The Fire of Maedhros by Cirdan

The Fire of Maedhros

Read The Fire of Maedhros

Dagor Palisor,¹ the Battle of Pinewoods, should've been an easy victory, but Fangli² had not fully alienated Men from Elves, and so the Men of Ermon had fought beside Nuin.³ My Dwarves, on the other hand, had remained corrupted and had sided with the evil Men. Lord Morgoth was displeased with the victory of the Dark Elves in the Battle of Palisor, but I did not bear the blame. Like many of the other chieftains of Morgoth, I delighted in Fangli's fall from favor. For a moment, I thought I'd be assigned to the east. Though it was a project of high honor, I had no desire to be away from Beleriand, where the exiled Noldor had settled, where the most important action was. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Fukil⁴ was chosen to replace Fangli in the corruption of Men.

Because of my proven effectiveness, Morgoth assigned me to sow dissent amongst the exiled Noldor and their new Sindarin followers. I began in the south, for it was farthest from Angband and the Sindar, new to the evil workings of Morgoth, were unfamiliar with the dangers of listening too freely to rumors. I left the rumors at a light buzz. I needed only to sow the first seeds, and I would return to nourish those dark seeds later. I made my way up north, to Fingolfin's lands, and whispered of the Kinslaying at Alqualonde to the Falathrim that dwelt nearby to Hithlum, knowing full well that these would gradually spread to the Sindar who followed Fingolfin. I made my way eastward then, spreading lies about Dorthonion and then Himlad. I could not pass the Girdle of Melian and steal into Doriath, for Melian was of my own order and great in power, but I knew that the Sindar about Doriath would do my work for me. At last, I neared the place I most longed to corrupt yet most feared to go: Himring and the March of Maedhros.

A sense of foreboding hung over me as I crept about Himring with care. I did not plan to stay long. Yet all my carefulness was for naught. As I strolled through the halls of Himring in the guise of an Elf, I grabbed from behind and dragged to a dark corner by the neck.

"Sauron." Maedhros used the new nickname he'd given me: Sauron the Abhorred.

Maedhros was exactly as I'd remembered him. He stood tall and unbent by his long torment upon Thangorodrim. His hair flowed like blood about his shoulders. Most fearful of all were his eyes, piercingly bright, as if he was one who had returned from the dead. Though there was a shadow over his heart, he was more strongly resolved than he had been before the Throne of Morgoth. He was the very image of vengeance. I was terrified of him, and yet, I was also fascinated by his strength.

He drew his knife on me and said, "Come with me, and don't draw attention to us."

Of course I did as I was bidden to do. I am not a fighter. Even as a smith in Valinor, I was rather weak. I was a jewelrysmith. I never crafted anything bigger than a necklace. Thus, I did not have the strong muscles of those who worked with steel. My strength was not in physical might but in the cleverness of my wit, and so I knew I needed but bide my time.

Maedhros brought me to a large, well-furnished room. The Noldor had come out of exile with few possessions, but they were industrious and had done much to enrich their new home. The skill of the Noldor was proven by the beautifully carven furniture, most notably the elaborate detail of the bed frame and the finely sewn curtains. At one end of the canopy was a Feanorian lamp that cast a pale light upon the bed. Maedhros bound my wrists and ankles firmly with silken rope and attached each to one of the four bedposts. It wasn't hard to guess what he had in mind. Though he lacked the torture facilities of Angband, Maedhros had always been a master of improvising.

Oh, he was cruel indeed. Maedhros began his torment with soft kisses to my lips. Then he showered kisses all over my face. His hand rested lightly on my chest. My body had not forgotten the pleasures of his well- formed body. I feared pain, as I ever did, but a part of me could not help but to pray that he ravish me. It would be too difficult to endure the alternative, to be titillated but unfulfilled.

"I've missed you, Mairon," Maedhros whispered between kisses.

Crueler and crueler. I felt my heart melt. It constricted as if gripped by the very black hand of Morgoth. So he would kill me with kindness, tease me with love that could not be mine. I shut my eyes to his beautiful face and felt the tears slip down my face and into my ears.

Maedhros hushed me. He kissed the trail of tears and licked the pooling tears in my ear. He was too gentle. At such a moment, I did not want to be evil. I wanted things to be as they were before the Fall of the Noldor, but in Valinor, such a relationship could not have been possible.

