The Seven Gates by Laerthel

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Wells of Pain

Celegorm and Curufin recount their side of the events, and Counsellor Tyelcano saves the day.

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The Fortress of Himring, FA 467, the fifth day of Víressë

Maedhros could hardly remember any occasion when he was trying to extend a council meeting. Today was a remarkable exception: he found that he had ran out of words, having to face the inevitable much sooner than intended.

“Captain!” His voice was sharp.

“At your command,” said Tulcestelmo.

Maedhros lowered his gaze. People seldom dared look into his eyes; what could they see in their depths, he did not know.

“The matter of the insolent Orc-filth, I believe, is settled,” he said. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Nay, Lord Warden,” said Tulcestelmo. “The Orcs will come back and our strength needs to be gathered; now, however, we can only wait. If none of you lords have anything else to comment, I believe we are done for today.”

Maedhros looked questioningly at his brother Maglor, then at his counsellor Tyelcano, who were seated at his two sides. When neither of them raised any objections, he nodded his approvement.

“Well and done. Summon lords Tyelkormo and Curufinwë so we might have a word with them. In the Great Hall, if you please.”

The shadow of doubt ran through Tulcestelmo’s face, but he went to do as he was asked without comment.

“The Great Hall!” said Maglor, as soon as the Captain left. “Why? Nelyo, I waited half a week, but alas: my patience is over! I have questions.”

“So do your brother and I, lord,” said Tyelcano, sadness in his eyes. “Yet I doubt that the truth shall bring us peace.”

Maedhros studied them both carefully. Maglor’s health had considerably improved in the last three days, but an air of frailness and exhaustion lingered around him still. Tyelcano, on the other hand, seemed collected as ever; yet his face was grave and his shoulders bent, as if carrying some invisible weight.

He knew his Counsellor loathed what was to come just as much as he did, but he never expected to be able to see it.

“Let us not dwell on happenings yet unfolded,” he said. “Great things have happened while you were away in the marches: terrible, but great things. We are gathering in the Great Hall in order to demonstrate the gravity of certain happenings. Brothers or not, we need to talk to Tyelko and Curvo seriously – and here is why.”

He picked up the thread of happenings with that fateful night when Tyelcano had brought him Caranthir’s message; and Maglor listened warily. Maedhros also told him about Feredir, and Thingol’s letter, yet he did not mention his recurring nightmares.

And alas, Maedhros had to realise that Celegorm’s and Curufin’s actions told the story of a conspiracy.

Intrigue.

Crime.

Crimes require punishment, Maedhros heard his father’s voice emerging from the depths of time, be it even a Vala who commits them! Injustice stands against the laws of life and nature, and thus it shall not be condoned. If the Valar decide to close their eyes, plug their ears and hum, hoping that evil shall vanish like smoke, then let them! A true king brings justice to his people, even if it means his death. A true king is not cowed by fake wisdom; he fights!

Would you fight your own sons over injustice, Atar? Maedhros wondered, no need though there was to ask that question.

He knew that Fëanáro would – if the want of the law was the same as the want of his will, that is.

I am not as firm as you were, Atar, he thought. Yet I know that a judgement has to be made, so make one I shall. Give me strength, if you can hear me now: help me do what is right!

It was only then that it occurred to him that his Atar may not have always done what was right; but who else could he ask for guidance?

“How do you feel about the things you have heard, Kano?” Maedhros said to break the silence.

“I am at a loss of words,” said Maglor slowly. “What happened to Findaráto is unspeakable, horrible, unforgivable! And alas, evidence speaks against our brothers. They might have deserved their punishment indeed; and yet my heart still weeps when I imagine the hardships they must have lived through, left alone in the wilderness for a whole year. I owe them my life, my freedom and my sanity, but...” Maglor shook his head. “If we question them on this matter, I dread what might come out of it. And Thingol's letter...”

“We must see how they explain their own deeds if given the chance,” said Maedhros. “It should help us decide.”

