Singing? That sounds like Maglor. “And it´s… a little bit confusing. The singing is in a disarray. Many voices… all in jigsaw. I can´t even tell which melody they were originally singing. Or melodies” she frowned. “It comes from that way too. I think… it´s the Silmarils.”

“Can you tell from where the other song is coming?”

“Songs and… I think we are on the right way”

As they got closer to the Throne Room, the sensation of asphyxia because worse. Even Nella seemed to be affected. Caranthir understood then. It was the same sensation as when someone walked into one of those Hearts of Taint. Finally, they reached Morgoth´s Throne. All they could see was the Throne, baffing that fear sensation everywhere… and a tiny light in one corner of the room. Following it, they found Kanno. He was hitting something with the Silmaril, trying to bring it down.

“Kanno!!” he run towards his brother. This one turned in the middle of one strike. “Kanno, what are you doing?! Quickly, we have to get out of here before…”

“I can´t, Moryo. Can´t leave him here” Maglor turned to deliver another hit to whatever metallic object he was trying to break.

“Leave who here, Makalaurë? You are halluci…”

Another hit interrupted him, followed by the sound of a chain giving up and something big, heavy falling from the ceiling. Moryo cursed, if that didn´t alert all the orcs in Angband, he didn´t know what will. His brother didn´t seem bothered by that, leaving his side to run towards the breck. It looked like a chandelier had fallen… why would Morgoth need a chandelier? Then he noticed the bars and realized that it wasn´t a chandelier. It was cage. Like the ones their step-grandmother used for her priced birds. Kanno climbed it until he managed to reach the door, using the Silmaril to break the lock. Then entered before Caranthir could do anything to stop him.

“Dammit, Kanno, we have to…”

“I´m going!!” the Minstrel said, exiting the cage and dragging behind him something. It was… the most gruesome souvenir Moryo had ever seen. “I finally have it.”

“It´s that a mummy?”

“Something like that” his brother answered, smiling. “We can go now.”

“Good, after the scandal you made!!”

“Duck!!”

Celegorm´s voice made them turn in time for Caranthir to throw himself over Maglor, making them both and the corpse fall down the cage. They rolled down it and landed near their brothers, who helped them get up. Where they have been standing were black arrows. Orcs. Orcs were near. They saw them arrive through an entrance shadowed by the gigantic Throne in the center of the Room. Ambarussa helped him up as Maglor scrambled to grab his macabre souvenir, unarmed as he was. The small Feanorian party answered the fire with more arrows. They were so focused on the shooting that they didn´t notice when Maglor grabbed the other Silmaril from Amras.

“Come on” the musician whispered, putting both gems over the mummy´s chest. “You helped us in our darkest moments in these shores, you watched over me when I was at my lowest and most vulnerable, please, watch over us again… get us out of here alive so we can give you the burial you deserve.”

“Kanno!! We could use a song of power here!!”

“Kanno!!”

“PLEASE!!!”

Caranthir pulled out his sword at the same time as his sons, ready for close battle as the orcs were coming near and the arrows started to become scarce. He bit his lip, ready for a bloody battle between them and a full squadron of orcs… until the room was lit by a light as mysterious as it was strong. It was like a miracle, light in the darkest place in all Arda, purging all the evil. It was also sort of familiar, as he remembered seeing this light before. In his dreams, but only there. He turned to Maglor, expecting to see him singing, but his mouth was shut, curled into an expression of triumph. The two Silmarils were on the dead elf´s chest, a dead elf that was somehow emitting a song. The closest orcs screamed and trampled over each other, stampeding to escape the light. It was as if it… hurt them physically or something. Those that were trapped behind were caught by it, then screamed and trashed until they were still… dead perhaps.

“And you said I was hallucinating” the minstrel said, smirking.

“Well… could have been mistaken” he offered a hand to his brother to help him up. Maglor returned the Silmaril to Amras and then passed his own to Amrod. “Alright, let´s prepare to leave.”

“I won´t leave him here”

“For Eru´s… fine” the Dark took off his cloak and passed it to Makalaurë. This one put the corpse on it and used it as a pouch to transport it. “Alright, let´s go!!”

“Right away”

As Tyelko and the Ambarussa helped Maglor and his passenger leave the place, Caranthir made a sign for his firstborn and own set of twins to grab an orc´s body. It wasn´t what he would see as a good trophy, but he wanted to know why that light killed those orcs. It might be helpful in the future. As he and his sons walked behind his brothers, he looked behind all the time. The light persisted and the pathways, at least those of the first level, seemed safe for now. It was also easier to breath. They crossed a patrol on the way out, they seemed to be taking advantage of the miracle to take the captives out. Lucky elf, the one they first encountered. He will reunite with his friends soon.

Nelyo came to their encounter once they were outside, surprised to see the spectacle that accompanied them out and even more of the surprise Makalaurë was carrying with himself. After calming him down, they all went on separate ways. Caranthir and his sons went to where the corps have their camp, straight to where their own eccentric healer had his small tent. Or more like their Coroner.

“Ah, Lord Caranthir, I wasn´t expecting you. Tell me, has someone…”

“Explain this” he ordered Faithor as Silma, Isilme and Lanya dropped the orc corpse on the nér´s autopsy table. As he watched the elf with the body, he reminded himself that the reason they employed this elf was not his talent to heal, but his knowledge of death. They needed to learn what killed fast and he could tell them what worked better. Simple as that.

“Where did you get this? The Hellcaraxë?”

“Why would you think that? He burned, those are obviously burns”

“Correct, but not entirely true” he showed them the burns. “Can you see there? These burns are frostbite burns. The last time I saw burns like this, it was from people that had just crossed the Helcaraxë and were affected by it´s low temperatures…”

“So… these orcs freeze to death?” Caranthir asked, not understanding. “Angband is hot, how could they have frozen inside it?” Faithor shrugged. “We were but mere meters from them, how could they have frozen and us not? This doesn´t make any sense.”

“You have as much idea as me, my lord. But… perhaps you can ask your brother. It looks like the work of a powerful songsmaster. And, according to someone from the cavalry, your brother froze the Balrogs in battle. It saved the High King´s and your own nephews´ lives a few days ago.”

“I will…”

“Lord Caranthir!! You need to see this!!”

“Now what?”

He got out of the tent, following whoever was calling him. The elf in question guided him outside of the camp, where Maglor was accumulating dry wood, making a big pyre. In the center, the mummy he had rescued from Angband sat. Was he going to burn that thing down after working so hard to save it. It looked like it, because he was working hard on it.

“What do you think you are doing?” he asked, interrupting his brother. Maglor looked at him before throwing more wood into the pyre.

“Morgoth turned his body into his prison, didn´t let him go on to whatever place he should have gone… his corpse needs to be destroyed for him to move on” the Minstrel tried to explain, not managing to make the other understand. “I need to do this, Moryo, he deserves to have a burial.”

“Why are you doing this, Kanno?” Caranthir asked, putting an arm around his brother. “Why are you doing all of this for a stranger that died so long ago? Someone you have never met?”

“You… you wouldn´t understand… you don´t actually believe me, don´t actually hear it like me… but he has been taking care of us, Moryo” he answered. “He took care of me while I didn´t know what was real and what was not, he… he made sure we got out of Angband alive and… he also helped me save Fingon´s life… it was all him, Moryo, not me.”

“Kanno, are you sure you aren´t just hallucinating again?”

“No, Moryo” the minstrel shook his head. “Besides… we owe more than we could believe to him. He… he used his last breath to take down the Walls of Angband… I still don´t know how, but it´s… it´s connected to us somehow and…”

“I think I know how, that´s why I wanted to talk to you” Maedhros said, suddenly arriving with the rest of their brothers. “But before… I think you should finish what you were doing… Whatever it is.”

“Are you planning to burn it? Because I´m always eager to burn things” Celegorm said, putting his grain of sand. “Here, I brought some torches.”

“And I some oil” Curufin showed him an urn. “You know, like what we did to those ships at Losgann. Only… you know, no one would be escaping on last minute. And no one would be prejudiced by us burning that ugly mummy.”

Maglor smiled at them, grateful for his brothers´ support. Caranthir shook his head, but went along with it. If Kanno wanted to believe that dried corpse had something to do with their victory and it helped him during his break from reality, then who was him to say otherwise? Perhaps once that thing had burned, his brother could actually recover his life. Besides, like Curufin said, they all enjoyed burning things and no one would miss that thing if it disappeared between flames. Definitely not like the ships. So he helped pour the oil and took a step back as Celegorm and Ambarussa threw the torches at it. They all stared solemnly at it as the corpse was consumed by the flames. What he, or any of his brothers didn´t expect, was the image of the silver haired elf from their dreams to appear in the middle of the flames.

“Just what…” Moryo managed to say.

“Thank you” they all heard the elf´s voice just before he disappeared. The seven of them stood there for a moment, trying to decide if what they saw was real.
“I can´t hear him anymore, he is gone” Maglor finally broke the silence. “He has moved on.”

“Moved on to where?” Maedhros asked. Makalaurë simply shrugged, playing with something on his fingers. “What do you have in there, Kanno?”

“This? It was on the corpse. On it´s hair, to be specific” he showed them a band of white fabric he had in his hands. In both ends it had a crudely cut gem attached somehow with metal filaments. “I heard some voices come from both ends… songs… so I decided to take it.”

“You stole form a corpse? Really, Kanno?” Celegorm said, half in joke.

“I just thought… it would be good to have something to remember him for. I felt safe while I had him taking care of me, so… I took it.”

“Let me see” Curufin asked, extending his hand. Maglor put the piece on the palm. He examined it with critical eyes for a few seconds, probably lamenting the terribly cut like any good jeweler would. “Humm, red citrine. Highly unusual, but with good properties to store memories, even songs of power, if you apply the correct songs.”

“It´s citrine? I thought citrine was red or yellow” Maedhros said, also examining it.

“Most of the times it is, but in some zones, the tone of it changes and the citrine extracted from the earth is red. It imitates the pattern of a flame… Atar used to love red citrine, it was his favorite jewel” the smith sounded dreamy. “That´s how I knew of it, most of the smiths back in Tirion didn´t work with red citrine, didn´t… consider it beautiful or something like that. Red citrine was… Atar´s signature or something like that, even with the things he could achieve with other jewels. Our mother´s wedding ring was also made with red citrine…”

“I miss them too, both of them” Maitimo said what they all were thinking, despite everything. Eru, they all should hate Fëanor because of what he did to them all, but… he used to be a good father and they missed him as he was before. And Nerdanel even more. “You said that father liked working with red citrine? I never noticed.”

“Well, you never spent much time in his forge like Tyelpe and I did” he smiled. “You know, despite all the time among smiths, I never managed to find out what they had against such a beautiful gem. Apart from atar, only me and haru worked with it. It was strange.”

“Yeah” Maedhros answered, looking guilty. Caranthir looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“Something to share with us, Nelyo?”

“Yes and… I will. I only… need the rest of the family here” the redhead put a hand over his shoulder. “How about you all rest for a bit and then reconvene at Fingon´s and mine´s tent in the afternoon. There is something that we need to talk about and… you are not going to like it one bit.”

“Fine” Moryo answered. “We will talk about this later. But you are going to tell us everything, alright?”

“Promised” the redhead then looked back to where the pyre was still burning. “You think this will be the last time we see or hear him?”

“Something tells me that we will cross paths with him again” Maglor answered. “Who knows, he might we as though as we are.”

-In the Halls of Mandos-

“Your usually didn´t receive your guests in person” Vairë said as she accompanied her husband to the place where new fëas came to the Halls. “What changed?”

“Not all souls are as ancient as this particular one is. Or are so filled with rage” Námo answered as he joined hands with his wife. “In fact, I only know one that might be similar to him in that issue.” He sighed. “Which is why I will need your help.”

“My help?”

“I want you to introduce him to one of your broideresses, you know who” the Weaver was surprised. Mandos wanted to keep that soul away from Fëanor… introducing him to his mother? What kind of reasoning was it? Then the fëa was brought by some very nervous maiar “Welcome to…”

“Whatever, just let me out. There are some things that I have take care of, some people to help and some others to tell a piece of my mind… or rip their throats out.”

“You are not ready, you need to heal” Námo crossed his arms. “Besides, I refuse to let out someone who is a serious threat to others.”

“A serious threat?” he raised an eyebrow. “Normally I´m a very nice guy, but you fucking let me hanging in Angband as Morgoth´s fucking chandelier for millennia while you had your dream life here, so forgive me if I take a page out of my wife´s book and decide to FREAKING YELL AT YOU OR RIP SOMEONE´S ORGANS OUT!!”

Woow, someone had an attitude. And somehow, Vairë couldn´t blame him for that. Specially not when she saw where the new guest in her husband´s Halls soul connections ended. Humm, so this was why Námo asked for her help, eh? Because, what was he going to do? Putting that ancient, raging menace with Fëanor? Put those two together for ten seconds and they would be plotting the end of the Valar if not taking control of Aman itself. And with the kind of power this elf had as a songsmaster, they could achieve it.

“Can you come with me?” he called for her broideress. This one left her work and walked into the Halls of Mandos to see what was going on. As they approached, they saw a few maiar running with frostbitten extremities and scared faces. Someone really had an attitude, eh? It certainly ran in the family. “There is someone you need to meet.”

“Who?” she asked, a bit scared. Then Vairë took him into the cell in which Námo had housed his new guest. A cell far, far away from Fëanor, apparently. Her eyes widened when she was faced with the nér, who looked at her suspiciously.

“Who are you?” he asked. The Weaver assessed the damage around her. Humm, impressive. An elf shouldn´t had the kind of power to destroy so much. Unless… “If you want to convince me that staying…” the words got caught in his throat when she approached. He looked… shocked. “Who are you?”

“I think the new one should give his name first.”

“Formenkal, my name is Formenkal, like the lights of the North.” He took her hand, sounding as if he would have cried if he could. “And you?”

“Míriel… Míriel Þerindë. A pleasure.”

Chapter Text

Fingon was fixing everything inside his tent, hoping not to feel too lonely now that his Russo was going to Barad Eithel with the injured. He still didn´t like that, of course, but the redhead finally accepted that his condition didn´t allow for him to remain in a battlefield anymore. The winds of Angband hadn´t relaxed in the least, in fact, it was getting stronger with each Heart of Taint the Feanorians free of captives. It had been Caranthir´s turn that morning before the planned family meeting and he was still queasy. If only they could rescue those poor souls without adding to their wind problem…

“The caravans are ready. Both of them are” Maedhros said as he entered the tent, still clad in his armor. He was also pale, as if he hadn´t slept for day… likely so. “They will depart at first light for both Barad Eithel and Amon Ereb.”

