The Starlit Sky by Cirth

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Chapter Six

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Chapter Six

Maglor's song had been wordless, a fine tapestry of notes. They wove together like undulating waves, swelling and then sinking, only to rise again in splendour. Hearing his voice was like allowing the spirit of Eru to spill into my ears.

For the first time that night, I slept soundly. No shadowed dreams troubled me. I could not speak for Elros, who always slept like a log.

The next day the weather grew warmer, and Amon Ereb was cast into buttery sunshine. I felt sticky and uncomfortable in the cotton clothes I had worn since the early morning, and it was now close to evening. Wiping my damp upper lip, I pulled my book back to me and resumed where I had left off, but my mind wandered. Elros was down at the stables, being taught horse-riding by a stable-boy he had befriended some days ago. I told him to ask a groom for more professional help, but he sniffed at me.

I read for another hour or so, and then slid off my chair, bored. Running my fingers through my damp hair, I decided I would take a bath. "Elros can entertain himself when he gets back," I thought, and went downstairs.

To my relief, the baths were mostly empty. I was heading to my usual secluded spot when I saw Maedhros soaking in a (mercifully murky) pool, his hair clubbed tightly behind his head. Scars stretched over his chest and his arms. He seemed not to care. With his posture he looked like much like a sated wild cat, lazy and proud, perhaps about to yawn and show its great teeth.

I recalled Maglor's tale of Maedhros' friendship with King Fingon. I had listened with great attention as Maglor spoke of their trips in the mountains, their hunts, and their duets (I had started at the thought of Maedhros being able to sing). "Fingon may as well have been our brother," Maglor had said. Then he smiled to himself. "I taught him to play the lyre, did you know? It took more time than I thought it would; he had buttered fingers before I met him."

Suddenly too shy to go further, I turned, and would have rushed out had Maedhros not seen me and beckoned me with a finger. As I stood fidgeting before him he said in his wry drawl, "Why did you turn away?" Next to his left arm, I noticed, there was a small wooden box, along with a folded robe. "There is no reason," I mumbled, avoiding his gaze. He inclined his head to one side. It was a very awkward angle, reminiscent of a broken neck, and made my stomach stir. I thought of the exit, which was not far away.

"Tell me," he said, straightening his neck, "do you know how to play chess?"

I said I did not, though I had seen people play it in Sirion. They stared at the game for hours, as if it held all the answers of Eä. It seemed a dreadful bore. Maedhros raised an eyebrow when I said so, and reached for the box nearby. The muscles in his arm rippled like waves. He had a bone-structure that sculptors would give their front teeth to examine and then attempt to mimic in stone.

"Sit," he said, and I did so, tucking my feet beneath my knees. He opened the box, revealing it to be a checkered board. Several small wooden pieces fell out of it. He set the board between us and began to place the pieces, white on one side and brown on the other.

"I just played with a fellow soldier," he said, "but he was a terrible partner. I am hoping you will be better." His tone was patronising, but I kept my lips sealed as he placed the last piece home. "Do you at least know a few moves? None at all? Well, I suppose I must show you."

He twisted so that he was more comfortably seated. With great patience, he began to teach me. White moves first. The horse can be used in a cunning fashion. The king is the most important piece, but the queen is the most powerful.

We played our first game, in which I was beaten within a few heartbeats. Maedhros laughed. He reset the board and said we could have another game. I was vanquished twice more before I began to grow used to it.

By then my brow was covered with sweat, and Maedhros' hair had begun to slip out of its knot. He was a good partner, critical but not cynical, offering praise only when it was due, challenging but not aggressive. I felt a pull towards him, as if clutched by gravity: an irrational sense of loyalty towards this bitter, hard-hearted man, this destroyer of my world.

Suddenly I noticed he was scrutinising me in a calculating manner, and I looked down and tried to concentrate on the game.

I was about to take his queen and utter a cry of triumph when a groom rushed in, chattering to Maedhros in Quenya. I could understand only 'horse' and 'pain' and 'boy', having memorised the translations in the library. In the wink of an eye Maedhros had hauled himself out of the bath and pulled his threadbare robe about himself. He strode towards the exit with the groom. Looking over his shoulder he said, "Excuse me, Elrond," and then disappeared.

I gazed after them. Drawing a breath, I found I was in a vile mood, though nothing had been done to secure this. Maedhros' presence had always troubled me, from the time he had found us in Sirion. He had forced us to walk before him, his callused hand holding the scruff of my neck, as if I were an undisciplined pup.

We came to his brother, who was perched on a stone by the steep cliffs, still and silent as a young tree. His face was turned away from us, focused on the frothing waves far below. Maedhros clutched my neck almost painfully. "Here," he called, and his voiced reached further than even my father's, "you can have these." I wondered what 'these' meant, before I realised he was indicating my brother and me. Anger surged through me, and I trembled.

