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Maedhros said they should not go into the woods. Maedhros had looked at Maglor with a hidden grief and said he should not take the twins into the woods, and Maglor had known that he was thinking of a different set of twins, ones they had failed. But Maglor was determined not to fail this time, and they needed to gather herbs and plants that grew among the trees, and that was all there was to it. It would be safe, he'd thought, and he would most certainly not let anything happen to Elrond or Elros.

His silent promise would be put to the test, Maglor knew, as he hid with the twins behind a bush and listened to the orcs camped nearby.

The children were white-faced and wide-eyed, and Maglor wished he could say something to comfort them, but he could not lie, not about this. He would do his best to keep them safe, yes, but he could not promise anything comforting.

"Little ones," he whispered, hardly more than a breath, and the twins both whipped around to look at him. "You must run back to the keep as quickly as you can."

"They'll catch us!" Elros whispered. His voice was a hint too loud; Maglor hoped no one would hear it. He was a child, and children were always loud, so Maglor could not fault him for it, but he still pressed a finger to his lips in a plea for quiet.

"You two must run," he whispered, "and I will distract them so you can get away."

Elrond's hand shot out and gripped his wrist. "Without you?"

"I will be fine, little ones," Maglor promised, and he hoped his last words to the twins wouldn't be a lie. "Run. Tell Maedhros what happened. And whatever you do, whatever you hear, do not turn back."

Elrond looked at him, horrified. "Maglor-"

"Go," Maglor whispered. He looked to Elros, and Elros slowly took his twin's hand, disentangling it from Maglor's wrist. Maglor knew he could count on him; Elros was fiercely protective of his younger twin and much slower to forgive Maglor. He would get himself and Elrond to safety if it was at all possible to do it.

"Go now, little ones," Maglor said, giving Elros a gentle push, and when the twins started to move, he wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword and started towards the orcs. He might not be able to take all of them, but he could do his best, and he could certainly keep them focused on him. He could keep them distracted long enough to let the twins get to safety, and that was what was most important.

If I never see you again, Nelyo, I'm sorry, he thought, then he unsheathed his sword and began to sing.

Maglor had said not to turn back no matter what they heard, but it was hard not to when Elrond heard the faint, piercing tones of his song. Maglor could harness power through music, he knew, but he didn't know if it would be enough to take down a group of orcs as loud as the one they'd seen. Maglor had a sword as well, and Elrond knew he knew how to use it, but he was only one elf, and there had been so many orcs.

Elros tugged lightly, and Elrond realized he'd started to slow. He sped up again, hoping to get out of earshot of Maglor's song before something cut it off. He knew, whatever Maglor had said, that he was not likely to be fine, but he did not want to hear it, and if he could hear the song, he could hear the screams.

Elros pulled him relentlessly forward until they finally reached the gates of the keep. They were still open, left so that Maglor and the twins would be able to return easily from their gathering, and the twins hurtled through them as quickly as their little legs could carry them. Elrond wanted to drag the gates shut, but what if Maglor was alive, what if he made his way to the keep, what if he had to get in? If they closed the gates with him stuck on the wrong side…

Thunderous footsteps pounded towards them, and Elrond looked up, gasping for breath, to see Maedhros running forward. He looked at the boys, eyes wide, and demanded, "Where is Káno?"

The name rang a distant bell in Elrond's memory, but he could not think of who it belonged to. Maedhros made an angry, irritated sound in the back of his throat, one that did not quite hide his fear, and corrected himself. "Maglor. Where is he?"

Maglor had told them to tell Maedhros what happened, but the look on Maedhros's face gave Elrond pause. He was afraid, but he was also angry, and Elrond did not want to be the one to tell him what was likely happening to his brother at that very moment.

He was lucky; he had a brother of his own. "Orcs," Elros said through heaving breaths, and he did not have to elaborate for Maedhros to say something in Quenya that Elrond was fairly certain was an ugly curse. The fear on his face only sharpened.

"Where?"

"We were collecting herbs," Elrond said stupidly; Maedhros already knew that, and it didn't answer his question. "There was a little clearing, Maglor said it had good mushrooms-"

"I know it," Maedhros cut him off. He unsheathed the sword at his side, and without another word, he stormed through the open gates.

"What do we do?" Elros whispered.

Elros was the older one, he was supposed to have the ideas, but Elrond didn't think either of them had any idea of what to do next. Neither of them knew what would happen if Maglor didn't come back. He was the one who had brought them to Amon Ereb from Sirion, he was the one who seemed far more invested in raising them, and if he was gone, neither twin had any idea what Maedhros would do with them.

And besides, they had lost two parents already, and however strange and strained their relationship with Maglor could be sometimes, Elrond did not want to lose a third.

They needed Maglor to live. That meant they needed to help.

"We follow him," Elrond whispered, and he took Elros's hand as they ran back under the shadow of the trees.

The orcs were not difficult to find, but finding them was the least of Maedhros's problems. Their camp was not enormous, but it was large enough that Maedhros was not entirely sure of his ability to handle it himself. Maglor had done his best, Maedhros could see the piled corpses that must have been his doing, but he never would have been able to hold off so many orcs alone.

He had not been able to. He was gagged and bound to a tree, blood drying on the side of his face from a blow to the temple that looked to have rendered him unconscious. There was blood on his tunic as well; Maedhros wished he could fool himself into thinking it had come from the orcs, but it was too red for that.

Maglor had not gone down easily. Even aside from the corpses, Maedhros could see dried black blood on the sides of the orcs' heads, trailing from their ears. Maglor must have sung to them, then. He hadn't used his music for combat for years, but he used to be very good at it, and Maedhros didn't think that would have changed. Even without practice, he knew his brother was a force to be reckoned with.

The problem was, the orcs had reckoned with it, and they had come out on top.

Maedhros scanned the camp again. If he was careful, if he was smart, he could likely kill all the orcs on his own without letting any of them do much damage to him. The problem, of course, was Maglor, their hostage. If one of the orcs placed a blade against his neck, if they demanded Maedhros to give up or watch his brother die, he would not have a choice. But he could not rescue Maglor without taking on the orcs, and that left him at an impasse that made his blood boil and his heart pound.

There was a faint sound next to him; Maedhros whirled around and found there were two children next to him. "We want to help," Elrond whispered as Elros nodded next to him. "What can we do?"

Maedhros should have heard them coming. They were very quiet, it was true - Maglor said it was their Maia heritage, but Maglor attributed everything strange about them to their Maia heritage; Maedhros, who had his doubts about how much a distant Maia ancestor could really influence the children, just thought they were strange all on their own - but even then, he should have heard them. But his heart had been pounding so loudly in his ears, and it had pounded out a litany of his brother's names, and he hadn't been able to hear anything over the chant of Maglor, Makalaurë, Kanafinwë, Káno, my brother, my brother, my brother. He should have heard the twins, but he hadn't, and if they were already there, asking to be useful, he might as well let them be.

"Take these," he whispered, pulling a knife out of each boot and handing them to the twins. "I will attack the orcs and draw their attention. While they are distracted, and only if you can see that they truly are distracted, cut Maglor free and get him to safety. I will deal with the orcs."

"There are too many!" Elrond protested. "If Maglor couldn't-"

"Maglor took down enough," Maedhros said, "and I have always been the better fighter. I will deal with the orcs."

He would have to deal with the orcs; he could not let the children be hurt. They should not have followed him, and perhaps he should have sent them back before letting them even say a word in protest, but he could not bring himself to do it. They wanted to help, and he needed all the help he could get. If they could free Maglor while he distracted the orcs, they could all be safe.

Assuming, of course, that all went well. Assuming that the blood on Maglor's tunic wasn't from too awful a wound, assuming that wound wasn't poisoned. Orcs, he knew, had a tendency to put poison on their blades, and if they had poisoned Maglor…

They had no healer, not any more. All Maglor had was Maedhros, and he had never been much of a caretaker. But all Maedhros had was Maglor, and for his brother, he would do whatever he had to do.

"Sneak around to the other side of the camp," Maedhros told Elrond and Elros. "Do it quietly. I will give you a count of twenty, and then I will attack. Count yourselves, so you will not be caught by surprise when I attack."

The twins nodded, and the two of them snuck away. Whatever made them so silent, whether it was Maia ancestry or simply a strangeness inherent to the children themselves, Maedhros was grateful for it. They would get to the other side of the camp without being spotted, he was certain of it.

His count hit twenty, and, as promised, he attacked.

