Give the Children Closure by JazTheBard

POV Elrond

Read POV Elrond

The Halls were quiet. It was... peaceful, for lack of a better word, though the rather disturbing tapestries on the walls seemed at odds with the contemplative atmosphere.

 

Elrond tried not to look at them. Perhaps there were less violent scenes depicted in the open parts of Mandos, where the art was a means of getting news rather than an instrument of punishment, forcing elves to reflect on their wrongdoings.

 

If he remembered Námo's directions correctly, he ought to be finding his father right about...

 

"Elrond!"

 

...now.

 

Elrond looked to where the voice came from, and yes, there he was behind the bars: Maedhros's spirit, sitting on his knees in his cell, looking much as he did in life. But the longer he looked, the more he saw the differences: Maedhros's red hair was longer than he'd ever seen it, his face bore no scars, and his right hand flickered in and out of existence, as if he wasn't sure he should have one. His expression was one of deep regret, mingled with what Elrond supposed was surprise at seeing him.

 

Elrond realized he'd been standing there, staring, as he cataloged the appearance of his dead foster father. Maedhros got to his feet and spoke again, frantic, pulling him out of his thoughts.

 

"What happened? How? Why are you --"

 

Elrond abruptly realized what this must have looked like, and cut him off. "Oh! Oh, I'm not dead." Relief flooded Maedhros's face. "The Valar decided you've been here in Mandos long enough, so they sent me." Did he blanch at that? The lighting left much to be desired; Elrond was probably imagining it.

 

"You must have had to push your way to the front of the line, I'm sure there were hundreds wanting to do this," said Maedhros with a wry grin.

 

Ah, self-deprecating jokes, his specialty. Elrond had never quite known the appropriate response to those. He let out a small laugh. "Not really, no. Um. Can I come in, if we're going to talk?" He preferred not to be standing around on opposite sides of the bars for a full conversation. The cell door opened when he suggested it, to the surprise of both.

 

Maedhros looked strangely grim for someone just reunited with his son and soon to be reborn, but he moved away from the door and motioned Elrond inside. Perhaps he's dreading some other, more fraught reunions, thought Elrond. He's doing better than I thought he would be. Celebrimbor, by all accounts, was a guilty wreck.

 

Maedhros settled himself on a bench to the side of the cell, while a chair appeared from nowhere for Elrond.

 

Maedhros surprised them both by speaking first. "So where's Elros? I can't imagine you doing this without him, unless the Valar would only permit one living person into the Halls."

 

Elrond didn't understand. Surely Maedhros would have been told when one of his sons died, or Elros would have visited him when he passed through the Halls. But he seems to genuinely be asking. "Oh. You -- you didn't know, then. Elros is long dead." He couldn't quite keep his voice from shaking.

 

"What?" whispered Maedhros, as if he refused to believe it. Elrond glanced up at his stricken face and saw him begin to tear up.

 

Elrond said, by way of explanation, "Elros... he chose the path of Men. We were given a choice, which kindred we should be among. He was a king. Lived five hundred years." Not that that made it better, really, but their time together was longer than it could have been.

 

Maedhros looked down. "I'm sorry."

 

"It's..." Elrond trailed off, then pressed his lips together. "Well. It was a long time ago." He knew Maedhros would see through that, but they both know the pain of losing brothers. He would understand.

 

Once again, Elrond's father took it upon himself to continue the conversation. "What about you?"

 

"Me?" asked Elrond. He should have expected such a question, but found himself thrown. "I worked with Gil-Galad up until he died, and I had a settlement in a nice valley. I married Celebrían, Galadriel's daughter, and we have children. Twin boys, and a girl who chose mortality like Elros. She's a queen now." And now he's started rambling. He was tempted to make a joke about twins running in the family, but Maedhros's expression gave him pause.

 

"Gil-Galad died?" Of course he'd bring up that part.

 

"Killed by Sauron a few thousand years ago." Elrond hesitated. Everyone had probably heard, but if Maedhros hadn't known about Elros... "I assume you know Sauron was defeated? For good this time. Destroyed."