“Russo…” Findékanno gave him an unamused look, crossing his arms over his chest. They had talked about this already, no?

“Easy, I´m going to” the redhead lifted his arms in defeat. “I promised I will go to Barad Eithel, no? I will depart with the caravan while you stay to keep everything in order. But… are you sure you will manage?”

“Your brothers are here if I screw up, so don´t worry yourself about it. Whatever I break, Moryo or Kanno will put it back together” the High King smirked. “You should sleep a bit while the wind is blowing in a different direction, you are starting to look like your father when he had one of those freakish creative sparks…”

“Course not!!” Maitimo said, offended. “Besides… I have something to talk to all of you about later. Didn´t Caranthir send you an invitation for the event?”

“I don´t know what you are talking about.”

“That means no” he sighed. “I hope he doesn´t pass Orodreth and Gwindor either, because they…” the redhead shook his head, putting on an amused expression. “Anyway, we should get going. Moryo doesn´t like when we arrive late to the meetings he scheduled, even when I am the one that asked for it.”

“That brother of yours… almost as annoying as mine own”

“Please, no one could be as annoying as Turgon. Not even Tyelko.”

“I said almost”

The two of them walked hand in hand to the tent where the rest of the family was waiting for them. Findékanno was not fooled by his husband´s cheerful attitude, he knew that Maedhros was feeling nervous inside. About what? He wasn´t sure. The High King had noticed that there was something that was weighing down on his Russandol´s mind lately, but he couldn´t even think about what it was or why it would need to be explained to the whole family. But if his husband deemed it necessary, who was he to deny him? Specially when he was doing what Fingon said for the first time since the beginning of their marriage and was in a delicate condition.

They finally arrived to the place, finding everyone already in attendance. Caranthir seemed to preside over the whole event, sitting on the furthest chair in his usual black attire, the only color he had ever worn since the death of Haleth. Despite his attempts, he looked deathly pale too, and almost ready to fall to the ground. On both his sides were the Ambarussa, wearing their armors, ready to catch their brother if he were to fall from the chair. His children also looked worried, even Elenammë, sitting next from the twins. Celegorm and Curufin were next on Amrod´s side, with Tyelpe and Maeglin next to Curufin. Probably they decided to be there to do damage control when either Tyelko or Curvo inevitably exploded. The Valarindi were nowhere to be seen, but they were already on the known and very busy with the captives, besides, they already knew, so they were probably more needed on another part. Maglor was next, playing with his hands almost as if he was counting… perhaps he was composing? On the other side, by Amras, were Turgon, Orodreth and Gwindor. This one, more than helpful, had a smile on his face that didn´t tell anything good.

“Alright, I… I´m glad you are all here” Maedhros started as he and Fingon took their seats on the other side of the table. “I don´t know how I should begin to talk about this, and I certainly would prefer not to. This is going to change how you see the world and…”

“Just get to the point” Orodreth said.

“Hey, this is serious” Celebrimbor defended his uncle. “It´s not something any of us even suspected, even if we should…”

“We should?” Gwindor raised an eyebrow from his place. “Most like a MUST, because you were being so blind… we all were, to be not aware of this issue or it´s size.” He then realized something. “And how did you know, by the way? Last time I saw you, you were still denying the existence of a problem and blaming your family for what happened, specifically your cousins from Caranthir´s side.”

“You blamed my children for this problem?”

“Not… entirely” Tyelpe now looked very ashamed. It was true that he hadn´t wanted to hear explanation back then, deciding that Avranc was just like his father and uncles and it was too much to ask of him to remain peaceful… he never thought about what threw him over the edge. He regretted it now. “I just… thought that…”

“That what? That they were like us? Like me?” the Dark´s eyes were now fixed on his nephew, sending him an angry glare.

“Please, we are not here to talk about that” Maedhros interrupted his brother´s verbal attack on their nephew before Curufin could jump to his son´s defense. Judging by the smith´s expression, said defense would include a sword pointed at Moryo´s neck. A scene too familiar for him to allow, specially knowing how it ended last time. “Your view of the world is about to change forever and I…”

“And why would it change, dear brother?” Caranthir raised an eyebrow. “What could you have that is so utterly devastating that will change our view of the world as it is?” he crossed his arms. “Is it perhaps related to the secret our father tried to keep from us all our lives?”

There was a look of surprise from the other Feanorians and some of their cousins, but not from Maitimo. He knew that Morifinwë had the sharpest view of all his brothers, being able to see through lies. If someone had noticed something, then it was him. But then again, why would he have remained silent if he knew? The Moryo he knew would have tried to face them right by Fëanor´s side, enraged by what they were doing to his family. Even so, he had to check how much he really knew.

“How much do you know?” the redhead asked, careful.

“Only that dear old atar was trying to keep something from us, the reason why we were looked in a… special way all our lives. Not in a good way” the Dark sighed. “I only kept it to myself because atar asked me not to tell you.”

“If there was a problem, he would have told us…” Curufin quickly went to the defense of their father. Maedhros shook his head.

“He wouldn´t if he thought that it wouldn´t do us any favors to know” Celebrimbor explained, grabbing his father´s hand. “It certainly didn´t do HIM any favors to know, only… made his anger grew.”

“Tyelpe, how do you…”

“When we were in Gondolin, I found one of haru´s old design books in Rúmil´s library. Mixed with the specifications of what he was designing, there were passionate essays about the rights of former thralls and their descendants…”

“Why would he care about that?” Celegorm asked, finally finding his voice. “I know our father, he was many things, some good, many others bad, and charitable wasn´t…”

“It has to do with… his background” Maedhros finally talked again. “Grandmother Míriel´s background, to be precise.”

“Don´t tell me…”

Nelyo took breath, there was no way back now. As he released the air, he started telling them what Rúmil had told him, Turgon, Tyelpe and Maeglin about their family. A tense atmosphere started to descend over the people reunited there as he continued. Horror started to appear in the faces of the people for whom this was new, followed by the predictable anger. In the Feanorion´s case, it was because it hurt their pride to know how elves looked down on them for their heritage. They had always believed it was out of jealousy, but now that they knew, they weren´t taking it well. Caranthir even got up, kicking his chair, his face red as he screamed if the Kinslaying at Brethil was caused by Thingol´s and Dior´s believed on that issue. With his children having to leave after the explanation to deal with camp issues, it became Turgon´s duty to keep him from storming away. After his answer, Celegorm actually got up and was about to leave the tent and go straight to Menegroth to tell King Greymantle to tell him and his Valarindi children that to his face. Only Ambarussa´s quick thinking and Maitimo´s calming words managed to stop him. A tense silence installed again, at least until Orodreth finally managed to find his voice.

“You are lying” he barely managed to say. “You have to be. I know the Vanyar, I have several vanyar friends, they would never…”

“Oh, but that was exactly what happened” Gwindor, the only elf in the room who seemed to be enjoying this moment, said. “Why do you think we all joined Avranc so readily? All of us had to eat so much shit… and people get tired of that. I mean, don´t blame a dog if it attacks you after having been struck with a bloody Warhammer too many times” he smirked at his King. “What do you think about oh-so-perfect Aman now, Orodreth? A nest of bigotry and hate…”

“If that´s why it happened, then why didn´t it happen before?” this one raised an eyebrow. “From what I got, it´s a problem that has been going on for several millennium and it only exploded after the…”

“Technically speaking, it exploded before” the knight raised a finger. “Just think about it a little. The Kinslaying of Alqualondë? That was the first.”

“Wha…” Maedhros was speechless. “I… the teleri attacked first...”

“I know, they always do. To them, your host was just a bunch of Gnomes” he made a face as he said that last word. “that should have been drowned long ago knock on their doors. They weren´t about to let them dirty their precious city. So they attacked, thinking that they would easily kill them all as they always did… but they were wrong now.” There was a bloodthirsty smile in his face. “And for the first time in history, our side gave them back everything they had done to us, children got to avenge their parents, brothers their brothers and sisters…”

“So you did in Menegroth and Sirion” the King of Nargothrond crossed his arms. “And in Valinor”

“It was just retribution…”

“No, it was slaughter” the ever-moralistic Orodreth continued. “I know that it was painful, but the answer wasn´t joining behind a murderous maniac that slaughtered his way through four elven Kingdoms…”

“You don´t get it”

“No, I get it. I get that it was a horrible situation and painful for you and Gelmir, but…”

“Painful… you don´t know painful” Gwindor´s eyes turned dark. “You were already dead when you daughter was killed. You have no idea what that word means.” His expression turned even darker. “You want to know what´s painful, Orodreth Angrodion? It´s to be looked down, attacked, spat on and nearly murdered only for existing with no regard to your elvenhood, because to them you are less than an elf. It´s to see the tears in the eyes of your father and being unable to tell him everything will go better because it never will because there is no changing the past. It´s raising a child knowing the kind of life that you could offer and still smile at him because you wanted him to be happy no matter what. It´s having peace rip away from your every now and then because an idiot thinks you shouldn´t be alive. Or worse, it´s losing your only, beloved child because A FUCKING BASTARD LIKE DIOR FUCKING ELUCHIL DECIDED THAT IT WAS FUN TO PIN HIM TO A TREE AND SHOT HIM FULL OF ARROWS RIGHT IN FRONT YOUR FUCKING EYES!!!”

They were all speechless, not knowing what to say. The prince had tears in his eyes, but his expression was close to the one Fëanor had during his worst moments. A kind of madness that could only come from an uncontrollable amount of anger that threatened to swallow you completely. And no one could blame him, not even Orodreth. What he had lived through had been horrible. Maedhros even found himself instinctively watching Gwindor´s eyes in case he pulled his sword out on his nephew, almost as if he was… before anything could happen, Glorfindel and Erestor came inside the tent. The assassin went directly to the knight, who seemed about to strike someone, preferably with a knife, and pulled him out to prevent disaster. The Golden Lord staid there, looking at the present elves with sad eyes, but without saying anything to deny or agree with what Gwindor said.

“I… guess there is no beating around the bushes” the Golden Flower said, sighing. “Everything he said is true, to the last word. But, being frank, Gwindor´s son was only one of the many victims of the sindar´s last incursion on territory inhabited by former thralls.”

“What?” Turgon´s breath got caught in his throat. He hasn´t know that part. “This isn´t possible… I… Eärendil would have told me something… he had to have known…”

“Eärendil knew everything, but never voiced his discontent or anything about it, not even when he disagreed on his wife´s and her family´s views. I know he confessed what happened to Tuor and his father struck him. They didn´t talk since that event happened” now that Glorfindel mentioned it, Turgon had noticed the distance between Tuor and Eärendil after a fight with Elrond erupted. “Lord Elrond… well, he was completely against and politically devoted to end discrimination of former thralls. It was the reason he got into so many fights with Elwing… and decided not to speak to Eärendil until he actually grew a backbone.”

“Eärendil wasn´t at fault”

“He knew, but he wasn´t asking him to join the fight or anything, only for him to tell Elwing what really was on his mind, that what her family was doing was wrong… not too much to ask, no?” the King of Gondolin was struck speechless. “I might disagree with the people who raised my lord, but… they actually taught him what´s wrong and what´s right well. And to raise his voice in case he see injustice.” He bowed to Maedhros and Maglor. “You raised a great son, my lords, one that Eärendil and Elwing couldn´t have and that I was proud to follow. Thank you”

“I… it wasn´t…”

“Erestor and the others thought the same. Also never repented from giving him Fëanor´s choker” ah, that thing. The symbol of the fight for former thralls´ rights or something like that. “Or to put their hopes on him.”

“Their hopes?” the redhead asked.

“Prince Fëanáro once fought for their rights at court, but he couldn´t give them that. When Elrond appeared in court with his choker, he was practically naming him his successor in that aspect. With that choker, he carried the promise to continue the fight… it gave them hope. Some even actually believed that he could succeed… he also believed that” he smiled nostalgically. “It was one of the reasons he renounced legal and blood ties to the Houses of Fingolfin and Thingol.”

“What?” Fingon asked, finally able to speak. Just the thought that his Russo and Ereinion could be in danger from elves had him cold, but that… “I mean, I understand renouncing Thingol and his family, I would too if they were my relatives, but our House…”

“Out of all of Finwë´s children, two have the worst reputation among the community: Fingolfin and Findis” Glorfindel´s eyes had turned sad. “Findis because she inherited Finwë´s habit of turning a blind eye to what was happening despite it happening in front of her eyes” so that´s why the golden lord fought with his mother. “Fingolfin´s case is… more complicated. He was actually involved in several instances of violence against former thralls.”

“Bullshit” the High King said, enraged. “My father would never…”

“I agree with you, especially because I don´t have the details” Laurefindil said. “The thing is, Fingolfin had bad companies. Some of his friends convinced him of making investments in some projects, no?” Fingon´s and Turgon´s eyes widened when they realized what had happened. Or at least, what they hoped had happened. “My point exactly”

“I… I need to talk to him, I…”

“I´m sorry, Finno, he is not here anymore” Maedhros offered his hand and his comfort. Then turned to the Golden Flower. “So that is THE reason my father hated his half-brother. Even more than uncle Arafinwë”

“It´s only what I know, I never claimed to know Fëanor that well” he bit his lips. “But I know Elrond. He was enraged when he knew about Dior´s attack. Enough to get into a fight first with Elwing and then with Eärendil.”

“As enraged as Avranc?” Caranthir´s voice made the atmosphere turn chilly again. “I… want to believe that I know my great-grandchild well enough to know he would never… do something like that without a reason. Something must have pushed him down the edge…”

“It did” Glorfindel bit his lips. “Do you remember that Maedhros mentioned Fëanor´s grandparents? When he attacked, Díor captured one of them and… did to him what Gwindor said he did to his son, in plain view of his spouse and Avranc. A few months later, the spouse committed suicide, with him finding the body. They were the family he was closest with, so…”

They could all tell. Avranc certainly had been pushed over the edge. He was not only looked down for being a descendant of the House of Fëanor and former thralls, but he had lost his family two times to the same person. And in similar horrible circumstances. No one blamed him now for exploding. Along with everything that happened to the community, it made his spark into a raging inferno that threatened to consume Aman. None of this excused his actions, of course, but… they could understand.

“Eru, what have we done?” asked Fingon, falling back into his chair. His husband offered comfort again. What had they done, indeed.

-Outside the tent-

When they first had seen the Finweans going to a tent that was specifically erected away from the camp, probably in an attempt to have some privacy, Mablung thought that perhaps they were finally going to talk about THAT thing. Unfortunately, Beleg got curious and that was the reason why he ended up following his friend to their point of reunion. Eavesdropping on them was… harder than he thought it would be. Specially the part about the atrocity of that incursion. Then Gwindor… he had thought that the good thing about being in the past was that he wasn´t going to have to face any of his victims after having hurt them in such a way. He could get a blank sheet, but then the Prince of Nargothrond had told his history and he nearly fainted. What should he do? Should he apologize, get into his knees, forget it? What?