His sword had beheaded three orcs before they even realized what was happening. He did not have music to do half his job for him, not like Maglor, but Maedhros was a fearsome warrior, perhaps even more fearsome now with his left hand than he had ever been with his right. He had not had reason to fight with his right hand like he did with his left.

The orcs all surged towards him, and Maedhros was pleased that they were a stupid bunch and none of them seemed to think of using their captive against him. Of course, he had not introduced himself, and likely Maglor had not either; they could not know that they were brothers unless they had been told. The idea of using their elf captive against their elf assailant would likely come to one of the orcs eventually, but that was what Elrond and Elros were there for. If Maglor was free, then Maedhros did not care what happened to him. As long as his brother survived, that was all that mattered.

And the children, came the afterthought, hot on the heels of the first; he did not want the children to die either.

The next time he was able to look to Maglor's tree, the ropes were cut and forgotten on the ground, and there was no sign of his brother. The children would handle it, he told himself, and he beheaded another orc. The group was thinning, but he was tiring. He told himself quite firmly that that was unacceptable. The orcs needed to die; as long as they lived, Maglor and the children would be in danger. Only once they were gone would they all be safe.

Maedhros did not let himself tire any more, and he slaughtered each and every orc with a cold and merciless fury.

When the last orc fell, he sheathed his sword - it was filthy with orc blood, but cleaning it with only one hand was tricky, and Maedhros had more important things to worry about than the state of his sword - and hurried into the trees near where Maglor had been bound. He doubted the children could have brought him far, and he was right; they were a scant few meters away, only out of sight because of the dense trees and brush. Elros had Maglor's head in his lap, and Elrond was carefully unpicking the knot of the gag. It was tangled in Maglor's hair, Maedhros saw; Elrond must have been trying to unknot it without pulling too badly.

Neither child had cut the bonds wrapped around Maglor's hands. Likely they had feared that their knives would slip, but Maedhros feared no such thing; he took Elrond's set-aside knife and sliced cleanly through the ropes. There were marks left where they had pressed too deeply into Maglor's skin, but those would heal. The more dangerous wound was whatever was hiding beneath Maglor's tunic.

With a quiet noise of triumph, Elrond managed to loosen the gag; he worked it carefully out of Maglor's mouth and set it aside, brushing through Maglor's hair carefully. "Maglor?" he asked quietly. "Maglor, will you wake?"

He did not even stir.

Maedhros steeled himself and pushed up Maglor's tunic, revealing the wound in his side. It was not as bad as it could have been, but that did not make it good. There was darkness in the wound, its edges curling black, and Maedhros did not know if the poison would be enough to kill him, but he did not want to test it.

"What is that?" Elros asked, eyes wide and horrified.

"Poison," Maedhros said shortly. "What herbs did you collect?"

"Parsley," said Elrond, "and feverfew, and athelas-"

"Athelas," Maedhros repeated sharply. "Do you still have it?"

Elrond's eyes were round as coins, but he shook his head. "Maglor had the basket."

And he must have left it behind before fighting the orcs, and it would be trampled at best or completely destroyed at worst. Either way, the athelas would be corrupted by the touch of the orcs; even if Maedhros could find it, he could not use it.

"Did you pick all the athelas, or did you leave some?"

"We didn't take all of it," Elrond said quickly. "Maglor said we should only take some, so the rest could continue to grow."

Damn what Maglor said; Maedhros would use every scrap of athelas if it was what it took to heal him. The problem was finding it. He could not send the twins off alone, but neither could he leave them to fetch it himself. If he brought them back to the keep with Maglor, it would be a waste of time that he was not certain Maglor had to waste. There was only one solution.

"Do you remember where the athelas was?"

Elrond nodded rapidly. "We can lead you to it," Elros added. "Can you use it to heal Maglor?"

Maedhros slid his arms under his brother's body and lifted him, holding him against his chest. Maglor was smaller than Maedhros, but it was not always obvious; now, it was. He knew every step he took was likely to hurt, but he had no other option, and he would be as gentle as he could be.

He was not particularly good at being gentle. He had lost the art of it, perhaps the same time he had lost his hand, or perhaps when he had killed his kin and lost his soul. If he was going to rediscover the ability for anyone, it would be for his brother.

"Take me to the athelas," he said, cradling Maglor close, "and I will do what I can."

Maglor was still breathing.

Elros told himself that was what was important. Maglor had not woken, and the blood on his face was dark and sticky against his pale skin, and the wound in his side was turning black in spidering tendrils, but he was still breathing, and that meant all was not lost.

He wondered when, precisely, he had gotten close enough to the kinslayer who had destroyed his home for his death to be a loss.

He led the way to the athelas; he was sure Elrond remembered the way as well, but Elrond was too focused on Maglor, practically tripping alongside Maedhros so he could watch him every moment. Elros wondered if there was anything his twin could do to help him. Sometimes, when he was cut or bruised, Elrond would hum and pass his hands over it, and the little injury would heal in the blink of an eye. But those were just minor things, and the wound in Maglor's side was far from minor.

Elros hoped that Maedhros knew what he was doing with the athelas.

"We're nearly there," he called behind him, unable to bear the silence. "Do you need anything else?"

There was silence for a long moment, and Elros had almost given up hope of an answer until Maedhros said, "I will use some now, but you will need to bring some athelas back to the keep as well. I will need you two to carry it."

"As much as we can," Elrond promised immediately.

"When we are back in the keep," Maedhros said, "I will steep the athelas in water as a tea. For now, I will try to use it to draw the poison out."

"Will it kill him?" Elros asked, and then immediately regretted the words. The question was honest - it was hard to think of any poison being enough to kill a full-blooded elf, especially one whose eyes shone with the light of the Trees - but he had not meant to say it aloud.

Maedhros went silent again. This time, Elros could not blame him, but to his surprise, Maedhros eventually grunted out, "I do not know. The athelas will help."

"We can help him," Elrond said, fear and resolve mingling in his voice. "He will not die."

There was a shiver about the words, and Elros had the feeling that Elrond was speaking both of the future and of something more than just the orc wound. He didn't know what it meant, and he doubted even Elrond did, but it was reassuring. He and Elrond had learned to trust what they knew of the future.

"The athelas!" Elros cried, rushing forward. The herb was clustered beneath a tree, and despite the signs of previous pruning, there was still a great deal left. There were bunches under a few trees, and Elros began to gather it the way Maglor had shown him. He rushed back to Maedhros's side when he had a handful, passing it to him once he had set Maglor on the ground. It had to hurt, to be moved with a wound like that, but Maglor did not even stir.

Maedhros looked down at the athelas in his hand, then he handed it back to Elros. "Shred it as small as you can." He ripped a strip of cloth from the bottom of Maglor's ruined tunic and held it out. "Gather it on this. Do either of you have water with you?"

They'd gone out with waterskins, but Elros had lost his sometime after finding the orc camp. Elrond fumbled for his, though, and held it out to Maedhros.

"I- I drank some of it already. Is that alright?"

Maedhros weighed the skin in his hand. "It should be enough." He ripped off another strip of fabric and handed it to Elrond. "Wet this for me."

Elrond carefully poured water on the fabric until it was soaked through, then he handed it to Maedhros. Carefully, Maedhros wiped at the blood weeping out of the wound. Some of it, Elros noticed with horror, seemed to be darker than it should have been. The orcs, he recalled, had bled back, and he wondered what the poison would do to Maglor if it was allowed to run its course.

Maedhros set the rag aside and turned to Elros. "The athelas."

Elros handed him the little cloth bundle, and Maedhros pinched some of it up and pressed it to Maglor's wound.

The cry Maglor let out was horrible, a bone-shaking thing. Elros clapped his hands to his ears, and Elrond did the same beside him, but Maedhros did not even flinch. He pressed the athelas harder, and then he gathered more and did it again. Maglor writhed, looking like he was trying to escape his brother's grasp, but even with just one hand, Maedhros kept him in place.

He looked at Elros and said something, but Elros could not hear him with his ears blocked. He tentatively moved one hand, and he heard Maedhros say, "More athelas."

As quickly as he could, Elros ran over to the nearest bunch of athelas and picked more. Maglor's cries had turned from ear-piercing screams to breathless moans, and although they did not echo painfully through Elros's body the way his screams had, they were not much easier to listen to. He could not cover his ears and gather the athelas at the same time, though, so he steeled himself and plucked as much as he could carry before rushing back to Maglor's side.

