Reconciliation by Ariana

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Chapter III

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Chapter III

The healers sent by the sons of Feanor came in the late morning. The guards by the gate let them pass through, as they had been told so earlier by Fingon, but they stopped Amras who came with them. The youngest of the brothers was sensible enough not to argue and obeyed, but he could not go back home. He stayed by the lake where they had waited for Maglor the previous day and he tied his horse to the tree. He had a good view at the gate from there, so that he would immediately know, should his brother or any of the healers leave the settlement.

Hours passed and Alcarino didn’t go back, there was no sign of Maglor too. Amras paced restlessly along the lake shore, until the summer downpour forced him to hide under the trees. He sat there with his hood deep on his face and watched the gate. But day turned into evening, the cloudy sky cleared, revealing the shining stars and Amras knew as little as he had when had come here.

Perhaps the lack of news was good news after all. Alcarino had warned him that in such situation there was little chance for a change anytime soon, and should Maglor be able to pass his brothers some information, it would more likely be the one about Maedhros’s death than anything else. ‘Then maybe I should be glad Alcarino doesn’t come back because he’s no longer needed,’ Amras mused grimly as he spent the sleepless night under the trees. But when the dawn came and Maglor had no news, the youngest of the brothers could not wait any longer.

xxx

Fingon ordered that any problems concerning the sons of Feanor should be addressed to him without bothering his father, so he was the first one to hear that the guards had stopped one of the youngest brothers by the gate. He rushed there; he wanted to take Maglor with him, so that he would be present, but one glance at the door to the sickroom told him to abandon this idea. Maedhros was lying on his brother’s chest and no force would take Maglor away from him. Fingon went alone.

There was already quite a commotion by the gate, because the son of Feanor wasn’t the calmest person and the guards too were not too gentle. Only when the redhead saw Fingon, he stopped struggling and the guards let go of him. He pressed one hand to his stomach and carelessly wiped the blood running from his nose with the other, but he stared at Fingon impatiently.

“How’s Maitimo?” he spat his question. “I wish no trouble, I just want to know how’s Maitimo,” he repeated almost pleadingly, staring at Fingon as if he wanted to burn a hole in him.

Fingon almost pitied him, standing alone among the guards, but his father’s order was an order and his cousin had just broken it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said calmly. “You have been warned already.”

It seemed that the determination of one of the twins had risen since the previous morning to the point where he tried to get into his uncle’s settlement. The problem was that even if he had managed to mingle between other elves, his red hair would have betrayed him. Fingon realised he had no idea which of the twins was standing in front of him.

“Pityo or Telvo?” he asked in a calm voice; there was no point guessing.

Instead of replying, the redhead choked on the blood still running from his nose and he stared at Fingon as if he had seen a ghost. Then he composed himself and replied, a bit unclearly due to his swelling lip.

“Telvo. Amras.” He suddenly added his sindarin name.

“You’re going home.” Fingon grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the gate.

Amras followed him obediently, coughing from time to time and glancing longingly over his shoulder. Fingon was silent until they found themselves under the trees by the lake where his cousin had left his horse.

“Maitimo?” Amras asked for the third time when they were out of reach of the guards’ ears. “I have to know, Findekano.”

“He’s not worse than he was,” replied Fingon. “That’s good news,” he added, for now the youngest son of Feanor looked like he was going to cry. “But I feel like you want to worsen his state,” he stated sharply.

“What?!” Amras violently rose his head from the saddlebag he was fiddling with. “Of course not!”

“Then why do you do everything to convince my father that your presence cause disturbance?  Do you wish him to throw Makalaure as well?” hissed Fingon. “Makalaure is the only person that can calm Maitimo just a bit, so that he can sleep and not toss around. For Valar’s sake, why do you have to be so stubborn?!”

“Does that really surprise you?” For a brief moment Amras looked almost amused. “That’s first thing I’ve learned since yesterday,” he pointed out. “Couldn’t Kano at least send a word?”

“I don’t think he’s even aware that you are still here. I didn’t know until you tried to get inside,” admitted Fingon, watching his young cousin closely.

Amras surprised him. Fingon remembered him mostly as a kid before they went on exile, then he didn’t have much to do with the twins. The elf before him had been forced to grow up fast because he managed to compose himself rather quickly, and yet at times he still behaved like an adolescent, when he asked about his eldest brother with his eyes shining. Also, they must have no longer been inseparable with Pityo, because Amras was alone.

“I  need to know,” Amras repeated insistently.

“Don’t ask me to let you in, because I will have to decline.”

“But don’t deny me news.” This time Amras said it more calmly; he seemed content with the fact that Maedhros was still alive.

Fingon gave in and described what had happened during the last day. Amras stood and listened, subconsciously massaging his wrist twisted by the guards.

“Go home, tell you brothers,” finished Fingon. “Are you okay?” he asked, seeing that his cousin winced. “I don’t wish your brothers to jump to false assumption that Maitimo may be in danger here.”

 “I’m alright.” Amras dismissed him coldly and jumped on his saddle. “I told you I wish no trouble.”