"Why didn't you bind yourself to me that first time?" Maedhros said softly. He moved his only hand from my chest to stroke my face and hair. "Our lovemaking should've been a union of body and spirit."

After all the torment that I had dealt him, still he asked such a thing of me? I began to sob more bitterly, and the great flowing of my tears were such that his kisses could not stop them.

"Don't you understand yet? Melkor cowed me long ago. I fear him, Maitimo!" I shouted. "I fear him as I fear nothing else. If we had joined, he would have discovered us, and he would have crushed me. Even after he discovered the seed of good that you had planted in me, I was able to evade the fullness of his wrath with my silver tongue. I prostrated myself before him, groveled for forgiveness, and in the end, my torment was nothing more than several years amongst the unlovely children of Aule in the dark tunnels in the east. What more would he have done to me if I had bonded with you?"

The memory of darkness returned to me. Morgoth's black eyes burned in my mind. The void reached out with its long tendrils and wrapped itself around my spirit. I was helpless. I was scared. I had but two choices: to obey the Dark One or to face a fate worse than death. Melkor, the Might One, was more powerful than even Manwe. I feared the defeat of the Valar. I looked to self-preservation and turned to the darkness in hopes of a less tormented existence.

Maedhros ran his fingers through my hair and kissed my forehead. He kissed my face; he kissed my unending tears. He hushed me and held me, he who had but one hand! The sobs shook my body, but he steadied me and continued to kiss me. His body was warm, and the light of his inner fire seemed to drive back the darkness. His passion was stronger than Morgoth's malice.

"I understand, my love. At last I understand." Maedhros hushed me as I struggled to speak, to face such accusations of cowardice. "I have faced him as well, Mairon, and I know the strength of his will."

Maedhros drew the canopy of the bed closed. The curtains were of brilliant silver threads so finely sewn that they were like a soft, liquid mirror. In them, I saw the reflection of Maedhros: tall, strong, beautiful, and unrelenting. I saw clearly the maimed right hand, and I saw how he did not hide from it or from the shadow that Morgoth had cast over his heart. He did understand, for Morgoth had also sought to subjugate his will. He understood and was not afraid, yet he did not blame me for my fear. My tears of bitterness because tears of relief.

Maedhros must've sensed the change in me, for he said to me, "Yes, be at ease, my love. I will protect you from him. It may be that Eru has set in me a fire greater than you know. Such hurt at the least will I do to the Foe of the Valar that even the mighty in the Ring of Doom shall wonder to hear it."⁵ His words were no less potent than Feanor's utterance of them, and the ardor of Maedhros yet more eager burnt than his father's flame.⁶

I doubted him. I doubted that he was great enough to face the full strength of Morgoth. But even as I doubted, I could not help but to be seduced by his sweet words. I shut my eyes and let my muscles relax. I felt my skin set aflame by his gentle kisses. I felt myself strengthen and harden as his hand wormed its way under my clothes.

When I opened my eyes, I beheld the red fire of his hair in the silver silk of the roof of the canopy. My gaze traced its way along the muscles of his back and the firm movements of his rear as he pressed up against me. Our eyes met, and I saw a mischievous twinkle in his bright eyes. I smiled in spite of myself; the darkness seemed as a distant memory. He smiled back and kicked off the last of his clothing. He straddled me again with purpose, and he allowed me to enter his void. It was, of course, nothing like the void of darkness that I so feared. His tight darkness surrounded me like a white flame. Above, I could see his strong body arching into mine, his muscles tight as he lowered himself onto me.

I arched to meet him. The muscles of his jaw quivered as I pushed myself further into his hot void, and his eyebrows pitted near the center. His face, though pained, was the very picture of strength.

I turned away, for I who feared pain and had previously loved to inflict it upon others, did not now wish to inflict it upon Maedhros. He had said that he would protect me, and I wanted it to be so. I could not turn from him though. To my right, I could see our full forms. I could see myself drawing away from him. I could see him sighing with ecstasy and pushing himself back onto me after a brief rest. His leg was shapely and long, stretching the length of much of my lower body. His forearm lay beside my upper body, snaking under my arm, and his left hand gripped my shoulder firmly. When I turned to my left, he was there again, only this time, he had no right hand. Still, he encompassed my body in his, and the blood red fire of his hair spilt over my shoulder and down his back. I began to believe. I turned my gaze back to his face and pushed up into him. Here, there was no darkness, only the burning heat of our love.

