Under the Evening Star by Himring

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Chapter 1

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Elros had been angry all day. There were plenty of reasons for Elros to be angry, of course, but there was usually, now, something that had set him off and Maglor could not work out what it had been, this time. He had thought of asking Elrond, for sometimes Elrond could help and would explain, although at other times his loyalty towards his brother would not permit him to speak. But Elrond seemed to be having a bad day, as well; he looked pale and strained and seemed disinclined to talk much at all, about anything.

Maglor tried to persuade them to go to sleep and eventually they lay down obediently and were quiet. But he feared neither of them was truly at rest, although it was fully dark, by then. He looked around the camp and noticed an absence that, preoccupied with the boys, he had overlooked.

'Where is my brother?' he asked.

There was an uneasy hush. Celvandil pointed into the forest.

'Has he been gone long?'

Celvandil shrugged, but it was not a reassuring gesture.

Their eyes met. Maedhros might be quite all right, out there, on his own, in fact, he usually was--except there were occasions when he was not and sometimes they came on suddenly.

Narye came over to them.

'Have an eye on things--and on the boys,' said Maglor to both of them. 'I will go and look for my brother.'

He took up his gear and went off in the direction Celvandil had pointed.

It grew even darker, as he walked, and under the trees it was pitch-black night. Maglor moved carefully, but did not attempt to be completely silent at first for he wanted Maedhros to hear him coming. He had more than half expected his brother to appear suddenly, as if summoned, perhaps right before him or off to the side, but that had not happened and now he was beginning to be really worried.

He was some distance from the Feanorian camp by now. He did not call out. Instead, he began to move more quietly, not knowing what else might be abroad in the night. Unexpected encounters out here were likely to be unfriendly, dangerous.
But now the wood before him seemed to be getting lighter again. He wondered whether his eyes were deceiving him. It could not be the moonrise; they were only just past new moon. The trees were less dense, though, thinning out. He must be coming out into a clearing; he thought he knew which one it was.

He stepped out into the clearing. It was unmistakably brighter than it ought to have been and there was something strangely familiar about the light which was not moonlight. He looked up at the sky and saw the star and stood quite still, gazing upwards.

A voice spoke behind him, to the left.

'See how it shines on the breast of the night. Thus, once, I saw it shine on Morgoth's brow...'

It was Maedhros's voice, but there was a strange quality to it, dreamlike, uncharacteristically heavy. Maglor sought his brother, following the sound of his voice, and found him leaning against a pine at the edge of the clearing, his gaze fixed on the star.

'What are you saying? Is it truly a Silmaril that shines above us?'

'What do you think?'

Maedhros did not move his head, as he spoke, or look away from the star.

Maglor was troubled by his brother's reaction, but he forged ahead, following his train of thought: 'And if it is, is that not a good thing? Truly, a good thing? For so all may share in its light as they wish and it is not withheld or kept from anyone. And if we cannot reach so high, neither can the Dark Foe nor his minions...'

'Perhaps', said Maedhros.

'What do you mean?' asked Maglor.

'You have forgotten the rumours, Kano, those hints that reached us from the North,' said Maedhros. 'Perhaps it is true that Morgoth is earth-bound, now--although I have heard that it was not always so--and that the Balrogs cannot rise so high. But did we not hear that Morgoth, not content with spreading terror on the earth by means of Glaurung's brood, is plotting to give them wings?'

'You doubted those rumours when we heard them,' Maglor pointed out.

'So I did. Our deepening fear amid defeat proliferates rumours, and some of these have proved wrong before now. But that I doubted their reliability is not to say that I am certain they were wrong nor that I am confident the heavens are safe from Morgoth's grasp...'

'And so...?' asked Maglor, full of misgivings.

'And nothing!' said Maedhros, standing away from the tree trunk and shaking his head. 'Do not worry so, Kano! I'm not quite mad enough to climb a pine all the way to the top and wave my sword up at the sky...'

Maglor felt himself breathe easier.

'I suppose it is the one?' he asked, after a moment. 'It can hardly be one of the other two, although I cannot see how it can have been brought to Aman or by whose hand--it should not have been possible.'

'It was impossible--designed to be so,' said Maedhros.

They were both silent.

Maglor knew that Maedhros had been thinking along the same lines--what shall we tell the boys, we do not know anything about how this came about, or nothing for certain, at any rate--when Maedhros asked: 'So had you managed to make them settle down?'

'Not quite.'

Maglor sighed.

Perhaps because there now seemed to be a possibility that somehow, somewhere, Earendil and Elwing might still be alive, he said abruptly:

'Sometimes I wish I had left them where I found them. They would probably have been safe there, until Gil-galad's arrival.'

'Perhaps,' said Maedhros, who had argued with him at the time. 'But "probably" could never have been good enough for you.'

'If you need me to tell you,' he continued, ' you love them dearly. When Elros fell out of that tree, you dropped your harp in shock. And it was Elros you were quick to check for breakages, not the harp.'

'I do not need you to tell me,' said Maglor. 'Not that...'

'Elros needs a new cloak,' said Maedhros.

'He does?' asked Maglor, already mentally re-budgeting for woollen cloth and dye.

'He noticed this morning that the hem of his old one was threadbare,' said Maedhros. 'It reminded him that he was a prisoner and a half-elf and so he began questioning his status in our eyes.'

'And does Elrond need a new cloak, too, then?' asked Maglor.

'I guess so,' said Maedhros. 'For reasons of parity--although Elrond has noticed what we ourselves wear...'

'So what is worrying Elrond?'

'He had a nightmare last night and slept badly after that. You should sing him a lullaby when you return, softly, so as not to wake him, but send him into deeper sleep.'

'Is that so? So tell me again why, if you know all these things about them, Nelyo, I'm the one who gets to deal with it all?' asked Maglor resignedly.

'Because I'm the one who is giving Elrond the nightmares, Kano. Do you go back to camp and sing him that lullaby. I will walk in the woods and I will think: Elwing flying across the waves on white wings, Earendil sailing a silver ship across the sky... I will think it so that Elrond shall sleep well tonight.'

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Chapter End Notes

In the series, Maedhros and Elrond have a mental connection. It's not intentional or deliberate on Maedhros's part and Elrond hasn't learned to control it yet, from his side, because his healer's talents are only just awakening. That is why in order not to give Elrond another nightmare, Maedhros stays awake and carefully thinks soothing thoughts.

As indicated in the text, the Sons of Feanor do not know anything about the fate of Elwing and Earendil and had considered them dead. That the soothing images Maedhros seizes on are canonical fact is a conscious paradox.

Also, the canonical dialogue between Maedhros and Maglor is beautiful and, of course, I fall for it like most readers. But, geek that I am, I couldn't help noticing that, although this is evidently meant to be a Son of Feanor finally seeing the light, metaphorically as well as literally, he is actually wrong about the Silmaril being safe up there--because the next time we see Earendil with the Silmaril, he is fighting a very dangerous duel with Ancalagon. (And in HoME also, the heavens are not a particularly safe region, really--neither for Earendil nor for Arien.)