Maglor stared at him in dismay. “Are you implying that we shall lay a trap for them? Pretending to know nothing?”

Maedhros had to smile.

Chivalrous as ever, my sweet, sad brother, he thought. You do not deserve to see times such as these; your heart lives in fair Valinórë still.

“We shall suggest that all we heard were obscure rumors. I will show them Carnistir’s letter, but nothing else. If they are honest, this should mean no trap. And if they are not…”

“Do you honestly expect them to lie?”

“I have no idea what to expect, which is why I decided to listen to my counsellor for once.”

“This is exactly the fourteenth time since the Flames, my lord,” said Tyelcano. “You are improving.”

Maglor shook his head. “This... I cannot participate in this. They saved my life!”

“And by their cruel machinations, they took that of Findaráto.”

“They are our brothers!”

“Do you honestly think I have forgotten that?!”

Maedhros’s voice had an edge to it; and Maglor flinched.

“Kano,” said Maedhros, “I offer you a deal. Should they both prove honest, I will tell them the truth at the end. I will apologize, and I will promise that my trust in them will never waver again. I will also tell that you were adamantly against the idea, and it was me who forced it upon you.”

“Never,” said Maglor. “We shall take the blame together. By participating in such a conspiracy, I inevitably become an accomplice.”

“Nay, Lord Makalaurë,” said Tyelcano. “I must take the blame for such an action. You brothers must not let strife separate you. If happenings and circumstances prove I was wrong, the wavering of your brothers’ good will and trust in me shall prove a fair punishment. Neither of you can risk that.”

“This shan’t be the fifteenth time I listen to you, my friend,” said Maedhros. “If there is a blame, I will share it.”

Maglor shook his head. “They are our brothers, Nelyo! Our blood!”

“Atar was our blood as well – as we are his.” Maedhros swallowed hard, and stopped the trail of his thoughts. “These are dark and cruel times. Fair faces and bright eyes do not speak to me, Kanafinwë; nor does blood; nor do wise words. Faces wither, eyes darken, blood can be spilled and words are wind. It is the deeds that talk.”

Maglor had no answer to that.

“Wisely did your brother speak,” said Tyelcano. “You were unconscious then, Lord Makalaurë; but when we came to your rescue, and Lord Curufinwë saw us, there was a strange look in his eyes. I know that look; and I have learned to fear it.”

* * *

By the time Celegorm and Curufin entered, a long table had been set in front of Maedhros’s favourite chair in the Great Hall, and four other seats have been settled around it as well. The one on his right was occupied by Tyelcano, and the other by Maglor. The seats were arranged in a fashion that the two wayward brothers would have to face their judges, not being able to escape their gaze. The table itself was loaded with roasted meat, garnishings, rich soup and several flagons of the finest wine the servants could find in the cellars.

“You have sent for us, Nelyo,” Celegorm spoke.

In the days past, the two brothers were all but ordered to stay in the comfort of their beds and heal; and indeed Celegorm regained some of his previous grace. His eyes were still empty, though, and his voice flatter than Maedhros remembered it to be.

“Strange choice of place,” said Curufin. His stark eyes were scanning the walls, and the banners of the House of Fëanáro that were hanging tensely from each side. These were made of red velvet, the Star woven upon with threads of gold: Maedhros’s colours.

For a moment, Maedhros wavered; but then, he remembered Curufin’s haughty words. His brother had been even reluctant to accept a cloak from him: if such a small flicker of his pride was this hard for him to sacrifice, then is there still any trust between them at all?

We are becoming strangers to each other, he lamented; then, he silenced his mind at once, wary of the dark places his thoughts might take him. Curufin was looking him in the eye, after all; and although he was still so thin that his cheekbones showed, his eyes were honest and a smile played on his lips.

Maedhros found himself smiling back at him.

“Your arrival was so sudden that I did not have the chance to prepare a welcoming feast,” he said casually. He gestured towards the two empty seats. “Come, sit with us and be at ease; for we have much to talk about.”