 “Are you going to come back here?” inquired Fingon and he wasn’t surprised when his cousin just nodded. “Bring Kano some fresh shirt. And I don’t want to see you here earlier that tomorrow midday.”

Amras just nodded again and rode away. Fingon got back, hoping that he would at least wash himself a bit before meeting his brothers.

xxx

“Has something happened?” Maglor greeted him when Fingon came to the sickroom. “I had an impression you wished to call me?”

Maedhros was sleeping soundly, his head resting against his brother. There was a half emptied bowl of soup at the nightstand, meaning that Maglor had managed to feed him just a bit.

“The guards have stopped Telvo when he was trying to get to you,’ explained Fingon and sat on the bed. “I sent him back home with news for your brothers,” he added and described what had happened by the gate.

“I should have expected that.” Maglor was not surprised at all. “It will be hard to keep him on distance, especially him, especially from Maitimo.”

“I was sure they were both of them somewhere around our camp. Have they fallen out over something?" asked Fingon casually; he didn’t have to say he meant the other twin.

Maglor shut his eyes for a moment, hugging his sleeping brother protectively.

“Pityo is dead,” he said dully. He tried to uncurl his brother’s fingers clasped in tight grip; that was the only sign of life apart from delirious pleas to end his suffering.

Fingon looked at him, taken aback. In his eyes Maglor could see the dread of what he was about to hear.

“It wasn’t just you our father suspected of treason,” he explained bitterly. “He questioned  us too. Maitimo wished to send the ships back, but then it was made clear father had never intended to do so. They argued like never before,” he stopped and looked at his brother’s face, searching for any kind of reaction. He hoped this would call him back, as it was still a delicate matter causing strong emotions. “Maitimo left our camp then, I have o idea where he went, probably to calm down... We were sleeping and father set the ships on fire with everything we had left under the decks.” We were not all asleep, he added silently, but he was not going to tell Fingon that. He sometimes wondered if Curufin dreamed of their brother at nights. “One of the twins slept on the deck.”

“Valar...” groaned Fingon. “Fn5;anaro had not checked it there was no one on the ships?”

“He burned that one first,” Maglor corrected him grimly. If his younger brothers could hear him now, they would have accused him of slandering the memory of their father. As if it was possible to worsen the opinion about Feanor in their uncle’s settlement. “He suspected, quite rightly, that the twins would want to go back to mother and he wished to prevent that. And so they didn’t,” he snorted. “Telvo never spoke a word to him after that.” Said elf was no longer a child, but as the youngest among them was still protected.

“I am sorry.”

“For the last years I’ve had only one redhead,” muttered Maglor to himself and he stroke his brother’s short, sweated hair. Only now did he see the effect of his desperate haircut. They would have to fix it later when Maitimo gets better. ‘If he gets better,’ Maglor corrected himself grimly.

“It all mingles,” he said after a while. “It was maybe, I don’t know, a month, perhaps a bit longer,” he spoke with his eyes still glued to Maedhros, almost forgetting about his cousin. “Father went too far, up to Angband. We were on a foreign ground, but Maitimo managed to reclaim him. Then, before our father’s blood dried on our hands, an envoy came,” he continued bitterly, speaking more to himself than to Fingon. Rationality suggested that he should stop, but the words took control and Maglor spat the burden that had fallen on him. “Moringotto was surrendering, would you believe?”

 Fingon grunted at the mere thought of it, but Maglor caught his interested sight. No wonder, they had scarcely had an opportunity o talk about details, both of Feanor’s first days in Middle-Earth and Fingolfin’s journey. The two camps kept in touch when it came to matters of their safety and possible dangers. Their uncle and cousins knew only that Maedhros had been captured, and the sons of Feanor heard from Turgon about Elenwe’s death.

“And Maitimo picked that mocking game, he agreed to pact,” Maglor went on, as Fingon said nothing. “A week later another envoy came, this time with demands that were impossible to fulfil.”

“And have you tried...” Fingon’s question stuck in the air, unfinished.

“Do you think we haven’t?” Only now Maglor raised his head to look at his cousin. “He cast us away, I had to back off. I couldn’t lose more brothers.” The words he had been repeating himself since he had sent Morgoth’s envoy away went uncontrolled, like a desperate explanation.

“I know... That’s why Turukano is still so cross with me.” Fingon moved closer, his eyes darkened with sadness. “At the thought that I too might have not come back.”

“Who...?” Now it was Maglor who stared anxiously. “You told us about Elenwe, but Itaril...?”

“Not Itaril,” Fingon shook his head. “Arakano fell in our first encounter with orcs. We could barely recognize his body.”

Maglor could only nod grimly in acknowledgement. They had not even had this much when the ships burned. Amrod had been taken by fire and water, so maybe it was for the better that they had been spared that sight; the image of their dying father Maglor had engraved deep in his mind and only now Maedhros’s tragic state overshadowed it.

“So the oath has already taken the youngest,” Fingon sighed quietly.

The cousins exchanged glances, begging silently it wouldn’t also take the eldest.