“That´s a lie” Beleg said. Mablung lifted his head without understanding, until he remembered Beleg had been away when that happened. He probably hadn´t been told. “Prince Dior would never… Mablung, what is it? Are you feeling bad, my friend?”

“I´m sorry.”

“Why?” the archer suddenly got pale when he saw the guilty expression his fellow marchwarden had in his face. It spoke of nothing good. “Mablung, what´s going on? You would never do something like that, no?” this one couldn´t answer, making his friend go even paler. “Oh, Eru, what have you done?”

“I… It wasn´t my idea.”

“That doesn´t matter” the blond took a few steps back. “What did you do?”

“I… participated in that attack. It was organized by Prince Dior with the full backing on King Greymantle” the other looked away. “At first I didn´t know it was… such a horrible thing. They said that Feanorian followers were gathering up to attack… but then I realized that I was killing innocents and then… Dior and others did that… others joined them… and I… I… just stood there, watching in horror…”

“Is that why you asked me to give your apologizes to that Haladin boy? The one whose father went to slay Glaurung with…” then it struck Beleg. “Avranc, no? the one that killed us… he didn´t want to kill me, his target were you… because you participated in the attack that took his family from him a second time by sinda hands” Beleg´s eyes widened. “Tell me you didn´t participate in the massacre of Brethil.”

“I…”

“I can´t believe you” Strongbow was now watching at him in anger and, worse, as if he didn´t know him anymore. “We know the difference of right from wrong, I know we both know it, then why… why did you do this?”

“Beleg, I only… did was I was told by my king…”

“That doesn´t excuse you” he grabbed his bow, sending him a glare. “You can deliver your own fucking apologies to your victims, Mablung, and pray that they forgive you. Because I certainly won´t be doing this for you!!”

Beleg walked away from him, full of anger and disappointment. Mablung didn´t blame him at all for his reaction. He would be the same were he in his place. And worse, he knew that the archer was right. As he walked through the camp, he wondered again why he had stupidly follow without asking any questions. Both times. He, who knew better than anyone that King Thingol was flawed, should have used his brain before taking a step without return. That boy, Avranc… he didn´t blame him at all for killing him. The peredhel was also right, his apology was not good enough and it would never be good enough. And apology wouldn´t return him his dead loved ones. And Mablung deserved something worse for having participated in such a monstrous event.

“You look down…” a voice practically sang near him. He turned around and saw Cennedir there with a smile that could only be described as sadistic. “What happened? Did your boyfriend kicked you out?”

“Not my boyfriend” he tried to leave, but then Avornion appeared right in his path. “What do you want?”

“Only to send King Greymantle a message” the former marchwarden approached, his smirk widening. “But I think it will be best understood if I give you part of it… or pain it over your flesh. What do you think, Avornion?”

“That it´s a great…”

“Break it up” Beleg appeared seemingly out of nowhere, his bow at the ready. The two Feanorian captains stared at him, but decided to let it go. For now.
“Those two really need to tone it down.”

The other elf sighed, wondering why his friend had returned so quickly despite how angry he was with Mablung. Or how the others had known that he would be alone. And now that he remembered, he had heard Cennedir´s and Avornion´s names after his return from Mandos many times. Why were they… he remembered now!! Those two were the captains of Celegorm´s army that had taken Dior´s twins hostage and left them to starve in the woods!! Was their hate for Thingol really that much that they would kill children and innocent only because they were descendants or sworn to the King of Doriath? Did the Feanorians really knew the kind of people they had in their army?

“I don´t fault them for hating Thingol, but that doesn´t excuse their actions” Beleg suddenly said, looking back at him. “Yes, I also remember why they were conscripted to ages in Mandos and not allowed to return to Doriath… not that they wanted.”

“They already knew it was deathly.” Mablung looked down. Those two were the living proof that hate was a vicious circle, what goes around turns around. “I know that you probably think bad of me, but I am really sorry…”

“I know you are” the archer turned around, sighing. “I know you, Mablung. I know that you aren´t some kind of monster that would murder others just because of loyalty to a king or some stupid mistaken believe. But” he lifted a finger. “You still owe me some answers, so you better prepare yourself for when we arrive at our tent.”

The marchwarden did. Once inside their tent, he told him everything, even how terrible he felt after the truth had been revealed both times. The pain in Avranc´s eyes… the eyes he clearly inherited from his ancestor Caranthir… and the anger that burned like a deathly inferno as he cut Mablung down in revenge for the massacre at Brethil. He wondered for a second how many elves Avranc had killed in the name of revenge... probably more than they could believe, with all and him destroying at least four cities in Aman. Beleg listened carefully to the whole history, only letting out a breath when he finished.

“What I want to know is what Dior had in his head to believe such a stupid thing. And to kill because of it!!” he covered his face with one hand. “And King Elu Thingol. He didn´t have any excuses, not even that he was young!!”

“I doubt that youth could excuse what he did. Dior made the Feanorions look like saints with what he did” that painted a disturbing picture. “He was also teaching his sons to be the same, by the way. It´s horrible to imagine the future of Doriath if their own misdeeds haven´t punished them in the form of a horde of pissed off enemies behind an even more pissed off Feanorian.”

“What I truly want to know is where Dior learned those things” the Strongbow frowned. “I know I can´t really vouch for anyone, with me ignoring this most of the time, but I´m fairly sure when I say that princess Luthien didn´t believe it at all. And Beren much less” his eyes narrowed more. “Now that we are at it, Queen Melian is a maia. Surely she didn´t believe it is okay to kinslay for such a stupid reason.”

“No” Mablung also frowned. “Queen Melian abandoned Doriath when news of the Kinslaying in Egla reached and everybody started to celebrate. It was her way to protest for what her husband had done… probably also for what he was turning their grandchild into.”

“I would have done more”

“And that is why you didn´t marry” they both relaxed for a moment. “But seriously, I don´t think those three think that believe is more than bullshit, so why Dior, who spent his formative years with his parents away from Menegroth, caught it? I mean, it surely must have started then for it to take such a great root…”

“I don´t know, he could have learned it and been drawn to it by the courtiers when he took over after King Thingol died. He would have been vulnerable and heard the wrong advices while trying to learn to rule” he thought harder. “But you are right, we should find out how he got those believes.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“That when we set off from here, we should not head straight home”

“Eh? Then where do you want to go?”

“Tol Galen” Beleg surprised Mablung by saying that. “I think it´s time to make the Princess and her husband a little visit.”

“They probably don´t know why”

“But they deserve the opportunity to change their son´s fate. And I´m sure that if someone could tempt fate, it´s Beren and Luthien” Beleg smirked. “Their love for each other gained them a Silmaril, their love for their son could surely take charge of such a tiny issue, no?”

Mablung wasn´t that sure, but knew that he wouldn´t be able to convince his friend. So, when they set off, they would take a detour to Dor Firn-i-Guinar and then to Tol Galen in search of their Princess and her husband. If everything went well, then they would have changed the fates of their people. If not… they could always find a way to ensure their people´s survival. Even if they had to take drastic measures.

-In another tent-

Caranthir was seething alone in his tent. Or he used to be. Silma had noticed his humor wasn´t the best and brought him a bottle of wine. They were also mad because of what they heard at the reunion, but not as much as their father. And it was just that… Caranthir had always known that there was something wrong. Also that what happened in Brethil was directly linked to the dislike the sindar in general and Thingol´s family in particular had against him and his brothers. But he had never thought even in his wildest dreams that the problem was so bad. He felt a familiar anger against his father too, for hiding this.

“I know that you are upset, atar, but you should let it go” Silma said, putting lunch over Moryo´s desk as he watched him snap another writing feather. “There is no dwelling into that until we return to Amon Ereb to make plans.”

“I´m aware of that. It´s just that it puts me in a bad mood” the Feanorion answered, cleaning his hands. “To think that those idiots were looking down on me, someone they couldn´t even begin to catch up with, for something so stupid. Besides, it´s like my heritage is bad. I want to see those swine surviving what my ancestors did in that hell” he frowned. “I´m mad at my father too.”

“Grandfather?” his son raised an eyebrow. It wasn´t all days that Caranthir mentioned Fëanor, so he was interested. “Why?”

“How did he expect us to survive with the danger we were in if we were ignorant?” the elf finally started to rant. “For a genius he could be so stupid!! We needed that information to survive!!” he bit his lips. “I know that we perhaps were happier without knowing, but… we could have helped him. And I´m not saying he should tell us” tell me!! “when we were still children, but once we became adults, we had a right to know!!”

“Knowing probably didn´t do him any favors” Silmafinwë said as he sat down in front of his father, also serving himself a cup of wine. “But I agree with you” he took a sip. “which leads to the countermeasures that we should take now that we know the sindar´s problem with all our family.” His sharp eyes landed on Moryo, who returned the look. “Do you think it might reach the Haladin?”

“I´m fairly sure it will”

“Then…”

“I don´t think they would forsake Brethil so easily” at least, not until Beleriand was sunk and Númenor was founded. “So we need to put some kind of protection in place. Perhaps even smuggle some heavy weaponry and armor, convince Halmir to put scouts on the paths they used to trade with the sindar… or simply strike them first” he smiled darkly. “I don´t think we could take Menegroth with Melian by Thingol´s side, but I can think of a few ways to piss that idiot into an open field. And then, we leave him to Maedhros.”

“That could easily turn into a disadvantage.”

“Oh, it´s only a drastic measure if he dares to touch even one member of mine or Haleth´s houses. Don’t fret about it, we aren´t ready for a new war yet” he grabbed a ledger from his desk. “Besides, even if Thingol doesn´t know, through the Haladin we are their main source of iron and some other ores. What do you think will happen if there is a delay or we outright refuse to continue trade with them?”

“You are evil sometimes”

“It´s only a matter of balances. They will readily strike us with a maze at Brethil any day, so I´m going to strike them with my own… and then devour them. Let´s see what they think of this Gnome then” he laughed despite his use of the derogatory term. “But even the most carefully constructed plans had weaknesses.”

“What do you mean?”

“Celegorm and Curufin. Their idiotic actions at Nargothrond have put them into a debt with Thingol, one that should be repaid. Not even the High King would deny it” more than a debt, an amend, but Caranthir liked speaking in terms of money when he wanted to distance himself from the problem and be objective. “It would be a problem if they were to be held hostage.”

“Do you really think that the High King would send them to Doriath?”

“No, not with what we have just learned. He would not send them to die or some horrible other fate” Moryo frowned. “But amends need to be made and it would be better if we could make them with Beren and Luthien directly and exclude Thingol from negotiations. My plans would certainly go smoother if we did.”

Caranthir watched all his plans construct in his mind. Crippling Doriath with his secret trade system would be easy, saving his brothers from the consequences of their own idiocy not so much. He will do it, anyway. After all, wasn´t he the darkness that followed his brother´s light?

Chapter Text

“It was fun… I wish it could remain fun forever” Maedhros said as he and Fingon laid in bed together, their hands together. “Or that we can be like this.”

“Are you telling me that you enjoyed actually burning things down? Because I didn´t expect that from you, Russandol. Where did the sensible eldest brother of the Feanorian menaces go?” Fingon laughed. “Talking about burning things, I heard your brothers comment that the mummy you burned a few days ago was the one that taught Maglor those incredible songs that saved my life in the battlefield.”

“I´m not so sure, but I guess they are right” the redhead then glared at him. “Which doesn´t mean you should relax. Specially on the battlefield!! I don´t want to raise Ereinion alone again, so you…”

“Have to be careful, I know” the High King smirked. “Don´t worry, I don´t want to die and meet my son as an adult again either. I´m resolved to actually be his father this time!! And to do it by your side!!” he laughed. “But that doesn´t mean that you are remaining here, Russo, you are leaving in the morning.”

“Yes, I know. We have talked about this plenty of times. I´m just worried about leaving you by yourself here, with only my brothers to keep you in check… or to watch your back” as if he needed that. He had been High King by himself for a long time already, thank you very much!! “I´m feeling tired by just imagining the meses I´m going to have to set right…”

“Come on, they are not so bad.”

“You are talking about the elves that threatened to have your stones removed as soon as we had a moment of privacy after they learnt of my pregnancy.”

“Only because they knew everything that could go wrong and are worried for you. If I were in their place, I would have to.”

“And during our honeymoon, what little we had, if you didn´t threat me well”

“Again, I would do it too. And worse, if I had the opportunity to meet Eöl” he raised an eyebrow. “Didn´t you say you were tired? The journey starts tomorrow, you should sleep.”

“Seriously, Finno? You know very well why I or anyone in reality could really sleep in this place, especially with the wind blowing in this direction” Maedhros shuddered, suddenly looking scared. “It already give me the creeps, that smell.”

“Let me help you erase your worried for the night, then!!”

“What? Fingon, what are you trying to… Findékanno, stop!! Really!!”

The younger elf laughed. Those half-hearted refusals and attempts to stop him didn´t cheat anyone. His husband enjoyed what they were doing. And when he finally managed to close his eyes, he slept without being bothered by nightmares. Fingon curled up to his side, doing the same… he wished they could remain like that forever. Unfortunately, morning had to arrive sooner or later and so did their separation. The High King himself escorted the General to the carriage that was going to take him and several other injured people to Barad Eithel. The transport had been checked personally by Caranthir and the horses by Maglor. Apart from that, his own trusted servant was going to accompany Maedhros in the same carriage and part of his personal guard would protect them on the way. And, as the Feanorions didn´t trust anyone, they also decided to send their own knights as part of the retinue.

“Protect our brother for us, Sir” Makalaurë said as he gave farewell to the knight that was to become Maitimo´s own sworn shield.

“I will” Runawë answered, fastening his cloak as he climbed into the carriage with Nelyo and Gweston. Fingon watched them carefully.

Personally speaking, he didn´t like Runawë. And he didn´t knew why his half-uncle or his cousins and husband like him at all either. Trusted him? Of course. Apart from the Feanorions and Glorfindel, there was no better warrior. Or a more loyal one… to the House of Fëanor. Fingon remembered what he had been told about Runawë after his death, that stayed loyal to the bitter end and even got the gal to duel Eonwë himself to protect the brothers´ cover as they entered Finarfin´s camp. He also knew that the knight had returned and put himself behind the banner of Fëanor again to slaughter his way through Valinor right by Avranc´s side. But he also knew that he was the child of a former thrall, one that had survived under constant threat and harassment in the capital. One that had stood all that like an unmoving rock… which kind of explains his cold demeanor. And his willingness to protect the House of Fëanor to the death and beyond. But those weren´t the problems, not truly. In fact, those were parts of the reason why he trusted he would protect Russo well. The problem was that, apart from being a bit murderous, Runawë also held a barely disguised animadversion to Indis that sometimes leaked towards her descendants. Fingon himself had always felt it when he was with Russo in their childhood, watched carefully by the nér. It was almost… personal.

