Easy is the Descent by Ithilwen

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Chapter 1

I recommend reading the stories in this series in proper order for maximum enjoyment, but the only one that is essential reading (in order to understand the relationship between Maedhros and Maglor in this story) is "My Brother's Keeper."

Easy is the Descent

They had come together again at the summons, bound to each other by blood and by a sworn oath uttered centuries earlier, during a time of darkness. It had take months for the message to reach them all, for they now wandered widely throughout the forests of Ossiriand, but at last they had all arrived at the designated meeting place, and the discussion could finally begin. Not that there is much to discuss, Celegorm thought, for our duty is clear. We must take back what is rightfully ours. He knew the hearts of Curufin and Caranthir - the three brothers were close, and often journeyed together - and was confident that, as befitted true sons of Fëanor, they could be counted on to support him in this task. The twins' reactions were harder to predict. Amrod and Amras generally looked towards their two oldest brothers, who had almost taken on the role of surrogate parents to their smallest siblings after Nerdanel deserted the family; however, they had of late been spending much of their time off by themselves, and so perhaps would now be more inclined towards independent thought. Especially now, Celegorm reflected, after seeing the results of their revered oldest brother's 'leadership'. No, only Maglor and Maedhros were likely to pose any problems. Maglor, Celegorm thought, has ever been the weakest of us, interested only in harping and singing - why he wasn't born a girl, I'll never know. As for Maedhros - in Aman, he'd seemed as bold and proud as any of his brothers. But he'd shamed himself when he tried to defy their father and prevent the burning of the ships. His behavior on the day he had betrayed their House by surrendering their rightful leadership to Fingolfin still sickened Celegorm. As for his continued insistence on ingratiating himself with Finarfin's and Fingolfin's children - well, at least that would no longer be a problem, as all of their troublesome cousins (save only Turgon and Galadriel), were now dead, Celegorm realized. And the disastrous outcome of his proud Union appeared to have destroyed more than his credibility as their leader - the light seemed to have fled his eyes, and he took little interest in his surroundings, although he had greeted his brothers politely enough upon his arrival. Perhaps he'd now accept the necessity of reclaiming the one Silmaril they could now reach, before attempting to regain the others still locked in Angband.

"I think you know what I wish to discuss," Celegorm began at last, after all of his brothers had seated themselves around the small fire in the center of their camp. "Dior has refused to answer our demand to relinquish the Silmaril he unlawfully withholds from the House of Fëanor - indeed, I have heard it said he openly wears it about his neck in Menegroth, making no secret of his defiance of our rightful claim. You all remember the oath we swore. No more shall the sons of Fëanor plead in vain for return of our inheritance - it is time to act, and finally reclaim what is ours."

"At the cost of another Kinslaying? We spilled innocent blood before, at Alqualondë. Have you forgotten the horror of that day, that you would propose we repeat it?" Maglor responded.

"I have forgotten nothing, brother," Celegorm snapped, "including the words we spoke before that blood was shed. 'Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean, brood of Morgoth or bright Vala, Elda or Maia or Aftercomer, Man yet unborn upon Middle-earth, neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger, not Doom itself, shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin, whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth a Silmaril. This swear we all: death we will deal him ere Day's ending, woe unto the world's end! Our word hear thou, Eru Allfather! To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth. On the holy mountain hear in witness and our vow remember, Manwë and Varda!' We are obligated by that sworn oath to do this. And the people of Doriath are neither kin, being Sindar and not Noldor, nor innocent, for they willfully withhold what is ours by right, knowing what the cost of their arrogance must be."

"Our brother speaks the truth," Caranthir added; next to him, Curufin nodded his head in support. "We came to these shores to regain the Silmarils our father made - and it is past time we do so."

"But regaining only one Silmaril will not fulfill our oath," Amras, the youngest of the brothers, protested. "As long as Morgoth holds the other two, we are still bound. Yet we now have no hope of defeating him." He paused and looked at Maedhros, who had bowed his head and was staring fixedly at the ground. "What good will it do to assault Doriath then?"

"You heard the words our brother spoke; that we all uttered so long ago. 'Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean, brood of Morgoth or bright Vala, Elda or Maia or Aftercomer, Man yet unborn upon Middle-earth, neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger, not Doom itself, shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin, whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth a Silmaril.' The oath applies to any creature, Amras, and it makes no exceptions. Just because we cannot succeed against Morgoth at this time does not mean that we are free to turn away from the Silmaril in Doriath. Dior must either yield it, or we will take it from him by force - and it would seem he desires the latter," said Curufin, speaking for the first time. He had a disturbing gleam in his eyes, as though he longed for the conflict to come.