"Shred it," Maedhros said, and Elros began shredding the herbs as quickly as he could. Elrond was wiping around Maglor's wound again, and this time, there seemed to be more darkness and less blood. Elros hoped that was a good thing. The athelas was supposed to draw the poison out; that must have been what the darkness was. He could still see it in Maglor's veins, but he thought it looked like it had receded a little. At the very least, it certainly hadn't spread.

Elros handed Maedhros the second bundle of shredded athelas, and Maedhros pressed it against Maglor's wound again. This time, Maglor seemed to be pleading, but he was speaking in breathless and delirious Quenya, and Elros did not understand enough of the language to know what he said. He could see the effect it had on Maedhros, though, could see the way it made him hesitate for a moment as the screams had not. But it was only for a moment; Maedhros went back to packing the athelas against the wound, and then he tore another long strip from Maglor's tunic and wrapped it tightly around his torso.

"Gather more athelas to bring back," he told Elros. "And Elrond, help me tie this in place."

Both twins moved quickly, and within a few moments, Elros was carrying handfuls of athelas and Maedhros had Maglor in his arms. Maglor was still muttering something in Quenya, but Elros couldn't understand it, and he didn't think he wanted to.

"Is he going to be alright?" he asked Maedhros, his voice coming out very small.

Maedhros looked down at him, and Elros had the distinct feeling that he was deciding whether or not to lie to him. "I hope so," he finally said, and Elros knew it was the truth, but it did not answer his question.

If that was the most truthful answer Maedhros could give, he did not think he wanted to know the real answer.

They headed back to the keep together, and Elros watched Maglor's chest rise and fall. He was still breathing, and that was what was important.

There was something under his skin.

There was something under his skin, and it was spreading, and it was writhing, and Maglor could not escape it, because it was under his skin. He wished he could, though, he wished and wished-

And then the thing began to burn, and even though he could feel it leeching out, he changed his mind and desperately wished it would stay, if it would not burn.

It burned, and he burned, and it was the Dagor Bragollach all over again, the fire and the smoke and the ash and the stench of death, and he tried to squirm away from the burning but something held him down. Something was holding him in place, and he poured all of his strength into his scream, but the force did not move.

He tried begging next. For half a heartbeat, for a single moment, he thought it might have worked, and then the burning redoubled, and he was lost in it. It hurt too much, it felt like his very veins were on fire, and he had been wrong, it was not the Dagor Bragollach, because that fire had been awful but it had not been inside him. This fire was.

The flames dulled a bit, and he felt a weightless swoop, like he was flying. He didn't know where he was going, but he was certain someone was taking him somewhere. He wondered if it was the same person who made him burn.

He did not know how much time passed before the weightless flight ended. He missed it immediately, when the burning began again. He could not gather the breath to scream, but he could gather just enough to beg, and he tried to reach for whatever was hurting him, but his arms were too heavy to lift. It did not matter much, he thought; he could not have done anything anyway. Whatever was causing the burning was stronger than he, and he could not fight it off.

And then, for a few blessed moments, the burning ended, and he felt something else against the spot where it had been, something gentle and cold. He thought he might have sobbed, but he wasn't sure if he actually did or if he only felt like he might. The coolness was welcome, but it was too short; a moment later, the burning returned. It had lessened, at least, a small mercy. But that mercy came at a cost, and a moment later, he felt something being poured into his mouth. He tried to twist away, tried to fight it, but the grip was too strong, and the liquid sloshed and trailed down his throat. He choked on it, tried to spit it up, but he could not help but swallow some of it.

It was warm, too warm. There was no escape from the burning.

He begged again, when the flow of liquid ceased. He begged for his father, and then he remembered that his father was dead; he begged for his brothers, and then he remembered that his brothers were gone. Maedhros would have helped him, Maedhros would have saved him, but Maglor had not saved him, had not gone back for him, and he was sorry, he was sorry, he would have done it if he could, but they were too weak and everyone he sent never came back and eventually he had to stop sending anyone. He'd tried to go himself, he had, but he had not been allowed. He had been told he was too important to risk, and he'd screamed and sobbed and pleaded that his brother was too important to lose, and he had been overruled. He had been a pathetic excuse for a High King, and Maedhros would have been better, would have taken charge and fixed things in the way Maglor always knew his older brother to do, but they had lost him, and Maglor had not gotten him back.

He did not know how much he said aloud and how much he merely thought. That was the worst thing, worse than the burning, the idea that he had lost control of his voice. He was a singer, one of the greatest minstrels among the elves, and if his voice was no longer his own, he did not know what he would do. He did not know what he said aloud, but he thought his desperate apologies were spoken, as he told a brother who would never hear him that he should have done more to save him. That, he decided, was good. Maedhros was gone, but it seemed right that someone would hear the apologies meant for him, even if it was only the far-off Valar.

Perhaps there was someone else to hear him; Maglor thought he heard voices beside him. They sounded like children, and he wondered who they could be. The Ambarussa, he thought for a moment; they had been children most recently, but they had not been children for so long, and now they too were gone. None of them had been children since they arrived in Middle-earth, or perhaps even before; perhaps they had not been children since their mother had left their father and left them in the process. Maglor tried not to blame her, she had been right and so he tried, but he missed her, and he could not help calling out for her once, even though he knew calling for her was just as useless as calling for his father or his brothers.

A hand pressed itself to his cheek, and although Maglor flinched away from it, it remained steady. "Káno," a rumbling voice said, "Káno," and even though it could not be real, even though Maglor did not deserve it, he flung himself towards the specter of his brother as well as he could. Perhaps the Valar had heard him, and this was some final mercy; they were letting him pretend, as he burned, that his brother was there to save him. Perhaps, if he had more faith, he would believe that Maedhros was truly there, but pretending was enough. Pretending would have to be enough.

Fingers threaded through his hair, and a sturdy chest held him upright, and Maglor thought if he burned like this, it was not the worst way to go. At least he was not alone.

Elrond hadn't been able to understand most of what Maglor had said in the throes of his delirium, his Quenya not nearly good enough for it, but he had caught some words, and he had caught some names. He had heard Fëanáro, and Nerdanel, and Nelyo. The last one, he had heard over and over, and he had not known what precisely Maglor had been saying, but he had been able to recognize the tone of begging.

Now, as he watched from the doorway, Maglor was clinging to his brother and repeating that name again and again, a continuous prayer of Nelyo Nelyo Nelyo, and Elrond thought he knew who Nelyo was. He still didn't understand what Maglor had been begging for, but he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"You said he wouldn't die," Elros said.

Elrond turned. Elros liked to pretend that he didn't care for Maedhros and Maglor at all, but Elrond was his twin, and he knew better. It would have been hard to convince anyone, twin or not, of Elros's indifference just then, though, with the expression on his face as he watched Maglor from the doorway. He was afraid, and Elrond understood why.

But he had said that Maglor would not die, and he had meant it, although he wasn't sure how he knew. Some of the visions that he and Elros had were clear, showing events as they would come to pass, but many of them, like this one, were just flashes of insight. He knew, without knowing how, that this was not Maglor's time to die.

"He won't," he said, and he tried to sound confident. Even with the future knowledge, it still seemed all too possible that Maglor, suddenly weak and fragile as he had never seemed before, might not be able to make it through. He trusted in his own abilities, which had never steered him wrong before, but he could not help but feel a bit of fear, even still.

Elros looked around Elrond to peek into the room, then pulled back again quickly. Elrond understood why. It felt strange, almost rude to watch Maglor and Maedhros as they clung to each other, Maglor still pleading and weeping, Maedhros running his hand over his hair. Elrond had never seen Maglor so fragile, nor Maedhros so tender, and he was not sure he liked it.

"We should do something for them," Elrond said. "What can we do?"

Elros looked at him dubiously. "We could prepare supper, I suppose, but I'm not certain how."

Elrond looked into the room for one last moment - Maglor's pleas were weakening, and he looked like he was falling asleep, but he still clung to Maedhros was tightly as ever - and then he took his twin's hand and dragged him towards the kitchen. "We'll make do."

Maglor was generally the one who did the cooking. His food was tasty enough, if nothing particularly interesting. Occasionally, he was able to bully Maedhros into cooking instead, and his food was surprisingly delicious. But Elros and Elrond were not allowed near the stove unsupervised, and neither of them had any experience with cooking save the few times they had helped Maglor or Maedhros with it, so perhaps Elros was right to be dubious about their ability to make supper. Elrond stubbornly looked around the kitchen anyway, trying to find something they could do. Even if it was just something small, they could take this one burden off of Maedhros's shoulders, and they could play a part in helping Maglor. They could do something for them, the one time that they seemed to need taking care of more than the twins did.