“Hello, cousin, how have you been?” Glorfindel suddenly entered his tent. Fingon feigned writing something on the document in front of him, only managing to ruin it. Eru, Caranthir was going to murder him now, no? “Daydreaming again?”

“You would also daydream if your own husband spent so much away from you” he retorted, pushing the papers away. “Why have you come? Did Turgon made something stupid again I have to punish him for?”

“You mean letting Maedhros die like two times? Are you really going to punish him for something that technically never happened?”

“There must be consequences, Lauro. Even if he admits he was in the wrong, brother or not, there must be consequences. Besides, the Feanorions will yell at me if they find out I didn´t do anything. Or worse. Better keep them content.” Also, there was the tiny detail that he also knew about the poisoning. “And Turgon in check.”

“I´m surprised you actually want to punish him for that.”

“THAT and keeping Maeglin from me. I mean… look at him. At simple view, that child has problems. And I could have helped” Glorfindel made a face. “And don´t tell me they started when he fell in love with his cousin. I´m the living proof that it could work.”

“Half cousin… and Idril was not interested.”

“Semantics… and perhaps a bit of separation could have delivered the message quicklier. Being coped up in that tiny city of Turgon´s… how was he going to forget her there?”

The Golden Flower had to admit that Fingon had a point. Idril and Maeglin frequented the same circles and found each other even by accident daily. How was the Mole supposed to forget his cousin if they kept running into each other? Besides… Turgon was a good father to Idril, but a sometimes emotionally neglective uncle to Maeglin, who was still growing when he arrived in Gondolin. He was also somewhat cold and distant to his nephew, unconsciously resenting him for his sister´s demise and his sire. Eöl. Perhaps that was the reason Aredhel preferred to flee towards the Feanorions, who couldn´t care less about background, in the first place. And, even if Celegorm and Curufin wouldn´t take care of Maeglin themselves, they would make damn sure he was comfortable until he could be delivered to Fingon, who surely would. Which in itself was a huge IF. In fact, Maeglin probably would have been better in Himlad or Barad Eithel than in Gondolin, but, with the two troublemakers absent and Fingon too far, Aredhel didn´t have another choice but to go to her other brother. A decision they all regretted in the end. Talking about that, there was also the business of Eöl´s execution, an avari lord sworn to Thingol, to think about.

“What do you plan to do with Turgon, then? Surely you won´t strip him out of his crown and lands or his status as heir until Gil Galad is born.”

“No” that would tip Caranthir more. “But there must be consequences and I must hold a greater control in Gondolin than before. There won´t be a trial, but I need to make damn sure that my brother´s decisions aren´t going to come bite me in the ass soon, whether by Feanorian teeth or by sinda” he put his pen away. “Which is why I want you to come to Barad Eithel with me to act as Ambassador.”

“Cousin, I…”

“Come on, it´s the perfect solution” the High King smiled. “Maeglin hates Gondolin, Erestor hates Gondolin… damn, YOU hate Gondolin after spending so much time with Elrond” he couldn´t really deny that. “You are also going to do fine in my court and help me keep Turgon in check.”

“You honor me, but I have my own House to lead.”

“Put someone you don´t hate in charge… or someone with some basic elven decency” he shrugged, then grabbed another document. “Of course, you will have to return from time to time, but something tells me that Gondolin, in the future, is going to be open to the world.”

“Morgoth is yet a problem.”

“But he had fled and the need for hidden cities is less. I don´t mean that Turno should open his city immediately, but… he needs to make some concessions for his own sake and everyone else´s.”

“I will do my best, my king”

“That being said” Fingon served two cups of wine. “Is there something else you wanted to talk about?” Glorfindel looked at his cousin. “Please, don´t tell me you expected me to believe you came here only to talk about my daydreaming or Gondolin. We are cousins, but you were always closer to Turgon than me.”

“I´m regretting that a bit now.”

“And I wouldn´t mind if we become closer” he passed a cup to the blond. “But what did you want to talk about? Does this have to do with Elrond or…”

“No, not for now” and he had the feeling that the twins, sooner or later, will end up in the Feanorian brothers´ hands. They wouldn´t be the people they were if not for them. “I wanted to talk about Maglor Feanorion.”

“Did you heard him talking completely alone or something like that? Because, after so much time alone, hearing voices in his head…”

“He hears voices?” if Elrond finds out about this, he would throw his own version of a fit. It wasn´t going to be pretty for anyone.

“Caranthir is handling that, don´t mind it” Fingon lowered his head in shame. He said that he wouldn´t say anything about that. “If it´s not that, what is he doing to make you ask about him? Are he and his cavalry okay?”

“Yes… specially because apparently he had secluded himself in his tent with the Silmarils and left his second in command completely take over it. And, while I consider it responsible to leave it to someone sound of mind, people is wondering why.” Lauro frowned. “They are also talking about the recent activities of the Feanorians.”

“I thought everyone liked the bonfire”

“No one minded that those books disappeared once they heard what they contained or where they came from” the Golden Flower said in annoyance. “What they did before the public bonfire, when Maglor entered Angband without anything other than a Silmaril and the weird lights that put everyone on edge appeared… and they got something out… something they also burned.”

“You mean the mummy?” the Lord nodded, awkward. “Wait, were you spying on them?”

“I was and they should be grateful, because I actually did some damage control for them. Me and Erestor” he sighed. “And we were not the only ones. After those lights appeared, there were plenty of eyes watching at them with curiosity and suspicion.”

“They didn´t harm anyone…”

“Yes, but that doesn´t mean they aren’t suspicious. Besides, you should think about this carefully, especially because your son could be affected by it” Glorfindel raised a finger. “there are some that are preaching that the Feanorians have a connection to Angband and, by default, to Morgoth. That because their blood came from there and they returned… they were meant to be there or something stupid like that.”

“And you? What do you think?”

“That´s bullshit and anyone with a brain should know it” Larefindil glared at his wine. “It´s true that Míriel´s parents were thralls there once, but they weren´t born in Angband. Their place of birth is in the Northern part of Cuivenen, a place where lots of raids on several settlements occurred” he finally took a sip. “I would know that, I have talked to them plenty of times.”

“You… talked to them” Fingon´s eyes were wide. All his life, he had always believed that Míriel and by default Fëanor didn´t have any other family members alive but them. And now that he remembered that, he had heard about them before. But if they were… “How were they?”

“If I would be frank… special?” he tried to find some way to describe the two strange elves he had met along with Elrond. “They are nothing I have ever seen before. Of course, they had their normal part… one was a healer and the other a weaver… the weaver has a personality that would put our half-uncle to shame… and is also pretty good with the swords… I saw him fight with one in each hand.”

“That´s difficult” Findékanno conceded, having tried it more than once. At the end, he had to content himself with wielding sword and shield, but admired the users of double swords, an art not even Glorfindel himself completely mastered. “It is.”

“I… think he also… looked somewhat like the elf that was seen in the shadows when the mummy was burned.”

“Really?”

A silence descended over them. None of them wanted to acknowledge it, but the proofs were right in front of them. That elf´s fëa, or at least his voice, had followed Maglor through the Second and Third Ages without a body. And not only followed him, but taught and protect him. That kind of connection wasn´t one that could be formed just by coincidence or similarity of circumstances nor by people who choose the same craft. For that kind of connection to be stablished, a stronger bond had to there. They could only think of one reason, a blood connection. One that has been somehow kept alive, even if they didn´t know of one another. But that´s where it became tricky. Glorfindel knew Varilëedur rather well, he wasn´t the kind of person to leave someone behind. Specially a member of his own family. Iron hells, if some histories were truth, he had helped his husband drag that nuisance of an adoptive father of him, Rúmil himself, out of Angband during the escape. There was no way he left someone related to him rot there, unless…

“Your majesty!!” an attendant ran towards the King´s desk.

“What is it?” the High King asked.

“There has been some problem” the young elf said as he approached. “Apparently a patrol made of members of the House of the Hammer and the House of the Harp got lost in the way out of Angband. They were leaded by the Lord of the Hammer himself…”

“What?!”

Glorfindel shot out of the tent, running towards the Iron Doors. The Hammer and the Harp together in a patrol, lead by the leader of the Hammer himself… what was Rog thinking? He knew full well that Salgant´s house members were the most bigoted, cruelest fools Gondolin had to offer. And he goes into a patrol with them?! When it was obviously a trap?! He also didn´t think what Salgant´s minions were thinking. The last thing he expected from them was them to volunteer as rescuers of the people they despise. So… why did they go inside? Had something happened while he was away? And, despite not being as informed of the insides of Gondolin as he should be, Fingon thought the same. Salgant of the Harp was a spoiled, cruel brat of a teleri noble. And, according to Maeglin, a bigot in the highest grade. He couldn´t be planning anything good if his men joined the rescue efforts.

“What´s happening?!” the High King asked in a loud voice. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at him. “I asked for an explanation!! There was no patrol scheduled until midday!!”

“Well… we…” in that moment, someone dashed through the guards and right into Angband. It was Ecthelion of the Fountain.

“Father, what are you doing, stop it!!” Erestor asked as another figure dashed through the doors, following Ecthelion´s wake.

“I can´t leave him alone there!! He is my younger brother!!” Lhostor answered as he also went into the darkness.

Glorfindel exchanged a glance with Erestor, who was annoyed. Rog had been more than a little bit disrespectful and cruel to Lhostor that very morning and his brother still went to his rescue. That was some brotherly devotion. After what seemed like hours in which the High King barked some orders, Lhostor and Ecthelion got out practically carrying a catatonic looking Rog. His fellow Hammers walked behind… and there was no trace of the Harps.

“And the others?” Fingon asked when they arrived.

“We locked them up in one of the dungeons, so they could see if they liked it” Lhostor answered, finally showing some of that Feanorian bite in him. “You can get them out yourself, one of them could show you where.”

“Tell me, then go tend to your brother” he sighed. “Then I want to talk with their Lord, see what they were doing to deserve being locked in THAT dungeon.”

He already had many guesses of what, but he wanted to have a talk with Salgant himself. This was obviously a set up organized by the Lord of the Harp himself, much like Maeglin´s “punishment”. He couldn´t exactly punish Salgant for something he hadn´t done in this reality, but both him and Turgon has been expecting for him to screw up to do it. And he had done it faster than they expected. He had crossed a line by attacking a fellow Lord and now both the King of Gondolin and the High King could lawfully held him accountant. He looked back and saw Turgon, who nodded with his head. Yes, Salgant wouldn´t be able to hold his head high for much longer.

- In another place –

Rog came back to himself in the infirmary tent of his own camp, wondering how long he had been there. He could only remember seeing that dungeon and getting locked in there… the panic started to raise again as he remembered the time he was in a similar place. His heart pounded and he thought he was going to faint again… a hand held his own tightly, two hands. And then a known voice sounded near him.

“Tell me something you see, baby brother” Lhostor. Why was Lhostor there? Ecthelion, who was at his other side, he could half understand, but his brother… “Shhh, don´t think about anything else. Tell me five things you see.”

“Tent… pillar… bed… sheet… hammer” his breath started to become less erratic.

“Very good. Now…” Lhostor continued through the familiar paces as Rog finally calmed down. He had always been good at that, his gentle older brother. He would have been a good healer if Angband hadn´t stripped him of his capability to heal. “Are you better now?”

“I think so” the smith touched his head. “What happened?”

“You were in a shock because you entered… there” Ecthelion answered, his sweet voice full of worry. “What possessed you, Rog? Entering that place and with members of the House of the Harp…”

“It isn´t as bad as it sounds”

Only that it was. He should have suspected when Salgant´s minions told him that Turgon ordered a patrol into Angband and that was going to lead it, specially when they volunteered themselves. Members of the Harp wouldn´t have dare to put a foot in there, as they would get dirty… unless with an ulterior motive. He guessed they were targeting him. But how had they realized his secret? He had been careful. Then he remembered that morning, when he was rude with Lhostor. They had talked in a secluded place, but he hasn´t checked if they were truly alone. Someone could have heard them and reported to Salgant. It could be dangerous, for him and for his subordinates, but…

“Lhostor, I…”

“You don´t need to say anything…”

“No, I do. I was terrible with you earlier and I want to say sorry” the Lord of the Hammer lowered his head in shame. “I only… considered my secret, the secret I hide for my people too, to be more important than our brotherhood, but now… I mean… you rushed into Angband for me, despite what that place did to you… to us… I… must apologize and say thank you.”

“Rog” the Feanorian soldier´s face was very serious now. “listen to me carefully. I´m your older brother, no matter what. I will always rush to your aid, even if you were in a place I see each night in my nightmares. And if you ever need me, I´m going to be there, even if you are rude to me seconds before.”

“But you don´t agree with me, with what… I have been doing” he frowned. “You believe that silence is for cowards.”

“Who said that?”

“Your wife, Erestor…”

“I´m going to have a chat with them later, but that´s besides the point” he shrugged. “Taking to the sword and defending our rights with it is just a way to fight. Surviving is another. Also, what you did today? It requires a lot of valor. Going back to search for others, despite what happened on the other side of those doors…”

“It requires stupidity, it was a trap.”

“Stupidity and courage” the older avari smiled. “Returning to what I was trying to say, Lord Maedhros always says there are many ways to fight a war. This war is not different. I´m a soldier in the Feanorian army because with the sword is the way I fight. I decided to shed blood for my convictions because I thought that way I could achieve a better future. But another strategy to win is to survive. And it´s no less hard because the lack of a bloodshed. In fact, sometimes surviving could be harder.”

“But survival it´s not going to save us, people like you are the ones who make change” or people like Elrond, who raised their voice. “Silence ultimately only allows them to continue as ever.”

“Ultimately yes, but even one more life saved matters”

“Too bad that it isn´t an option for me anymore” Rog clenched his fists. “I have to fight”

“Rog…”

“By now, the news about Lord Rog of the Hammer of Wrath being a former thrall must have run like wildfire through the Gondolindrim camp. My subordinates must be under suspicions and… I don´t even want to think about it, but I can´t keep silence anymore. My secret is out… time to fight for our lives.”