"It is clear we have no choice. We must move against Dior, or stand foresworn. The only thing left to decide is when and how to act," Celegorm said firmly. "I propose -"

"You are not the head of our House, brother," Maglor said firmly, "and you cannot make such decisions in our name. Only Maedhros has that right."

"I will do as I must, regardless of what our oldest brother may say," Celegorm responded scornfully. "Unlike him, and you, I respect our father's memory, and his last wishes. I will see the House of Fëanor rise to greatness again, instead of skulking in Ossiriand, subservient to Morquendi."

"I will support Celegorm in this," said Curufin, and Caranthir then spoke, "I also."

"What say you, brothers?" Celegorm then asked Amrod and Amras, who looked at each other in uncertainty. Slowly, Amrod replied, "I am reluctant to agree to this, but the oath seems clear - we have no choice."

"We always have a choice," Maglor responded angrily. "I will not do this, Celegorm. It is wrong."

"Doesn't that depend on what the Head of our House decides?" Celegorm said with a sneer. "As you are so fond of reminding me, you are bound to respect his authority - if he orders us to proceed, will you defy him? What say you, Maedhros?"

For the first time that evening, Maedhros spoke. "I will not order Maglor, or any of my brothers, to assault Doriath."

"Celegorm, I suggest -" Maglor began, but Maedhros cut him off. "But neither will I order them to refrain from this action," Maedhros continued, voice weary. "Those of you who agree with Celegorm are free to join him, those who do not agree may stand aside. Decide for yourselves - I will not choose for you."

"Maedhros, no! Can't you see that this is wrong? To murder innocents..." Maglor implored.

"As you yourself said, brother, we have done so before," Maedhros replied, raising his head and gazing steadily at Maglor; the expression in his eyes was dark. "None of us have clean hands. And we all swore Father's oath - 'To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth'. Who am I to call that down upon my brothers by forbidding this?" he said bitterly, and Maglor seemed to shrink back.

"Russandol - " Maglor replied softly, but Maedhros had again lowered his head and, wrapping his arms around his drawn-up knees, he proceeded once more to withdraw into himself.

"Then it is decided - those of you who agree with me should remain here, for we need to plan our campaign," Celegorm said firmly.

"I will not aid you in this," Maglor said firmly.

"Suit yourself, brother," Celegorm replied. "We do not need your assistance. And what of you, Maedhros?"

For a long moment Maedhros said nothing, then Maglor, who sat closest to him, heard him whisper "Eternal Darkness" and saw a faint shudder run through his tall frame. Still looking down at the ground, Maedhros finally replied, "I am no oathbreaker - I will come. But I will bring no soldiers, only myself," and then he looked at Maglor with a strange expression on his face, "and my brother Maglor."

Maglor went pale, and replied, "I thought you said that those of us who disagreed could stand aside."

"In your case, I am making an exception," Maedhros responded in a low tone. "I will not order you to fight, but I do demand you come and watch. I will not let you claim an innocence you do not possess."

"Then it is settled," Celegorm said in satisfaction. "All that remains is to strike. Soon the Silmaril will again reside in the hands of its rightful owners, and the sons of Fëanor will be one step closer to achieving our oath. Father would be proud today."

"He would indeed," Maedhros replied; only Maglor heard the whispered addition, "unfortunately. We are all damned."

*******

The assault on Menegroth began shortly before dawn, during the darkest and stillest hour of the night, when most of the inhabitants of the great city were sleeping. Celegorm, who had provided most of the soldiers, lead the way; Curufin and Caranthir followed close behind with their own smaller forces. Amrod and Amras entered after them, almost reluctantly. Maedhros and Maglor were last. Maglor stopped just inside the gates of the underground realm, his face pale, seemingly sickened by the screams echoing through the halls and the strong smell of death; when Maedhros noticed his brother falter, he turned to him and scornfully mocked, "What is the matter, little brother? Surely the sight of a little innocent blood spilled does not faze a son of the mighty Fëanor? Or perhaps you are composing a song to celebrate this great triumph?" But then, seeing the pain on his brother's face, Maedhros relented slightly. "You may stay here, if you wish," he said softly. "I told you I would not force you to fight, only watch, and I keep my word." And with that, Maedhros turned and raced forward into the fray; Maglor followed close beside him, weeping. Maedhros, this is wrong, he thought as he drew his sword and prepared to slay his fellow Quendi for the second time in his life. You should have stopped this. I should stand aside from this deed. But I love you, brother. I could not bear to lose you after Unnumbered Tears, and even though your former love for me has curdled in your heart to contempt, I cannot bear to see you fall now. May the Valar forgive me for what I am about to do.