When I filled his void with my liquid fire, I felt a part of myself leaving as well. For a brief moment, I became afraid. But Maedhros tightened around me, welcoming and drawing me to spill yet more of myself into him. His sharp eyes were fixed on me. As I continued to lose myself in him, I felt myself in a state of bliss that I had not known since before Morgoth's corruption.

Then I saw it in his eyes. I had not only given myself to him; he had also given himself to me. We were bonded. Even in my darkest moments, I would never again be alone.

I exhaled in ecstasy and felt Maedhros cover me in his warm, thick liquid life. I watched his face mirror mine in pleasure. I saw the Light of Aman in his face, in his eyes. And I saw that he loved me despite my cowardice, despite my evil.

I closed my eyes to rest and no longer feared the darkness, for his white flame lived in me and would protect me.

---

The years that followed were, to me, the Years of Bliss that I could not before enjoy during the Noontide of the Blessed Realm because of the shadow of Morgoth that gnawed at my heart even during his chaining. I hid my bond deep within the dark recesses of my heart such that even the Dark Lord could not see it without conscious effort, and because I did not draw attention to myself, Morgoth never sought to pierce to the depths of my being.

For the Noldor, these were the Years of Long Peace. Though the Noldor seemed to wander abroad with little thought of war, I ever counseled Maedhros to prepare for Morgoth's sudden strike. Thus, when Morgoth stirred his evil servants to war, I brought warning to Maedhros, and he and Fingolfin came upon the main host of Orcs from either side as it was assaulting Dorthonion. They defeated the servants of Morgoth, and pursuing them across Ard-galen destroyed them utterly, to the least and last, within sight of Angband's gates.⁷ That was the third great battle of the Wars of Beleriand, and it was named Dagor Aglareb, the Glorious Battle. Thereafter, they set a watch upon Angband in the north. From time to time, I would pass along knowledge of coming evils so that Maedhros could, in turn, pass this information on to Fingolfin in the west. In this way, by the vigilance and strength of Maedhros and his alliance with Fingolfin, Beleriand saw peace for over 400 years.

---

Dagor Bragollach, the Battle of Sudden Flame, came unexpected for all, even the servants of Morgoth. If I had known, I would have warned Maedhros, as I had been doing for years. But it was not possible. Morgoth, brooding in his dark dungeons of Angband, suddenly became violently angry at the Noldor that populated his lands. It had been long since I'd witnessed the might of the Dark Lord, and it was fearsome to behold. He was, after all, a Vala, akin to Manwe in the beginning.

The main loss of the Noldor in the Fourth Battle came not at the hands of Orcs or even the dragon but as a direct result of Morgoth's own powers. He sent forth great rivers of flame from Thangorodrim that poured over all the plain; and the Mountains of Iron belched forth fires of many poisonous hues, and the fume of them stank upon the air, and was deadly. Thus Ard-galen perished, and fire devoured its grasses; and it became a burned and desolate waste, full of a choking dust, barren and lifeless. Many of the Noldor were caught by the running flame and could not escape to the hills and perished in that burning. The heights of Dorthonion and Ered Wethrin held back the fiery torrents, but their woods upon the slopes that looked towards Angband were all kindled, and the smoke wrought confusion among the defenders. The Princes of the Noldor could not hold their people together, and many of the Grey-elves now fled to Doriath.⁸

Maedhros was, of course, the exception. He alone of the Princes held his lands and people together. Maedhros did deeds of surpassing valor, and the Orcs fled before his face; for since his torment upon Thangorodrim his spirit burned like a white fire within, and he was as one that returns from the dead. Thus the great fortress upon the Hill of Himring could not be taken, and many of the most valiant that remained, both of the people of Dorthonion and of the east marches, rallied there to Maedhros; and for a while he closed once more the Pass of Aglon, so that the Orcs could not enter Beleriand by that road.⁹ Thus, though it was Fingolfin who challenged Morgoth before the Gates of Angband and broke Morgoth's vicious fury, Maedhros was no less spectacular in the Bragollach.

But in spite of his valor, a dread crept over me. I saw the strength of the Noldor fail. I saw again the full might of Morgoth. I became frightened, and not even the pleasures of the flesh could drive that fear from my heart. Maedhros could not protect me from Morgoth. What had I been thinking? I began to imagine the slow torments that I would endure if Morgoth discovered that I had been a double agent during the Years of Long Peace.