“You are always welcomed to join me and my family”

“No, I can´t just abandon Gondolin like that. It´s my home… and there is work to do there. Someone has to help Turgon clean the city” he then turned to Ecthelion, who had remained quiet as the brothers talked. “I´m sorry, love, I have put you into a bad position. If you want to end things with me…”

“Never say that, Rog of the Hammer, if you didn´t want to end up with my flute up your ass” the usually elegant Lord of the Fountain said. “When I accepted you in my heart, I accepted everything. The good and the bad… also, Salgant´s a bastard and deserved what´s coming to him. Him and his minions.”

“I don´t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Probably the same you did to deserve such a good brother. Certainly, an enormous good to have us both endure all your bullshit”

“Yes, I´m an amazing brother. So amazing that I kept this for you” Lhostor materialized a choker apparently out of thin air. Rog took it with amazement, haven´t he… “Give me your thanks later, I burned my fingers to rescue it.”

“But how…”

“I took it out of your melting thing when you weren´t looking. Figured out that one day you would regret melting it and decided to keep it until you were ready to reclaim it. Was always on me for good luck” he laughed. “It might not be a piece of art like something Lord Curufin or Lord Celebrimbor could do, but it´s a Rog´s original and only that made it special.”

“Lhostor… thank you”

“You are welcome. Only don´t try to melt it again and we are even” he got up. “Now, if you excuse me, there is an idiot that need to say hello to my fist in the Feanorian style. Consider it the special treatment for bigots.”

“Let Turgon take care of it, brother”

“No, I will stir some chaos while I still can, probably break a nose or two… make my wife proud of me” Avahairië certainly had a temper hot enough to do something like that. “See you later.”

Rog watched as his brother walked away, partially relieved that he was okay and more than a bit worried that the idiot was actually going to break Salgant´s nose. Well, he guessed that the more time you spent around Feanorians, the more Fëanor and his sons rubbed on the collective of their followers. He remained in his bed anyway, talking to Ecthelion until this had to go to oversee his own camp. Rog was left alone in the tent with the instruction to rest for the day, not knowing what to do.

“I´m surprised” a voice woke him from the brink of sleep. “You actually got the gumptions to go in there. Not as much as a coward as I thought.”

“And you have too much of your mother” Erestor didn´t seem bothered by this. “Does he…”

“Know that I´m here? No, I came by myself and heard some of your conversation. Decided our own chat could wait… as it needs to remain between us” his nephew sat down near the bed. “You look pale as a ghost.”

“And you like a black bat” Rog sighed. “Why are you here, Erestor? I know that it´s not to check on me, because you don´t like me, and Lhostor went outside long ago…”

“WE need to talk” the assassin sat down near him. Not even when he lived in Gondolin had the former Councilor of Imladris masked his distaste for Rog, so he wondered why he now decided that they should speak to each other. “Apparently, against all council, my father has decided that you should be back in his life… in our family´s life.”

“And you think I shouldn´t accept his proposition”

“Unfortunately, it´s a bit too late for that”

“Listen, Erestor, Lhostor can make his own decisions…”

“I´m aware of that. Also that, when you are concerned, no one could convince him otherwise” he sighed. “It´s just the kind of person he is, he forgives you no matter how many times you have disappointed him… because you are family” Erestor looked away. “I supposed you can´t survive something like Angband without attaching yourself to something or someone. And he is just to good to let you go.”

“He would have made a good healer”

“He was” the Councilor answered, his eyes turning cold. “You never knew because you didn´t bother to search my parents after everything settled down, but in Aman atar became an apprentice to Lord Narétardur. He was making a huge progress when…”

“I heard about that and I wanted to say something, but… guess I was never brave enough to actually do it” There was an uncomfortable silence between uncle and nephew in that moment, until the smith finally got tired of it. “If you want me to stay away from my own brother…”

“No, I... I just don´t want to hurt him again. You probably don´t know, but last time, when you left Vinyamar for Gondolin without even a note of where you were going to go, he actually cried” yes, he had been very bad to his brother. “And don´t tell me it´s because Turgon, because some people actually left notes saying they were going to a hidden city.”

“I´m sorry”

“That is something you should have told him, don’t you think? He was worried for ages” Erestor crossed his arms. “So I decided to give you this final warning: if you hurt him again, I don´t care if it was an accident, I WILL HURT YOU. And don´t think that Gondolin will save you, remember that I´m married to Glorfindel. Are we clear?”

“We are”

“Then good day, uncle”

Rog shook his head. Really, that Feanorian temper rubbed on people with time. He could practically see Maedhros in that ultimatum… or perhaps who he was seeing was Elrond. He meant… Elrond was pretty terrifying when he met him. The smith didn´t even know where Turgon got the idea that the peredhel still had a gram of Nolofinwean in him, not when he was dressed in bright scarlet and glared that way. In fact, he was sure there was not much difference between the two. Those Feanorians scared him to the core, so he better follow that rule. Besides, he wanted to reforge his bond with Lhostor, he had missed him a lot. And if he had to stand being threatened by Erestor to do it, then he will. It couldn´t be that bad, they were family.

-In another tent-

“I have a mission for you”

Caranthir didn´t even bothered to turn around as his twin sons came out of the shadows. At first sight, he was alone in his temporal living space, to anyone but himself. He had always know that those two would excel in the particular form of fighting that his special forces practiced. They were much like him, slim, not particularly strong or physically imposing. No, their strength, much like own, was how fast and flexible they were. In how easily they slipped in and out of the shadows and could pinpoint the most exposed vital point in the enemy´s body to attack. The twins were also trustworthy, so he knew he could send them to do practically everything without failing.

“I need you to depart with the caravan for Amon Ereb, to be seen leaving with them, but immediately after you are out of view, go for Barad Eithel” the Dark said as he pushed some writing implements around. “I need someone to protect Maedhros.”

“You don´t trust Runawë to do that?”

“We all know that he won´t just be facing people who came face on and, while I trust Runawë to protect him against nearly everything, everyone has blind spots. Blind spots that assassins could take advantage of” he smirked. “But, whatever assassin those spoiled nobles or idiot King of Doriath sent, I´m sure it´s going to be sloppy compared to boys.”

“Or to you” Isilme said. “Why aren´t you going yourself if you are so worried?”

“Because I´m needed here to manage the camp. I know you have been enjoying your time roaming around the bowels of Angband with your cousins, but there are more pressing matters.”

They had found out that Men weren´t affected by the Hearts of Taint as much as elves, so peredhil, thanks to their edain heritage, were also somewhat less weakened by them. Which pushed Caranthir´s own children to volunteer for more time with their Valarindi cousins. Thanks to that partial immunity, they had managed to clear many of the dreadful places and rescue many captives. The twins were enjoying it, specially because the work adapted to their particular abilities a lot, so they were reluctant to leave the task in someone else´s hands. Even so…

“We will do as you say” Lanya answered. “Uncle Nelyo is vulnerable now, he needs help.”

“Excellent, the caravan will depart in the morning”

Chapter Text

Maglor opened his eyes and immediately he knew that it was going to be a bad day. Or at least a day when eventful things that are an annoyance happened. Anyway, that had nothing to do with him. The only thing he should be thinking about are the songs he had been spending all his time reconstructing. He had made an amazing progress, by the way. No matter how many subordinates came nagging to him or how many brothers tried to drag him out of the tent to make him eat or something else, he was making it…

“It´s been enough, you fucking hermit musician!!” Caranthir suddenly entered, followed by his son and his nephew. “I swear, only a week and I´m already feeling like I´m Nelyo… no, worse, like I´m Nelyo back at home in Tirion” he shook his head. “Having to wrangle you so you would sleep and eat… fucking annoyance.”

“Then don´t!! Leave me alone, Moryo!!” the minstrel fought with the two youngsters, trying to make them let him go. “Let me go!!”

“Not until you have eaten something”

“I don´t need your coddling, I´m not a child and I´m definitely not atar” Makalaurë said as he was unceremoniously dragged through the camp towards the dinning tent. “Leave alone, I have work to…”

“Work to do, yes, yes, I have already heard it thousands of times” the Dark answered. It wasn´t a lie, he had heard that same excuse from both his mother and father when they were in the middle of some project. They forgot how to eat, sleep and anything else until they finished, no matter how tired they were… damn artists!! Why were they so hard!! It was still morning and he already needed a drink. This was why Nelyo always took care of this. “Sit down and eat”

“Are you going to shut up if I do?”

“Have you slept?”

“Yes”

“Then okay”

Maglor glared at his younger brother, but actually went to grab a tray and get some food. The brother in question just shook his head. Damn, when had he become the brother responsible for all the Feanorian circus? He meant, just before he dealt with Kanno, he had to make sure the Valarindi didn´t go alone into Angband; break a small fight between Curvo and Tyelpe and make sure Tyelkormo didn´t do anything stupid. Dammit, dammit, dammit, he was slowly turning into Nelyo, no? And, considering some of his brother´s life decisions, it wasn´t that flattering.

“Don´t make that face, you are going to get wrinkles”

“Elves don´t get wrinkles”

“Well, Salgant has more than enough for all of us” the musician continued as he grabbed more stew from his plate. Now that he had tasted food, he realized how hungry he was. Perhaps Moryo was right and he needed to eat more regularly… when he finished putting the songs together. “What is bothering you?”

“Why do you think something is bothering me?”

“Because you always make that face when you are being bothered by something?”

“I… don´t know… it´s stupid” Caranthir finally gave up. Really, why did he bother? He could never hide anything from his older brothers… his two oldest brothers. “Now that Nelyo is not here, it´s basically my duty to keep this place together as he would have wanted. And it´s tiring and I… I don´t know how he managed.”

“You don´t need to do everything as he would have done.”

“I do and you know why? Because Findékanno would be lost without someone helping him and our brothers too. Normally doing everything and keeping them in their place it´s Maitimo´s duty, but he is too busy making an entire new elf, so it falls to me to do it because I´m the organized one, the one that gets the information and acts, while the rest of you have your specialties and… Sorry, I´m being whiny now.”

“No, you are venting. And it´s fine, because sometimes venting is exactly what we need” the minstrel patted him on his shoulder. “Don´t worry about everything, you are doing great.”

“Thank you” Moryo smiled weakly at him. “I´m sorry for not asking before, but… how are those songs going?”

“Slow but sure, I have been able to paste together a few phrases of some of them, but there are still big holes in the composition. And I can´t be sure of what was there, because the parts that were missing are…”

“With the other Silmaril in Doriath” his brother bit his lips. “I´m still not sure how we are going to solve that without retorting to Kinslaying. I mean… Thingol hates our guts and, from what I saw, Díor is the same. They are not going to hand it over just like that and we are still oath bound to recover the last Silmaril…”

“I don´t want to do that again” Maglor suddenly looked pale and sickly, as he surely must have been in his last moments in his first life. “I… I… won´t do it again… don´t want to…”

“Shhh, we are trying to avoid it, no matter what. Kanno, neither me nor Nelyo are going to make you go through it again. I promise” Makalaurë smiled weakly. He knew he was causing a lot of problems, keeping everyone worried for his mental health, but… he was better now. “We are going to find a way to retrieve it without bloodshead.”

“Moryo, we tried before…”

“We have even more reasons now to retrieve it without any casualty. Not just because we don´t want history to repeat itself, but because of family. Maitimo has Findékanno now and the opportunity to have a relationship with Gil Galad. I my boys and girl… even if I´m still going to kill Díor if he dares to do something to them.”

“I help too in that case.”

“Thank you” both brothers were smiling now. “The thing is, we have more reasons to stay sane now. The Oath is even two thirds complete now… can´t you feel it in your chest? I don´t even have the constricting feeling I got accustomed to in my chest anymore.”

“No, it´s almost gone now”

“It feels great, no? As if I can breathe again” Caranthir smiled. “Come on, continue eating. You need sustain if you are going to continue ignoring your duty for your artistic pursuits.”

“Hey, I left my cavalry well attended!!”

“That´s what you think”

Maglor finished eating shortly after that and returned to his tent. Yes, the feeling of the Oath compressing his chest and preventing him to breath freely had lessened a lot. He didn´t want to think about it, but without the Kinslayings… yes, they would all be better, him and his brothers, and he really wanted to avoid becoming insane or a monster again, but… without those, he would have never met his boys and that… NO, he told himself, they are going to be alright and that´s what matter. They are going to grow up with a mother and father… why would they want a murderous monster like you? To distract himself from those thoughts, he decided to immerse completely in his work. An hour later, he triumphantly held the first complete stanza of one of the songs. Without losing a second, he sung the piece. It talked about how people was going to stand side by side against the darkness, shoulder to shoulder, because like that they would be able to defeat it and return home. To hold on the darkness all together. It sounded so beautiful… and so known. And why… why could he continue? It was as if… he had sung this song before…

Kannafinwë… Makalaurë… Maglor…

The tent around him disappeared and he suddenly found himself in the middle of some place, a very dark place. He could barely see anything… but he could tell he was not alone. Not only many voices were there, talking to him, saying his name, but the known sound of the waves accompanied it. He looked around himself and saw a foam… no, not a foam. Shadows. Shadows of elves that formed a frozen foam that covered him like a cloak. A familiar cloak that was remembered dearly at the same time as forgotten. He struggled to remembered when he had heard that song before, when he had seen that foam before.

You don´t remember…

Oh, sweet child of ours…

Let me show you…

The shadows parted in some way and showed him the image of the sea. And then… a solitary figure walked near it, surrounded by that foam, holding a ruined cloak that was once a rich blue and red, embroidered by the Eight Pointed Star. Maglor felt stunned to recognize himself in that miserable, lonely figure that sung his sorrows and repentance to the sea. But… it wasn´t just sorrow. He was singing… something else. As he followed his own shadow, he finally recognized the song he was singing in that moment. It was the same one he had reconstructed from the Silmarils. But it was no longer broken. It was… reforged. Beaming with a power that he couldn´t believe his fragile and emaciated, full of guilt form had.
You see? Even in that state you learned.
Your mind was broken then, but you learned. Learned enough to protect your family from what is going to come.

“What… what is going to come?” Maglor asked, completely dumbfounded. He knew he had done strange things during his stage of insanity, but learn extremely powerful Songs of Power… “What do I need to do?”

Tonight, when the sun sets, all the hearts of taint are going to be freed. In that moment, an opening will be formed. An opening the Enemy has been expecting… for counteroffensive. He has escaped, but it´s not as far as you thought. When the hearts are freed, he will attacked again with the strength that gave him and you will be easy prey.

“What?! I… how could…”

The only way to avoid it and make him escape again is to close them forever. The Song you are hearing now is the only way to achieve it… at least momentarily.

“But… it takes years to master a Song of Power… even I would need a lot of time to…”

You have already mastered it, you only need to remember what you learned. Let us help you.