What followed was slaughter, not a battle. Later in memories Maglor recalled only confused images - bodies falling, the feel of treading on flesh as he stepped on corpses, the metallic clang of blade against blade, shrieks of agony uttered by the mortally wounded. A vision of his sword striking a woman, who crumpled and fell almost on top of him, dropping the walking stick she had swung at his head. Dior, standing firm against the onslaught, running Caranthir through, and the sound of his little brother's moans as he slowly bled to death. Eventually, he realized that he was no longer swinging his sword, for no more foes stood before him to block his path. Dimly, Maglor heard Maedhros shout, "Find the Silmaril!" He leaned over and vomited, and the world began to go black. Before he could fall, he felt a pair of strong hands grab his arms and steady him. Maglor looked up into the face of his youngest brother, Amras, and when he saw the tears shining in his little brother's eyes he reached up and clung to him tightly, and they held each other close for a long, long time while they cried.

When they at last let go of each other the hall was quiet. Maglor looked over Amras's shoulder to see Maedhros kneeling in the gore, unmindful of it, his remaining hand stroking the hair of one of the dead. As Maglor and Amras walked over to his side, Maglor saw that it was Celegorm; the body of Curufin lay next to him. Three of my brothers are dead, he thought, numb with shock. Or is it four? Where is Amrod? At that moment, Amrod came running back into the hall and stopped in front of Maedhros, chest heaving; when he looked down and saw the bodies of his brothers he whispered, "No!" At the sound, Maedhros looked up at him and, still gently stroking Celegorm's hair, asked, "Where is the Silmaril?"

Amrod did not answer; Maedhros again demanded, "Where is the Silmaril?," more firmly this time. Amrod roused himself, and replied, "We cannot find it anywhere, brother. It is gone."

"Then all of this was for nothing," Maedhros said softly. Looking down at the dead faces of his brothers, he whispered, " 'To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth.' I am sorry, my brothers. I have failed you again." And silently he began to weep.

*******

They stayed at Menegroth for three days, at Maedhros's insistence, to bury the bodies. On the afternoon of the third day, Maedhros overheard one of Celgorm's soldiers, speaking to a friend, say, "I wonder how those two brats of Dior's are faring in the woods? Do you think the wolves have found them yet?"

"What did you say?" he said sharply. The man looked up, startled, but remained silent. "What did you say?" Maedhros repeated again. "Something about 'Dior's brats' and wolves, was it? What did you do?"

"Nothing," the other man replied, "we just disposed of some rubbish, before it became old enough to stink."

"Children are not rubbish, not even the children of enemies - that is a designation reserved for their murderers," Maedhros said softly as he turned away. He took two steps, then turned suddenly and drew his sword; before the man had a chance to react, Maedhros struck his head off. The remaining soldier suddenly found a sword pressed against the side of his neck; his friend's body lay bleeding across his feet. Maedhros's eyes were deadly, but his voice remained casual as he calmly told Celegorm's servant, "You will tell me exactly what you have done, if you do not want to join your friend in Mandos."

"After the battle, we found Dior's sons, Elurín and Eluréd, hiding in a storeroom. We...," He stopped for a moment, then continued as Maedhros slowly slid the blade across the side of his neck, drawing blood. "We took them out into the forest, and left them there. It would have been dangerous to allow them to live, we thought - they would one day grow up to take revenge - and yet we could not bring ourselves to kill them outright. We gave them a chance, this way."

"No, you chose to let the wolves and the elements finish them off slowly - do not lie. Come with me."

Maedhros kept his sword drawn as he led the man to where Maglor was standing, supervising the digging of another burial trench. "Brother, I need to speak with you."

"What do you want to speak about?" Maglor asked; he sounded weary.

"I will need you to lead the others back to Ossiriand. I shall remain behind to do some hunting."

"What?" Maglor looked at his brother in astonishment. Has my brother finally lost his mind? he wondered. We've destroyed a city, and buried three of our brothers, and before the blood is dried on our hands he's thinking about hunting, as if nothing significant happened here!

"This piece of filth left Dior's two young sons in the woods to starve. I am going to find them." Maedhros poked the tip of his sword into the soldier's side, and smiled when he winced in pain. "You will come with me, and lead me to the place where you abandoned those children, and perhaps I will let you live," he said, and the man shivered slightly.