Elrond had stayed by Maglor's side, the few times Maedhros had left it. Maedhros had gone to prepare the athelas tea, and then, after he forced Maglor to drink the first cup, he had gone to fetch a second. But Maglor's pleading had grown frantic, and he had seemed so very frightened, and so Elrond had sent Elros off to get Maedhros and tell him to come back as quickly as possible. Elrond had sat with Maglor, doing his best to comfort him, but nothing had done much of anything until Maedhros arrived. Only then had Maglor seemed to accept that he was among friends, that he did not need to be afraid.

No, that wasn't true. Elrond had seen how white Maglor's knuckles had been when he had clung to Maedhros; Maglor was still afraid.

"We could slice bread, I suppose," Elros said, looking at the loaf of bread they'd traded for at a nearby market. Maglor was always the one who went to the market with the twins, never Maedhros; Maglor could put on a cloak and keep his face hooded and hide the fact that he was a kinslaying son of Fëanor, but Maedhros, with his height and his hair and his missing hand, was too recognizable. Elrond had the feeling that Maglor had not always been the one to do all the shopping, given how he'd overheard Maedhros muttering about how terrible Maglor was at haggling. Elrond wondered if someday Maedhros would attempt to disguise himself to go to the market, but he could not imagine how he would achieve it.

There was not a great deal of bread left, but there was enough for a slice or two for each of them. "Do we still have honey?" Elrond asked, checking their stores. The jar was large, but it was close to being empty. There was enough left to spread across some bread, though, and Elrond checked and found that some of the berries they had collected a few days before still remained. It was a bit more of a dessert than a supper, but it was all that the twins could prepare on their own, and after all that had happened, they deserved something sweet.

"I'll slice the bread," Elros said, reaching for a knife and holding it very carefully. They were too small to use the stove, but Maedhros had said they were not too small to know how to be safe with a blade. Maglor had rolled his eyes and argued that they absolutely were, but Maedhros had insisted that one was never too young to learn how not to hurt oneself with something sharp. Maglor had rolled his eyes even harder at that, but he had not argued, and so Maedhros had shown Elros and Elrond how to hold a knife in a way that made it less of a danger to yourself. He had not, thus far, shown them how to make it a danger to other people; Maglor had won the argument about that one, much to the twins' disappointment.

Elros sliced the bread, and Elrond spread honey carefully over each slice and set the berries on top. When they were finished, they looked at the plates, then at each other.

"Do you think we should bring it up now?" Elros asked tentatively. "Or should we not interrupt them?"

"Maglor should probably eat something," Elrond said dubiously, although now that it was before him, he was no longer certain that bread with honey and berries was the best thing for him to eat. "Maedhros too. We don't have to go in if it looks like we shouldn't."

"Should we eat down here first?"

Elrond nodded quickly, fairly certain that he and Elros were equally relieved at the thought of avoiding having to go upstairs for a little while longer. "Yes, let's."

Elros reached for a slice of bread, and Elrond plucked a berry off another and tossed it in his mouth. He hoped Maedhros and Maglor would like it. He hoped that Maglor would know them again, when they went upstairs. He hoped Maglor would be alright.

He hoped for a great deal of things, but he had learned on a blood-soaked beach in Sirion that one could not always put too much stock in hopes.

The first time one of the twins poked his head into the room, Maedhros ignored it. The twin - Elros, he thought, but he'd only seen a flash - had pulled away so quickly that he clearly didn't want to be seen, so Maedhros would pretend he hadn't seen him. But then a twin poked his head into the room again, and then again, and Maedhros sighed and called, "Are you coming in or not?"

Slowly, the twins shuffled into the room. Both of them were holding plates that seemed to have bread, honey, and berries.

"We didn't want to interrupt," Elrond said, not looking Maedhros in the eye. He was looking at Maglor, Maedhros realized; he didn't seem to want to take his eyes off him. Maedhros understood the feeling. Maglor was clinging to him, even in his sleep, but Maedhros still wanted to watch him too.

"You're not interrupting," Maedhros said. "Is that supper?"

"We're not allowed to use the stove, so this was all we could make," Elros said, handing Maedhros a plate.

It was exactly the type of supper that a child would make, if left to his own devices. Maedhros could not fault the children for that.

"We have some for Maglor too," Elrond said, looking down at the plate in his hands. "But if he's sleeping…"

"You can leave it here," Maedhros said. "I'll try to get him to eat it when he wakes up."

Elrond set the plate down, then he rocked on his heels a few times and finally asked in a rush, "What was he saying before?"

"What do you mean?"

"In Quenya. I know he was asking for you, and I think your parents, but I didn't understand the rest of it."

Maedhros had not heard all of Maglor's feverish ramblings. He'd heard enough. Maglor was terrified, and he thought he was alone, and he thought Maedhros was dead. What he had remembered was strange; he seemed to think Maedhros was still stuck in Thangorodrim, but he also knew that their brothers were dead, and they had all died after that. His mind seemed to be focusing on whatever would be the most painful for him. Maedhros had held him, had tried to convince him that he was there and wasn't planning on going anywhere, but he wasn't sure that Maglor believed him.

Ever since he was a child, Maglor had hated being alone.

"He was in pain," Maedhros said shortly. He would not tell Elrond everything, for he was just a child, but he would not keep everything from him either. He deserved to know at least some of the truth. "And he did not know where he was, or whom he was with. He was afraid, and he thought he was alone."

"Will he be alright the next time he wakes up?" Elros asked.

"I don't know," Maedhros admitted. "But I will not leave him again, so it should not be as bad as it was."

He hoped that was the case, at least. He hoped that his presence could spare his brother some fear and pain. But the athelas had hurt him, enough that Maglor had begged for an end, and Maedhros had been the one to press the herb against his brother's wound. He had done it for his own good, but it had still been his hand that dealt the pain. He knew that, in his right mind, Maglor would never blame him for it, but Maglor was not in his right mind, and Maedhros feared how long it might take before he was again. The heat radiating from him was not a particularly hopeful sign, but time and athelas should help.

"How can we help?" Elrond asked, looking unnervingly intense. The twins often did, another thing Maglor attributed to their Maia heritage and Maedhros thought was their own inherent strangeness. It made sense, Maedhros supposed, that Elrond would look particularly intense with something related to medicine; he had shown an interest in it, and Maedhros knew that Maglor wanted to train him in herblore and healing. As much as they knew of it, at least, which was less than they should have known. Both of them had been too reliant on their healers, and now that they were gone, they were feeling their loss.

A proper healer would know what to do to help Maglor. Maedhros could only stumble along and hope he didn't fail.

"For now, he should rest," Maedhros said. "But we will need to change the bandages later, and perhaps apply more athelas to the wound. It should hurt less now than it did before."

He had seen the horror in the children's faces when they had had to use the athelas before, and while he knew some of it was due to the way Maglor's scream had pierced them, he knew some of it was also because they were children, and kinder children than their histories gave them reason to be, and they did not like to hear Maglor in pain. It had taken a great deal out of them to help him with the first application of athelas, and even though perhaps it would have been more effective if they had packed the wound while Maedhros held Maglor down properly, he hadn't been able to bring himself to ask that of them. He hoped he wouldn't have to ask it of them at all.

Elrond nodded, his little face resolved. "Do we need more athelas?"

"You are not going into the woods alone," Maedhros snapped, his words coming out far too sharp. Both twins flinched. Maedhros forced himself to breathe before responding properly. The twins did not look exactly like their uncles, but they were of a similar age, and they had the shadow of Lúthien in their features, and even if they had been nothing like those children at all, Maedhros would still not wish to lose another set of twins to a woodland death.

"The woods are not safe," he said, forcibly keeping his voice level and trying not to sound angry. "There may still be orcs there, and if Maglor wakes to learn that you two are lost to them, it will do him no good at all."

Maglor would be devastated, and he would immediately try to rescue the twins. Maedhros himself would be torn between wanting to rescue them and wanting to keep his brother safe. He would protect Maglor over the twins, he knew that, but he did not want to be put in a position where he had to protect one over the other. The twins had been Maglor's idea, and Maedhros had told Maglor, somewhat to his amusement, that they were his responsibility - "really, Nelyo, you needn't sound like Ammë did when Turko brought home Huan" - but Maedhros could not deny that he had grown close to them as well. He cared for them perhaps more than he deserved, given all he had done to them and their family, but that guilt had not stopped Maglor from taking them in - had driven him to it, instead - and so Maedhros thought perhaps his guilt did not need to stop him from helping with them.

