Sad But True by Ecthelion

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Through the Never

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After that he did not hear of her for a long time. In fact he thought he would never hear of her again. If she had not returned to beg for forgiveness from the Valar, she must have perished and gone to the Halls of Mandos. After all, with hröar of flesh and blood, the host of Fingolfin could not possibly cross Helcaraxë, the Grinding Ice that only the Valar and Ungoliant had crossed before.

Nevertheless under the cold stars in Middle-earth he thought of her, more than once. Night seemed endless, and in those sleepless hours he extended his thoughts to the West, only to find something blocking him, shielding the Blessed Realm. The Valar will fence Valinor against you, and shut you out. (1) The Powers of Arda seemed to have accomplished it effectively, which was impressive indeed compared to their slow and discreet actions on the matter of going after Morgoth. (2)

But it is absurd of you. For even if you learned where she was, whether she was alive or dead, what difference would it make? Did you not make your choice when you took the torch and burned the way of going back?

...If only one could simply burn a particular part of his past...

Yet he was far from sentimental and had no artistic qualities like his elder brother Maglor. As a son of Fëanor, he was too proud to forget what he had suffered because of her, but he would not constantly remind himself of it because he knew in his heart that he still loved her.

In the cold wind of Hithlum, he often gazed westward at the dark mountains against the deep blue sky, the only companion being a silent hound.

Fortunately, he did not need to dwell on this matter, because revenge and the Silmarils were much more important. Morgoth could not afford to leave the followers of Fëanor alone, and before long peace was broken by an onslaught from the North. Thus began Dagor-nuin-Giliath.

Unexpectedly, with Alqualondë behind, he still had no reservation or disgust for war. In fact after the shock of being taken at unawares, he quickly found himself filled with wrath as well as a thirst for blood. This time no one can say it is unrighteous. And even more unexpectedly, he showed great talent in it. His knowledge of the tongues of beasts and birds in Valinor made it easy for him to gather tidings in Middle-earth from those running away from evil creatures. The Noldor learned the whereabouts of their foes even before the Dark Lord himself did. On the east side of the mountains of Ered Wethrin, near the wellspring of Sirion, he trapped the enemy and drove all the troops that had invaded Beleriand into the Fen of Serech. Simple. Hunting strategies.

But the Enemy was stronger than they had imagined. The Noldor won the Battle-under-Stars, but suffered grievous loss. Curufinwë Fëanáro, the mighty and unmatched Spirit of Fire, met a most unusual ending, consumed by the flame of his own wrath. Morgoth, leaving the sons of Fëanor no time for grief, sent an embassy to them offering terms for a truce. Maedhros accepted the invitation hoping to gain an insight of the hidden menace, but was no match for their Enemy when it came to impudence. As the third son, he did not go with Maedhros, and when Morgoth demanded that they forsake their war in exchange of their eldest brother's life, his first reaction was 'never'. No longer would any son of Fëanor negotiate with Morgoth. Neither the blood of their father and grandfather nor an unbreakable oath could be overlooked. The House of Fëanor would continue without their brother, even the eldest.

Refusing to compromise, the remaining host of Fëanor retreated to the lake of Mithrim, for they had much to rebuild and recover. Maglor took the place of Maedhros for the time being, though it was no secret that he needed more than time to adapt to his new role.

Therefore when Curufin came to have a word with him, he was not surprised.

'We are at war, Turko. Makalaurë has no rival in songs or poetry, but we need someone who can lead our warriors to victory.'

Curufin spoke wisely regardless of his true motivation. One could not count on something like Noldolantë to move the Enemy, not to mention that it was not the best time to mourn for the Fall of the Noldor when the Noldor still faced present danger. Maglor was too soft to be a great leader. Worse still, he strove to put morality before everything else, including critical matters such as defense and vengeance.

Ridiculous. At Losgar none of us was innocent. Perhaps our eldest brother could say that he expressed his opinion at least, but what excuse can you find, Makalaurë? You would not have burned those white ships had you truly lamented the Fall of the Noldor.