 

Apparently he hadn't. "No, I don't... I don't get news here. No visitors. I saw my family when I first got here, but that's all." That explained a lot. "Speaking of, do you know what became of Celebrimbor?"

 

Elrond absolutely did not want to answer that. "He, well..." he twisted his hands in his lap. "He was killed. Also by Sauron." Maedhros seemed on the verge of tears again, quick, how to fix this-- "I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that he was reembodied. Fingon, too."

 

That did the trick. "Oh! That is good news." Maedhros paused, presumably running through a list of remaining relatives, before saying, "What happened to Maglor? I haven't seen him here, is he still alive?"

 

"Yes. He was missing for a long time, but found just before I sailed. He was -- he was in very bad shape." Maedhros inhaled sharply at that, and opened his mouth to ask a question. "He's staying with me," Elrond added.

 

Maedhros nodded and settled, relieved. "Good. He's in good hands." Elrond let the pride of his father's praise wash over him. He may have lived for over six thousand years, but one is never too old to feel satisfied at parental approval. "What about the rest of my brothers? What'll happen to them after this?"

 

"Same as you, though I probably won't be the one coming in here for them," said Elrond. He lowered his voice. "I overheard something about Caranthir being next, though I doubt I was meant to know about that."

 

"And my father?"

 

"The same, as far as I know, but probably not until after you all," said Elrond, who wasn't entirely sure what was going to happen to Fëanor but could definitely spot a pattern.

 

Maedhros nodded. He paused, seeming to steel himself, and said, "...Alright. I'm ready."

 

Elrond stood and held out a hand.

 

Maedhros stood, too, and began to reach out his left hand before hesitating and snatching it back. "Before I go -- I just want to say, I'm glad it was you who came to do this, Elrond, my--" he cut himself off. "I really am grateful. And I know it isn't going to change anything, but I'm sorry. For everything." He didn't seem to notice the tears running down his face.

 

Elrond was pretty sure he was crying, too. Of course I came for you! he wanted to say, I couldn't wait to see you again. And I'm not going to change my mind about getting you out.

 

What he said instead was "Are -- are you alright? Do you need a moment?" He reached out cautiously, careful not to touch without permission.

 

"No, I said I was ready. It's time." Maedhros took a deep breath, and gave him a heartbreakingly bittersweet smile, reaching out his hand. "Thank you, and goodbye."

 

Elrond's mind stuttered to a halt. "Wait, 'goodbye?' What?"

 

Maedhros blinked, his tears stopping. "Oh, well, I assumed, since you held out your hand -- do we have to walk to the Doors of Night? I could've asked my questions on the way." His words were painfully awkward, but earnest. And entirely wrong.

 

Elrond was reeling from the sudden turn. He thinks I'm here to kill him, his mind said distantly, My own father thinks -- we haven't been having the same conversation, have we?

 

"You are most certainly not going through the Doors of Night!" he blurted out.

 

It didn't seem to have the desired effect. "That's what I thought. I figured it'd be here, more convenient." How is he so casual about this? "How am I going to be unmade, then?"

 

"You're not being unmade, atya! You're being reembodied!"

 

Now it was Maedhros's turn to freeze, uncomprehending. "What?" He shook his head. "No, don't be ridiculous. I can't be reembodied."

 

"You can, that's why I came here. I told you the Valar sent me."

 

There's a pause. Then Maedhros said, "Oh, I see. This is a hallucination. I didn't know you could hallucinate in Mandos, but the real Elrond wouldn't release me except into the Void, and he absolutely wouldn't call me ‘atya.’" His tone was falsely casual as he sat back down, but his voice broke on the word atya.

 

Oh Eru he isn't doing as well as I thought, he hasn't healed here, he's just gotten worse, what awful lies has he convinced himself of-- "But I called you that for years," he pointed out. It was the only logical argument he could think of.