To forestall this, I offered to take Minas Tirith for Morgoth. Tevildo, the Lord of Cats,¹⁰ had failed after two year of laying siege to the fortress upon Sirion. Morgoth was eager to win the western pass into Beleriand, and so he allowed me to try my hand at taking Minas Tirith, much to Tevildo's irritation. Tevildo lacked my skill in sorcery. I was able to spread fear and doubt amongst my enemies with dark mists that poisoned the mind, and many of the Grey-elves that followed Orodreth came to believe that this war was that of the Noldor's alone. As in the Bragollach, many deserted to Doriath. Also, Orodreth was also unable to identify me as a foe when I took the shape of an Elf (another skill that Tevildo lacked), and so I stole into the tower unseen. When the time came, I took the form of a werewolf and slew the guards at the gate. As I'd said before, I was not physically strong, but my strength was enough when I was attacking unexpectedly from the shadows. Thus, I took Minas Tirith and drove Orodreth from the Isle.

Morgoth was pleased with my accomplishment, and at last my deepest fears calmed somewhat, for I knew that I had shown my loyalty and could worm my way out of punishment if my deeds for the Noldor were discovered. I could claim to have been acting as a double agent for Morgoth's cause rather than Maedhros's. I made Minas Tirith into a watchtower for Morgoth, a stronghold of evil, and a menace; and the fair isle of Tol Sirion became accursed, and it was called Tol-in-Gaurhoth, the Isle of Werewolves. No living creature could pass through that vale that I did not espy from the tower where I sat. At last, I felt safe again.

Yet that sense of security, on Tol-in-Gaurhoth and within the ranks of Morgoth's servants, did not stave the loneliness in my heart. The white flame that Maedhros had placed within me seemed to die in the ashes of my despair. I held the western pass into Beleriand, and Maedhros held the eastern pass, and all the land in between separated us. But perhaps it was just as well.

---

Despite the watch that I had set upon Tol-in-Gaurhoth, the foolish cousin of Maedhros stole into my lands. He disguised himself and his companions, but I was also a master of deception and realized that something was amiss. Finrod strove with me in songs of power, but I had the mastery, for I was one of the Maia who had sung the Music of Arda before its beginning and attacked at his weakness: his guilt of the Kinslaying at Alqualonde. I could not fathom the foolish purpose that had brought them within my realm, but I could not simply release them for fear of Morgoth. Slowly, I had them slain one at a time, keeping Finrod until the end in hopes that he would be saved and I would not have his death upon my head. I feared that the slaying of his kin would destroy the last embers of Maedhros's love for me.

When Luthien came to my isle, I was at last given the opportunity to flee from my position without drawing suspicion. Draugluin was the sire of the werewolves of Angband, and if he could not defeat Huan, then I knew that I stood no chance. It would have been better to face Luthien in a battle of songs, yet I yearned for release from my post, so I instead took the form of a werewolf. My strength was not in the muscles of my werewolf form but in the fear created by my sorcery, yet I knew that Huan, the Hound of Valinor, would not be overwhelmed by my spells. Still, I set forth for the bridge. I had been too long without Maedhros. At worst, I would die in the jaws of Huan, and that death would be far kinder than one at the hands of Morgoth.

Indeed, as the tales tell, I yielded to Luthien and escaped to Tar-nu- Fuin and filled it with horror. Thus, Morgoth believed that to be my new base. But when I could, I stole away to Himring, to Maedhros. I did not know if he would still accept me, but the flame within me was now greatly diminished, and if it went out entirely, I knew that I would be lost to the darkness. I sought Maedhros out to kindle the ember to fire, to save me from my own cowardice.

---

When I came to Himring, it was a moonless night. Maedhros was in his quarters alone though Maglor was with him in Himring. Maedhros was brooding, and his face was in his left hand. His right arm was also at his face, but there was no hand to similarly cover his face. I was stricken to the core. His missing hand had never before bothered me, but at that moment, his inability to even cover his face in both hands seemed to me a sign of weakness. I almost turned away. I almost crept back to the darkness, for despair wholly overtook me and I believed that none could stand against the might of Morgoth.

But somehow, perhaps through our shared bond, Maedhros knew I was there. He fixed his gaze on me before I could turn away, and I became transfixed. There was great sadness in his otherwise bright eyes, and somehow, that sorrow seemed to make him more beautiful. He came to me and took my right hand in his left and led me into his room. For a moment, it seemed as if he would weep, for his pain was very deep and the shadow in his heart had darkened in those days when we'd been apart. Yet it was I who wept, not he.