Celegorm did as he was told: he took the left seat, the one facing Counsellor Tyelcano. Curufin, however, remained standing – he was still smiling, however sadly. The tension in his shoulders seemed to loosen, and he let out a soft, ethereal sigh. Yet no emotion reached his eyes; they remained deep and lifeless like pools of silver.

“Nelyo,” he said, “I see no reason to organise a feast for our arrival. It is not a joyful event, but rather a day of great grief to us all. As you are probably aware, it was not the pull of brotherly love that pursued us here this time…”

“That much I know,” said Maedhros. “When I saw you in those stinking rags, part of me wanted to strangle you! Tyelko, Curvo, you are my brothers; and I feared for you, I searched for you, I was furious with you! You cannot imagine how I felt when the Lord Counsellor sought me out in the middle of the night some weeks ago, and gave me this letter!”

He handed Caranthir’s message to Celegorm, and waited for the effect. Curufin looked at the short note as well, his features unreadable.

“There it is,” said Counsellor Tyelcano. “A stolen Silmaril, and the pair of you banned from Nargothrond. And then – not even a word for your worrying brothers to read. Not even the vaguest kind of news!”

“A most grievous matter indeed,” Maglor nodded. “Would you explain what in Manwë’s and Varda’s name happened?! Who stole that Silmaril, where is it now and why were you banned...? Are those events linked by any means? We have received your letter about a certain Man and the folly of Findaráto – could this mean that the impossible came true? That they succeeded?”

The words echoed in the Great Hall for a long time, fading into silence. Then Curufin leaned back in his chair; and a wave of something Maedhros could have identified as turmoil just as well as wild amusement rushed through his face.

“You -,” he said slowly, almost experimentally. “You...”

“You know nothing?!” Celegorm whispered. “Nothing! You have yet to hear...”

Another minute passed in silence. Then Curufin shifted in his chair, crossed his legs comfortably, and emptied his goblet.

Counsellor Tyelcano leaned across the table and filled it again, and Curufin nodded his thanks.

“They have yet to hear, Tyelko,” he said. “Drink deep and well, my lord brothers, Lord Counsellor, for this may be the very last time we feast together. For great wrongs we have done, and I shall not deny them. I only pray, Nelyo, that you hear our poor explanation. Please never mistake it for any means of excuse.”

Curufin’s voice was soft and melodious, his eyes sadder than the skies on a winter morning.

“I shall hear whatever explanation you deem fit,” said Maedhros measuredly, though all he suddenly wanted to do was pull his brother in a tight embrace, so great his grief seemed to be. “Be at peace! For no sin, no fault and no misunderstanding shall ever erase my love for you. Still, whatever was it that you did, we need to hear it: otherwise, we cannot get ourselves ready for toils to come.”

“Save your generosity for later, Nelyo,” said Celegorm. “You will need it.”

He exchanged a swift glance with Curufin, and for the fraction of an instant, Maedhros caught – or thought he did – that particular glance in the latter’s eyes that Counsellor Tyelcano feared.

And then –

And then nothing happened.

Their meal went on, slow and delightful; and the two brothers told their tale.

* * *

It was Celegorm who first picked up the thread of events, starting with the fateful day when a haggard Man came to the halls of Nargothrond with a ring on his finger, and sought a private audience with the King. Celegorm precised a detail – the importance of which had not registered in Maedhros’s mind before –, that King Finrod meant to keep the aim of the Quest in secret, not wishing for anyone from the House of Feanor to know about the errand of pursuing a Silmaril, until the day his departure was announced in Nargothrond.

“He must have hoped that the veil of secrecy would well conceal him and his party, either until they die or until the stolen Jewel is safely hid,” Celegorm explained, “and I do not blame him for that. Curvo and I, however, have had word of these plans; and we strongly opposed them. We spoke with the King three times, begging him not to go: out of mere friendship at first, for even if we held a grudge against Findaráto for not trusting us, we wished him well. When we saw that rational arguments were not likely to convince him, we tried relying on his close ones, suggesting that his passing would prove too great of a loss. Yet alas! All our efforts were in vain. Lastly, I knocked on his door in the middle of the night, before he went on that foolish errand, and I furiously reminded him of a king’s duty towards his people. I said he had neither the right to send them all to a hopeless battle, nor the allowance to leave them and seek death. I told him he was being greedy and irresponsible.”