No matter how he felt about them, though, if another set of twins died in the woods because of him…

"We will not go," Elrond promised. "We just… We want to help."

He sounded as helpless as Maedhros felt. "You can help in other ways," he told him. "I will need your help later, when I change Maglor's bandages."

"Should we shred the rest of the athelas?" Elros asked.

"Not until we're ready to use it," Maedhros said. He tried to remember how their old healers had preserved athelas; it could be preserved longer if it was dried, but it was more effective if it was not, and he hoped Maglor would be well before the athelas grew unusable. "Put the stems in water. We will need to change the water in a day or two, but it will do for now."

"We can do that!" Elros agreed, grabbing Elrond's hand as they both nodded eagerly.

"Good," Maedhros said. "I will call for you if I need your help."

"Will you call us if Maglor wakes?" Elrond asked. "Truly wakes, and knows himself again?"

"I will," Maedhros promised, although he would certainly take a few moments to talk to his brother alone first. "Be sure to go to bed at a reasonable time. Neither of us will be able to help you prepare tonight."

"We can do it ourselves," said Elros with the confidence of a child who was young enough to think he could do everything that an adult could. He and Elrond hurried to the door, but when they reached it, Elrond hesitated. For a moment, Maedhros thought Elrond was going to say something else, but in the end, he let Elros pull him from the room.

"You chose two very stubborn elflings to adopt," Maedhros told Maglor, smoothing his hair back gently.

Maglor said nothing. Maedhros would have to tell him again once he woke up.

"We are not going into the forest without either Maedhros or Maglor," Elros told Elrond firmly, once they were far enough away that Maedhros wouldn't be able to hear him. He was fairly certain his twin wouldn't really try to go into the forest alone, but he thought it was worth saying anyway. "Preferably both."

"I know," Elrond said, and he looked wretched enough that Elros almost wished he hadn't brought it up. "I don't really want to go into the forest, and I don't think we should, but I… I just want to help!"

Neither twin was particularly good at sitting still and doing nothing. Elros struggled more with the sitting still part of it, but Elrond struggled with doing nothing, especially when someone he cared for could suffer for it. Maglor was the closest thing they had left to a father, even if neither twin was quite ready to call him that yet. Elros knew Elrond saw him as one, and of course he wouldn't want to lose another parent. Elros didn't want to either.

But Elros also desperately didn't want to lose his twin, and Elrond came before everyone else.

He stepped forward and pulled Elrond into a tight hug. Elrond flailed for a moment, clearly surprised, but then he hugged back, even tighter than Elros himself. Elros held him like he could squeeze the thoughts out of Elrond's head, and like he could keep him safe as long as his arms were around him. As much as Elrond always said Elros didn't really count as an older brother because they were twins, Elros still protected him like one, even from himself.

"We'll help in other ways," Elros said. "We'll put the athelas in water now, and we'll help with the bandages tomorrow. And Maglor will be alright. He's one of the Kalaquendi. He's fought in wars. He's not going to die because of an orc."

"I know," Elrond said, still clinging to Elros. "I know. I won't go in the forest, Elros, I promise."

Elros held his brother a moment longer, then he let him go. "We should put the athelas in water, and then we should probably go to bed."

"You're right," Elrond agreed; he did look exhausted. "Come on."

They went down to the kitchen, where Elros gathered all the athelas into a bundle and Elrond carefully poured water into one of the glasses. They settled the athelas in it, making sure that all the stems were touching the water, and then looked at each other.

"It's what Maedhros told us to do," Elrond said, checking it carefully. "It should be alright, shouldn't it?"

"It'll be fine," Elros told him. "We did what Maedhros said. Now we should go to bed. I'm tired, and we'll have a lot to do tomorrow. Maybe Maglor will be better in the morning."

"Maybe," Elrond said, but he sounded like he believed that about as much Elros himself. Elrond had said that Maglor wouldn't die, and Elros believed him, but it seemed hard to believe that he would be alright. There was, after all, a great deal of room between alive and alright.

They went upstairs and washed themselves and changed for sleep, and then they crawled into their shared bed. Maglor had apologized at first that there was only one bed for the two of them, but they hadn't minded; they'd shared most of the time in Sirion as well, even though they'd had their own beds there, and here, among people who had become dear to them but were also kidnappers and kinslayers, Elros appreciated the security of having his brother at his back and being at his brother's. And on nights like this one, where the world seemed frightening and ominous, it was better not to be alone.

"He will not die," Elrond whispered, the words shivering in the air. "He will not die. He will not die."

"He will not die," Elros agreed, and he hoped Maglor would not just be alive, but also be alright.

When Maglor opened his eyes, he was half on top of Maedhros, who seemed to be sitting in his bed. He blinked up at him, then he rasped, "Is something wrong with your own room?"

"Káno," Maedhros whispered. "Are you- Are you alright?"

"My side hurts," Maglor admitted, "but if I am well enough to be awake, I doubt it will kill me."

He studied Maedhros's face as he said it, wondering what his brother's expression would reveal. It was possible, of course, that he could wake up from a grievous wound and still die from it, but he didn't think this one would kill him. If Maedhros thought otherwise, it would show on his face. But the only expression that passed over it was relief, and Maglor felt a wave of it himself.

"I am glad to hear it," Maedhros said. "You should eat something, and drink something. Do you think you can manage it?"

"A drink, certainly," Maglor replied, and immediately, Maedhros pressed a warm cup into his hands. Maglor breathed in the scent, then took a small sip.

"Athelas?"

"You were poisoned."

"Ah." That would explain the weakness. His side felt as if it had been stabbed, but he'd walked off stabbings before; the fever and lightheadedness were from something else.

"I have food for you as well," Maedhros said, picking up a plate of bread, honey, and berries. At Maglor's raised eyebrow, he quickly defended himself, "The twins put it together."

Maglor let out a small laugh, feeling his wound throb with it. "Our Ambarussa have always had a sweet tooth."

For half a second, Maglor thought Maedhros went very still, but then the moment passed and he passed the plate to Maglor. "We have little else in our stores anyway."

"Has Turko been slacking in his hunting?"

"We've been busy."

Maglor hummed. "Something to do with how I was stabbed and poisoned? I'll take your word that it happened, but I don't remember it myself."

"There were orcs," Maedhros said, watching Maglor as he ate a honey-soaked berry. "If your throat hurts, it would be because you sang at them."

"You must not think much of me, if you think that would hurt my throat," Maglor countered.

"Between the poisoning, the stabbing, and the head wound, I would rather be safe than sorry."

"Head wound?" Maglor reached up and touched his temple, then winced. "Ah. Head wound."

"Don't touch it," Maedhros scolded, pulling his hand away. "Drink your tea and eat your food, and then you should get more rest."

"And are you going to sit here and watch me until I do?" Maglor asked. "Surely someone else needs your help. Was anyone else injured?"

"No," Maedhros said, although there was something strange in his voice. "Only you."

"The others are alright, then?" Maglor pressed. "Nelyo. They're alright?"

"You are the only one hurt," Maedhros assured him. "The others are fine. Worried about you, but fine."

"Will I have to deal with a whole parade of them in my room, then?"

"Not until you're a little stronger, I think."

"Good idea. I don't think I could handle six siblings crawling into my bed with me right now."

"No," Maedhros replied, something almost choked in his voice. "Likely not."

Maglor hesitated, then reached out for his hand. "Was it very close?"

"It was…" Maedhros refused to look him in the eye. "It was not as bad as it could have been, but you were delirious. You were begging me to forgive you for not rescuing me from Thangorodrim. You didn't think I was really here."

The bite of honeyed bread seemed to stick in Maglor's throat. "I apologize for bringing up bad memories, then, although I don't think you can blame me for something I say while delirious from a poisoned stab wound."

"I don't blame you, Káno," Maedhros said, sounding half horrified at the mere idea. "But… you were so upset. You seemed to think I would never forgive you, and you certainly didn't think I would come back."

"Well, for a time, I didn't," Maglor replied, trying very hard to sound unaffected. "But that was then, and now you are back, so I don't think we need to fuss about it anymore. I'll do my best not to get stabbed and poisoned again, so we won't need to think about it."

"Káno-"

Maglor picked up a piece of bread and held it out to Maedhros. "Have you eaten, or do you want some of this?"

"I've eaten," Maedhros assured him, and he even picked up an empty, slightly sticky plate to prove it. "And you need to eat, to regain your strength."

"Ah, yes, honey, the healthiest food in the world," Maglor replied dryly, but he took another bite of the bread anyway. "Was it Pityo or Telvo who had the idea, do you know?"

