Promises by grey_gazania

Promises

They haven't so much as spoken in years – not since that final, awful night in Tirion, flinging accusations of madness and betrayal – but when their eyes meet by chance in the dim light at Alqualondë, both sweating and clutching naked blades on the slick dock, Maitimo's name is already on Findekáno's lips.

But Maitimo merely looks at him stonily and turns away, and Findekáno feels his heart crack yet again.  He drops his gaze to his hands and turns ashen when he sees the blood, wet on his tunic and crusted around his fingernails.  And later, when they see the tell-tale glow flickering on the horizon, he promises himself that he will never again ride to his half-cousin's aid.

***

"Atar, you cannot do this!"

The torchlight catches in Fëanáro's eyes as he rounds on his eldest son, and Maitimo wonders how the others cannot see the madness glaring out at them.  "I can and I shall!" Fëanáro snaps. "What need do we have of cowards and spies? The ships will burn!"

Ragged shouts of approval ring out from his followers, and Maitimo feels his heart sink. "But they are our kin," he protests. "Your brothers, our cousins – will you abandon them?"  He looks to his brothers, searching their faces and hoping for support, but there is none; when even Makalaurë looks away, slowly reaching for a torch of his own, Maitimo knows he has lost.  He stands aside, hands clenched, as the swanships blaze on the sand, and tries not to imagine Findekáno's face.

***

Maedhros shivers in his arms, feverish and fragile, and Fingon wraps him in his cloak, taking care not to jar his wounds or knock them from their cautious perch on Thorondor's back. Blood again coats his clothes and hands, and he chokes back an hysterical laugh when he remembers his promise. "Never again," he whispers into his beloved's hair. "I will never lose you again."