They Choose the Path by Lotrfan

Chapter 1

Author notes:

Nelyafinwë/Nelyo—Maedhros

Kanafinwë/Makalaure/Kano—Maglor

Turcafinwë/Tyelkormo/Tyelko—Celegorm

Morifinwë/Moryo—Caranthir

Curufunwë/Curvo—Curufin

Pityafinwë/Pityo/Ambarussa—Amras

Telufinwë/Telvo/Ambarussa—Amrod

Some sources note Amras as the younger twin and some Amrod. As Telufinwë is "last Finwë" in Quenya Amrod is the youngest in this story

Read Chapter 1

"He went where?" Moryo couldn't keep his voice down as he questioned Makalaure. "You just let him go?"

"I did not 'just let him go', Moryo," Makalaurë snapped back. "I don't get to tell Nelyo what to do." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, taking in the furious look Moryo was giving him. "I told you. A message came from Morgoth, acknowledging our victory and offering terms."

Moryo and Tyelko both started speaking but Makalaurë made a brisk gesture at them with his hand.

"Let him speak!" Curvo raised his voice over those of his brothers. Moryo and Tyelko both turned to glare at Curvo but subsided as they caught Makalaurë's expression.

Makalaurë continued. "Nelyo decided he would go meet Morgoth's embassy. I tried to talk him out of it, told him it had to be a trap."

"You should have tied him to a chair and gotten me to talk some sense into him, " Tyelko growled. "I'd have set Huan on him if he tried to stir out of his tent." Tyelko's hand reached down to grip the fur of his ever-present companion.

"I believe tying down the High King of the Noldor might be considered treason," drawled Curvo.

"Treason be damned, Curvo! This is Nelyo we are talking about. It's not treason to keep the High King safe, you bloody idiot." Moryo's eyes flashed at Curvo. "We just lost Father. We can't afford to lose Nelyo."

Makalaurë closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead at the mention of Fëanaro.

"It's not like Nelyo to go rushing off like this, Makalaurë," Pityo said.

"It's not like him at all, " Telvo agreed.

Makalaurë opened his eyes to look around the room at his brothers. Tyelko—his grip on Huan likely the only thing keeping him from flying at one of the others in a rage. Moryo—red-faced and openly glaring at Curvo. Curvo—his eyes hooded, face so blank that Macalaurë knew it for the mask it was. Ambarussa—gripping each other's hands as their twin faces stared back at him.

"The terms included the return of one of the Silmarils," Makalaurë said quietly. Moryo's face turned an even darker shade of red at his words. Curvo's face spasmed into a grimace before the mask clamped down again. Golden Tyelko and the twins paled. "Nelyo said he had to go. He took his guard and twice the number of soldiers stipulated in Morgoth's missive."

Tyelko growled unintelligibly and Huan whined in sympathy, drawing closer to rub Tyelko's leg.

"He's expecting treachery, Tyelko!" Makalaurë snarled back, his patience with his brothers fraying. "But the chance to retrieve even one. . ."

"You know that was just Morgoth's ploy to get him to go and you let him!" Moryo bellowed at him.

"I know it was a ploy! He knew it was also but if there was any chance to get one back, any chance to fulfill any part of that damned Oath, Nelyo was going to try," Makalaurë thundered. "You think I didn't beg him not to go, Moryo? You think I didn't beg to go with him?" He clenched his fists at his sides. "He said I had to stay. He said we couldn't risk more than one of us, now that Father is gone."

"Well, we certainly couldn't risk you," Curvo interrupted. "If we lost both of you that would leave Tyelko in charge and I can't think of a worse disaster than that."

"Shut your mouth, Curvo!" Tyelko roared, taking a menacing step towards his younger brother. Huan moved his body between the siblings and butted Tyelko in the leg.

"You're not helping matters any, Curvo," Makalaurë said bitterly.

"How long has Nelyo been gone?" asked Pityo, breaking the tense pause.

"It's just been a few hours. Under the best of circumstances I wouldn't expect him back yet." Makalaurë responded, endeavoring to keep his tone calm and even.

"And under the worst circumstances? When then?" spluttered Moryo.

"Shut up, Moryo," Curvo said smoothly. "What's done is done. Now we wait. And hope we aren't looking at our new High King."

That was enough for Tyelko. He lunged at Curvo. Huan, caught unaware, pawed at him uselessly. The two brothers struggled for a moment before Moryo gave a shout and plunged in, ganging up on Curvo with Tyelko. It took Makalaurë, Pityo and Telvo, with a fair amount of assistance from Huan, to tear the three of them apart.