-In the camp-

Fingon and Turgon were talking about how to deal with Salgant. Being the known evil, they couldn´t exactly wrangle control of the House of the Harp from him before they had done some serious work on the discrimination problem, but they could make things much harder for him, both in Gondolin and in front of the noldor in general. Glorfindel suggested that they would place restrictions and apply a harsher punishment than usual for attacking a fellow Lord, perhaps an increase in taxes that would cripple their attacks on the community… attacks that surely will happen now that they knew Rog was a former thrall. They were in the middle of talks to offer protection to the Hammers, most of who refused to abandon their Lord, when there were screams outside. The High King got out and immediately he was sent to his knees by the overwhelming smell of Angband. He tried to move… he barely could. Turgon and Glorfindel seemed to have the same problem. Fingon cursed, like this they weren´t going to be able to hold their position if they were attacked now. Orcs started coming out of Angband with the aim to attack the camp now that the eldar were incapacitated. The edain didn´t have the forces to reject them and protect the weakened elves while also doing so themselves. Fuck. This war… they could lose it when they had thought they finally won it…

A sound was suddenly heard. It was… beautiful. Not in the normal way, only… beautiful. And the song it was forming… he didn´t remember having heard something like that since he left Aman and the songs of the Ainur were left behind on it. The song had a leading voice, but others answered, weaving a sound that brought comfort to the fëa and a comfortable cold that surrounded those affected by the Taint. It sang about standing side by side, shoulder to shoulder, to stand to the Darkness together, to defeat it and return home together. Fingon noticed then that he could move, getting up.

“Are you alright?” he asked, offering a hand to Turgon. This one accepted it, getting up to his own feet as Glorfindel did it by himself, grumbling. “Hurting somewhere?”

“I´m fine and no” the King of Gondolin grunted. “Who is singing?”

“I don´t know, but…”

A sight then appeared, his cousin Maglor singing. But it was different from the usual Maglor Feanorion. He was a powerful and great singer on his own right, but now… now he seemed almost otherworldly. As he sung, a foam cling to him and voices pooled around him, following his lead. Where did they come from? Fingon didn´t know, only that… they seemed to be on their side. They also sounded ancient, even more than his grandfather the High King Finwë, the most ancient elf he had personally known. As they gained strength, the air became chilly, but the elves welcomed it. The chilliness seemed to combat the smell and the elves could recover enough for the commanders to start issuing orders. But it didn´t stop there. The horde of orcs that approached with the intention to kill them all started suffering burns along their skin, much like with the lights. But it didn´t stop there. Maglor lifted his voice even higher and seemed to put more of himself into his song. In that moment, ice started to creep over the ground around him and towards the orcs, who tried to escape, but soon found themselves turned into the ugliest ice statues the High King had ever seen. The ice didn´t stop there and went into Angband. As they lost sight of it along with the orcs that quickly retreated into their fortress, all the eyes turned to Makalaurë, who didn´t stop despite having prevented the counterattack.

“Fingon, what is… Kanno?” Caranthir asked when he saw his brother standing there, singing in a lower voice. As the last sounds came through his lips and the foam disappeared, the minstrel fell to his knees, breathing hard. “KANNO!!!”

“A healer!! Quickly!!”

“It… it´s no need. I only… have never sung such a powerful song. It took a lot out of me, it´s all. Let me rest, that´s all I need” Maglor explained, but his cousins and brother didn´t listen to him. After a healer declared that he was right, they were finally left alone to talk. “Told you, I only need to sleep for a few hours.”

“You better, I´m taking the Silmarils with me so you actually do it” Caranthir announced, clearly worried. “And talking about the Silmarils, it´s that one of the songs that you learned from them.”

“Yes, the first one I managed to reconstruct” Kanno bit his lip. There was something he wasn´t telling them, but they weren´t going to press right now. “From what I have seen, they are all somehow related to snow or ice… something like that.”

“And I have seen, you were amazing” Findékanno said. “You were wonderful”

“I failed”

“Kanno, don´t say that. You saved the camp…”

“And failed to seal the hearts of taint, which are the true issue” Maglor joined his hands, then frowned. “what I did… that song was supposed to close them for good, but I… I only managed to buy us some time. I froze the entrance to all of them and they are going to stay like that for a few years, but… as time passes, they are going to leak out their power… and…”

“Well, we have time to think about a permanent solution, no?” Fingon shrugged. “and better do it with the time we have.”

“I think so…”

“My King, your Majesty, my lords” a healer from the House of the Hammer entered with a stern expression. Estelmistion, who had been working on the Feanorian healing tents on Rog´s and Turgon´s orders. “We have dreadful news. The patients rescued from Angband in the healing tents have shown a drastic drop in their health.”

“What?!” Fingon jumped to his feet.

“It´s worrisome” Estelmistion continued as if he hadn´t heard the High King. “It seems like the wind from Angband, specially this last one, has affected them in a way that hasn´t affected the rest of us. In fact, those that came straight from the Hearts are the most affected…”

“What are you trying to say?” the High King asked, already anticipating the answer.

“Your Majesty, I know that you already have too little troops and couldn´t afford to spare more until the refreshment troops arrive, but some have regressed into critical state and… my King, as a healer, I need to ask for an evacuation. To Amon Ereb.” He continued moving his hands nervously. “I know it´s probably too much to ask…”

“It is” Findékanno said without even thinking about it. “I already evacuated too many to both Barad Eithel and Amon Ereb. If we send more troops away, we are leaving the camp vulnerable. And let´s not talk about the healing staff there, they must already be overworked with…”

“Your Majesty, more are dropping dead by the moment!! We don´t have another option but to evacuate or we risk losing all the critical cases we just rescued!! And they are hundredths!!”

The Kings and lord were surprised to see the normally quiet healer raising his voice. Specially Turgon, who was more used to deal with him. It certainly gave them an understanding of the direness of the situation. They didn´t have another option but to move those rescued from the hearts of taint away from their range of influence or they risked to lose them all. But the Feanorian forces, normally those that would travel to Amon Ereb, were already thin thanks to the first convoy of critical patients to the same place. They couldn´t risk to send more, those troops were some of the best warriors in the army. Caranthir offered the idea that Orodreth´s forces could take care of the transport, as Nargothrond´s army was practically intact there, but Maglor told them that it was too risky because of the… Issue.

“It has to be the House of the Hammer” Turgon finally said, knowing they couldn´t trust the Nargothrondim with this. “Most of them are former thralls or descendants themselves, they will certainly do everything they could to get them to safety.”

“But Lord Rog needs to be here for Lord Salgant´s punishment…” Fingon started.

“I never said that we were sending Rog himself, only people he trusts in” the King of Gondolin crossed his arms. “I will tell him to handpick a group of soldiers to handle the transportation to Amon Ereb, that he had to have them ready for midday… and the healers too” Estelmistion nodded. “remember that all of you can´t leave the camp. And that we also need good healers, so all the best couldn´t be on that convoy.”

“We will make a balanced selection and have them ready for transport on midday”

“Thank you” the High King said, wishing for something stronger than wine to drink. First Salgant and his idiots playing their tricks, then the war was almost turned around on them, now this urgent transportation… could something else go wrong? “Once this is over, we are going to address the Salgant issue immediately. We need to root this out as soon as possible.”

“Fingon, I´m glad that you are taking this seriously, but this isn´t going to magically disappear just because you punish one bigoted pig” Caranthir said, crossing his arms. “This is going to take years of hard work.”

“Well, that hard work better be done before my son gets the ability to remember, because I´m definitely not letting him grow up the same way as your father” the Nolofinwion answered with a certain amount of poison in his voice. Everybody looked at them in amazement. “I´m sorry, I shouldn´t have said that.”

“No problem, I… I also wouldn´t like to raise my children that way” Moryo answered, thanking Eru not for the first time that his own children were never exposed to that belief while growing up. It certainly spared them a lot of pain. “But that doesn´t mean what I said wasn´t true either.”

“I´m aware… but it´s a beginning”

Turgon nodded and the both of them got out of the tent to prepare everything. Maglor followed them, curious. He so focused on his cousins that he almost didn´t notice the looks he was getting around the camp. The minstrel was used to be looked at in fear, specially after the Second and Third Kinslayings, but they were… other kind of fear. And something else… he could feel the whispers around him turning violent. He understood then, those that believed in former-thrall´s inferiority considered him even more of a threat than before, probably because of what he achieved earlier that day. Somehow, that made him feel proud instead of the contrary. Totally different reaction than the Kinslayings. Caranthir and him continued to follow the two Fingolfinions as they crossed into the Gondolin section of the camp. Turgon went straight to Rog´s tent and got out with the Lord of the Hammer himself and some soldiers. The Feanorian brothers noticed with a certain amount of pleasure that the Avari Lord was wearing a choker around his neck. With those soldiers they went to the section where Salgant´s troops rested, finding their lord cheerfully chatting with some of his men.

“My King… your Majesty…” the teleri elf got up as soon as he recognized them. “To what do I…”

“Arrest him” Findékanno demanded. The soldiers of the Hammer moved and grabbed Salgant from the arms. This one screamed. “The ones that acted too, all of them.”

“Yes, your Majesty”

By the order of the High King, both the Lord of the Harp and everyone involved in the attack against Rog were dragged to the center of the camp, where a post was. The first one of them, a young elf that resisted all the way, was tied to it as Fingon addressed the multitude of curious edain that reunited around the point.

“For a long time… I have wondered what caused the rift between my father and my uncle, what caused them to not behave like brothers should and ultimately what nearly destroyed our family. Now I know… and it´s something so stupid that I CAN´T BELIEVE SOME OF YOU ACTUALLY BELIEVE IT” he glared at those looking. “I CAN´T BELIEVE MY SUBJECTS, PEOPLE I FOUGHT WITH, THAT MY FATHER FOUGHT WITH, ACTUALLY BELIEVE THAT SOMEONE IS LESS BECAUSE OF A TRAGEDY THAT HAPPENED TO THEM OR BECAUSE OF THEIR ANCESTRY!! ARE THE NOLDOR REALLY SO IDIOTIC THAT THEY WOULD BELIEVE SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!!”

“But…”

“BUT WHAT?!” the High King turned to the one that spoke, who meekly retreat. “ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME THAT YOU WANT TO STAY STUCK IN THIS STUPIDITY?!! THEN IT WILL FALL ONTO ME, AS THE HIGH KING, TO ERASE IT” Fingon snapped his fingers and one of the soldiers of the Hammer approached with something. An orcist whip they had recovered from Angband. Normally they would dispose of it quickly, but now… “And if you don´t want to learn with words… then I will have to teach you with blood.”

“Your Majesty…”

“Twenty lashes to each of them for their attack on Lord Rog” he ordered to the one with the whip. “Perhaps if they feel some of the suffering their victims suffered they would learn something.”

“Your Majesty…”

“And forty to the damn bigoted idiot that planned this attack” Fingon took a step back and watched. “What are you waiting for? Begin” the first lash and scream resounded through all the camp. “Again” the second was even louder. “AGAIN!!”

Like that, the perpetrators of the attack on Rog were publicly whipped in front of the masses with one of the whips that was used on the thralls of Angband. Fingon saw and ordered each of the lashes. He didn´t need to, but he wanted to settled a precedent, to make all know that from now on there would be punishment for those who harmed the elves freed from Angband without motive. They left Salgant for the final. The Lord of the Harp was weeping as he was dragged to the post, crying and trying to escape. He even wet himself before he was even secured to the post. Caranthir and Maglor watched with a certain amount of pleasure. And this was supposed to be superior? They had both seen soldiers in their ranks more worthy than this scum.

“Forty lashes” Findékanno ordered as the soldier readied himself. “Begin!!”

The scream that followed was heard in all the camp.

-In Barad Eithel-

Maedhros finally opened his eyes. He wanted to say he had done something more than lay in bed and sleep for the two days he had been in Barad Eithel, barely waking up to eat something before going back into dreamland; but that would be lying. Never had he felt more exhausted after any battle, not even after the Dagor Bragollach… Gil Galad definitely had something to do with his exhaustion, he thought, but it was fine. His son was healthy, the healer assured him, and resting well would do his body wonders to remain healthy. That was good, specially as Maedhros knew how bad it was going to get later in the pregnancy… the sickness still scared him. He had managed to dodge death more than a few times, even so, he didn´t forget that it had actually killed him two times. Not even Angband had managed to kill him the first time, it had taken himself to do it.

“Calm down, you need to remain calm” Madirion said as he served the redhead a cup of tea with his breakfast. “Everything is going fine and it´s going to be alright.”

“For now” the Feanorion answered, knowing that the sickness wouldn´t show itself until the middle of the pregnancy. And it would get ugly fast. He accepted the tea anyway. “It´s a silver teaware?” he felt some nostalgia at seeing it. “We had one at home in Tirion too. In fact, we had several things my father made himself of silver… he always insisted we brought our own cutlery and chalices to grandfather´s parties. Thought he was obsessed.”

“Or worried about security” Runawë, who was also there, said.

“What?”

“Don´t you know?” the healer asked, taking the silver spoon out of the tea. “Silver is used to detect poison.”

Maedhros got silent when he heard that. Now that he remembered, Fëanor used to watch them like a hawk when they were at court, making sure they used their silver chalices, and even snatched them from their hands more than once. If silver was used to detect poison… did it mean that someone had tried to poison him and his brothers? More than once? If so, why had his father not told them or worse, HIM about it? They had a right to know. As he savored the tea, he was reminded of his father once more. Lavender tea… Fëanor had really enjoyed lavender tea. They even had a bush at home that his mother tended to. The bush seemed important to him too.

“How is silver used to detect poison?” he asked, curious.

“It´s a rather small trick and doesn´t work with all the poison, so you still have to be careful, but…” Madirion grabbed another cup and served tea. Then dropped something in the concoction. “If you pay close attention, you see that the metal has turned blueish. There are other ways, of course… your great grandfather would know them all.”

“My great grandfather?” yes, he remembered now. His father had grandparents back at home. Great grandparents he knew anything about who knows why.
“Ah, I remember someone mentioning that one of them was a healer. And the other a weaver…”

“I wouldn´t call him a weaver exactly, more like… a warrior?” Runawë frowned. “I learned nearly everything I know about fighting, both with and without weapons, from him. But he enjoys making threads, weaving and sewing enough, I guess.”

“An unlikely couple, from what I heard”

“There is a reason why Rúmil calls them a match made in Angband” the knight sat down next to the bed. “They were different, but in some way, they worked. And they loved each other dearly… just as they loved their daughter and grandson” the redhead stilled when he heard that. “When he was young, Fëanáro spent more time with his grandparents than with Finwë himself. He was practically all day with them, even during their mourning.”