"Dark has been your path of late," Maedhros said softly as he gathered me in his arms and kissed my hair. He did not ask me to explain myself. He did not accuse me of being craven. He did not grow angry at all that I had done in my service of Morgoth. He simply held me as I cried into his shoulder.

When my weeping at last subsided, Maedhros kissed me deeply, with closed eyes and probing tongue. He parted my clothing with practiced ease and caressed my naked self, and though I thought I would be forced to endure the torment of his scorn, I found that Maedhros gazed at me with compassion, affection, and pity.¹¹ He stroked my hair and then ran his hand down my chest, to my heart.

"Remember what I said to you so many years ago? Ardent lovemaking is not evil, and I do not begrudge you the pleasure of it so long as you do not force it upon me." It was such a ridiculous thing to say that I could not help but to laugh at myself, but the laughter became bitter, and tears welled up in my eyes again. Maedhros hushed me and kissed me even as his hand sought to kindle the limp ember of love between my legs. "Cowardice is not evil," he said to me, "and many have been less brave than you in this difficult war against Morgoth." He sprinkled kisses down my neck, chest and stomach. "I love you still, and do not fault you for your weakness. I know how difficult it is to be completely free from the thralldom of Morgoth. Though you have done evil at his bidding, it is the Marrer who is to blame, not you."

As if to show his love, Maedhros took my cowering darkness into his mouth. He sucked on it until the white flame was slowly kindled anew to great length. All the while, his gaze did not leave my eyes, and it was the sacred fire in his own heart that truly brought me forth from my despair.

When he saw that I had found strength in myself and that my fire had grown great once again, no longer cowed by the thoughts of Morgoth, Maedhros closed the mirror-like curtains of his bed. He danced over me as he slowly undressed, and I admired his body from all angles. Then he went down to take my fire in his mouth once more. I forced myself into him, barely slowed by his lips. My fire slipped down his throat, and he swallowed it willingly as if he was himself seeking some nourishment from me. I burned his throat several more times, and though he gagged once, he did not ask me to stop.

When the fire was too hot to endure, I turned him onto his back. He had always let me be the one to do this, for he knew that I feared pain. In the curtains, I could see his face already grimacing in preparation for what was to come.

"Don't be afraid. I will protect you as I promised before," Maedhros said. It was an odd contrast to the fact that he would be the one to bear the pain, not I.

I took it as invitation. I rubbed myself with lubricant gel and then set Maedhros aflame. I suppose that I could not wholly change my nature, and Morgoth had long ago turned me to delighting in the pain of others. I pounded into Maedhros, and he gasped and threw back his head. I took his ruby locks and held him as I rode him like a rocking horse. He moaned in pain, but I knew the sounds were feigned. He had much greater endurance than this. In truth, he liked it hard and did not mind the ferocity of my coupling so long as I did this only when he consented. It was hardly a problem. He was almost always consenting in these matters, save for the nights before he was to hunt with his brothers. This night, I was particularly hard on him, for I took consolation in dealing out such torment and used it to buffer my own ego, to pretend that I was stronger than I actually was. He thrashed as he had when he had been my victim in Angband. He tried to pull away, but I took him. Yet when it was over and I was exhausted, he rolled atop me, kissed me, and rubbed his hard flame against my cooling flesh until his liquid fire covered me like a protective shield.

No longer did I tremble uncontrollably at the very thought of Morgoth. Instead, my mind became more rational. He was fallible. He had been wounded by Fingolfin at the end of the Bragollach. If Fingolfin could deal such hurts to the Dark Lord, what might Maedhros, son of Feanor, achieve? Again, I remembered Maedhros's words to at our first union: "Such hurt at the least will I do to the Foe of the Valar that even the mighty in the Ring of Doom shall wonder to hear it." I did not think I would be easily free of Morgoth, but neither did I despair.

Thereafter, I remained by Maedhros's side until the end.

---

Before long, word spread about Beleriand that Beren and Luthien had won from Morgoth's crown a Silmaril. In those days, Maedhros lifted up his heart, perceiving that Morgoth was not unassailable, yet he knew that Morgoth would destroy them all, one by one, if they could not again unite and make new league and common council. He began those counsels for the raising of the fortunes of the Eldar that are called the Union of Maedhros.¹²

In the planning of the Fifth Battle, I was every by the side of the Noldor. I delivered messages when needed between Maedhros and Fingon, and because Fingon recognized my guise from the days when I acted as courier between Maedhros and Fingolfin, he trusted me. I did not betray that trust, and Maedhros rewarded me with his love.