Curvo's lip was bleeding, Moryo had scratches on his neck and Tyelko had a swollen eye.

"Enough!" shouted Makalaurë. "How are we ever going to defeat Morgoth if we cannot keep from tearing at each other?" He glared at his brothers. "Get out! I want you out of my sight! I will send for you when I have any word. " He threw himself into the chair in front of the fire, his face resolutely turned away from his siblings.

He could hear them retreating, grumbles and curses reaching his ears until silence announced that they were finally all gone.

He sat and stared at the flames. He didn't know what he had expected from his brothers. The recent loss of Fëanaro had shaken them. They were all on edge which usually meant arguments in this family. He didn't have Nelyo's presence or patience with them and he certainly did not command the respect they had given their father. He clenched his jaw and fists. He couldn't do this without Nelyo. He had never had to do anything without Nelyo.

He was a skilled swordsman. He could engage in elaborate wordplay. He could use his voice to beguile, to shout commands, to soothe the emotions of all but his brothers it seemed. But those were the only leadership skills he had, if they could even be called that. Nelyo had the gifts to command men and merit their respect and loyalty, even his quarrelsome brothers. Nelyo had been raised to lead, since he was a youth—at their grandfather Finwe and uncle Nolofinwe's sides in Tirion and at Father's side at home. No one could play the game of diplomacy and politics better than Nelyo. Makalaurë was content to advise and support him but he could not lead as Nelyo could.

He buried his face in his hands. Nelyo had to come back. Makalaurë knew with a cold dread that Morgoth had chosen his words ruthlessly. He had known Nelyo would never refuse a chance to regain a Silmaril. Not with their father so newly gone and the Oath holding them.

It had already been too long though. Makalaurë had hoped Nelyo would return before the others had even noted his absence. He would never have had to tell them if Nelyo had returned. But he wasn't back.

He had been forced to answer the questions his brothers raised when they found Nelyo gone. But Makalaurë had not been honest in his answer when Pityo had asked how long it had been been since Nelyo left.

Makalaurë sat alone, the dread growing in him as the time continued to go by with no Nelyo. The waiting was intolerable. He stood, thinking to go outside his tent and get some air when he heard Pityo's voice.

"Makalaurë! Makalaurë!" It was a frantic sound and Makalaurë's heart thumped in his chest as he heard it. He broke out of his tent, running toward Pityo's screams.

Pityo was standing at the edge of their camp, with Telvo holding the reins of Nelyo's horse. Makalaurë wondered momentarily how the animal had even made it to their camp. Blood, ragged scratches and deep blade marks covered its body but what stood out were the livid burn marks all over the flanks, as if the horse had been whipped by fire.

Makalaurë's breath caught. Balrogs. Morgoth had sent Balrogs to the parley with Nelyo. He reached Telvo's side and gently stroked the horse's muzzle. Its breathing was raspy and labored. The muzzle was ash covered and bloody from claw marks and more burns.

His other brothers, roused by Pityo's screams, had now reached them. Tyelko, always the best with animals, stepped close and spoke softly to the horse, calming his shivering flanks and stroking his neck gently.

"Makalaurë," Telvo's voice reached him from the far side of the mount through the roaring in his ears. He stepped around to face his youngest brother. Telvo had his hand on a black satchel, tied to the saddle.

With shaking fingers Makalaurë untied it, loosened the clasp and opened it. He pulled out a single braid of Nelyo's distinctive red hair and fell to his knees with a wordless howl, the satchel dropping from his hands.

Curvo snatched the satchel and upended it, dumping the contents on the ground in front of him. A torn, scorched banner with Nelyo's star on it, a vambrace from Nelyo's armor and a scroll—the only item without blood, ash and burn marks.

A hand brushed Makalaurë's shoulder just as Huan's tongue reached out to lick the hand still holding Nelyo's braid. Tyelko and Huan had moved next to him. He looked up at Curvo, who was holding the scroll out to him.

Makalaurë shook his head. "I can't, Curvo. I can't. You read it." Tyelko gripped his shoulder now and Makalaurë felt Pityo and Telvo draw near to him.

Curvo frowned and Makalaurë saw his hands tremble and his lips compress into a thin, white line as he opened the scroll. He scanned it then looked directly at Macalaurë. A crowd was gathering around the brothers, as Pityo's initial screams had alarmed those near them in the camp.

"What does it say, Curvo?" Moryo asked. "What does the Great Deceiver have to say?"

Curvo's hands shook as he tried to roll the scroll back. "He has Nelyo. Alive, he says. But he will not release him unless we forsake this war and return to the West."