"I don't," Maedhros replied. "But I suppose if you ask a child to prepare dinner, this is what they will prepare."

Maglor laughed, then winced as his side protested. "They're not exactly children anymore, Nelyo."

"All of you will always be children to me."

"Oh, don't start with that. You sound like Atar, and you're not nearly old enough to start saying those things to us. Especially not to me."

"You are my little brother, Káno," Maedhros said simply. "It is my job to protect you."

Maglor leaned back against his pillows. "I don't blame you for not saving me before I got stabbed."

Maedhros's gaze went sharp. "Do you remember what happened?"

"No, but I can tell from the way you're acting that you couldn't help. I'm guessing you weren't even there. And I'm an adult, so you really don't need to keep an eye on me all the time anyway."

"And yet, when I take my eyes off you, you get stabbed by orcs."

"Well, perhaps sometimes, but if I was stupid enough to get into a fight with orcs, I'm sure it was my own fault."

"It wasn't," Maedhros said, and there was something strange in his voice again. "You had no other option."

"Ah, well, I suppose that's something," Maglor sighed. "But really, Neylo, if I'm not allowed to blame myself for not saving you from Thangorodrim, then I don't think it's fair for you to blame yourself for not saving me from orcs. One of them is decidedly worse than the other, after all."

Maedhros sighed. "Finish your bread and tea, and then you should get some rest."

Maglor did feel tired, even if he didn't like to admit it. "Will it be you here when I wake up, or another one of our brothers?"

Maedhros hesitated. "Most likely me."

"You could let one of them take a turn, you know."

"Maybe."

"Make sure you get some rest too," Maglor said, finishing the last of his bread. "I'll get the others to drag you off to bed if I have to. Don't tempt me. I'm sure Moryo would love to do it."

"Moryo couldn't drag me anywhere," Maedhros dismissed.

"If he gets Turko and Kurvo to help, he probably could. Don't underestimate my ability to get all of our brothers to gang up on you."

"You were the one who was stabbed," Maedhros said, taking the empty plate and pressing the mug into Maglor's hands. "You should be the one resting."

"I will, I will," Maglor sighed, finishing the tea and handing the mug back. He lay down, curling a bit on his uninjured side towards Maedhros. He was tired, and he doubted he would be able to stay awake for long, but he clung to wakefulness. He wasn't sure why exactly, but he was afraid that if he fell asleep, he would lose something before he woke.

And then, when he was just on the edge of sleep, he realized what it was. "Nelyo," he mumbled, "our brothers are all dead, aren't they?"

He heard a sharp intake of breath, and then Maedhros's hand settled gently on his head.

"Yes, Káno," he said quietly, "they are."

Maglor nestled closer to his only remaining brother, and he let the pain and exhaustion and grief carry him down into darkness.

By the time Elros woke, Elrond had already been awake and staring at the ceiling for nearly an hour. He and his twin had clung to each other in sleep, and Elrond hadn't wanted to risk waking him, so he hadn't dared to try to get out of bed. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to anyway. Half of him wanted to rush straight to Maglor's room and see how he was, but the other half of him was afraid he would be worse. Maedhros had promised to call them if Maglor woke, after all, and there had been no call.

Elros yawned and looked at Elrond. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long."

Elros poked him. "You're a bad liar."

"I'm afraid to see Maglor."

"You said he wouldn't die."

"I think…" The words were the sort of thing that would come to Elrond or Elros in a moment without any context or deeper meaning, but he thought he'd felt a hint of something before. "I think that's for more than just this."

"It felt like it," Elros agreed. "But that means this definitely won't kill him, so we don't need to worry. He'll be alright."

Elrond looked at the door. "We should go see how he is."

Elros disentangled himself from his twin. "Let's go."

They dressed slowly, then Elrond let Elros drag him out of their room and to Maglor's. When they peeked in, Maglor was asleep and Maedhros looked to be dozing next to him, but he opened his eyes the second they stepped inside.

"How is he?" Elrond asked in a rush.

"No worse," Maedhros replied. "He woke in the night, and he was better than he had been, but he was still not anchored properly in the present."

"What does that mean?" Elros asked.

Maedhros's face was grim. "He thought our brothers were still alive."

Elrond reached for Elros's hand and found it easily, since Elros had reached for him as well. The other sons of Fëanor had died before Maglor took Elrond and Elros in, and the remaining two rarely spoke of them, but the mere idea of losing a brother was enough to terrify Elrond and Elros. Elrond hoped to never experience it himself.

"Should we change the bandages?" Elrond asked tentatively.

"Have either of you eaten yet?" Maedhros countered.

Elrond shifted his weight from leg to leg. "We don't know what to make for breakfast."

Maedhros sighed. "We don't have much, do we?"

Elros shook his head. "That's why we had bread and honey for dinner. We've almost nothing, and Elrond and I don't know how to cook."

"Maglor and I will have to teach you," Maedhros said. "For now…"

He looked at his brother, asleep half on top of him, and Elrond had the feeling he was making the same calculations he himself had that morning. He didn't think there was any way Maedhros could get out from under Maglor without waking him, and apparently Maedhros thought the same thing, because he didn't even try.

"Go down to the kitchen and eat something. I don't care what, but you need something in your stomachs. After that, bring the athelas up, and we'll change Maglor's bandages."

Elrond and Elros nodded, but only Elros went towards the door. Elrond stayed where he was, unable to tear his gaze from Maglor. He was breathing, and he didn't look as awful as he had the night before, but he still didn't look well.

"He'll be alright," Maedhros said, comfortingly if gruffly. "Go have breakfast, and then you can help."

Elrond nodded, and he walked slowly to the doorway. Elros took his hand and led him to the kitchen, then he sat him down at the table before wandering over to the food stores and humming.

"I really don't know what we should eat. We've some oats, but I don't know how to cook them, and I don't want to just eat them like a horse. Do you have any ideas?"

Elrond blinked, then he stood and joined his twin. "Apples," he suggested. "It's not much, but we still have a few."

Elros nodded. "Apples it is." He unearthed two and handed one to Elrond. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

Elrond brought his apple over to the sink to wash it. "A bit."

"You could have woken me up. I would have stayed up with you."

"I wasn't awake all night. It wasn't like that. I just… I couldn't stay asleep."

He'd slept lightly, and the slightest thing seemed to wake him. It was how he had known that Maedhros had never called for them in the night; he knew he wouldn't have been able to sleep through it. At least he had not dreamed, in his short snatches of sleep, or if he had, he did not recall what it had been about.

"Do you want to go back to bed?" Elros asked dubiously. "I'd go with you, if you wanted."

Elrond shook his head. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep any better than he had before, and he didn't want to sleep when Maedhros and Maglor were waiting for him. Maybe, if Maglor improved over the course of the day, he would nap later on, but not yet.

"Okay," Elros said. He nudged Elrond gently. "Then at least eat your apple instead of just staring at it."

Elrond blinked and realized that he had just been staring at his apple. He took a tentative bite. It was a bit soft, but not too bad, and the first bite made him realize he was hungry. He finished it quickly, then he gathered up the athelas while Elros finished his own apple. When they were both done, they hurried back upstairs to Maglor's room, the athelas carefully held in Elrond's hands.

As they approached, Elrond realized they could hear quiet voices, and he and Elros shared a look of surprise as they recognized them as Maedhros and Maglor. Of course it would be them, of course there was no one else it could be, but to hear Maglor's voice was still a shock, if a welcome one. It made Elrond pause a moment outside the door to the room, though; would Maglor recognize them, or would their presence confuse or even distress him?

"Come in, you two," Maedhros called before Elrond even had a moment to consider it. "Did you bring the athelas?"

"We did," Elros said, grabbing Elrond's arm and dragging him into the room. "Maglor, are you better now?"

"I'm certainly better than I was, yes," Maglor said, offering Elros and Elrond a weak smile. "I'm glad you're both alright. You weren't hurt at all, were you?"

"I told you, no one was hurt but you," Maedhros said, sounding exasperated. "Honestly, Káno, worry about yourself for once."

"They are children, and you let them help you fight off orcs," Maglor retorted.

"They did not help me fight off orcs, they freed you while I kept all the orcs' attention on me. And you brought them into the forest in the first place, which I told you was a bad idea."

Elrond was just beginning to feel relieved at the way Maedhros and Maglor were bickering and how normal it felt, and then Maglor took a breath to respond and seemed to choke on it, devolving quickly into hacking coughs. Maedhros reached for him immediately, helping him prop himself up, but judging by the pain on Maglor's face and the way his eyes welled up with tears, the movement couldn't have been easy on his wound. Elrond watched, frozen, and clutched the athelas in his hands.

