Give the Children Closure by JazTheBard

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POV Elrond

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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.