"Maedhros, you can't stay here alone. It's too dangerous. And you have no hope of finding those poor children, not after three days..." Maglor began to say, but Maedhros whirled around in fury, shouting "DON'T SAY THAT!" When his brother drew back in dismay, Maedhros paused a moment, then continued; he seemed more in control of himself when he again spoke, but his voice was bleak. "Our oath compelled us to come here, and because of it we now stand Kinslayers twice over. We have destroyed what little honor remained to the house of Fëanor, and we will be remembered in songs as murderers and butchers long after all our other deeds in Beleriand have been forgotten. But nothing in our oath compelled this deed, the cruel abandonment of children, and I will not have my name, or the name of our family, blackened by it. You will see that our people return safely to Ossiriand, Maglor. That is an order. I will remain to search for Dior's sons, and I will not return to Ossiriand until I find them."

"Maedhros, let me stay and help -" Maglor implored, but Maedhros shook his head.

"No, I need you to lead the others home, brother. I will meet you at your usual campsite, once I have rescued those children. I will salvage some honor for our House, Maglor, I promise you that. Your task is to see that there is still a House left to reach Ossiriand - soon orcs may not be the only things pursuing our forces." And with that, Maedhros turned and placed his sword against the soldier's back, saying, "Now lead me there, before I confuse you with one of Morgoth's foul brood and slay you where you stand," and the two men headed into the woods of Doriath, leaving Maglor behind to wonder, and worry.

*******

It was nearly four months later when Maedhros finally entered Maglor's camp in southern Ossiriand, alone. "Disappointed to see me alive, little brother?" he sneered. "No doubt, after so much time, you thought me safely dead, and yourself the Head of our House - or what little remains of it. So sorry to disappoint you, brother, but you'll have to step down now, for I intend to take up my rightful role as chief Kinslayer again."

"Maedhros, stop it!" Maglor said, furious, but quickly fell silent when Maedhros sat down, back against a tree, and placed his head against his knees, curling up as if to block the world out from his consciousness. "You were not able to find them, were you, Russandol?" he said gently, but Maedhros gave no answer. "I'm sorry, brother. I know you tried." Still no reply. Maglor set about preparing the evening meal. He was certain his brother would be hungry; perhaps the scent of the food cooking would draw him out of his shell. It did not; Maedhros remained silent and unmoving as Maglor ate. After he finished his meal, Maglor went over to his still-silent elder brother and sat down next to him; he was careful not to touch him, as Maedhros had in the past made it plain that his brother's touch was no longer welcome. They sat there, side by side, for hours. It was nearly dawn before Maglor heard his brother whisper, "Eluréd and Elurín."

"What did you say, Russandol?"

"Eluréd and Elurín," Maedhros repeated, slightly louder this time. "Their names were Eluréd and Elurín. They were only eight years old."

"There was nothing more you could have done, Russandol. They had been lost for too long before you even began your search."

"All I found were a few scraps of clothing, covered in blood." Maedhros finally looked up, and Maglor could see the grief in his eyes as he said, " 'Ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously'. Our House will never live down the shame of those children's deaths. Long ago, the Valar cursed our House; well, we have earned their curses now. And I am afraid that there will be worse to come. Who knows what our dreadful oath will require of us next? I fear all we will ever see is blood, no matter where we turn."

"Perhaps we could refuse to pursue it, brother," Maglor suggested. "Put the oath aside, and -"

"Condemn ourselves. 'Our word hear thou, Eru Allfather! To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth.' Perhaps we should be condemned, brother. But I have never broken my sworn word, and I never intend to. The blood of the Noldor is on my hands for I lead our people into disaster, through recklessness and overconfidence I killed Fingon, and by my failure to regain the Silmaril at Doriath I doomed our brothers to the Darkness. I am a traitor and a kinslayer and perverted, but I will not break a sworn oath. That's all the honor I have left, Maglor. All I have left, and I will not lose it, no matter the cost. No matter the horrors to come, I will hold to my word."

And the first rays of dawn filled the sky as the eldest son of Fëanor quietly wept in despair.

Chapter End Notes

The exact wording of the Oath of Fëanor can be found in "The Annals of Aman" in Morgoth's Ring (History of Middle Earth, volume 10) on p. 112.

Russandol – “Copper-top”; an affectionate nickname given to Maedhros by his family in acknowledgement of his reddish-brown hair. See The Peoples of Middle Earth (History of Middle Earth, vol. 12), p. 353

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