“And how did he answer?” Maglor asked softly.

“He coldly reminded me of Alqualondë, saying that I was not to lecture him about honour and duty. People really need to stop to use that argument against us – dreadfully tiring, do you think not?”

“Yet not invalid,” said Maedhros under his breath. In any debate, Alqualondë was a cruel weapon indeed, a knot on the tongue; he wondered if they could ever untangle it.

“It happened thus that we gave up convincing Findaráto: a most grievous mistake,” Curufin spoke. His voice was gentler than Maedhros had expected.

Too gentle, he thought; but some deep fibre of his being suppressed that suspicion.

“Our time was growing short, and Findaráto seemed determined to go. We dreaded the day, Nelyo, when he and his army would flee for Angamando, and leave the city of Nargothrond unguarded; and it came far too soon indeed. And thus… at the last moment, out of desperation, we used the power of our voices to make the people stay: to save their lives. It was a grave deed, for we have spoken and acted against a King of the Eldar; but I am asking you, my brothers, I am asking you Lord Counsellor: were scorn, life threat and exile a fair punishment for such a debatable decision? Is it not enacted in the Laws of the Ñoldor that no one can be compelled to follow their lord into folly or cruelty?”

“Aye, Lordship, that is,” Counsellor Tyelcano said softly, “at least, in theory.”

“That theory should become practice, Lord Counsellor,” said Curufin proudly.

The Counsellor suddenly seemed to be listening far more intently than before.

“If the cause of authority is wrong,” Curufin went on, “otherwise treacherous deeds may prove valiant to impartial eyes. No one stands above law, and law is the command of reason and sanity. We did not let those people fall into darkness, we did not let them march to Angamando unguarded. We saved them from falling victim to Moringotto’s wrath, we saved them from dying in his dungeons. Findaráto took the best of his knights with him, all armed with the finest steel, a ray of light against the blackness of the Enemy’s malice; but his people did not follow him into madness. They were left to wait, devoid of hope; and who did their King leave behind to sit on his throne, to take his stead and rule...? His incompetent nephew! I would rather see a Dwarf dwell in fair Nargothrond’s halls than thin-voiced, stone-tongued Artaresto! That slow dullard! That...”

“Curvo,” said Celegorm. There was a soft motion under the table-cloth, and Maedhros suspected that he took the other by the hand.

“Right you are,” Curufin sighed, his face suddenly tired, his voice soft. “Ire has poisoned my tongue. Artaresto must have taken our deeds for cruel treason, and he might as well have acted out of grief and desperation…! Still, he ignored his duties and continued to pace back and forth along his halls like a ghost; and so it fell to us to govern the city. Our servants helped us greatly, and for that we could be thankful: the tasks were so numerous that we paid little heed to mourning King Findaráto. That time, we could not yet know what his fate would be; but deep in our hearts, we all sensed he would die. Yet alas, we all know the ways of the people: they tend to exclude unpleasant matters from their everyday thoughts and wonderings, forgetting them as weeks pass by; yet when the time comes and their darkest forebodings are fulfilled, who is then to blame...?”

“Their King,” Celegorm answered the poetic question. “Or their leaders. Their lords – which meant us, in this unlucky case. Even under Findaráto’s rule, we had a place of honour in his council, and people loved us, people followed us. Until that fateful day…”

“...when news came of Findaráto’s death,” Curufin nodded. “Did it come as a surprise to any soul within the city’s walls? I sincerely doubt it. Yet people were outraged, and they mourned their king with great sorrow. Everything we had done to maintain order in Nargothrond seemed to be forgotten at once; and we were exposed, pillorized and pointed at. It was said that we had sent the King to exile by our evil machinations. I ask you, my brothers, I ask you, Lord Counsellor: was it not the pair of us who had most fervently opposed this Quest of folly at the first place? Was it not me, Curufinwë Fëanárion, who stood up against King Findaráto when he was already at the gates, amount his white stallion, and told him he was abandoning his duties as a ruler…? Half the city saw me standing there, uttering these words... yet alas, it would seem that some sort of dark magic, some sort of doom had fallen across Nargothrond. We were no longer loved; and Artaresto exiled us.”

