Reconciliation by Ariana

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Chapter XII

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Chapter XII

Sometimes Huan was far better company than any of Maedhros’s brothers, especially when the wounded needed peace and quiet to focus on something, and walking on his own was one of such tasks. All his brothers tended to watch his every step, no matter who accompanied him. One time Celegorm left Huan with him and it turned out the dog was a good companion, with his back high enough to be a support. Once trained, Huan was also able to push Maedhros a bit to help him up.

Maedhros used his help eagerly. Celegorm had left a moment ago and promised to come back soon, but the sick elf grew tired of sitting in his room, so with Huan’s help he went slowly on the corridor.

He walked carefully with his hand on Huan’s back. The wooden floor was polished and, as Maedhros observed with amusement, unbelievably clean. When he started getting up from bed, he refused to wear any kind of shoes, so his brothers sanded and waxed the floor right away. Who cleaned it on regular basis, Maedhros did not know, but he certainly didn’t bring any sand to his bed.

The main door opened behind him and someone hastily went inside. Maedhros ignored the sound, focused on keeping his balance, but when the steps stopped abruptly, he too stopped and turned around.

Despite what he had assumed, it was not one of his brothers. The elf that went in was as startled as Maedhros and he was staring, all his manners forgotten. The eldest son of Feanor could feel the puzzled, curious gaze, watching him, analyzing. Judging.

Maedhros tensed, his fingers unintentionally clenched on Huan’s fur. The giant dog sensed his anxiety and growled. The Noldo pulled himself together and bowed.

“Nelyafinwe,” he said perplexed and placed his hand on his heart. For a brief moment he looked Maedhros in the eye, but then he turned his gaze away.

“Who are you looking for, Calion?” asked Maedhros. As soon as he remembered his name and the elf stopped staring, he could force himself to be calm. ‘Whatever you think, I was not broken’. Only his fingers remained clenched, hidden in Huan’s fur.

“Tyelkormo... Turkafinwe,” Celion corrected himself hastily under Maedhros’s vigilant gaze. “I have some news from south for him.”

 “Speak.”

The Noldo flustered even more, but he dutifully reported the last scout. Maedhros listened carefully, though most of the names Calion used sounded unfamiliar to him; he recognized only a few as ones he had seen on Amras’s maps. The elf was rescued from his nervous reporting by Celegorm, who joined them hurriedly and interrupted with several questions. Unlike Maedhros, he knew exactly what Calion was talking about; no wonder, as they had been close friends in Aman and often hunted together. Maedhros suspected that now Calion was probably one of his brother’s closest followers. Celegorm exchanged a few more words with him and dismissed him, promising to come later to talk with the scouting party.

“As you can see, we keep our eyes and ears open,” he smiled at his brother. He must have seen Maedhros had been stiff through the whole conversation, for he untangled his fingers and supported him without asking.

“Good news?” asked Maedhros shortly, accepting his help; standing was tiring. They slowly made their way to the dining room.

“Everything is in order,” nodded his younger brother. “But it’s high time to do something about you,” he stated critically.

“Hmm?”

“Calion could barely utter a whole sentence,” remarked Celegorm. “You make an impression, Maitimo, a huge impression. Just think what it’s going to be once we finally do something about your hair.”

Maedhros didn’t answer. He stopped abruptly at the corridor and convulsively clenched his fingers on his brother’s shoulder. Alarmed, Celegorm grabbed him tightly, but before he had a chance to ask what was going on, the sick elf doubled over and vomited.

“What’s wrong, Maitimo?” he asked fervently, but he could do little but prevent his brother from falling.

“Who... died...?” asked Maedhros in  a raspy voice, looking around anxiously.

“What?” Celegorm creased his eyebrows in confusion. “No one, Maitimo, no one. Come on.” Deciding that his brother needed to sit down and calm, before he could perhaps explain what he meant, Celegorm tried to lead him to the kitchen, as it was the nearest room. Maedhros made two unsteady steps almost hanging on his brother, but then he stopped ant looked at Celegorm with panic.

“Not there... Who, Tyelko?” he repeated insistently and glanced at the door, as if he wanted to go and check and feared it at the same time.

‘Tyelko. So you’re still with me,’ Celegorm sighed in relief. Without asking further questions, he took his brother in his arms and carried him to his room. He could feel Maedhros shaking as he carried him and then helped him change into a fresh shirt. The sick elf slumped helplessly in the bed.

“Maitimo, why did you ask who died?” Celegorm went back to his brother’s question that was bothering him. “We are all fine and fit. If you want, I will bring the others to you, but I promise you they are fine.”