 

Maedhros took a shuddering breath. "He never meant it, though. And anyway, if as much time has passed as you claim, he has certainly thought better of it and ceased to do so. Elrond abhors me, rightfully, for all I did to him and Elros, and I can't be forgiven. That's all there is to it." He still spoke as if his son were false, and Elrond was running out of both ideas and patience.

 

"'Everything you did to us?' You mean raise us with love and care into the person he was, the person I am now? I've long since forgiven you for your wrongs against me -- which weren't all that many, might I add -- and so did Elros. You're my father and I love you. Is that so hard to believe?"

 

Maedhros said, almost desperately, "Of course it is! I have caused nothing but pain, to the twins most of all, and you would have me believe my sons love me? I can only hope that one day I will be erased and know nothing more. It would be a kindness."

 

And Elrond's heart broke. He had never thought he'd see his father as miserable as on the day they parted, and he didn't enjoy being wrong.

 

Oblivious to this, Maedhros continued. "Besides, if you were real, why would you come here except for justice?"

 

That did it. With a sob, Elrond rushed forward and enveloped him in a hug, forcing Maedhros to confront the clearly real, not-a-hallucination son crying onto his chest. He tentatively hugged back.

 

"I told you, the Valar said you'd been in the Halls long enough. You've repented, but you aren't healing here, especially not alone, so I'm here to bring you out," explained Elrond once again. Maybe this time he'll understand what I meant all along.

 

"Maybe I'm not supposed to heal."

 

That was about enough of that, in Elrond's opinion. He snapped, "No, it's just that if you're stuck by yourself for thousands of years, with nothing but your thoughts and some tapestries of your misdeeds and no sense of time, you're going to start to forget you were ever happy. Your mind will warp all the good you've known and done into more reasons to hate yourself. It happened to Celebrimbor, too. And he never got his fëa burned by an accursed rock, or bound to a malicious oath."

 

Maedhros blinked. "Celebrimbor? Really? But he did get reembodied, you said."

 

"Started thinking better the very moment he got out into the fresh air. Come on, people are waiting for you." He offered his hand again, in as non-threatening a manner as possible.

 

The outburst seemed to have broken Maedhros out of his gloom and into benign confusion, because he took the offered hand. They stepped out of the cell together. "I certainly hope you know where we're going. Who's waiting?"

 

"Your mother, of course, Maglor, Fingon, Celebrimbor, and Celebrían. If you come back to my house, you'll meet my sons, too. There are others who want to see you, too, but we didn't want you overwhelmed."

 

"I'm surprised anyone wants to see me, honestly."

 

Elrond laughed. "Oh, you don't know the half of it! I'll tell you the full story later, but suffice it to say that there were three mortals who carried and helped destroy an artifact of Sauron's, a ring, and were given permission to dwell in Aman to heal and find peace after all their trials, and they'd like to meet you." He remembered that Maedhros had never heard of Sauron's ring, and never met a hobbit. It was strange to think of, when hobbits had become so important in recent history. "They're of a race called hobbits, who look rather like Men but are shorter even than dwarves."

 

Maedhros laughed, too. "These are strange times for Valinor, indeed! A kinslayer walking free, and now these hobbit creatures? I've never heard of them before. What are they like?"

 

He thought of how best to explain. "As a whole? Peace-loving, not fond of adventure and upheaval, with a great love for food and for plants. In particular? The eldest, Bilbo Baggins, is a bit of a historian, and 'getting on in years,' as he might say. He may ask you some insensitive questions for the sake of research, but he means well. Frodo Baggins, who carried the ring that it might be destroyed, is a scholar as well, though with more interest in hearing tales than recording events. And Samwise Gamgee, the final ringbearer, is a gardener. He's very passionate about it, and cooking, too. I hope you'll meet them."

 

"I think I would like to." They walked in comfortable silence for a time before coming to a door, unremarkable enough but for the light filtering in under it. "Is this it?" Maedhros asked. Was it imagination, or was he more solid now?

 

"Yes," said Elrond. "I can go through next to you, if you like, to prove it's not the Void," he added jokingly.

 

Maedhros rolled his eyes. "Very funny. All the same, I would appreciate it."