'If necessary, you are next in line for the leadership, and you have my support.'

He needed no further indication. He might be hasty in temper, but being a master of strategies and tactics he was not simple-minded. He laughed. 'I cannot be a leader alone. We as brothers will decide our course of actions together.'

They both knew what that implied. Amrod and Amras being the youngest were in no position to lead, while Caranthir always preferred to handle matters of warfare than daily routine. Along with Caranthir and Curufin he could restore order to the House of Fëanor, if Maglor became a leader in name.

None of them took into consideration the kingship left behind by Maedhros, because none of them found it important. And none of them made attempts of rescuing Maedhros, because none of them thought it possible.

...

'Yet you and your brothers never even tried to rescue your eldest brother.'

Do you understand now, daughter of Thingol? How can I do for a cousin what I have not done for my brother?

...By treason of kin unto kin...(3)

...

The Moon was rising.

Silver, not as pure as the light of Telperion, but far brighter than the stars.

And the trumpets of Fingolfin were heard on the shores of Middle-earth.

However unlooked-for their coming was, facing the potential rage of his father's half-brother was the least of his concerns. When the Sun was also rising, he stood in front of the camp near the lake of Mithrim and gazed at the banner of blue and silver billowing afar in the golden light, feeling almost lost. Now he knew for sure that she was alive. She survived the hard journey across Helcaraxë with her father and brothers. What could he say or do if he met her again? And what would she say or do if she met him?

...Knowing more about animals than people...

Nevertheless he began the painful process of reasoning. Long ago when she discovered his trick she took instant revenge by commanding her horse to tread on him. Now his house had betrayed hers by deserting them to hunger and death, and he had betrayed her by burning the ships in Losgar despite his attempt of persuading her to come with him. What would she do to take revenge on him this time? Burying him with all the icebergs of Helcaraxë, or stripping him of the last secret hope by another ruthless rejection? He thought she would do both, though in no particular order.

So he chose to distance himself.

'We will retreat to the other side of the lake.'

'What?!' Caranthir burst out. 'Are you afraid of them?'

He gave his dark-haired brother a warning look. 'Moryo, mind your temper.' Bad temper, even worse than mine. But I am the one called hasty-riser. Has our mother's foresight turned out to be inaccurate, or have we both changed? 'As you can see, we are outnumbered. I will not risk any conflict.' And do you really want to fight them? They are not the Teleri but the Noldor.

'Turko's words show insight.' Maglor supported him, as expected. Curufin said nothing at the time but found him later in person, obviously unconvinced of the reasons he had stated. 'Turko, you have not made this decision because of her, have you?'

These words got him on his feet in the blink of an eye. His care for her was no secret, but it had been one of those unspoken things that had better remain unspoken. But Curufin reassured him before he could speak. 'I apologize if I am wrong. I mean no offense. You made a wise decision, and I simply hope you will always make them wisely.'

He saw no mockery in Curufin's eyes. Or there could be, but he could not tell. When they rebelled against the Valar and went into exile, Curufin's wife remained behind. With only his son Celebrimbor at his side when coming to Middle-earth, Curufin seemed to have no reason to bring up such an uncomfortable topic just to vex him.

He decided to accept Curufin's apology but found himself unable to provide reassurance, for it was ironic enough for Curufin to call his decision wise. What would he do in the future, if circumstances set him directly against her? He had no answer indeed.

Neither of them knew then that they need not worry about future. Soon afterwards their cousin Fingon accomplished something no one had ever imagined: he went to Thangorodrim alone and delivered his friend of old from the long and terrible torture. Maedhros, the eldest son and heir of Fëanor, was back.

Maedhros's recovery took less time than most had expected. Of course, he was different now: he lost his right hand, which was the price one would pay for their mistakes when dealing with Morgoth. But he was still tall and strong, well-shaped, easily spotted by his luxurious copper hair, and in all ways a natural born leader. Indeed nothing could stop him from reclaiming the leadership. After all, he was the eldest, the most experienced, and once one of the best warriors among them. Yet he made his position clear: if his younger brothers suspected his fighting capabilities were compromised because of the lost hand, they were all more than welcome to test him out.