Maedhros watched him closely for a moment, but he must have believed him, for he just shook his head and reached for a mug with herbs. He took a few sips and winced.

“Nobody checked if they were still alive. Those in the nearby cells, because I was watched closely,” he muttered quietly with his eyes fixed on the blanket. “If someone died, they would lay there for days, and the smell...”

Only then Celegorm connected his brother’s violent reaction with the rotten smell coming from the kitchen. He had noticed it earlier, but he had no time to check what went off.

“Fool,” he growled, thinking about Curufin.

“Who?”

“Curvo,” grunted Celegorm. “Take him hunting... He must have left some guinea fowl in a corner, went to his forge and forgot about it...” he hastened to explain, hoping his sick brother would calm once he knew the source of the smell. “Unless we have mice again an something died behind the cupboards,” he snorted and smiled.

He succeeded, because Maedhros smiled weakly and raised his eyebrows.

“Mice?”

“Aye.” Celegorm spread his hands helplessly. “We’ve had them three times so far, Tyelpe amused himself with making traps. Once he even managed to catch Makalaure when he tried to get something from under the cupboard,” he grinned merrily. “Kano was so furious Tyelpe avoided him for the whole week.”

Maedhros returned his smile. They all knew Maglor was rarely angry, but once he got mad, it was better to get out of his way until he calmed.

xxx

Celegorm worked in silence, glancing from time to time at the other side of the yard. He was pleased Maedhros had managed to make all the way through the corridor and then sat in the shadow at the bench near the door. Celegorm asked him if he needed anything, but his brother claimed he was fine, so he let him be. After all, they were all fussing around him and with each day, each successful step Maedhros was less willing to accept their help. There were still the worse days when he would not get up at all, but most of the time he was stubbornly moving the boundaries of his limitations. Celegorm decided his brother would call him if he needed anything; so far there was no problems in that matter.

It was high time for Maedhros to get used to going out again, thought Celegorm as he glanced at his brother, who was most probably napping. Perhaps he should have brought something more comfortable to sit, but if his sick brother was going to fall asleep, he would just carry him back inside.

The yard was quite empty; the bustle of the settlement around was something Celegorm stopped paying attention to long time ago. It was relatively quiet, though, so the sudden noise of the bench falling over tore him immediately from his work.

‘Just wonderful,’ Celegorm groaned inwardly as he rushed to his brother. Maedhros was laying on the ground, trying to pull his leg from under the bench. He managed to free himself before his younger brother reached him, but his strength failed him once he tried to stand up.

“Maitimo!” Celegorm knelt to help him and for a brief moment crossed his eyes with his brother’s, wide with fear, before Maedhros backed and tried to crawl to the door. He scratched the ground with his good hand, trying to free the other one from the sling with frantic movements.

“Damn it... Kano!” Celegorm shouted towards their house.” It’s alright, Maitimo! I don’t mean to hurt you!” He reached with his hand, but his elder brother glanced at him with unseeing eyes and managed to move to the doorstep.

“What’s going on?” It was Caranthir who ran from the house, not Maglor. “Kano’s gone hunting.”

Right, they had almost forced Maglor to leave the camp and get some air. The youngest took him hunting, so now the two of them had to deal with the problem.

Caranthir cut off the way of escape, but Maedhros didn’t cease struggling, trying to squeeze in the wall, helping himself with his bare feet. Somewhere nearby a whip flicked, someone must have been training horses, and Maedhros shut his eyes and cringed, protecting his arm.

“Maitimo, everything is fine!” Celegorm reached again to hold his brother, but Maedhros moved away with surprising force and backed right into Caranthir, who swore under his breath as his brother unintentionally hit him in the face. He managed to put his arms around his brother’s thin shoulders. Celegorm held his knees before he tore the skin on his feet; Maedhros consequently kept walking barefoot, as he claimed it was easier to keep balance this way.

“No one’s going to hit you, Maitimo. You are safe,” they both kept repeating, scared by his violent reaction. Having no free hand, Caranthir used his sleeve to wipe the blood running from his nose.

Maedhros struggled for a moment, but then went limp in his brother’s arms. As soon as he stopped fighting, Celegorm took him and carried him inside. Together with Caranthir they changed their brother into a clean shirt, but when Maedhros didn’t wake, the younger of the brothers went to fetch Alcarino. The healer made sure the wounded did not hurt himself, apart from bruising his leg, but promised to sit with him until he woke.

The rest of their brothers returned from their hunt just as Caranthir finished washing his face and placed his dirty shirt in a bucket. Maglor of course had to see it at once.

“Nobody came from the other side,” said Caranthir before his brother asked anything.

“So what is it?” The singer pointed at the bloodstains.