“At least he did not let the guards shoot us,” said Celegorm. “For that much, we can be thankful.”

Silence followed these words; and Maedhros pondered everything that he had heard. Much had changed indeed: Curufin’s subtle voice had ravelled out the painful bogs in his thoughts. As if new perspectives of truth and reality had just opened before him...! He now understood rapports and coherencies he had never before taken in; and all at once, everything seemed so simple and evident.

Indeed, people were less wise than his brothers; they were Fëanor’s blood for a reason. Indeed they would wrongfully blame them! And indeed his brothers had to cruelly suffer in order to save the people – someone had to take the blame, and they were willing. They stood brave and tall, as Atar would have stood.

A vague impression floated through Maedhros’s mind; the mild suspicion of having forgotten something.

Something about woodelves, mayhaps?

His gaze wandered back and forth between his brothers’ faces, enticed by the expression he saw on them. Celegorm sat straight like a king robbed of his throne, discarded by his knights, alone with his selfless generosity; and Curufin was like a great scholar next to him, a master of crafts, a misunderstood soul: too proud to ask for understanding, yet too wary to demand respect.

“O, my brothers, my dear Lord Tyelco,” he said mournfully, “you cannot imagine how pained I was, how guilty I felt when I heard of Findaráto’s death! I should have convinced him somehow... some way... but he was a good king, and one of strong will. A worthy kinsman of ours: once he was determined to do a deed, nothing and no one could stand in his way. Unfortunately, not even Tyelkormo and Curufinwë from the House of the Star.”

Curufin bowed his head and Celegorm wrapped an arm around him, comforting him.

Counsellor Tyelcano was listening all the more intently.

“And that is not the end of the story,” Celegorm said. “When we were banished from Nargothrond, the folly of fear was so great in the hearts of the people that even our own servants betrayed us! They took us for traitors, for murderers. Not even Tyelpërinquar and Erenis were willing to follow us; in Nargothrond they remained, under the rule of Artaresto. It was with great pain that we parted from them, but we had no choice.”

“I paid a bitter price for my mistakes indeed,” Curufin agreed. “Forever I shall grieve for that day.”

When Curufin glanced up, Maedhros saw something in his eyes – a flicker that was definitely not one of grace, wisdom or sadness. It was cold, it was bright, and it was frightening; and he felt as though a veil of fog had lifted from his mind and his thoughts ran free, no longer anchored on empathy towards his brothers.

This moment was enough for him to perceive that something was fairly and truly missing from his brothers’ account – yet he could not guess what it was. The pieces adamantly refused to come together; did he not pay enough attention? Or could it be... maybe...

Suddenly, another disturbing feeling seized him: the nagging sensation of not seeing something that was right in front of his eyes. The aftermath of a forgotten impression, an important memory still lingered in his fëa, but he could not ease it back into his mind. Perhaps it was something about Thingol – but how on Arda would Thingol fit into this story...?

Maglor leaned towards Celegorm and Curufin and took their hands, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

“Oh, Tyelko, Curvo,” he whispered, “I am dreadfully sorry for what you had to endure. Where did you go afterwards? What did you do? O, dearest brothers, when did your fine garments become stinking rags?”

“That is not a story worth telling,” said Celegorm with a humble smile. “Snow, frozen rivers, lack of firewood and wolves – that is what one can expect from winter. Yet life got better in spring; and this last summer was a remarkably rich and beautiful one. Circumstances slowed us, and we lost our way as well, once or twice.”