And then, sunlight washing over their faces, welcomed by the joyous shouts of their family, they stepped through.

POV Maedhros

warning for mae being suicidal

Read POV Maedhros

Something changed in the Halls of Mandos.

 

This was an unusual occurrence for Maedhros, who had remained alone in his cell without any variety for... he wasn't sure how long, with no way to keep time, but it felt like many years.

 

Tearing his gaze away from the tapestry to his left, the one depicting Sirion, he wondered why the change could be. Perhaps Maglor had died or been killed, and was to be welcomed by the rest of the family as Maedhros was. But where were the rest of his brothers, then? He made no move to get up from his position kneeling on the floor.

 

That was, until he heard footsteps. The moment he saw his visitor, he gasped in surprise.

 

"Elrond!"

 

It was his son! No, no, not his son, he knew better than to call him that. But seeing Elrond dead was a blow to his already damaged soul. It's your fault, you know, said the voice in his mind that was probably his conscience. Everything you touch dies horribly; is it such a surprise? Even after you destroyed his and his brother's lives, you hadn't done enough damage.

 

Though it pained him, the things that mental voice said were always true. He didn't stop at killing everyone the twins knew, or even at kidnapping them, no, he'd had to go and keep them, and come to love them (albeit in a broken, twisted, selfish way), traumatize them over and over, and now, apparently, Doom them along with him. The only thing he could say for himself was that he'd done the right thing in the end, sending them away to be safe. Too late, of course; he'd already broken the elflings beyond repair, but he'd had the chance to hurt them further and didn't take it. He'd foolishly allowed that to comfort him, thinking they might not share his fate. He'd thought that death would stop him from hurting anyone else.

 

That didn't matter. Maedhros knew that Námo brought the recently dead to people who could help them heal. If he was here, in his cell, then what Elrond needed was to see his jailer jailed, to know there was some little justice in the world.

 

He planned to do his best to look contrite, but he found himself speaking, distressed. He had to know. "What happened? How? Why are you--"

 

Elrond looked surprised and interrupted him, saying, "Oh! Oh, I'm not dead. The Valar decided you've been here in Mandos long enough, so they sent me."

 

He's alive he's alive he'salivehe'salive rang through Maedhros's mind as he tried to process both his overwhelming relief and Elrond's statement. As soon as he did so, his nonexistent blood ran cold.

 

Elrond was to bring him to face the consequences of his actions at last, almost certainly ending with him banished to the Void or unmade completely. And that was good and right, he deserved that destruction and Elrond deserved to see justice done. They would both have peace at last.

 

"You must have had to push your way to the front of the line, I'm sure there were hundreds wanting to do this," he said with false levity. He wasn't exaggerating; 'hundreds' was probably an underestimate of the people who wanted to kill him.

 

Elrond gave a small laugh. "Not really, no." That made sense, he supposed. Elrond and Elros, out of all his still-living victims, had suffered the most by his hand. Few would take this chance from them. "Um. Can I come in, if we're going to talk?" To the surprise of both, the door to the cell opened as soon as he mentioned it.

 

Maedhros moved to let Elrond in and returned to his usual place on a small bench. So it's a private execution, then, he thought. Vastly preferable to facing all the residents of Aman. At least my son's face will be the last thing I ever see, though marred with his hatred for me.

 

He'd had the subtle sense of something wrong for a while, but only just realized what had been causing it. "So where's Elros? I can't imagine you doing this without him, unless the Valar would only permit one living person into the Halls." Surely Elros deserved to deliver justice to his captor, too, and feel the same peace once Maedhros was erased from the world.

 

Elrond paused, openmouthed. "Oh. You -- you didn't know, then. Elros is long dead."

 

"What?" said Maedhros, almost in a whisper. So he had doomed them, after all. How long had he himself been dead, for Elrond to call Elros's death 'long ago?' How long had it taken for the curse upon his House to kill this child that wasn't even his?

 

"Elros... he chose the path of Men. We were given a choice, which kindred we should be among. He was a king. Lived five hundred years."