Maglor turned slowly, as if unwilling to tear his gaze away from the rolling waters. His hair lashed back and forth with the wind. When his eyes reached us, they widened, and his bloodied lips pursed. The hand that grasped his longsword twitched. He held his brother's stare for a long time. I almost began to sob, and wished I could run away. Beside me, Elros had dropped to his knees, shaking, eyes wild with grief and panic.

Maedhros exuded an overwhelming aura that forced the weak-willed to maintain a distance from him. For my brother and me, being this close to him was an almost unmatched ordeal. It was like standing near a hot furnace, whose heat would melt the skin off your flesh if you did not move away quickly.

I blinked and shook my head, slipping back to Amon Ereb. Looking at the abandoned game, strewn with its pieces, my heart twanged. I swung my clothes over my shoulder and got up, and had just reached the exit when Elros nearly crashed into me.

"Elrond!" he said, beaming. His hair looked like a thicket of shrubs, and his cheeks were pink from the cold outside. His clothes were speckled with brown spots - he had probably fallen in the mud. I noticed that he was favouring one foot, but was unable to think about it because he immediately continued, "It was so much fun! I had the most wonderful time, and my mare was so beautiful – "

"You are going for a bath?" I interrupted. He nodded. "You look like you could use one yourself - why, you stayed inside all day and you are sweating so much. What were you doing? Climbing the walls?"

I wondered how to explain that I had found Maedhros naked in a pool, and that he had amiably – or, as amiably as he could manage – asked me to play chess with him. "Never mind," I said. "Come, I will join you."

We went to our pool near the corner, discarded our clothes, and sank in, sighing in bliss. I was mentally tired from the game, and wanted rest and silence, and ideally also a hot cup of chamomile tea. At least, I would have liked to think about these things. Elros kept talking about how beautiful his pony was, and how nice the stable-boy was, and how prettily the women had giggled while watching him. It took an effort to stop my hand from clamping over his flapping mouth.

We returned to our chamber. Elros, excited from his earlier exercise, paced around the room, while I sat against the pillows on our bed and read. Eventually, he came to my side and plumped down, massaging his left ankle.

"Did you hurt yourself?" I asked, suspicious.

Elros shrugged, peeling off his sock. His ankle was swollen and pink.

I scowled, irritated at his oblivion. "What have you done now? Must I always watch your back so that you don't break it?"

He ignored me and muttered, "I must have twisted it."

"Oh, hang it!" Vaguely, I wondered where I had picked up such language. It was probably from Agorael or the soldiers. "Confound you and your tendencies, Elros. I am not disturbing Maglor again for help."

My brother's eyes narrowed. "Did you eat soot for breakfast today, Elrond?"

I stood up, huffing. "I will call for a healer."

"Perhaps it will go away."

"We do not know that. It might get worse. Wait here, and do not move."

I had been to the infirmary only once before, when Maglor showed it to me during one of his tours. The entry was curtained off by a threadbare cloth. When I went in, sickening smells of herbs and ointments pervaded my nostrils. The room was long and rectangular, akin to a large prison cell, with a crooked floor. A few haggard men reclined on the coarse beds.

Biting my lip, I approached a woman who was sitting at a broad desk, poring over a thick book with a heavy magnifying glass. She raised her head when I cleared my throat, the glass still at her eye. The organ was enlarged several times and I could see the flecks of blue in her watery grey iris. "May I help you?" she asked with thinly veiled impatience.

I told her of my brother's condition, and she rose with reluctance from her desk. "Where is he?" I gave her directions, and she left the room to fetch Elros. When she came back in a few minutes, she was letting my limping brother lean against her. He could barely set his foot down.

"You'll have to stay in bed for a couple of days, little master," said the healer as she helped him into a bed near the corner. "It was silly of you to keep on riding when you had twisted your foot."

Elros gazed at his lap, frowning. I went over to him, pulling up a wicker chair from near the window and sitting down. The healer got a pot of medicine and some ice wrapped in cloth. Elros winced and pressed his lips together as she pressed the ice to his ankle. "Hold it there for a while," she said. "I will come back in a couple of minutes." She disappeared through a doorway that led into another room.

I leaned back in my chair. "You are so foolish, Elros," I said. "And we have to hand work tomorrow to our tutor. Have you finished it?"

"No," he replied. Drops of water were beginning to trickle down on the sheets, and he flicked them off.

"I have only done half. Shall I get our books here? We can finish it."

"Perhaps later."

"Well, I would like to get it over with. Give me a moment."