“But we are here now,” Curufin added reassuringly, “here, under your care; and we have fine cloaks and leather boots to warm us up. We dine at your table and we sleep in your beds. It is good to have a warm home in such treacherous times!”

Maedhros felt another pang of disturbance in the back of his mind. He could remember perfectly well that Curufin had even refused at first to have a new cloak. He did not want to be helped, he did not want to be lectured and humiliated, as he put it.

What happened, then? Did the long desperate months take their toll? Did he merely speak out of wariness? Or perhaps out of relief that no matter what does he do, no matter what does he say, we, his brothers would still be there for him...?

That sounded far too emotional to be true.

Something is not right, Maedhros thought. I have forgotten something...

“There is a detail I have yet to understand,” said Counsellor Tyelcano.

“And what would that be, my good Counsellor?” Curufin inquired.

“Something must have caused such an indignation among the citizens of Nargothrond”, Tyelcano explained. “My heart wavers at the thought that you were so cruelly misjudged.”

There was an edge to his voice, Maedhros noticed. Could it be mockery? But where would his counsellor find the courage to mock the lords whose fathers he had been serving his whole life…?

“Such things, however unpleasant, have happened before,” Curufin lamented. “I cannot explain it any more than you, Counsellor; but surely, one who is so well-versed in the ways of intrigue and diplomacy as yourself, shall eventually find some sort of explanation.”

“Are you perfectly sure that nothing, nothing happened in Nargothrond that would make you traitors?” Tyelcano asked.

“We failed to protect Findaráto,” Celegorm offered.

“Anything else, I mean.”

“Nothing else we are aware of, Counsellor,” said Curufin softly. “I should have probably fought more to make my children see reason; but alas, I let them choose.”

“My interests,” said Tyelcano slowly, “lie still elsewhere.”

“I truly cannot think of anything else,” said Curufin.

“So if we leave the exile of Aran Findaráto out of consideration, nothing of your deeds in Nargothrond would make you traitors?”

“Nothing, Counsellor,” said the brothers in unison.

“And how about being liars?!”

“Liars!” Maglor exclaimed with indignation. “Be careful with your words, Lord Counsellor!”

Liars.

Maedhros shook his head. Why would Tyelko and Curvo be liars? He knew them since their birth, the very spring of their childhood. Surely he would perceive if they lied...? And why would they lie in the first place?

Still, I have forgotten something... something about Thingol...or was it Carnistir, perhaps?

Surely, that was Carnistir. I am being ridiculous.

“Counsellor,” said Maedhros sternly, “you will excuse yourself in front of my brothers. You have no right to accuse them so, especially not after the wrongs they have recently suffered. I am most displeased with your behaviour!”

“Is their power so great over you, my lord beloved?” Tyelcano all but shouted at him. “Do you not see how viciously are you, both of you, being misled?!”

Maedhros sprang to his feet, eyes alight with fury, towering above his Counsellor like a giant.

“This was the very first time you allowed yourself to speak to me in such a tone, servant of my House,” he said, “and the very last as well. Am I understood?”

“Not if I see your lordship in grave danger,” said Tyelcano. He withstood his lord’s gaze, though his voice trembled with emotion.

“In that case, you must leave us. Now.”

“My lord...”

“Leave!”

“Please, Nelyo, spare your wrath from our good old Counsellor,” said Curufin. “He wishes the best for you.”

“Sadly I hear that we have lost your trust and good will, Lord Tyelco,” Celegorm added with a sigh, “but such wounds cannot be healed in the heat of the present. With time, I am sure we shall be as good friends as before, and you shall learn to believe us anew.”

“Do you not see how cruel you are?” Maedhros snapped. “Thrice I command you: leave, Counsellor, and avoid my company for the next few days!”

Slowly, Tyelcano emerged from his chair, proud and unwavering.

And then, knelt before his lord.

