Choices Seal Our Fate by Lotrfan

Chapter 1

Read Chapter 1

Makalaurë could hear the melody in his head. It was the one he had always associated with his father but the version he was hearing now was in a minor key, discordant notes making up the harmony. He reached for his notebook and was in the process of writing it down when his brother's voice interrupted him.

"Makalaurë?" Maitimo had stepped into his tent. Makalaurë looked up when he heard his voice. Maitimo didn't sound right. He didn't look right either.

Maitimo was the most fair-skinned in the family, always paler than the rest, but now he looked completely washed out, the red of his hair flaming against his complexion.

Makalaurë stood up. "What's wrong?" he asked, moving rapidly to his brother's side.

Maitimo made a face. "You read me like a book, Kano," he complained, using his pet name for his brother. "Sit. I need to talk to you."

Makalaurë sat in front of the fire, apprehension growing as he watched Maitimo settle into the chair beside him. They had lost their father, Fëanaro, not two days before. Maitimo had taken over all their father's duties—High King and battle leader-and he had proved a stalwart rock for the brothers in their shared grief.

Maitimo had always had a gift for profound stillness. Even when disturbed in spirit he rarely showed any outward sign. But now he was making Makalaurë nervous with his uncharacteristic outward signs of agitation—his fingers continually drumming on his thigh and his eyes darting around the room—looking anywhere but at him.

"Nelyo, what is the matter?" Makalaurë put his hand on his brother's arm, feeling the vibration through the tense muscles.

Maitimo still wasn't looking at him. "There has been a message from Morgoth," he said, staring into the fire.

"What? When? How do I not know about this?" Makalaurë felt his own heart race at his brother's words.

"It did not come long ago. They brought it directly to me. I read it and came to find you," Maitimo darted a look at him then away again as he continued speaking. "I've decided on my response."

"What do you mean you've decided? Decided what? Nelyo, out with it! What did it say?" Makalaurë demanded.

Maitimo turned to him now and Makalaurë shivered at the look of determination on his brother's face. He looked just like Father. "Morgoth sues for peace. Our forces were unexpectedly strong and he claims he is loath to join in battle again." Maitimo's fingers were tapping even faster on his thigh. Makalaurë didn't think he even knew he was doing it. "He requests a parley to discuss terms."

"Terms? A parley?" Makalaurë exploded. "And what have you already decided about this, Nelyo?"

"I have decided that I will be the one to meet his embassy for the parley," Maitimo responded.

"Have you lost your mind?" Makalaurë was shouting now, launching himself out of his chair to stand in front of his brother.

"Quiet, Kano!" Maitimo commanded, his voice cold and stern. "Do not wake the entire camp. I have no desire to bandy words with Tyelko or Curvo right now."

Makalaurë paced in front of the fire. "What do you mean by saying you intend to meet this embassy, Nelyo?" he asked, lowering his voice but barely able to keep his growing dread controlled.

Maitimo gripped the arms of the chair as he met his brother's furious gaze. "As I said, I will meet the embassy at the determined location."

"You do realize this is a trap?" Makalaurë growled.

"I realize it very well may be. I do not intend to go alone, Kano. What kind of fool do you take me for? I will take my personal guard and twice the number of men stipulated." Maitimo replied.

"And how do you know he will not do the same?" Makalaurë continued pacing. "I have never taken you for a fool, Nelyo, but you are tempting me to think you one now." He stopped in front of his brother. "Send a reply saying no. No terms, no parley. If we've frightened him then we need to press our advantage."

"We have no advantage, Kano! We've lost our leader and scores of warriors. We do not have the strength to mount another assault like that." He stood up to face Makalaurë now.

"You are our leader, Nelyo! Why are you even considering this?"

Maitimo pressed his lips together, his face going even paler, before he spoke again. "He offers a Silmaril, Kano," he said softly.

Makalaurë had no words. A Silmaril. Stolen from their father by Morgoth, subject of their Oath, the objects they had vowed to retrieve when they set out and again as their father lay dying before them. He stared at Maitimo, trying to make sense of the words. Then he realized. They were now caught in an elaborate game and Morgoth controlled it all.

"He said that to get you to go," Makalaurë said slowly, as his realization crystallized into understanding. "He knew nothing else would entice you. Nelyo, he is playing you!"

"You think I do not know this? You think I do not know why he chose to speak of a Silmaril, Kano? Because he knows I cannot say no. By my Oath I must ever strive to recover them!" Maitimo thundered.

"But he doesn't mean to give even one up, Nelyo—you know that!"

"But what if he does, Kano? What if I can get one back—fulfill the Oath in some way?" Maitimo was the one pacing now. "This is greater than us. We hold the lives of all the Noldor on these shores in our hands." His pace quickened. "We have lost Father. We cannot lose more men, lose each other in this war. I do not know if they will stay loyal to me as this war goes on. I am not Father." Maitimo took a deep breath and blew it out. "If I can end this and get one Silmaril back, we can be done. We can go, leave Morgoth on his dark throne and go home."

"You are making no sense, Nelyo! Go home? We have been banned! The return is barred to us for the Kinslaying. You heard the words—you were there."

"We had no Silmaril then. If we have one, if we offer it to Yavanna to bring back the Trees, as she asked Father to-we may be pardoned and given leave to return." Maitimo stood before him, his eyes painfully bright, lit by the same fire Makalaurë remembered seeing in Father.

"You cannot believe that, Nelyo," he whispered.

"I do! I must! If we get just one back, we can fulfill the spirit of the Oath we swore, Kano. We avoid the Everlasting Dark and we save the lives of our brothers and our people. We end the war," Maitimo argued.