 

And that's your fault, too. He may have had a good life, after being freed from your "care," but you're the reason Elrond will never see his brother again. said his conscience. You fucked up those children beyond repair. There was no healing for Elros in all of Arda, not while your soul was in it, haunting him. He went beyond the circles of the world to escape you at last.

 

Maedhros said, "I'm sorry."

 

"It's..." Elrond trailed off. "Well. It was a long time ago."

 

"What about you?"

 

"Me? I worked with Gil-Galad up until he died, and I had a settlement in a nice valley. I married Celebrían, Galadriel's daughter, and we have children. Twin boys, and a girl who chose mortality like Elros. She's a queen now."

 

Seems the twins managed to do quite well for themselves. They even managed to find some happiness despite the trauma you inflicted.

 

He tried to ignore his conscience for the moment. "Gil-Galad died?"

 

Elrond nodded. "Killed by Sauron a few thousand years ago." That gave him some sense of timeframe, at least. "I assume you know Sauron was defeated? For good this time. Destroyed."

 

What? Really? That's almost too good to be true, he thought. "No, I don't... I don't get news here. No visitors. I saw my family when I first got here, but that's all." Something occurred to him. "Speaking of, do you know what became of Celebrimbor?"

 

Elrond looked uncomfortable. "He, well... he was killed. Also by Sauron." Oh no. Not even disowning his family had kept his nephew safe from the curse. "I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that he was reembodied. Fingon, too."

 

"Oh! That is good news." It was a relief. At least some of the people he'd gotten killed were exempt from eternity in Mandos. But there was one living relative left. "What happened to Maglor? I haven't seen him here, is he still alive?" Or had he already faced justice and been destroyed?

 

To his surprise, Elrond said, "Yes. He was missing for a long time, but found just before I sailed. He was -- he was in very bad shape." Maedhros opened his mouth to ask something, he wasn't sure what, but "He's staying with me."

 

He let out a sigh of relief. "Good. He's in good hands." Maedhros knew what that meant. Elrond wasn't particularly vengeful by nature. Maglor would be bandaged, given medicine, and made comfortable, and one day a larger-than-usual glass of sleeping draught would find its way to his bedside. He would have a peaceful and mostly painless death, self-administered, at the merciful hands of his son.

 

The only downside was that Maedhros would never see him again, since he was to be erased now. "What about the rest of my brothers? What'll happen to them after this?" He wouldn't be able to tell them about it, but knowing was better than not knowing.

 

"Same as you, though I probably won't be the one coming in here for them." That made sense, though he'd probably come back to unmake Maglor, his other kidnapper. "I overheard something about Caranthir being next, though I doubt I was meant to know about that." Caranthir, really? He had probably done less wrong than the rest of them.

 

"And my father?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

 

"The same, as far as I know, but probably not until after you all." Part of Fëanor's punishment would be to know of the unmaking of his sons, then, and to know that he had caused it.

 

Maedhros steeled himself. "...Alright. I'm ready." He'd inflicted enough of his company on Elrond, who had been kind enough to let him know of his family's fates.

 

Elrond stood wordlessly and held out a hand. Maedhros stood, too, and reached out, but pulled back for a moment.

 

"Before I go -- I just want to say, I'm glad it was you who came to do this, Elrond, my --" He swallows his next word. No, not your son. Never your son. When he remembers this day, it should bring him peace to know that justice was served, not keep him up at night wondering what's wrong with him, that a kinslayer could consider him his child. "I really am grateful." He was, too. Seeing Elrond again, even like this, was more than he deserved.

 

"And I know it isn't going to change anything, but I'm sorry. For everything." For killing his people, for separating the twins from their parents, for dragging them back when they tried to run, for holding them hostage for years, for deluding himself into thinking they could love him, for causing Elrond to lose Elros, for traumatizing them, and for all his little cruelties to the two he still thought of as sons, despite knowing better, over the many years of their captivity.