Perhaps it would have been better if I had instead been more intimately involved in the counsels of Morgoth, for then I would have known that Fukil had wholly corrupted the Men of Ulfang. At the start of the Fifth Battle, I was with Fingon, for Maedhros had sent me to aid his friend, who had lost many of his people in the Bragollach. Too late, I ascended the steps to the walls of Barad Eithel and looked out our foes. Orcobal, Captain of the Orcs,¹³ hewed off Gelmir's hands and feet and his head last within sight of the Elves. Orcobal was not one of Morgoth's favorites, and though he was useful, he was used only for feints.

"A trap!" I exclaimed. But my warning was never heeded. Gwindor of Nargothrond became fey, and Fingon followed his folly and rode out to battle against my advice.

All was lost in the western front. I fled to the east, to join with Maedhros though Fingon could not. I arrived in time to warn him of imminent treason, and Maedhros had just barely enough time to prepare countermeasures. Though the sons of Ulfang went over suddenly to Morgoth and drove in upon the rear of the sons of Feanor, they could not fully take advantage of the confusion that they wrought. The sons of Ulfang were lured into a trap by Maedhros's banner. Maglor slew Uldor the accursed, the leader in treason, and the sons of Bor slew Ulfast and Ulwarth ere they themselves were slain. Though the host of Maedhros was assailed now on three sides, he organized it quickly into three small groups and, at his signal, they scattered and fled from the lost battlefield. Then the three hosts of the sons of Feanor regrouped by Mount Dolmed in the east. Thus were all the sons of Feanor saved.¹⁴

Thereafter, the sons of Feanor remained scattered, but I stayed by Maedhros's side rather than return to Morgoth. If there was any hope to be found in Beleriand, it lay in the ardor of Maedhros, not in the Hidden Kingdoms.

---

"Kinslayer." Maedhros would whisper to himself in the dead of the night. I wondered if he spoke of the death of his brothers or if he referred to the slaying of the Elves of Doriath.

"Come to rest, Maedhros," I begged him. If he did not, I knew he would drive himself into a mad fury of grief. Maedhros came but was not ready to put aside the weight of his sins.

"The Noldor are truly cursed," Maedhros said as he slipped into my bedroll.

We no longer had the luxury of Himring, but I found that I did not care about the discomfort as long as Maedhros was with me. Perhaps I had become stronger from my earlier days, when I sought to side with the victor and held true loyalty only to myself. Our union was constrained by our lack of space but still we joined with each other. But I could see that Maedhros's mind was far away, for he sighed in grief and did not seek to moan in passion.

"You did what you had to do to preserve your people," I said to him. It was true. He had joined the Kinslaying to minimize the damage dealt by and done to Celegorm's host. "I love you still, Maedhros, though you are a kinslayer."

"Love did not save my brothers," Maedhros said.

"Your love saved me," I countered.

Maedhros kissed me deeply, but when he ended the kiss, he said, "It is too early to say for certain if any of us can be saved."

---

After the Third Kinslaying, Maedhros became too tired to even share his inner fire. Perhaps he feared that his fire was tainted and did not wish to pass the shadow of his heart unto me. Or perhaps he needed to preserve what little fire was left within him to push forward. At first, I thought he would utterly despair, as many of the Eldar did. But Maglor found the sons of Earendil, and Maedhros lived to protect them, his people, and the remnants of the people of Sirion. I admired his strength in the face of defeat, and I followed him still.

We retreated to the Isle of Balar, where Morgoth's forces could not assail us. But the danger from the host of Gil-galad was great, and I feared there would be yet another kinslaying. To forestall this, Maedhros bent his knee to Gil-galad, as he had long ago to Fingolfin. Even with bowed head and prostrated body, Maedhros seemed more powerful than the boy king. Gil-galad accepted Maedhros as his vassal, yet thereafter, it was Maedhros who primarily worked to preserve the limited resources of the small island and to ensure that the survivors of Beleriand had enough to eat. Here, his great deeds were not those of valor in battle but as a healer of his people, for he still had the power of speech gifted to him by his father, and he used it to kindle the hearts of those who despaired. The Elves and Men of Balar were not strong enough to retake Beleriand, but they stood tall nevertheless.