"But the Valar . . ." Makalaurë began.

His brother interrupted him. "If we hold a Silmaril they will have no choice but to let us return." Maitimo was pacing again. "There will be a penance, of that I am sure. For the Kinslaying, for the burning of the ships." He stopped in front of Makalaurë and gripped his brother's shoulders. "Isn't a penance better than our deaths here, Kano? The deaths of countless more of our people?"

"If we were dealing with anyone but Morgoth, I would agree with you, Nelyo. But we cannot trust Morgoth. He will betray you!" Makalaurë warned.

"Then that is the risk I must take," Maitimo responded. "I've told you—my decision is made. I will take the risk. If I can save us and our people and fulfill the Oath then it will be worth the risk to me." His grip on Makalaurë's shoulders tightened painfully.

"Then I come with you," Makalaurë said. "I will not let you go alone."

"Now you are the one who has lost his mind, Kano. You cannot be serious." Maitimo said, stepping back and shaking his head.

"I have never been more serious, not even when I was swearing that cursed Oath of Father's! I will not let you go alone, Nelyo," Makalaurë repeated.

Maitimo stepped back further and went very still. His face was rigid. Makalaurë thought he looked like one of Mother's statues, as if he were carved of marble.

"You shall not. I am the High King and by my command you will stay," Maitimo enunciated his words slowly and distinctly.

"You cannot do that to me, Nelyo! You cannot pull rank on me like this," Makalaurë protested.

"I can and I will," Maitimo responded coldly. He locked eyes with his brother and Makalaurë had to look away from the intensity of his gaze. Maitimo stepped close to him and rested his hand on Makalaure's shoulder, his voice softer and gentler. "I have to know you are safe, Kano. You cannot go with me, even if I wanted you to, because you are my heir." He cut off Makalaurë's words of protest with a sharp gesture of his hand. "You are my successor, whether you like it or not, Kanafinwë Fëanorion," he said, using Makalaurë's father name. "I must know I leave our brothers and our people in safe hands." He put his hands on either side of Makalaurë's face and brought their foreheads together gently. "Kano. It must be you. You know Tyelko, Moryo, Curvo, Ambarussa—they cannot lead our people. It will be a disaster. You are the only one I trust to do it, if something happens to me."

"Don't say that, Nelyo! I can't do it. I'm not you—I'm not a leader. I'm not meant to be the High King. You were born to it, educated for it, prepared for it." Makalaurë put his hands up to touch his brother's. "Let me go instead," he whispered. "Please. I am not indispensible, as you are. If you are determined to have this parley, let me be the one to go. Let me be useful in this way. It is a victory if I succeed and so much less of a loss if I do not. Please, Nelyo," he begged.

Maitimo smiled and kissed Makalaurë's forehead. "You are brave to offer this, Kano." He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to his brother's again. "I cannot accept."

Makalaurë broke from the embrace. "Why? You must let me! You need to be here, to lead our people."

"It is my place to go, Kano. Enough. We have argued this issue long enough. Morning comes and I would be away before our brothers wake," Maitimo said. "I have no desire to argue this all over again with them."

"I cannot sway you?"

"You cannot. I will send word to Morgoth and I will ride out to the parley with my men." Maitimo confirmed.

"And what do I do?" asked Makalaurë. "Just wait?"

Maitimo smiled. "You may have the harder task, Kano, if our brothers learn of this before I return. I fear you will bear the brunt of a roaring Fëanorion argument."

Makalaure grimaced. "No doubt. But I would face Father and all five of them in their worst rage rather than let you go, Nelyo."

"I know, Kano. I intend to come back to you," Maitimo squeezed Makalaurë's shoulder. "But if I do not, you must lead, Kano. You must not despair and you must not risk our people, not even for me. Do you understand me?" Maitimo shook him. "Do you understand me, Kano?" he repeated.

"I do," Makalaurë whispered back. "I will stay. I will lead while you are away." His voice broke as tears started running down his face. "I will put our brothers' safety and our people's above all else."

"Including above me, Kano," Maitimo pressed.

"Don't make me agree to that, Nelyo, please," Makalaurë begged.

"Kanafinwë, you cannot put the life of one above the lives of the many. Not even if that one life is mine," Maitimo looked at him, his eyes shining and a small smile on his face. "I love you, Kano, but this is greater than me. Promise me."

"I promise, Nelyo. I will put the safety and welfare of my brothers and our people above all else," Makalaurë nodded and then a sob broke from him and he cried out "But you are one of those brothers, Nelyo! How can I do this?"

Maitimo took him in his arms and stroked his hair gently, as Makalaurë buried his face in his brother's shoulder. "You are not responsible for me, Kano. I absolve you of that burden. Your concern is with our people, should I fail." He kissed the top of Makalaurë's head and stepped back, his hands still on his brother's arms.

"I will be careful, Kano. I give you my word. I will do my utmost to return to you." Maitimo smiled his brilliant, lopsided smile. "I know how much you will hate being in charge. I won't let you suffer that for long."

Makalaurë couldn't return the smile. He hugged Maitimo to him, whispering in his brother's ear. "I can't do this without you, you know that. I've never had to do anything without you."

"I'll be back, Kano. With a Silmaril I hope and a way for us to go home." He returned Makalaurë's hug and then moved swiftly to the tent flap. He looked back. "I love you, Kano."

"I love you, Nelyo," Makalaurë said and then Maitimo was gone, out into the night.

Makalaurë dropped into the chair, his legs unable to hold him up anymore. His hands trembled so he gripped the arms of the chair to steady them. He stared at the fire, his mind empty now. The melody was broken and there was only silence.