“Which makes it all stranger… if they were so important, why didn´t I know of them?” his protector´s face grew dark while the healer paled a bit. “Please, I need to understand… when you talk about them, they seemed like good people, important for the cause even, why weren´t they at their grandson´s side when he fought for it?”

“My King…”

“It was Indis´ fault” the answer washed over him like a cold shower. What? “She had a… few reservations about them, some even would tell fear. So she made up a history about them threatening her after a shared tea time.”

“How do you know it was made up?” Maedhros snapped. Indis was his husband´s grandmother and haven´t been a bad person towards them, not even with his father antagonizing her all the time. She deserved the benefit of the doubt.

“I was there” Runawë confessed. “On the other side of the door, of course, but I could hear everything. That woman… I will never forgive her for that. She told such lies… and the only thing the Lords asked of her was for her to take good care of their grandson. And the worst was the Finwë believed her… believed that the Lords would do something like that when their little one was at risk.”

“If you heard everything and knew the truth, why didn´t you tell it to the High King? As a knight, you are sworn to do what´s honorable…”

“Because the Lords told me not to. If they were going to be banished from court and from their grandson´s life, because the Vanya woman requested that they didn´t have any contact with their grandson as punishment, he was going to need me… need someone to watch his back, someone they could trust… they were right.”

“Eru” Maitimo looked down at his lap. He didn´t have any idea… “Was this the reason my father disliked his stepmother so much?”

“One of them” the older elf crossed his arms. “She gave him plenty later, including one attack her personal servants, all of them brought personally by her from Valimar, on the young prince. Madirion himself could attest that it happened, he healed his injuries because of that” the healer looked away. “It was ugly.”

“I had no idea, this is… surprising in the bad way”

“The surprising thing was that Finwë was actually of help that time. Really, I have never heard him shout so loud in my life than when he found out. Shout at Indis” he smiled at that memory. “After he finished shouting, he forced his wife to fire all her personal servants and send them back to Valimar. I thought that he finally understood, but… he considered everything done after that. The Lords had that hope too.”

“Wait, they were… aware? How? I thought there was no contact…”

“With Fëanáro, but that doesn´t mean that they didn´t have a way to learn some things. Specially after the Prince grew up and started his training in smithy. Mahtan used to send them letters about his progress and early projects of his in secret.”

“Grandfather… why? And why didn´t he tell us?” all of them had a close relationship with Mahtan, perhaps closer than even Finwë. Why didn´t he tell them?

“Maybe he hoped that your other grandfather would fix his mistakes before introducing you to a part of the family that you probably wouldn´t be able to meet.”

Maedhros looked at his lap again, wondering again how much he didn´t know about his own family. How much even his uncles and aunts didn´t know about their family. With just the revelation of a few secrets, he was already understanding why the relationship between Fëanor and Indis was as antagonistic as it was. Of course, it was wrong from his father to let his distaste for the woman to leak into her children, but… he finally understood why he didn´t like her. And he was in his own right.

In their hidden post near the window, Caranthir´s twins whispered to each other about there recently discovered information. After a short discussion, one of them left their hiding place to write a letter and send it to the camp. This was definitely an issue their father had to know.

Chapter Text

“Turko is gone” Caranthir said as he entered the tent the rest of his brothers were in. Curufin cursed under his breath, of all the irresponsible things his idiot of a brother could do… “I have sent riders to search for him, but according to Nella, he got enough head start for them not find him.”

“Shouldn´t we then continue the search? Expand it?” the smith asked.

“We all know that if he got something into his head, it´s impossible to get it out. If we stop him now, he is going to try again until he succeeds” the Dark sighed. “This is… that´s exactly the reason we wanted to discuss this before anyone makes a stupid decision.”

“Discuss what?”

“Your punishment over what you did to Luthien” Curufin opened his eyes big. Caranthir gave him a Look. He certainly didn´t think that he was going to get away with that, no? That they weren´t handing their brothers to Thingol was one thing, but to let them without punishment was another completely different.
“It needs to be done.”

“Nelyo would never…”

“Nelyo agreed with me” the smith took a step back. “And don´t look at me like that, we were not going to let that bigoted sindar land a hand on either of you.”

“Hand me or Tyelko over to him and he will do much more than…”

“I´m conscious of that, more than you believe. Whose innocent family was slaughtered by that fucker, Curvo? Many times?” there was an uncomfortable silence around. “They didn´t have anything to do with your misconduct towards Luthien… but that´s not what matters now. What does is that we need to find out brother before his stupidity kills him.”

As all his brothers started to talk at the same time and the tent descended into chaos,

Caranthir felt the need to rub his temples. He didn´t know how Maedhros stood this, really. He should give him a few gifts in thanks, perhaps a complete wardrobe for when Gil Galad was born. At the same time he grinded his teeth, wondering how this sudden decision of Celegorm could change their plans for the two miscreants´ punishment. The blond was no longer there to send an apology letter and a gift to the sinda princess and her husband, the wronged part, or to receive punishment directly from the High King and do whatever atonement LUTHIEN herself asked. The smith was, but… it wouldn´t be the same if one of the wrongdoings apologize and the other not. The other punishments that Fingon, Maedhros and him were planning to issue for them, like taking them out of the line of succession and taking of lands and titles, could remain the same. Also this… could it be called banishment if Celegorm inflicted it on himself? … could also be added to the list of punishments, if only to keep Thingol from trying to demand something more.

“Excuse me, my lord” one of his guards entered in that moment, interrupting the conversation the brothers were having. “This letter arrived for you, from your sons.”

“Moryo?” Kanno asked as the Dark grabbed the letter and opened it. His only sons away from that place were Lanya and Isilme and they wouldn´t have risked contacting him without a good reason. His face visibly changed color as he read the letter. “Moryo, what happened?”

“Nothing” he pocketed the letter, his teeth grinding. “I need to see the High King”

“What?” Curufin asked. “Why?”

“Nothing that concerns you”

“Moryo, I thought we were over hiding secrets to each other” Maglor said, putting himself between his brother and the door. “If there is something we need to know…”

“Nelyo was over hiding things from us, I never agreed to that”

“But there is something we need to know” the minstrel continued, his intuitive eyes on the weaver, who was becoming uncomfortable. “Please, Moryo, we have been so united since we stopped having secrets, understanding each other and why we are here so much better… don´t ruin all this progress.”

“Alright” Morifinwë answered, feeling the need to rub his temples again. Dammit, couldn´t this become simpler? “But not here. We are going to discuss it with the Nolofinweans and please, remain calm.”

The Feanorions caught a lot of views as they crossed the camp together. Their children started to join them as they passed. Even Caranthir´s edain nephews and grandson tried, but the embroiderer stopped them with a hand sign. There was no need to involved them into this. As they arrived to the main tent, the guards on the entrance tried to stop them. It took Fingon actually emerging from the place to let his cousins in. The High King actually glared at his guards as the Feanorions entered, making them shudder. No one wanted to be subjected to the same treatment as the House of the Harp and their Lord.

“Why did you come with such urgency? Did something happen in Barad Eithiel?” Fingon asked, knowing full well that Moryo had an eye on Nelyo despite being so far away. It scared him a bit to think that his husband and son were in danger while he was not with them. By his side, Turgon watched carefully between them.

“You could say something like that” Caranthir took the note out of his pocket. “A message arrived this morning, carrying some… delicate information” he extended the note to him. “Did you know of this?”

“Know of what?” Fingon questioned as he received the note. His eyes go wide and face pale as he read each of the words. Turgon tried to read from over his shoulder, only for his brother to push the thing on his hands. His expression also changed.

“What the hell is that?” Curufin whispered to Maglor before the letter was also handed to the Feanorian side. Expressions of rage started to appear. “Did you really…”

“First of all, to everyone, I want to clarify that I didn´t know a word of this. Had I known, I would have had a very different opinion on the… disagreements we had as a family. A different… understanding.”

“If by that you mean to recognize that our father had reasons to hate Indis…”

“If he wanted understanding, he should have talked” Turgon said. “Say it out loud for our father to hear. No one would have…”

“That´s not the problem here and you know it” Caranthir interrupted, much to his brothers´ astonishment. “You have just begun to make progress in former thralls´ rights. Something like this might become an scandal and some would consider you as an hypocrite if you were to have a bigot in the family.”

“My grandmother wasn´t a bigot, Feanorion, take it back”

“But not even you could deny that her actions tell otherwise… even if that wasn´t what she wanted” Fingon passed a hand over his face. “I know our grandmother didn´t believe it, she did everything she could to have some sort of relationship with our half-uncle… but, as this had brought to light, she committed… grave mistakes.”

“If leaving an attack without punishment…”

“Fighting between ourselves won´t benefit anyone, especially now that the first steps are being taken” Moryo stopped Curufin. “We will keep this to ourselves… for now.”

“Yes, for now” Fingon joined his hands. “Once we are back in Aman, because we are all going to be back this time, I will ask answers from her. And she will respond for whatever mistake she committed while being Queen that might led our subjects to believe that kind of believe was acceptable. I assure you all, if she committed negligence or hate crimes, she will pay for it, grandmother or not.”

The Feanorians didn´t look convinced, but after they calmed down a bit agreed that this wasn´t the moment to be fighting with their cousins. Turgon wasn´t also convinced of Indis´ guilt, but also gave his cousins the benefit of the doubt. He knew that Indis could overreact when she thought the safety of her children and grandchildren was threatened. If she felt her stepson´s grandparents would harm her kids… he knew how she would react. Apart from that, he also believed that they should remain unite. The treat of Morgoth hadn´t vanished, even if they had made him flee. They needed each other more than ever to achieve stability and, when the day arrived, destroy that treat forever. After that… they will see.

-In Barad Eithiel-

Maedhros had just finished breakfast, feeling better after a few days of rest. Perhaps Fingon was right and he needed to take some rest. At least while expecting. He went to the balcony, hoping to catch a few moments of peace in the cold air of the morning, before the healers came back with their examinations and medicines that were supposed to prevent his sickness (he already tried them all, there was no use). As he was about to sit down and enjoy his time in solitude, there was a knock on the door. Runawë magically unfroze, his hand flying towards his sword. The redhead lifted a hand. There were his peace and quiet, apparently.

“Yes?” he asked as he opened the door. His eyes widened when he realized who it was. Yárion, former high chancellor of Tirion and now of Barad Eithiel… and someone his father had never trusted or liked. There were rumor that, even when succession wasn´t a question, Yárion had tried to make Nolofinwë heir.

“Good morning, your Majesty” he bowed respectfully. “I… don´t know how to say it in the right way, so I will only do it: can we talk?”

Can they? Yárion had never been a friend to his House. He probably abhorred that it was back at the center of power. He had never seemed bigoted to Maitimo, but… there had been much that he had ignored. At the same time, refusing to talk face to face would be seen as an act of fear. He won´t give them that. He was a General and a soldier, not the princeling he had been once upon a time. He won´t show them fear.

“Right now, I´m waiting for my healer. Perhaps at tea hour?”

“Perfect, I am free at that hour too” the chancellor seemed to approve. “I remember something about your family being partial to lavender tea…”

“Personally, I preferred chamomile, but that was my father´s favorite” there was a strange look on the elf´s face. “It´s everything right?”

“Yes, it´s only that… it reminded me to another time. Lavender was also your grandmother´s favorite… and your great grandfather´s. Guess it reminded him of family” he crossed his arms. “Anyway, at tea time is it. You are lucky, I have just received some chamomile leaves…”

Maedhros tried not to feel angry at the fact that everyone seemed to know more about his extended family than him. At the same time, he wondered if he should panic. He might not have been educated in the same way than other noldor princes, but even he knew that there was a certain etiquette to be observed at tea time. And, having come straight from campaign, he hadn´t packed anything appropriate for a tea, even a private one. He hadn´t even packed jewels, which were part of the noldor etiquette.

“You shouldn´t think much about it” Runawë said, letting go of his sword. “That bastard never liked your family and a tea is not going to change that. Back in the day, when everything was fine, he even tried to make Prince Fëanáro renounce his right to the throne.”

“How do you know?”

“I was there… at the other side of the door. I didn´t hear everything, but got the barebones”

“For a simple knight, you know a lot of secret things”

“I spent his entire life shadowing your father, his one and only sworn sword. It´s practically impossible that I hadn´t caught up some things. Specially with that person… he was more eager to keep us peaceful than to protect us. Which reminds me” the knight took something off his wrist and handed it over. “May it serve you well”

“Who would have known? I never took you as someone that would wear jewelry to a battlefield” Maitimo answered as he received it. It was a beautiful piece, gold and white stones Curufin would surely identify, but he didn´t. “It´s pretty.”

“A gift from your father, one of his first works. For luck… and protection” the redhead turned towards him, surprised. “White agate, turns black in the presence of poison.”

“He was really paranoid about that, no?”

“Only conscious of how easy it would be to slip it into someone´s drink… also that some idiot would find it poetic” what? “Of course, he started to investigate white agate very young with a completely different thing in mind, but what he learned stuck.”

Maedhros thought about it as he searched around his clothes for something appropriate. Not even Moryo seemed to have thought about having clothes for formal occasions. He finally came across something that at least wouldn´t make him feel terribly underdressed, even if it was not entirely appropriate. Runawë himself did his hair, then came with something he hadn´t expected to find there… the box of his father´s choker. With the damn thing on it. The redhead didn´t know if he should be wearing that to tea time. His father always wore it, but it was a bit gaudy for such a reunion. Besides, it had a significance that he still didn´t know how to handle.

“Come on, I was expecting you” he was answered even before he knocked on the door. The salon Yárion had chose to have tea in was private, well illuminated… and apparently, they were only going to be the two of them. “I prepared some sandwiches and sweets that you might like. Please eat, as much as you like.”

“Thank you” the other made no movement to touch anything. The chancellor didn´t take it badly and grabbed the pot, serving the tea himself.

“It´s important to eat well when you are expecting or that was I told” he said as he grabbed one of the sandwiched. “And I see that you are taking your… security as seriously as you should. You have taken the necessary steps.” He pointed at the agate bracelet. Maedhros looked down. “I don´t blame you, especially considering I DID support Prince Nolofinwë once upon a time.”

“I was never informed that you changed your posture”

“Probably because I decided to support Prince Arafinwë in the end, even if he wasn´t considered an option back at the day” he grabbed the cup and started drinking. “Believe it or not, it was not because of the reasons you are probably contemplating. I never supported those idiocies about former thralls and their descendants being inferior.”

“Then why? Why didn´t you support my father?”