When the coughing fit finally ended, Maedhros let Maglor lean back against him, his eyes closed. For a moment, they were all silent, then Maglor opened his eyes and looked over at the twins.

"I'm alright," he told them, even as his voice rasped and grated against the pain in it. "You two needn't look so frightened."

"You don't look alright," Elros accused.

"Ah, perhaps not, but I've been worse before. I'll heal." Maglor looked over at Elrond and the athelas. "I suppose that's so you can change my bandages?"

Elrond looked down at the athelas and nodded. "Is there anything we can do about the pain?" he asked in a quiet voice. He knew, in theory, that there were herbs and medicines that could be used to dull pain, but he didn't know precisely what they were, and he had no idea if they had any.

Maglor smiled at him. "You're turning into a proper little healer. I'm afraid we don't have anything for that, though. We'll have to see if we can find some once I'm back on my feet, in case we need it again." He looked over at Maedhros. "We might not have anything for the pain, but something to bite down on would probably be a good idea."

Maedhros nodded and tugged at the laces on his leather bracer with his teeth.

"I was thinking more like a stick or a scrap of leather," Maglor said, watching him dubiously. "I can't promise I won't leave teeth marks on that."

"Why do you need something to bite down on?" Elros asked.

"Partially so I don't bite my tongue and injure myself. Partially so I'm less likely to scream, or at least so it'll be muffled."

"The twins withstood it fairly well when you screamed the first time," Maedhros said, shaking the bracer off his arm.

"You didn't tell me I screamed!" Maglor said, looking horrified. "Oh, boys, I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," Elrond quickly assured him, although he could still remember how the scream had vibrated his very bones until they felt like they might shatter. "It wasn't your fault."

"I should have given you something to bite down on then too," Maedhros said. He picked up the bracer and handed it to his brother. "Here."

Maglor looked down at it, then back up at his brother. "And you're sure that you don't mind if I leave teeth marks on this?"

Maedhros's hand had already gone to the bandages and started tugging the knot loose. "Just bite it already, Káno. You won't be the first of our brothers to leave teeth marks on something of mine. Elrond, help me with the bandages. Elros, shred some athelas."

Maglor looked like he wanted to say something else - whether to keep fighting or ask who else had left teeth marks on Maedhros's things, Elrond didn't know - but at a glare from his brother, he sighed and put the bracer in his mouth, biting down loosely on it. Elrond quickly moved to help Maedhros with the bandages, and he noticed Maglor bite down harder on the bracer as they worked.

The dark veins that had been spreading from the wound were not entirely gone, but they were much fainter, and they did not spread far beyond the wound itself. Maedhros looked grimly satisfied as he carefully wiped away the athelas still stuck to the wound. Maglor made a faint noise in the back of his throat.

"I'm sorry, Káno," Maedhros said, "but the good news is, I think we'll only need to apply the athelas once more. Twice at the most."

Maglor couldn't answer verbally around the bracer between his teeth, but he managed a shaky nod.

"Elros," Maedhros said, holding out his hand, and Elros placed a handful of shredded athelas in it. Maedhros looked at Maglor, murmured something in Quenya, and pressed the athelas to the wound.

Maglor did not scream. The bracer did that much. The noise he made was hardly better, though; it was halfway between a keen and a sob, and it made Elrond want to flee. He could not, though; Maedhros needed him to help, and Elrond needed to be helpful.

"Elrond," Maedhros said, jerking his chin towards a cloth next to the bed. "Help me wipe away the blood."

Elrond scrambled for the cloth and began wiping at the blood, much as he had the day before. It was mostly red now, with only a few threads of black, and the dark veins were almost gone.

"It's much better," Maedhros said. "Káno, can you hear me? The poison is almost all gone."

Elrond didn't think Maglor heard him at all; his eyes were glazed and distant, and his jaw was clenched, and his hands were fisted tightly around the sheets. He wiped at the blood again, then he stepped back so Maedhros could press another handful of athelas to the wound.

The noise Maglor made was marginally less awful than the last one, at least. Elrond started wiping at the blood before Maedhros had to ask, and there didn't seem to be any darkness in it anymore.

"Good," Maedhros said, nodding. "One of you, help me with the bandages."

Elros passed the bandages to Elrond, who helped Maedhros wrap them around Maglor's torso. Maglor's eyes remained distant as they worked, but when Maedhros squeezed his hand with his bloodied one, Maglor squeezed back.

When Maglor had woken that morning, there had been a certain clarity in his eyes that had told Maedhros he was aware of where and when he was. The fact that he had immediately asked after the twins had quickly proved it. He had still been feverish, but at least he had been aware.

But as Maedhros washed his brother's blood off his hand, he worried that Maglor's earlier, tenuous grip on reality had been shaken loose. Maglor had not said a word since Maedhros and the twins had replaced his bandages, and it had taken a too-long moment for him to release the bracer when Maedhros went to take it from his mouth. He had squeezed Maedhros's hand when he took it, but he had not looked at him.

Maedhros had sent the twins off once they'd finished with the bandages, telling them to put together an inventory of food in the kitchen. They'd scurried off quickly. They needed something to do, and Maedhros knew they wanted to be helpful, but he'd seen the looks on their faces as they'd helped with Maglor's wound; it had been very nearly too much for them.

Of course it had been. They were children. Maedhros wished he hadn't had to ask it of them in the first place.

Maedhros sat tentatively on the edge of his brother's bed. "Maglor?" he asked, and then, thinking of how Maglor had been lost in memories of the past, he tried, "Makalaurë?"

"You haven't called me that in a while," Maglor rasped.

"Then that at least gives me some frame of what time you think it is."

Maglor blinked and managed to look at him. "I know what time it is. I know that we are in Amon Ereb, with Elrond and Elros, and that our brothers are dead. I have not forgotten again."

"I would not blame you if you had," Maedhros replied. "You are still feverish, even if I think we have expelled all the poison."

"I think you have," Maglor agreed, his hand drifting towards his side. "I cannot feel it any longer."

"You could feel it?"

Maglor shuddered. "Like oil under my skin. But it is gone, and the wound will heal better without the poison there to block it."

"The twins will be glad. They have been worried about you."

"They are good children," Maglor said, his eyes going distant again. "They did not deserve what we did to them, Nelyo. They deserved so much better."

"They did," Maedhros agreed wearily. "But we cannot change the past, so all we can do is give them the best future possible."

"I would fight a thousand orcs for them," Maglor says, his eyes still distant and unfocused. "I would throw myself into fire or water. I would protect them with my life and consider it a life well-spent."

"As would I, but I think they would rather we live for them."

Maglor's lips twitched into a small, ironic smile as his eyes focused again. "Ah, but that is so much harder, is it not?"

It was. Dying would be easy, especially with all their other brothers gone. Staying alive required work. They had to fight for it every day, and some days, it felt like more trouble than it was worth. But they had children who needed them now, and anything that would help them in any way was worthwhile.

"If they wish for us to live," Maedhros said, "then we must live."

Perhaps, if he said it firmly enough, it would truly become that simple.

"It is the least we owe them," Maglor agreed. "We destroyed their home. We took them from safety. We should give them a safe home now, to replace it."

"Weregild, then?"

Maglor's ironic smile widened a bit. "Weregild, if you will. I would pay it to them a thousand times over."

"It would still be simpler if they wanted our deaths."

"Oh, remarkably, but…" Maglor shook his head slowly, his eyes going distant again. "I am not sure I could face death easily, even if it was fair and came from them. When I fought the orcs, when I thought I would die keeping the twins safe… I was satisfied, of course, in that I had protected them, but I did not embrace death as warmly as I thought I would. I did not want to die, Maedhros. I have too many things left unfinished."

"Do you think we will go to the Halls or the Everlasting Darkness?"

"We swore ourselves to the Everlasting Darkness, if we failed," Maglor said. "And we have kept to our Oath as much as we could, but we still have not reclaimed even a single Silmaril. And if Mandos could bar us from his realm, I think he would."

"What if we can take the Silmarilli back?" Maedhros asked. "Or even one of them? Will it be enough to save us?"

"Oh, nothing is enough to save us," Maglor said with remarkable ease. "We are doomed. We all heard what Mandos said to us. We are doomed, and we have destroyed ourselves with what we have done, and there is no saving us now. But if fulfilling the Oath might save us from the Everlasting Darkness… I do not know."

"And what of the others?" Maedhros asked. "What of our brothers and our father?"