 

Maedhros distantly noticed that he was crying, and that Elrond was saying something. “Are -- are you alright? Do you need a moment?” Why was he being so kind? He hadn’t even brought up all of his older grievances, the ones Maedhros was alive for, to get some sort of catharsis or an apology. The least Maedhros could do was avoid dragging this out.

 

“No, I said I was ready. It's time.” Maedhros took a deep breath and reached out his hand with a smile. “Thank you, and goodbye.”

 

There, those were the words to end on. Elrond would take his hand, perhaps with a whispered ‘This is for Elros!’ that would destroy him as thoroughly as whatever power made this execution possible, and he would know nothing more, never be able to hurt another person. And once Maglor was dead, the same thing would happen again, and with his tormentors gone, Elrond could finally heal. This is the best possible ending.

 

But it didn’t come.

 

“Wait, 'goodbye?' What?”

 

Why was he so confused? Maedhros must have misinterpreted how this was going to work.  “Oh, well, I assumed, since you held out your hand -- do we have to walk to the Doors of Night? I could've asked my questions on the way,” he said. Elrond shouldn’t have to bear my company any longer than necessary. This is awkward as it is.

 

Elrond sputtered, “You are most certainly not going through the Doors of Night!”

 

“That's what I thought. I figured it'd be here, more convenient. How am I going to be unmade, then?” he asked. Best to be clear on exactly what was going to happen.

 

“You're not being unmade, atya! You're being reembodied!”

 

“What?” Maedhros shook his head. “No, don't be ridiculous. I can't be reembodied.”

 

You couldn’t stop hurting people even when you were dead, imagine the harm you would cause alive again, said his conscience.

 

“You can, that's why I came here. I told you the Valar sent me,” said Elrond.

 

All of a sudden, the whole situation made sense. His face cleared. “Oh, I see. This is a hallucination. I didn't know you could hallucinate in Mandos, but the real Elrond wouldn't release me, and he absolutely wouldn't call me ‘atya.’”

 

Puzzled, Elrond said, “But I called you that for years.”

 

Maedhros shuddered at the reminder of his most insidious crime.

 

After being in captivity for a time, growing used to their lives as hostages, the twins had started pretending to love him and Maglor, even going so far as to call them their fathers, in the hopes that their jailers would refrain from harming them. Rather than stop their deception, he had let it continue, and allowed himself to pretend he could be loved, that the “family” they had formed was real instead of a desperate attempt at survival for Elrond and Elros.

 

He clung to that belief, because the only other explanation for the twins’ behavior was even worse: that they had picked up on his unvoiced desire for a happy family, sick and delusional as it was, and played along out of fear for what he might do to them otherwise.

 

At least, Maedhros assumed it was unvoiced, because he didn't remember saying anything, but if he had indeed ordered them… He felt ill.

 

“He never meant it, though. And anyway, if as much time has passed as you claim, he has certainly thought better of it since and ceased to do so.” The twins had probably stopped moments after they had parted, in fact, though survival behaviors weren’t always easy to unlearn even when the danger had passed. “Elrond abhors me, rightfully, for all I did to him and Elros, and I can't be forgiven or reborn. That's all there is to it,” he informed the hallucination, in the hopes that it would leave once he proved it false.

 

“'Everything you did to us?' You mean raise us with love and care into the person he was, the person I am now?" said the hallucination, incredulous. "I've long since forgiven you for your wrongs against me -- which weren't all that many, might I add -- and so did Elros. You're my father and I love you. Is that so hard to believe?”

 

Was this some sort of test? Offer him forgiveness for the unforgivable, everything he wanted, including the love of the children he had stolen, to see how quickly he accepted something he had no right to, how easily his willingness to face justice faded?

 

The only solution was to refuse. Maedhros had already proved to this illusion that he would readily accept being unmade; perhaps if he showed it that he meant it, by turning down the apparent fulfillment of his most awful, desperate wish, he could actually be erased from the world at last. With that in mind, he cried, “Of course it is! I have caused nothing but pain, to the twins most of all, and you would have me believe my sons love me?” They’re not your sons, you’ve already failed the test-- “I can only hope that one day I will be erased and know nothing more. It would be a kindness.”