“Because he wasn´t the right one. And it wasn´t because he lacked something, it´s just that… he disliked it. He disliked the court, the nobles, statecraft… you knew him, he was mainly an artist at heart” Maedhros actually smiled at this. This was true, for both of his parents. “I think he was only truly happy when he was at the forge or with his family by his side…”

“He truly was a family man… back then” the redhead actually served himself a cake. He did have to eat well and do it before the symptoms started.

“Yes” he sighed. “I think he would have been better as a simple smith, with his children and wife… happier truly… if he lacked the background too” the chancellor looked down. “I also wanted to offer you and your family an apology.”

“Why? You haven´t said anything that wasn´t true.”

“I talked to Prince Fëanáro about taking a step to the side and let Prince Nolofinwë become heir. I thought he might agree, with how much he hated court and the time he would have to do his things… I actually wanted him to do that more, the wonders he could make… the look he gave me when I suggested that” he smiled weakly. “I thought he wanted to kill me… so I quickly explained myself and… I was never refuted in such a grand way in my life.”

“He was a master of his words”

“And entirely right” Yárion bit a finger. “He didn´t need to scream or shout or pull out his sword. He only sat down there and told me the truth about the situation of former thralls, including himself. Then I realized it… and I felt stupid for letting it grow into such a great problem… and for not setting things right earlier.” He actually seemed contrite. “Prince Fëanáro might have been an artist, but he was also a natural leader and activist. He was the first one and the only member of the royal family that apologized for the attacks of officers of court to population of former thralls. And they trusted him… to them, he was the future… and he felt a responsibility to them.”

“Then why didn´t you support him?”

“Because, by the time I realized his strong points to govern, that sense of duty I would have wanted to see in his other brothers and even in his father, he was too badly damaged by our own people. He didn´t consider the noldor his people, but the… community, as they like to call that amalgamate of different people that conform the former thralls population… and he was doing everything he could for them. He was also conscious about his position and what it meant to them, even in the sense of security. Specially then. He exposed it to me like that… and I realized that he was entirely right. He couldn´t renounce, too many lives would be lost if he gave up.”

“But you decided not to back up him, but Finarfin.”

“Yes, haven´t you heard? His compromise, that sense of duty and responsibility that should have belonged to the entirety of the noldor, belonged to the community. It was our own fault and I was really sorry for that… specially when my own investigation made me aware of the terrible crimes committed against them and the… role Prince Nolofinwë played in them…”

“So it was truth? He really… participated in that?”

“Only in the financial sense and being misinformed by his supposed friends… but it was enough for me to become disenchanted with him. As a Prince, he should have known to distrust nobles, even friends. They all had their own agenda” he took a sip of tea. “Arafinwë was invisible to many then, with all the heirs ahead of him in the line, but he knew this. And thanks to Princess Eärwen´s and King Olwë´s influence, he was suspicious of nobles and, with the correct guidance, would have detected the problem and done something…”

“You certainly sing his praises… which is probably why you decided to follow the exiles. You thought that those that remained behind would be well because Arafinwë was at the head” which he knew was not truth. If not, then the events that lead to the current situation wouldn´t have happened. “But that is not what you called me here to discuss.”

“No, it´s truth. I called you here because… I really think that you and the High King could do it… govern well, I mean” Yário looked at him sincerely. “I´m not your enemy, Nelyafinwë, and I´m not here to threaten you or your marriage. I followed Nolofinwë´s host because I didn´t want to commit the same mistakes as in Tirion. It was too late to make the former King listen, but this one… he listens. And he has you. I think that we could finally solve this problem… and make everything better.”

“And how that would be?”

During the next hour, the chancellor gave the General a crash course in the obligations of a consort and how to shoulder them. Maedhros wasn´t aware of many of them. He doubted even his mother was aware, Nerdanel had always done as she pleased even if she was Crown Princess. He was informed that, technically, he was Regent right now. With the King away and with the heir apparent, at least until the child in his womb was born, he was the highest-ranking person in the court and should shoulder part of the responsibilities of the King. He got out of the room much later than he expected, considering everything that was said to him, the things he need to do… and he couldn´t fail. As his father´s son, he was the representant of the community and every failure on his part would be used as an excuse to condone the wrongful way of thinking or outright attack them. It didn´t matter much before, as most of them were in the frontier of Maedhros and, with the threat of Morgoth, the Noldor preferred to have them there risking their lives to elves like them. In the other timeline, it would have been the same, but with their victory… he couldn´t give them a reason to say something bad about him.

As he prepared to go to bed that night, he found himself unable to even considering sleeping. How was he supposed to do this? He should have learned statecraft before, he knew, he was third in line, but his father always seemed to think that his children should find their own paths and have let them do as they please after completing their formal education. At midnight, he was so nervous that he started to walk around. Accidentally, he knocked a box out of his midnight table… his father´s choker´s box. He groaned and picked it up, turning it around to put the contents back in place it was then that he found it. A piece of yellowed paper that must have been hidden beneath the velvet cushion. He grabbed it and opened it, finding a short letter written in a stylized Sarati. He was a bit rusted, but he managed to decode the message. It was from one of his mysterious great grandparents to his father. And... you could feel the love on each word. Also the anguish at the separation. The advices on it… they sounded cruel for such a small elfling (his father was young when they left), but they were something that needed to be said. Because this wasn´t a goodbye, not really. It was a please, survive… until we see each other again.

“I can do it.” He told himself, wondering if his father had told this to himself too, cleaning the tears off his eyes. “Be strong, be calm, don´t show weakness… remember that your family loves you… I can do this.”

Nelyafinwë Maitimo went to bed with those words on his mind, letting himself drift off to sleep. In his dreams, he saw someone he hasn´t seen before but you only had to see his eyes to know that he was related to him. That tone of grey could only be found in the descendants of the House of Fëanor… and the twins, but that was something they chose for themselves. He was also a little bit rough for a pure elf or even a peredhel, but he was in Valinor, so he had little doubt that he was in front of his grand nephew Avranc. There were tears in his eyes and an expression of rage that reminded him so much of his father in his last days that it actually scared him. And it did more when he saw what the youngster was seeing. Caranthir´s family on one side, pinned to trees by the sindar… and their murderers on the other side, in the same situation, with arrows coming out of their bodies. Great pain on one side… and great satisfaction on the other. A satisfaction that was shared by many. It actually scared him to know that was actually possible. That it had happened before.

“My King?” Runawë said when he woke him up the next morning. “The healer is here. He wants to give you an exam before you head out.”

“Of course” as Madirion brought in all his herbal concoctions and made sure his blood pressure was normal, Maedhros looked at his knight. “Is it… dire? The situation of the former thralls in Tirion… or Aman…”

“Very” the warrior said. “I remember the disturbs when Princess Findis was born.”

“There were disturbs when my aunt was born?”

“Not as bad as the ones that occurred when Nolofinwë was born” he answered in distaste. “There were actual deaths in that one. And it was spearheaded by a chief of security that Queen Indis herself recommended.” He shook his head. “I don´t know what was worse, that she refused to acknowledge her and the King´s part of the responsibility for that or that they also refused to punish him more than firing him or even indemnify the families of the victims.”

“How do you know that they didn´t indemnify the families?”

“I was part of them” Runawë admitted. “My father died in those attacks. I told him after the Princess was born that he should return to… the walled city, that it wasn´t safe… but he wanted to stay close to me. We only had each other for so long that he couldn´t leave me alone to face the capital… I didn´t hate her until then. She knew, she crossed me in the hallways practically every day… and she refused to utter a simple apology or even look at me. I don´t say that it would have suffice, but… maybe I wouldn´t hate her. Or Finwë, because I also hated him for that.”

“And us?”

“No, never” he smiled softly. “Prince Fëanáro was like family to me, I could never hate any of you. Besides… your father actually approached me and the families and apologized in the name of the Royal Family. He promised to do his very best to make sure this won´t happen again… and he did. He couldn´t offer any indemnity, but the gesture meant the world to the grieving people, even if it came from a child that shared our situation.”

“He as something else… something I´m not sure I can be… or that I want to be.”

“You don´t need to, you do what you think it´s right and rule in your own way… doing what´s best for your people, all of them”

Maedhros nodded before taking his medicine and dressing up for the morning. He reunited with Yário in Findékanno´s office, mentally getting ready for the hours of work and learning ahead of him. Surprisingly, it was less hard than he believed. Some things he had even done before, when ruling Himring. As for the others, the chancellor was a good teacher that explained him each of the things calmly and in a way he could comprehend them well. That didn´t mean that it was easy, he was exhausted by lunch, which they had delivered to the office.

“You are doing well, all things withstanding” the older elf told him. “I guess you have already ruled your own territory before.”

“Yes, but this is a little bit harder than Himring” the redhead answered, extending his hand towards the wine. His hand was immediately stopped by Runawë. Maedhros turned to ask him what was the matter when he saw the bracelet the knight gave to him. The stoned were black.

“Eru almighty, not this again” Yário rolled his eyes, snatching the cup and emptying it in one of the potted plants laying around. Then made one of the servants come. “Thought we were already done with this… I apologize, they will deliver you new wine right now.”

“Someone already tried to poison me?”

“Not exactly, I found a maid mixing tansy with your morning tea this morning. Luckily, your healer also caught up on that and prevented it from even arriving to you” he rolled his eyes. “Tansy is commonly used in medicine, but is also known to provoke abortions. Probably someone decided that if they couldn´t get you, they could at least get rid of the baby.”

Maedhros put a hand where his son was. The thought that someone might target Ereinion before he was even born was sickening. They were both supposed to be safe in Barad Eithiel, but now… he was feeling surrounded by enemies. How was he supposed to deal with this all at the same time as he worked? And what about during the sickness?

“It´s one of the reasons I was glad you were taking precautions” Yário signaled his bracelet once more. “Better prepared than not, it will keep you alive.”

“The same that in the battlefield”

“Politics is a battlefield, my King, don´t lie to yourself thinking that it´s not. And, just like in every war, every part has it´s tricks” he got up. “Take this as a baptism of fire in the battlefield of politics.” He was walking to the door before he stopped. “One more thing. I remembered something yesterday after you left, something your father told me when we talked. That it only takes a spark to light up an uncontrollable fire.”

“It´s because of Alqualondë?”

“No, my King, Alqualondë was a small fire compared to what could happen if the spark really goes out of control. After all, you can only hit a dog so many times before it bits your hand” he smiled. “Your father, despite all his temper, understood this and did everything to keep his people pacific. Your great grandparents, despite their efforts to protect them, have kept the deaths of those who are on the other side at the bare minimum.”

“The point?”

“Please, don´t become or let one of your family members become the spark that will burn us all. Not even your son” Yário said, smiling at him. “Don´t be uncaring, but also don´t let them do whatever they want. You father believed that the right circumstances were the only thing that was needed, but I differ. After all, revolutions needed a leader… and the House of Fëanor had always leaded them.”

Maedhros couldn´t rebate his arguments. The House of Fëanor was important for the community. They had always shielded them and now… they will follow them unconditionally. He had seen that before. He and Maglor had retained their followers no matter what they did, what disaster they lead them to. Celegorm was important enough to his captains for them to abandon Elúred and Elúrin to the wilderness when they were practically toddlers. Avranc… Caranthir´s great grandson had been the spark that set the world on fire in the future. The leader of the revolution that crucified those that harmed their people. But that… that couldn´t happen again. It was something that he couldn´t in good conscience let happen.

“Everything is going to be fine, Ereinion” he said to his child. “Change not always comes with bloodshead.”

-In Doriath-

Elu Thingol, King of Doriath, was watching the horizon from his own private balcony. His wife Melian was still laying in bed, awake but giving him privacy as he thought of what the new dawn brought. He hoped that when news arrived, they were about the Alliance falling to Dragonfire and the House of Fëanor being exterminated. Maybe then he would be able to smile again… as his friend´s lineage was finally cleaned of impurity and that one was forgotten in the darkness of times.

“My love, come to bed with me” Melian asked. Even with their muting marriage bond, she could feel that awful feeling leaking from him towards her. “You don´t need to stay there until we receive news.”

“I need to know if they are all gone”

“My love…” one of her nightingales entered the room through the balcony in that moment, landing in her bedside table. Her husband left his place to approach her as she listened to the news the bird brought her.

“Melian? What does it say? Are they all dead?” he asked, interested.

“They all survived” she answered, letting her avian messenger go. “And that´s not all, they won. The Alliance of Maedhros camps outside of Angband right now, victorious and in possession of the two other Silmarils. And the Black Enemy flees further away from us” Thingol´s expression soured in a second. “Darling, you know that I would never allow them to cross my Girdle…”

“Anything else?” asked the King as if he hadn´t heard her, serving himself some wine, paranoia visibly resurging in his face.

“Yes, it´s about the oldest Feanorion. Apparently, he is with child. With the child of the High King” the cup broke in the King of Doriath´s hand. “My love…”

Thingol didn´t let her say anything else, he fled the room. He crossed the palace in his sleeping wear, murmuring to himself. They had survived, all of them. They had recovered the Silmarils, the two that were still in Morgoth´s possession. How much time until they turn their eyes towards Doriath and decide to attack his precious kingdom? And he didn´t have any doubt that those kinslayers and their army of scum would come for HIS jewel. They must be gloating of their victory, drunk with it by now. They will come… and now the rest of the Noldor will come with them. Doesn´t the oldest one have the High King of the Noldor from what was between his legs? He must by the looks of it, there wouldn´t be a pup in the way if not for that. He must be good whore to secure an ally that way. In fact, all of them must be. Haven´t the blond one who dared to try and touch HIS DAUGHTER birthed a litter of bastards of his own? Whores and scum, that was all they were.

By then, he had arrived to his vault and opened the coffer where his daughter´s bride price laid. He had been observing it every day since it got into his hands, listening to it´s sweet songs and seeing the sweetest of dreams in their light. Dreams that could only become true if they were no longer there to threaten his peace. Yes, he was right. He had to get rid of them, of all of them, before they got to him and his people. All of them… because if not, they were going to have more troops… and… and…

“You, at the door” he startled a young soldier in the entrance of the vault. “Call the court into session, I want to see all the important people there. Are you still there?!”

The young soldier ran away as a plan formed in the King´s mind. There have to be someone of a like mind that he could use… ally with to oust the Feanorions from Noldor power. Beginning with the eldest one and his spawn. As he left the Silmaril in it´s place, his finger caressed the only other occupant of the box. A small piece of rudely cut red citrine. Immediately, steel grey eyes surrounded by silver blond hair filled his mind. That and… blood… over the snow… the woman practically towering over him despite his size.

“Nothing of you will remain, I will make sure of that. And if not me, my descendants”

The box made a huge sound as it was closed.