"But we have sworn an Oath to Iluvatar and Father," Pityo began.

"Enough," Makalaurë said, rising to his feet. "Bring the tokens the Enemy has sent us and his missive also. We go to my tent to discuss the terms." He looked around at his brothers and they all dropped their eyes at the rage they saw in his face.

"Erestor!" Makalaurë called out. Maedhros' scribe stepped out of the crowd to stand at his side, his face ashen and his eyes wet. "Inform the men that our High King Nelyafinwë Fëanorion has been taken hostage by Morgoth, our great Enemy, through vile treachery at a parley. We will assess the terms for his release. Double the sentries around the camp. Come to me for further orders when you are finished."

Erestor bowed. "As you say, my lord."

Makalaurë scanned his remaining brothers' faces. "My tent. Now." He turned and strode back to his tent, his mind a maelstrom with the manifestation of his worst fear come to life. He still clutched Nelyo's braid in his hand.

The brothers assembled in his tent, silent for once, none daring to speak now. Huan whined and pushed his head against Tyelko's leg, sensing the great agitation in his companion.

Moryo finally breached the silence. "What do we do now, Kano?" he asked, reverting back to his childhood name for Makalaurë.

"Read it out, Curvo," Makalaurë commanded.

Curvo unrolled the scroll, his hands shaking no less than the first time, and read out. "'Be it known that I hold Nelyafinwë Fëanorion as prisoner in response to the terms of our parley being breached by him. Should you desire his return you must forsake this war and return to the West, never to come to these lands again or seek any further redress against me.' " Curvo threw the scroll down on the table. "Then he goes on with his titles and about where you can find his blasted emissary to give your reply. "

Makalaurë was silent. Once again Moryo broke the silence. "Where do we go then? We cannot go back. The Valar have banned our return."

"We are forsworn and cast into the Eternal Darkness if we forego this war," Curvo retorted. "We swore to Eru Iluvatar not once, but twice on that account."

"But we have to forego it to get Nelyo back." Pityo answered back. "So where do we go?"

"To the Everlasting Dark," Tyelko grunted. "There's no way out. We cannot return to the West as we are banned by the Valar. We are forsworn on our Oath if we abandon this war. We are bloody well fucked either way and so is Nelyo, if he's even still alive."

"He's still alive," cut in Moryo. "Morgoth won't kill him. He knows we almost defeated him once. He knows we won't hold back if he kills Nelyo."

Makalaurë finally spoke. "He has us exactly where he wants us. We have nowhere to go and he knows that. We are doomed if we forswear our Oath and he knows that too. Nelyo is alive only as long as we don't attack Morgoth or continue this war." Makalaurë kicked the chair in front of him, knocking it nearly into the fire. "We are powerless! We can do nothing and he knows it." He turned to look at his brothers, his eyes searing them. "If we attack to try to rescue Nelyo, Nelyo dies. If we continue to fight this war, Nelyo dies. If we do nothing, Nelyo remains a prisoner. And even if we do leave, he will never give us Nelyo back. He will hold him as assurance, to keep us from returning to mount a new assault on him." Five pale faces looked back at him. "As Tyelko said, we are all well and truly fucked."

"So what do we do, Makalaurë?" Telvo asked finally. "You are our leader now."

"Your leader. Yes, I am now your leader. Do I lead you to the Everlasting Dark or to our brother's death?" Makalaurë said coldly. "I see no choice for us other than to abandon Nelyo to his fate and continue to fight this war or be forsworn and leave this battle and our brother behind in captivity." He ground his teeth before continuing. "I do not trust Morgoth. He betrayed Nelyo and he will betray me as well. Whether we stay or go he will never willingly release Nelyo. He may kill him, but he will never let him go."

"So we just leave him?" said Tyelko. "We can't just leave him. Let me go with Huan and a few of my men."

"Let you go where?" countered Curvo. "You mean to storm Angband yourself?"

"No, you idiot. I mean to break him out of there." Tyelko retorted.

"You, the dog and a few men, secretly infiltrate Angband and get Nelyo back? Have you been drinking already this morning, Tyelko?" Curvo snapped.

Tyelko lunged towards Curvo but Huan was better prepared this time. Pityo and Telvo each grabbed one of Tyelko's arms as Huan went up on his hind legs to push Tyelko back.

"We risk losing you if you do that, Tyelko," Pityo said, looking up into his brother's furious face as he pushed into him. "And then what? Morgoth has two hostages and we are back to where we are now."