Maedhros must have carefully prepared for this day. Without painstaking practice one could not learn to fight without his previous sword hand, not to mention fight even better.

'By now Findekáno must have become a double-handed warrior,' Curufin suggested later. But he had no interest in Fingon's newly acquired skills. All that mattered to him was the look in his eldest brother's eyes when Maedhros's sword broke through his defense and stopped at his chest. However painful it was, he had to admit his defeat, because there was no other choice.

Thus it happened that Maedhros regained his status, more convincingly than ever, because this time it was not mostly due to his earlier birth than others. Maglor was truly relieved, so were Amrod and Amras. Even Caranthir accepted it after watching Maedhros's demonstration of strength. As a matter of fact, the House of Fëanor was again under one command of a powerful leader, and those who had to step down because of it drew no more attention than mists before dawn. Perhaps we should feel relieved that someone is eager to take on all the responsibilities for us. But without them preoccupying his mind, more disturbing than any loss of power or status, the shadow he once freed himself from crept back.

Fortunately again, he had no time to dwell on it. To everyone's surprise, the first decision made by Maedhros extended the loss to the entire House of Fëanor.

'I will give up the kingship to Fingolfin.'

'Why?' Caranthir cried in disbelief. 'Is that your way of showing gratitude to Findekáno, just because he saved your life?'

At that the light in Maedhros's eyes suddenly became so intimidating that Caranthir almost choked on his own words. But when the copper-haired prince spoke after a pause he was rather calm, even a little amused. 'I have been thinking about a list of presents I would like to send him for saving my life, but the kingship of the House of Fëanor is certainly not on it. However,' the smile on his face vanished. 'I do not believe we can defeat our Enemy and fulfill our Oath without the support of the other two houses. If a crown is what they desire most, let them have it. Without it the House of Fëanor will still survive and prosper. It is a small price to pay for what we need.'

'Then the House of Fëanor is truly dispossessed.' Curufin said softly. 'It was told in the Prophecy of the North.'

'Then let it be the last part that would come true of that evil curse,' replied their eldest brother.

As a son of Fëanor he was required to attend the kingship handover ceremony. According to Maedhros, they were princes of the House of Fëanor as well as the House of Finwë, and the House of Finwë would not be divided any longer. How hypocritical is that, my dear brother. But as soon as he realized the full meaning of it, he dropped all his sarcasm. The House of Finwë. Then would she be there too?

Actually, she was not there. For that, he could not tell whether he was disappointed or relieved. So, did she also choose to distance herself? Maybe it turned out to be too difficult to bury him with all the icebergs of Helcaraxë, even for her. But does it mean she has no wish to do so? Or does it not? He forced himself to stop his wandering thoughts when his head began to ache. Her absence does not mean anything. Everything about her was enigmatic, as ever.

But the Noldor were finally reunited after temporary confusion and earnest reconciliation. Later they surveyed the lands and established new realms in Beleriand. As a result, the House of Fëanor owned the east side. Now he became the Lord of Himlad along with Curufin, with the Pass of Aglon between Dorthonion and Himring also under his command. Some years later, Fingolfin held a feast near the pools of Ivrin, somewhere on the west side of Sirion. He received the invitation but declined, and at Mereth Aderthad, Maedhros and Maglor were the only two sons of Fëanor. By chance and by effort, he successfully avoided meeting her in person since she came to Middle-earth. All he knew was that she first went to Nevrast with Turgon and then left Nevrast for a hidden city of which the location remained unknown to most.

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Chapter End Notes

(1)(3): quotes from The Silmarillion.

(2): in fact the Hiding of Valinor happened much later than that. As for why he could not reach the West any more, I would like to leave it for the readers to interpret.

The story in this chapter merely represents one kind of dynamics in the House of Fëanor after Maedhros's capture, and I am by no means advocating it as the only possibility.