I dashed out before he could protest, up to our chamber. Picking up both our books (they were quite thin) from the desks, I exited. As I was trundling down the stairs, I saw Maedhros slip into the hallway that led to Maglor's chamber. I hesitated, pursing my lips, and then followed, wondering at his stern expression. By now I was familiar with my unhealthy inquisitiveness, and no longer tried to curb it.

Once I was sure Maedhros had gone to his brother's room and had shut the door, I crept into the corridor and pressed an ear against the wood. At first, I could hear only muffled murmurs. Then, all of a sudden, Maedhros' voice burst out, making me flinch away: "You know exactly what I mean, Maglor!" A low voice, this time Maglor's. I heard footsteps advance rapidly towards the door, and I scurried back. But my anxiety was unfounded: they receded. Someone was pacing. Trying to calm my hammering heart, I drew closer once more, swallowing.

Again, Maedhros spoke: "I met Elrond today in the baths." I grew tense at the use of my name. What was he saying about me? My ears must have adjusted to the feeble sounds, for I heard Maglor reply, "Yes?"

"It appears to me, brother, that the princes of Sirion are becoming a bit too comfortable in our humble, dark halls."

I dropped my gaze. Comfortable? To be sure, Elros and I had grown familiar with Amon Ereb and its strange denizens. It had not occurred to me that I was comfortable, though perhaps there was some truth in his words.

The sound of a chair creaking. It was hideous, akin to the screech of nails on a board. "Was it not your idea to bring them here?" Now Maglor was angry, his voice tight and accusing.

"I spoke in Sirion out of frustration and sarcasm. I did not expect you to assent. Perhaps I placed too great a faith in your intellect. Did you do so only because of your guilt? If you did not aid me in Doriath – "

A fist or something heavy slammed down on a desk, and Maglor hissed, "Shut up." His voice was so filled with hatred, so unlike his usual, agreeable tone, that for a moment I thought there was a third person in the room who had spoken. He continued, "Do not mock me."

"You," came Maedhros' reply, "are the one who mocks yourself, dear brother. For you have the love of your soldiers and of me, and perhaps now also those elflings who will one day grow tall enough – and wise enough – to put us to sleep. That is, if we survive that long." There was a pause. "Do you wish to torment them to the end of their days?"

What in heaven's name was he talking about? Gritting my teeth, I placed my eye at the keyhole. The Fëanorionnath were close enough for me to see both of them. Maglor was seated on a chair, his fist still on the desk. He was breathing heavily and not looking at his brother, who was standing beside him, jaw taut as an arched bowstring. A fire, lit somewhere nearby, was the only source of light, and threw onto their still figures an orange glare.

At length, Maedhros said, puncturing the heavy silence, "Your mind is so filled with hatred that it festers like a rotten wound and infects your thoughts. I do not envy you." Then he stepped away, towards the foot of the bed. He sat down cross-legged on the floor and folded his arms across his chest, his back resting against the chest of clothes. He sighed and closed his eyes. "Wake me when you are done mourning."

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"That one is not in our course," said Elros, peering at the title of the book I was reading. He was reclining in his bed, his foot propped on two pillows.

"That is right. We have not reached here yet." I flipped the book and showed him the page I was on. "It is about the rebellion of the Noldor. This is just an abridged copy, though." I had, after my eavesdropping, become interested in the topic, so I had retrieved this history book from our chamber. It rendered me bemused, but not sullen or defiant.

Elros narrowed his eyes, looking suspicious. It did not suit him. "Is it any different to what we were told at home?"

I contemplated his question, tracing my hand across the fine, somewhat faded letters. "No," I said, "but the reasons seem more complicated."

"Such as what?"

"Such as...I don't know how to explain it."

"Well," he said, "give it here."

I hesitated, then put it in his hands. He immediately perused the index. The healer came back in again and put a cup of tea on the bedside table, and then returned to her desk. Elros read on. At length I have up any hope of getting my book back, and picked up my volume of numerals. "I will finish my work, then," I said, indignant.

"You do that," Elros mumbled, half-lost in the book's contents.

Taking off my sandals, I put my feet on the bed and began to read. Whenever I looked up, my brother's face seemed grow darker, until I felt obliged to ask him what was wrong.

"Nothing." He placed the book on his lap. His hair had come loose of its band, and some of it fell over his forehead. I reached out to push it back, but he slapped my hand away.

"What is the matter with you?" I asked, surprised at his abruptness. Elros wiped his nose and ignored me. I could not get a word of explanation out of him. When our dinner was brought to us, he picked at his bread, scowling.

"Come," I said, "If you do not eat, I will finish the brie, and you will be sorry." He shrugged and looked away from his food. I considered pressing him, but then decided against it and piled the cheese from the tray onto my plate. "Do as you wish, Elros."