“Maitimo’s bony elbow,” his younger brother shrugged his shoulders and dried his face. “I don’t suppose he will remember it, so you may not mention it to him.”

Caranthir told Maglor what had happened and it was enough for the singer to stop looking at him suspiciously and disappear in the room of their sick brother.

xxx

“Is it bad time for me to come?” asked Fingon, seeing Maglor’s grim face as he went to greet him.

“There’s never bad time for you, you know that,” the singer rubbed his eyes. “Maybe you will be able to get to him today. He doesn’t want to talk to us, even to me.”

“Oh, has something happened?”

Maglor explained shortly what happened the previous day. Before Maedhros woke, the brothers hoped he would not remember the incident, but it wasn’t so. Their eldest brother demanded explanation and would not be told off until he heard how come he had fallen from the bench and hadn’t woken. The awareness that he had lost the sense of reality and hallucinated depressed him enough to ignore his brothers.

“So it is you now?” Maedhros greeted him with a sigh. He was laying covered so tightly with blankets Fingon felt breathless even by looking at him.

“I just wanted to see how are you.” Being forewarned by Maglor, Fingon was not going to let Maedhros get rid of him. He made sure it was only the blankets at the edge of the bed and he sat down freely.

Maedhros muttered something incoherent and looked away. He was silent for a long time and Fingon was bracing himself to start a conversation, when he spoke suddenly.

“You should have killed me.”

Oh. Fingon was startled as he had not expected his mood to be this bad. What Maedhros said had been his private nightmare for the last two months, the inevitability of shooting his friend returning over and over again at nights. He waited and waited, prolonged the moment when he would have to pull the string, Maedhros’s pleas ringing in his ears, but the help never came.

“Do you have any idea what you asked for?” Fingon finally answered with a question. “Manwe had a reason to show mercy and send help.”

“And what was the purpose of saving me?” Maedhros exploded with bitterness that must have risen in him from some time. “What for? What can I do?!”

“More and more with every passing day,” remarked Fingon. “Not much time has passed and you are making a great progress already. You could barely move last time I was here, and now I’m told you are walking again.”

“I can barely move today,” muttered the sick elf. “And we have no time. You would have spared my brothers a lot of trouble and Kano would have been able to focus on more important things.”

“And do you really think they would prefer to hear from me that I had to kill you?” retorted Fingon, perhaps too harsh. “Look me in the eye and tell me your brothers would want you dead instead of getting you back. That if it had been Kano in your place, you wouldn’t rather have him. No matter how damaged.”

Maedhros winced and shut his eyes. Fingon cursed himself for his choice of words, but it was too late to take them back. The wounded pulled himself up a bit after a moment, uncovered his hands.

“How do you think am I supposed to fulfil the Oath? How?” he asked in a raspy voice; his still hollow eyes were full of despair. “Tell me, how am I to fight Moringotto if I am not even a master of my own mind? How can I be sure I would not lead my brothers to death only because my thoughts were shadowed by terror? In the brightness of the day?!”

“Certainly not by letting those dark whispers of Moringotto win,” replied Fingon sternly. “If you give up now, he will break not only you, but your brothers as well.”

Maedhros inhaled deeply and turned his head away, ostensibly ignoring his cousin. Fingon let him and for quite a long time they sat in silence, but finally he broke it.

“So?” he asked defiantly. “Shall we try to go out?”

“So I can make a show of myself once again?” Maedhros did not brighten at all. “No, thank you, I prefer to stay at home.”

“I won’t let you fall,” Fingon replied simply. “And I want to talk to you, not to watch you sleep.”

“We are talking all the time,” the wounded pointed out, but he could easily guess what his cousin meant.

“It’s quite stuffy here, let’s go out.” Fingon was in that comfortable position that he could be as stubborn as Maedhros and nag him without worrying he would have to put up with him later.

 The eldest son of Feanor gave up and sat. He let Fingon tie a sling on his neck but refused to put on any shoes.

“I’ll go barefoot.”

Once pulled up, Maedhros clang to Fingon and walked very unsteadily, so that before they reached the door, Fingon was ready to agree it wasn’t the best idea. But when he mentioned that maybe they should go back, Maedhros just glared at him with offense and stubbornly limped to the main door; his bruised leg almost gave out, but they managed to reach the bench outside.

“So?” asked Fingon freely. “It’s better, isn’t it?”

“If you’re not going to leave me be until you hear so, then yes,” muttered Maedhros, offended. He allowed Fingon to place a thin blanket around him and leaned his head against his cousin’s shoulder, but he couldn’t hide neither how tensed he was nor his hand grasping his friend’s for support. Despite what Fingon had claimed earlier, they sat in silence.