Righteous Deeds by Gwenniel

Chapter 2

When I finished my tale the sunlight had moved across the room. I and Tyelkormo sat waiting in silence as our brothers pondered our words. I wondered how they would react. If I knew them right, they would try to see this optimistically, but this time it would not work. Yet another of our cousins was dead, and it brought us all into a melancholy mood. As it would have brought even Carnistir, had he been here, and he wasn't even a fan of the House of Arafinwë. I decided to invite him and the Ambarussa here later so that they could hear the story from us before the rumours reached them. Or at least I would write them a confidential letter.

At last, Macalaurë twitched uncomfortably in his seat. "So you were banished because you were blamed for the death of Ingoldo?"

I turned to him, replying firmly: "We did not mean for him to go and get killed! It was us who spoke against his departure!"

"Is Artaresto lying, then?" Maitimo retorted. "And if so, then why?"

"He said it in a moment of rage," I replied, "he wasn't aware of the meaning of his words." I swallowed. Never had I had such troubles to find words so say. My brother looked sternly at me but I tried my best: "He entwined his life in our doom, and maybe we would have had to eliminate him, but it were the wolves of Sauron who put an end to his life. Not us. Not this time."

This time. That reminded us all of the horrifying fact, that the losses of the lives of many others were still our fault. Tyelkormo buried his head in his hands, Macalaurë lowered his gaze, and Maitimo's annoyance passed into grief and I could see that he recalled all the blood that had been shed on our account - because of our Oath which had brought us so far no good. The vow we had taken to protect justice.

"He is back in Valinor now," my eldest brother said bitterly. "I do not hold you to blame. None of us could have thought he'd venture to Angband freely." A shadow passed across his face; I knew he thought of his own stay in the halls of Morgoth, and how he himself had been rescued by one who set out for the impossible mission - so far the only one who had succeeded.

"We've got no place to go," Tyelkormo said finally breaking the silence, his voice hoarse. "May we stay here for now?" he asked and looked up. His question was left hanging heavy in the air, as Macalaurë occupied himself with his damaged harp-string to avoid eye contact, and Maitimo had silently risen from his seat and stood now by the windows, his face bathing in the sunlight.

"Russandol?" Tyelkormo asked pleadingly.

I had not seen him this broken since the day we received tidings of Ireth's death. He looked up at his brother. It was now that he reminded me of the elfling he had been back in Tirion. When he as a child had hurt himself and then sought for the compassion of his elder brothers. And maybe it was these thoughts that came to Maitimo's mind as well, when he heard his sibling's lonely voice using his epessë, pleading for understanding, for he sighed and turned back towards us.

"You may," he said.

o0o0o

"How did you look so grieving?" I asked Tyelkormo later that day. He looked at me and tilted is head in puzzlement.

"Why wouldn't I have?" he asked.

"Grieving at Findaráto's death," I explained. "Your mourning was so genuine, that our brothers believed it. Or were you grieving for the Sindarin maiden?"

Tyelkormo looked at me in surprise and disgust: "Curufinwë! Are you saying you don't mind our cousin's death at all?"

"I wouldn't have wished for it unless it had been necessary," I answered. "I could have stopped him from going easily enough. But do you know why I did not stop him?" I asked. He shook his head. "Because of you," I said. "Findaráto had a realm, he had power, he had a people willing to follow him. I gave all that to you instead."

Tyelkormo's eyes widened. I bit my lip. "Do not try to tell me you didn't see it. Do not deny that you would have wanted it. I told you of my plans. You set out ready to ambush him yourself."

"Only if he had returned with the Silmarilli, and had not been willing to part from them but would have given them to Thingol," he cried. "I would not have murdered him cowardly."

"Turkafinwë Fëanárion, you are a kinslayer! A kinslayer as bad as I am. Do not back away from the truth!" I was shouting now.

"That was a part of the Oath," Tyelkormo said in his defense. "Your plotting was not."

My anger grew at my brother's attempts to weasel out from sin. "You lusted for his realm, you lusted for Lúthien! You are no less guilty than I am!" I looked at him fiercely. "I lusted for the power we need to fulfil our Oath, regain the jewels, to make Atar proud. Does that make me a bad person?"

Tyelkormo couldn't find words to say. He looked at me in wrath, clenching his fists, trying to overthrow my arguments. My dear brother was a born orator, but I was always the one who won our debates. Mine was the victory this time as well, and I knew that it was but a matter of time before I could persuade him to look at all this from my point of view.

o0o0o

For some time no one spoke of the things that had come to pass. In Himring, we were treated with honour as if we always had lived there. Days passed by in an uneventful manner. None but I and Tyelkormo knew the truth behind what had happened in Nargothrond, and so far it seemed as if Tyelkormo wanted to avoid the thought. However, I knew that eventually everyone would find out the truth. No word had come from Nargothrond - apparently Artaresto wanted to have no dealings with anyone of our house - but Thingol had not yet sent any word either. I would have thought he would send raging messengers after us. Before we left for North, rumour had reached me that he would have sent troops to Nargothrond itself. Sometimes I wondered whether Artaresto had yet felt his wrath. Probably not, since they were apparently close enough kin to be on friendly terms. And also, who could be wrathful at Artaresto, that pitiful creature?

One day a visitor came to Himring. I had been sitting inside, deep in my thoughts, and had not seen his arrival until he was at the front gate of the castle. I peeked through the window and saw two of Maitimo's guards exchanging words with the messenger. The envoy was clearly from Doriath; I could tell it by the colours of his garment and the fact that he looked ragged as if he had been in a fight with orcs. But if I was correct in my guess, the letter I now saw the messenger taking out from a small leather pouch was probably from Thingol. The Sindarin King had sent a note for my brothers. Thinking quickly, I decided to try to get the letter before Maitimo or Macalaurë did. But I arrived too late and when I met my eldest brother he already had the letter. It lay unopened in his hand. When he saw me, he smiled. He was in a good mood. How would he be after he had read the letter?

"Hello, Curvo," he said. "Care to open this letter for me?" he asked handing me the envelope. I nodded and tore tidily up the side of it. I glanced at the ugly scar, all that was left of Maitimo's right hand. Such small tasks were so difficult, yet it was a small price to pay for freedom.

In the envelope was a neatly folded letter. It was definitely from Thingol. But I would wait for the storm before I decided on my words in defence. I handed back the letter, and before he would go up to his study to read it, I backed away and let the shadows engulf me.