To Build The Bonds That Tie by ThatFeanorian

All Come Together

A few hours later he is still kneeling in front of his desk with the crumpled paper carefully flattened in his hands as he attempts to piece it back together into what it had been before. The orange juice has dried on the papers and smeared ink covers much of what had once been half-legible writing, but there are a few sections Maglor thinks he might actually be able to read, and in hopes of preserving them he ignores the stabbing pain in his kneecaps and continues trying to piece all the damp edges together.

None of them seems to fit quite right, though, each one ripped and damp so that the edges have deformed and don’t match each other well enough for him to recreate what was once one sheet of paper instead of just ripped scraps. Behind him, the door creaks open and Maglor turns to glare at Maedhros as his brother enters the room.

Only two years older, but those years seem to make all the difference, Maglor’s anger disappears the moment Maedhros kneels patiently beside him and hugs him tightly. Maglor would cry again, but he already used all the tears he has left in his body. Instead, he just trembles in Maedhros’s arms, wishing that his brother could turn the scraps back into a whole as easily as he does Maglor’s heart.

“It’s okay, Káno, I’m sorry Tyelko was being a jerk. We can fix it, right?” Mae says gently somewhere above him, and Maglor shakes his head,

“It’s all wet and ripped up and nothing goes where it’s supposed to.” Maedhros pulls him to his feet and keeps his arm wrapped around Maglor’s shoulder as the two of them move over to the desk looking down again at the shattered music.

“See? Maglor mumbles sniffing and looking down at the wreck, “You can’t even read it anymore.” He looks up at Maedhros, hoping his brother will be able to crack the code he has been unable to break and to see some pattern, some solution to it all, but instead he just sees disappointment and pity.

“I’m sorry Káno, that was… a total dick move on Tyelko’s part. Do you at least remember it?” Maglor shook his head sadly, plopping backwards onto his bed and dragging Maedhros with him. There is silence for a moment, while Maglor trembles with pent up sobs again. Maedhros holds him tightly as if both of them might drown if he lets go.

“I just wanted it to be good, one good song for Dad, but now it’s gone and it was bad anyway. They’re never good,” Maglor mumbles, curling deeper into Maedhros’s much taller frame. Maedhros squeezes him even tighter.

“I think they’re all beautiful, Káno. Your music is amazing the way it is.” Maglor looks up and wants to thank him, to write a symphony so sweet that Maedhros will be able to finally feel how much Maglor loves him, but instead he just whispers:

“But they’re not perfect.” For a moment, Maglor can see tears in Maedhros’s eyes, silvery water making them waver and sparkle in the morning light, glimmering on the edge of his eyelashes, and then the moment passes and Maedhros blinks. What might have been tears are gone, and Maedhros is Maedhros again. He smiles and squeezes Maglor’s shoulder.

“Káno, that’s stupid. They’re not supposed to be perfect. That’s what makes them interesting. I love your songs because they have little moments that remind me of you.” This should make Maglor feel better, but somehow it does not. It cannot fix the song or Celegorm or the fact that he would have been done and the papers would have been safe in his room had Junior just waited another half an hour.

“Yeah, I guess,” he mumbles, because Maedhros is still sitting next to him and his brother’s arms are so warm and perfect. Sometimes Maglor wishes Maedhros had been his father instead of Fëanor. Fëanor is always hurrying from one place to another, never stopping in between to just notice them.

Instead Maglor has to write and write and write, trying eternally to find that one perfect song that might finally be enough to make his father pause and notice him. Maglor’s terrified that he will never find the right one, but Maedhros… Maedhros has so much faith in him. It would be easy --were Maedhros his father-- to feel worthy of being loved, so instead of ruining the warmth of his brother’s hug, Maglor simply stays silent, wishing the damp ripped papers might realign and give him back his song. Wishing the strings of fate would reweave themselves to let Maedhros know just how much Maglor loves him. Maedhros shifts on the bed next to him, leaning over towards the desk and then saying softly:

“You know, some of these are still readable. It’s only bits and pieces, but maybe you can use them for something else?” Maglor looks up into Maedhros’s hopeful face, seeing a sudden flash of fear in Maedhros’s eyes that surprises him because he knows.

Fear that even his best effort to fix things will not be enough, fear that he, Maglor, is not enough. Maglor grits his teeth against the urge to dismiss the scraps, to call them damaged and terrible and ruined, and instead leans over to inspect the tiny snippets of music. They’re nothing. Broken. Ridiculous and useless, but as Maedhros points them out, his voice so full of hope, Maglor collects them all into a pile and looks up at his brother, his heart swelling.

“I.. I know it’s not fixed, but is that enough to help remember?” Maedhros asks, and Maglor nods.

“Yeah,” he lies, “It’s perfect. Thank you, Nelyo.” His brother gives a brilliant smile and hugs Maglor tightly against him. Maglor buries his face in Maedhros’s front, feeling tears come to his eyes. The music will never, never, never be enough or back to the broken but fixable melody that it had been before, but Maedhros… Maedhros is enough.

In the back of his mind, a simple string of notes begins to form, and as if this one tiny phrase is all it takes to break the dam, a million notes come flooding into his mind at once, all vivid and strong in his mind and full of the same love he can feel singing in his heart. Maedhros. Maedhros has always been enough for him, held him, kissed him, told him he is beautiful and enough and…

The song is already far ahead of him, Maglor’s subconscious mind weaving in those same snippets of music Maedhros pointed out, and with his eyes sparkling Maglor jumps to his feet and snatches them up, grabbing Maedhros’s hand and running down the stairs two at a time. It feels far too slow and Maglor’s heart is thumping in his throat as he grabs the nearest stack of empty staff sheets, letting his hand fly across the paper without even thinking, just desperate to get the music out of his head before it is lost.

The melody rises and falls like ocean waves, a million sparks of sunshine dancing across it, and Maglor does not care (for once) that the composition is short and imperfect. He doesn’t care if his fingers fly a little too fast in his writing and some parts are illegible. Standing up with ink smudged hands he finds Maedhros waiting patiently in the doorway, a fond smile on his face and eyes full of so much love that for a moment Maglor cannot breathe. My brother, he thinks proudly, mine. And he thinks I am enough.

“Do you have time to listen?” he asks shyly, and Maedhros’s smile is all the answer he needs as he sits down and begins to play. The music floats effortlessly from his fingers, dancing and leaping upwards towards the sky and filled with all the love he could possibly fit into it. Maglor knows it is not long or stunning or perfect, but for once, he feels happy with it just being what it is. The song comes from somewhere deep inside of him and he can feel the rhythm rocking him gently, filling him up with Maedhros’s love.

By the time Maglor stops playing, he is breathless and it takes a moment for him to even remember where he is. The world seems to have tilted slightly, leaving him --not off balance but feeling unsteady in the sudden silence. Maglor turns shyly towards Maedhros looking up at his brother hopefully, and without a single word Maedhros wraps Maglor up into his warm arms. Maglor wants to cry again, he wants to laugh and sing and cry and never let go of his brother because Maedhros is here. But instead, he just relaxes his head against Maedhros’s shoulder and mumbles,

“I love you Nelyo.”

“I love you too,” Maedhros whispers, and Maglor knows his song isn’t perfect or clean or long enough to be good, but he smiles nonetheless, happy to know that --for once-- what he has is enough.