Tyelko dropped his head and sagged into his brothers as the fight went out of him. Pityo and Telvo let him go and he sank the floor, Huan curling around him now. "Then what do we do?" he asked.

"We cannot risk an attempt to break him out nor can we risk an all out assault right now. We don't have the strength. Our losses were heavy enough before we lost Nelyo and his men." Makalaurë said. "Nor will we leave these shores and be forsworn on our Oath and our revenge for Father."

"So we do nothing," said Curvo.

Makalaurë glared at him. "We stay. We fight as needed, if we encounter Orc bands. We work on an alliance with the Sindar and Laiquendi. We grow our forces with these alliances so we can stage an assault on Angband that has some chance of success." He looked at each of his brothers. "Any assault may lose us Nelyo. But we keep the Oath."

"We keep the Oath," replied Curvo.

"We keep the Oath," said Tyelko.

"We keep the Oath," Pityo and Telvo said together.

Only Moryo stayed silent. He raised his eyes to Makalaurë's. "We stay and hold the Oath, you say. We build alliances with the Laiquendi and Doriath and we resume fighting the war with Morgoth. We leave Nelyo to death or certain torment. Is that really what we are prepared to do?" he asked.

"We have no other choice," Makalaurë sighed, moving to place his hand on Moryo's shoulder. "We don't have the men to storm the gates to rescue him. We have nowhere to go if we leave and we are forsworn if we do. He won't give us Nelyo back if we do leave, Moryo. His word is false." Makalaurë paused and took a deep breath before continuing in a softer voice. "Nelyo knew the risk. He knows we cannot abandon the Oath. We doom him to the Everlasting Dark as well, if we deny it. We have lost him-to death or captivity." He squeezed Moryo's shoulder. "He would do the same if it were any one of us."

"He would not and you know it, Makalaurë," Moryo said, shaking Makalaurë's hand off his shoulder. "You know Nelyo would never leave one of us like this! Never."

"I am not Nelyo, Moryo!" Makalaurë roared. "I can't devise a way to get him back without sacrificing the rest of you-to death or the Everlasting Dark. Maybe he would do something else, but he's not here! I am! I can't save you all!"

"I'm not asking you to save us all, Kano." Moryo said, his face flushing and his eyes glistening with tears that he swiped away angrily. "I just want us to save Nelyo." He scrubbed his eyes roughly. "And I can't think of a way either," he finished, turning away from Makalaurë and putting his face in his hands.

Makalaurë stepped across to put an arm around Moryo's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Moryo. I won't launch a rescue or an attack and have Nelyo pay with his life. I know that decision leaves him a captive and I can do nothing to change that."

"I know," Moryo whispered.

"What will your response be to Morgoth, Makalaurë?" Pityo asked.

Makalaurë turned back to the rest of his siblings. "That we will neither leave nor forego our Oath to retrieve the Silmarils. I will request he surrender Nelyo to us as he broke the parley by taking him captive." Makalaurë replied.

"He won't send Nelyo back," Tyelko said.

"He also won't kill him," Makalaurë responded. "At least then Nelyo is still alive."

"Nelyo might wish he kills him, " Moryo said. "A prisoner of Morgoth will endure unending torture." He paused. "We have heard the stories of what he does to prisoners."

Makalaurë closed his eyes briefly then opened them again as he spoke. "I am the regent to the High King in his absence. I will not lay a death sentence on him by our actions nor will I forswear the Oath he made." Makalaurë's voice grew stronger. "We will grow our strength and ally with the Laiquendi. Once we do we will fight back. For our brother and our Oath." He looked around the room as each brother nodded his assent. "Leave me now. I will send the reply to Morgoth."

Erestor found him a short time later, sitting up in the chair he had previously knocked over and staring into the flames. Nelyo's braid lay across his lap. "My Lord?" Erestor said tentatively.

"Come, Erestor. I have need of a scribe. You will pen my response to Morgoth."

Makalaurë waited until Erestor had left to deliver the response before he finally let himself weep, still holding onto the braid, all he had left of his Nelyo.

Author notes:

Nelyafinwë/Nelyo—Maedhros

Kanafinwë/Makalaure/Kano—Maglor

Turcafinwë/Tyelkormo/Tyelko—Celegorm

Morifinwë/Moryo—Caranthir

Curufunwë/Curvo—Curufin

Pityafinwë/Pityo/Ambarussa—Amras

Telufinwë/Telvo/Ambarussa—Amrod

Some sources note Amras as the younger twin and some Amrod. As Telufinwë is "last Finwë" in Quenya Amrod is the youngest in this story.