 

Elrond’s face -- the illusion’s face -- is unreadable. Maedhros continues, with the last piece of logic he has, “Besides, if you were real, why would you come here except for justice?”

 

Nothing could have prepared him for a sudden hug from a surprisingly solid, apparently non-hallucinatory Elrond, who had begun crying into Maedhros’s robes.

 

As his mind tried to process this new information -- Elrond was probably real, and since he wouldn't drag out a lie this long, he was likely telling the truth about the reembodiment -- Maedhros tentatively put his arms around his son, as he had done many times before.

 

He almost missed Elrond's words, muffled as they were by the fabric next to his face: "I told you, the Valar said you'd been in the Halls long enough. You've repented, but you aren't healing here, especially not alone, so I'm here to bring you out."

 

Maedhros protested, though weakly, "Maybe I'm not supposed to heal."

 

Elrond pulled back to look him in the eye. "No, it's just that if you're stuck by yourself for thousands of years, with nothing but your thoughts and some tapestries of your misdeeds and no sense of time, you're going to start to forget you were ever happy," he snapped. "Your mind will warp all the good you've known and done into more reasons to hate yourself. It happened to Celebrimbor, too. And he never got his fëa burned by an accursed rock, or bound to a malicious oath."

 

"Celebrimbor? Really? But he did get reembodied, you said." The hug had to have changed something, cracked some shell of misery; Maedhros could once again remember when the twins had first met their cousin, visiting in secret, and the soft parental joy he'd felt when they had become friends--

 

"Started thinking better the very moment he got out into the fresh air. Come on, people are waiting for you," said Elrond, once again offering his hand.

 

This time, Maedhros took it, with a much more genuine smile. "I certainly hope you know where we're going. Who's waiting?" he asked as they left the cell and started walking.

 

Elrond counted them off. "Your mother, of course, Maglor, Fingon, Celebrimbor, and Celebrían. If you come back to my house," As if there was any doubt he'd want to! "you'll meet my sons, your grandsons, too. There are others who want to see you, too, but we didn't want you overwhelmed."

 

That was a lot of people. "I'm surprised anyone wants to see me, honestly."

 

To his surprise, Elrond laughed. "Oh, you don't know the half of it! I'll tell you the full story later, but suffice it to say that there were three mortals who carried and helped destroy an artifact of Sauron's, a ring, and were given permission to dwell in Aman to heal and find peace after all their trials, and they'd like to meet you." That didn't really track, but he'd go along with it. "They're of a race called hobbits, who look rather like Men but are shorter even than dwarves."

 

Maedhros laughed, too, at the sheer unbelievability of the situation. "These are strange times for Valinor, indeed! A kinslayer walking free, and now these hobbit creatures? I've never heard of them before. What are they like?"

 

"As a whole? Peace-loving, not fond of adventure and upheaval, with a great love for food and for plants." Maedhros could get behind that. "In particular? The eldest, Bilbo Baggins, is a bit of a historian, and 'getting on in years,' as he might say. He may ask you some insensitive questions for the sake of research, but he means well. Frodo Baggins, who carried the ring that it might be destroyed, is a scholar as well, though with more interest in hearing tales than recording events. And Samwise Gamgee, the final ringbearer, is a gardener. He's very passionate about it, and cooking, too. I hope you'll meet them."

 

"I think I would like to," he said. It seemed that the world had changed greatly, and for the better, since he had died. He couldn’t wait to see it.

 

Father and son walked in companionable silence through the Halls for a time. With every step, Maedhros felt more solid, more real.

 

They came to a door, the light filtering through it unlike anything in the Halls. “Is this it?” Maedhros asked.

 

“Yes. I can go through next to you, if you like, to prove it's not the Void,” Elrond joked.

 

Maedhros rolled his eyes. “Very funny,” he said. Then, softer, “All the same, I would appreciate it.”

 

Elrond squeezed his hand -- his right hand, he had a right hand -- and they stepped into the light to meet the rest of their family.

---

Chapter End Notes

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