In that time, Maedhros found a measure of happiness again, and he shared his happiness with me. I cherished those moments, for I knew that such a thing could not endure in Arda Marred.

---

Maedhros sent a message to Eonwe, bidding him yield up the Silmarils that his father made and Morgoth stole from him.

Eonwe refused.

I went to Eonwe and begged him to give the Silmarils to Maedhros, but Eonwe refused my plead.

I watched Maedhros carefully, for I knew that he would not forsake his Oath. I wanted to help him, even to this end. But Maedhros was very willing that the chief peril of punishment should fall upon himself, and so he stole away one night after he had tired me with his lovemaking. Only Maglor went with him.

The Jewels of Feanor, which shone with the Light of Aman before the coming of the Sun and the Moon, were no longer clean and pure. Though Yavanna had hallowed the Silmarils, they had been marred by Morgoth, who poisons all that he touches. The Silmaril burned Maedhros's only living hand, but he endured until he could at last commit it to its right place in the bosom of the Earth.

I came too late to that place.

What was left to me? I longed to join Maedhros in that gaping chasm filled with fire, but as always, I feared the pain of death. Without Maedhros, I felt my old cowardice creep upon me.

I did obeisance to Eonwe and abjured all my evil deeds. I did this for fear, for I was dismayed by the fall of Morgoth and the great wrath of the Lords of the West. But Eonwe said that it was not within his power to pardon those of his own order, and he commanded me to return to Aman and there receive the judgment of Manwe.¹⁵

I do not know if I found a brief moment of strength or fell then back into cowardice. If Maedhros had not been forgiven, how could I believe that I would be forgiven? I do not know if I stayed in Middle-earth for love of Maedhros or if I hid for fear of Manwe's punishment.

Long I hid in the shadows of Middle-earth, and as I saw the world flourish, I came to resent them as Morgoth did. The bonds that Morgoth had laid upon me were strong, and without Maedhros, I had no desire to fight the darkness in my heart. I sought only to destroy all that was good and fair, for I was bitter that happiness was withheld from me. I had come through bliss to woe. The other now I would try: through sorrow to find joy; or freedom, at the least.¹⁶

Many times I looked into the fiery Crack of Doom but did not have the courage to join Maedhros in the bosom of the Earth.

I waited through many long years of solitude and darkness before my spirit was finally cast into gaping chasm filled with fire, and though the fire of Maedhros burned me in pain unbearable, at last, I found what I sought.

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Chapter End Notes

¹ The Battle of Pinewoods is mentioned in Book of Lost Tales I. This is the first instance of Men betraying Elves. Nuin, a Dark Elf and Father of Speech, had come to Men and taught them much, but he was slain in this battle.

² Fangli-A servant of Morgoth from Book of Lost Tales I.

³ The full story of Nuin, Ermon, and Elmar is in Book of Lost Tales I, pp. 231-237.

⁴ Fukil-Another servant of Morgoth, actually the same person as Fangli, but I needed more names.

⁵ Maedhros echoes Feanor's answer to the herald of Manwe err the Noldor left Tirion and is, of course, taken from the Silmarillion, p. 95.

⁶ Adapted from the quote about his ardor in HoME III, p. 162.

⁷ Description of Dagor Aglareb taken from the Silmarillion, p. 135.

⁸ Description of Dagor Bragollach taken from the Silmarillion, p. 181.

⁹ Description of Maedhros's part in the Dagor Bragollach taken from the Silmarillion, p. 183.

¹⁰ Tevildo is Morgoth's chief lieutenant in the Book of Lost Tales II. I've used him here as another servant of Morgoth who vies with Sauron for favoritism. Just be glad I don't go into too much detail about the intrigue in Morgoth's court.

¹¹ Reference to Luthien's line to Sauron in the Silmarillion, p. 212: "There everlastingly thy naked self shall endure the torment of his scorn, pierced by his eyes, unless thou yield to me the mastery of thy tower."

¹² Description of the Union of Maedhros taken from the Silmarillion, pp. 229- 230.

¹³ Orcobal is from the Book of Lost Tales II and is later slain by Ecthelion of the Fountain.

¹⁴ Description of the Nirnaeth Arnoediand taken from the Silmarillion, pp. 235- 236.

¹⁵ Description of Sauron's fate at the end of the First Age taken from the Silmarillion, p. 353.

¹⁶ Adapted from Feanor's answer to the herald of Manwe in the Silmarillion, p. 95.