"We swore the Oath together," Maglor said. "If we fulfill it, I think it will be fulfilled for all of us. And yet, how are we supposed to fulfill it when we have children to care for?"

It was a good question. Maedhros didn't know the answer to it either.

"There is no hope anymore, I don't think, of Elwing bartering for her children," Maglor added. "And the other two are held by Morgoth, and who knows if or when he will ever be beaten. He will certainly not be beaten by us alone, and no one else is likely to give us our Silmarilli."

"Then we cannot die," Maedhros said firmly. "And that means you cannot take foolish risks, little brother."

"I do not think my risk was so foolish," Maglor protested, but he subsided quickly at the look on Maedhros's face. "But I will be more careful in the future, of course."

"For our brothers, and our father, and our children," Maedhros added. "We cannot leave Elrond and Elros alone any more than we can join the rest of our family."

"Our children," Maglor repeated. "Have you called them such before? I don't think I have heard it."

"We have no right to claim them, but I claim them nonetheless. We have done worse things."

"Have we?" Maglor murmured. "When I think of all we have done to the boys… It makes me shudder. It makes me wonder if Ammë could ever forgive us."

Maedhros knew what he meant. Sometimes, it felt as if the weight of what they'd done to the twins was heavier than everyone they'd killed. They'd stolen the children, stolen them from their home, and that was a longer, more drawn-out fate than any death they'd ever given to someone else.

"We will keep them safe now. And that means that you have to recover, so you can do your part. I will not always be there to cover for you, Káno."

"I got the children out of there unscathed, that was the important part."

"The most important, perhaps, but getting yourself out would have also been important, if you'd managed it."

"Oh, I would have escaped somehow," Maglor said airily. "With some sort of daring feat. I wouldn't allow that ragged pack of orcs to be the end of me."

"Your drama is reassuring," Maedhros said flatly. "It means you seem more yourself."

"I quite resent the implication being dramatic. I always bring exactly the right amount of drama to any situation."

"Then I suppose we have very different ideas of what constitutes the appropriate amount of drama."

Maglor actually laughed, then winced and pressed a hand to his side. "The children appreciate it."

"The children are six years old. That is not the victory you think it is."

"The children also like your jokes about your hand, and you always seem to find that a victory."

Maedhros rolled his eyes. "Rest, Káno. You need to recover. And I should go and help the children prepare something for lunch, since their only other option seems to be bread with honey and fruit."

"They're children, what more can you expect?" Maglor paused. "Oh, you did tell me that they had prepared the bread with honey, didn't you? I thought you were talking about the Ambarussa, and then I thought perhaps I had imagined the whole thing, but I hadn't."

"It was them," Maedhros confirmed. "They wanted to help."

"They're good children." Maglor sighed. "Better than we deserve."

"We do not deserve them at all, but we are the only ones who can take care of them now."

Maedhros had not wanted to take the children, not at first. Maglor had, Maglor had insisted on it, and Maedhros had said they would be his responsibility. But they were young, and they were brave, and they were so, so fragile. Maedhros wanted to keep them safe, in a way he had previously felt about his little brothers or his nephew, and he did not want to give them up, whether they deserved them or not.

"I knew you would come around to them eventually," Maglor said, sounding very pleased with himself.

"Stop being smug and get some sleep, Káno."

Maglor sighed and curled on his uninjured side. Maedhros ran his hand through his brother's hair, keeping his touch as gentle as possible to avoid aggravating his head wound.

"You'll be here when I wake, won't you?" Maglor asked as his eyes drifted shut. His tone was deceptively casual, but Maedhros could hear the slight hint of nervousness in it.

"I will," he promised, bending down to kiss Maglor's forehead. "Sleep, little brother."

Maglor let out a quiet sigh as he drifted off to sleep, and Maedhros finally let himself believe that he would be alright.

Maglor's condition had visibly improved over the course of the day, and by the time Elros and Elrond went to bed, Elros was fairly certain his brother's words had been true, and Maglor would indeed survive his wounds. But what had seemed obvious and clear when they were in the same room as him suddenly seemed flimsy and unlikely when Elros and Elrond were in their own room and Maglor was halfway across the keep.

Elros told himself he was being silly and closed his eyes, but his mind was too nervous to let him sleep. Elrond must have felt similarly, because he kept shifting in the bed until the movement was enough to drive Elros crazy.

"You can't sleep either?"

Elrond looked at him, eyes wide and bright in the dark. "I can't stop thinking about Maglor."

"Me neither," Elros admitted. "He seems like he's okay now, but…"

"But it was so bad," Elrond finished. "It was so close. Maedhros was scared, did you notice?"

"He doesn't seem scared now."

"I think he's still scared, but not more than usual." Elrond hummed and his eyes went distant. "I think it must be very scary to have once been one of seven and now be one of two. It must be even scarier to think you might end up being the only one left."

"But he won't be the only one left, because Maglor's not going to die," Elros said urgently. "Right, Elrond?"

"Maedhros won't be the last," Elrond said, another shiver of prophecy in the words.

Something in it caught in Elros's mind, and he added, "Maedhros, at least, won't be alone."

The two of them looked at each other, the words heavy in the air between them. If Maedhros wasn't going to be the last, if Maedhros wasn't going to be alone, then they both knew what that meant.

"I don't think I can sleep tonight," Elros said quietly.

"I don't think I can either," Elrond replied. "But maybe…" He clambered out of bed and held his hand out to Elros. "Will you come with me?"

Elrond hadn't told Elros where he was going, but he didn't have to. Elros took his hand, and together, they walked to Maglor's room.

Maglor and Maedhros were both asleep in the bed, Maedhros sitting up against the headboard and Maglor curled against him. Neither of them woke when the twins slipped into the room, but with a shared look, they both allowed their footsteps to make a bit more noise, and Maedhros blinked awake in an instant.

"Boys?"

Maglor's eyes opened slowly and blearily. "Boys?" he repeated. "Is something wrong?"

"We can't sleep," Elros whispered.

"Can we stay in here with you?" Elrond asked. "We'll be very quiet and very careful."

Maglor and Maedhros exchanged a brief glance, then Maedhros sighed. "Fine. But be careful of Maglor's wound."

"They will be," Maglor said, holding out one hand to the twins. "Besides, the bed is large enough for all of us. They're not very big, and we used to have all our brothers pile on top of us."

"The beds were hardly big enough for that," Maedhros grumbled.

"True enough, but there are only four of us here, and two of them are small children." Maglor looked up at Elros and Elrond with a soft smile. "What do you think, boys?"

Elros looked at Elrond, and without a word, they both curled up at the foot of the bed, one on either side of Maglor's legs. Maglor laughed.

"That should work, shouldn't it, Nelyo?"

"Why do you call him that?" Elros asked, lifting his head. "And he calls you Káno. Why?"

"They come from our ataressi," Maedhros rumbled. "Our father-names. Mine is Nelyafinwë, and his is Kanafinwë."

"Kalaquendi have many names," Maglor added. "An ataressë, given by the father, and an amilessë, given by the mother, and sometimes, an epessë as an honorary title. For our Sindarin names, most of us chose our amilessi."

"We can explain it more tomorrow, but you all need your rest," Maedhros cut in. "You included, Káno."

"And you don't?" Maglor asked, even as he nestled deeper into Maedhros's side. "But very well. Boys, remind me to explain essi tomorrow. For now, goodnight."

Elros looked over at Elrond, then reached out one hand for his twin. Elrond took it and squeezed gently.

They were both safe. They were safe, and they were with Maglor and Maedhros, and both of them were safe as well. It was strange, perhaps, that Elros felt so safe in the company of the kinslayers who had kidnapped him, but he did, and he didn't think his parents would be too angry about it. They'd always kept him and Elrond safe, after all. Maglor had fought a group of orcs for them. They were kinslayers, and they'd attacked Sirion, and sometimes there was a glint of something in their eyes that made Elros nervous, but he'd never really thought they'd hurt him or Elrond, not since that first awful night on the beach.

"Goodnight," Elrond whispered, curling against Maglor's leg and squeezing Elros's hand again.

"Goodnight," Elros echoed.

"Goodnight, little ones."

"Goodnight."

It wasn't the same as when their parents had wished them goodnight. Maglor didn't kiss their foreheads, and Maedhros didn't tuck their blankets snugly around them. It wasn't the same, but it still ignited a similar warmth in Elros's chest.

He closed his eyes, and he buried his face against Maglor's leg, and he told himself they would be alright, and everything would look brighter in the morning.