“Never shall my faith or trust waver in you,” he said. “If you deem my words or deeds wrongful, I respect your judgement and I shall indeed leave; but for the sake of the countless years I have spent serving your family, Lord Nelyo, I beg you to take this letter, and read it again: read it, as you have read it to Lord Makalaurë an hour ago! Read it over and over, lest you forget what is truth and what is illusion!”

With that, he pulled out a thin scroll of parchment from under his cloak, and held it out to Maedhros, not flinching before his gaze.

I have forgotten something.

Maedhros took the parchment, and his eyes widened when he saw the flaking shards of wax around its seal.

It was Thingol’s seal, and it was broken.

The message had been read indeed.

“Nelyo, may I...?” Curufin shifted in his seat, a pang of uneasiness in his voice.

“No, lordship,” said Tyelcano starkly, “You may not.”

“You are being impossible, Counsellor!” Celegorm’s eyes flashed with anger. “Curvo only wants to help him!”

Maedhros almost winced in shame. Much like many, many other times since his rescue, he felt naked. Spoiled.

Exposed.

“I may be a cripple,” he said icily, “but I believe my condition is stable enough to be able to read a letter by myself!”

With that, he wedged the top of the parchment under his goblet, and unrolled it; and then, it all came back to him.

“Nelyo?” Maglor shifted closer to him, risking a feather touch on his shoulder. “Is aught amiss?”

“…now this is a most interesting take on the previously discussed events,” said Maedhros, his voice shaking with rage. “I cannot wait to hear what you will say to this.”

His brothers’ faces were pale, expressionless masks around him.

Maedhros rose, and started pacing behind the table: back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He shook out the parchment, and held it out far before himself. His pacing became slower, more controlled.

In the depths of his being, something trembled.

“To Maedhros, son of Fëanor, Lord of the Himring and Warden of the East,” he read in slightly accented Sindarin, “Elu Thingol, Lord of the Sindar, King of Doriath and Protector of the Woodland Realm sends his kind regards.”

He paused for a few moments, watchful for the others’ reactions. Maglor’s breath was caught in his thoat, Celegorm bit his lip, and Curufin crossed his arms.

Counsellor Tyelcano was still kneeling before him, his sword on the floor, his head slouched.

“…I turn to thee in an hour of dire need, for my heart is weary. The shadow of the Enemy grows, and so forth. I inform you with great displeasure that your two brothers, lords Celegorm and Curufin have kidnapped my daughter, and refused to return her home unless I grant Lord Celegorm her hand,” Maedhros read, theatrically outlining the words “displeasure”, “kidnapped” and “hand”.

“How could you...!” Maglor whispered, horrified. “You lied to us! You deceived and enchanted us!”

“I did not expect such irreverence from the proud Ñoldor; and by the laws and customs of my realm, I must thus deny any future union between our Houses,” Maedhros went on reading mercilessly. Later, at the mention of justice, Curufin shifted a little in his seat, and Celegorm buried his face in his hands.

Silence followed the lecture: deaf, icy, painful silence. Maedhros was struggled to keep his breathing even; hot claws of fury were gnawing at his stomach, and his fist clenched around the parchment.

“So?” He asked. “Will you say something, or should I rather acquaint you with the written testimony of Feredir, messenger of Doriath?”

“Why, Nelyo?” Celegorm shook his head. “Why play us for fools if you already knew everything?”

“To corner us!” said Curufin. “I should have guessed – and you know what is coming now. Our own brothers shall name us liars and murderers. They will never understand why we did what we did, and why we wanted to keep it in secret. That was a risk we took; and we did not succeed.” He looked Maedhros in the eye, and somehow, he still managed to look dignified. “Lay a trap for others, and ‘tis you who shall fall in it, or so the wise say; yet if I ever expected a trap, Nelyo, it was not laid by you.”

“How are you still capable of palliating yourself?!” Maglor exclaimed. “You shan’t fool us again! The power of your voice may be as great as Atar’s; but Atar was wronged, and blinded by pain when he used it. You, Atarinke, are simply being vicious.”

“Enough!” said Maedhros. “Tyelkormo and Curufinwë, do you have anything else to tell us? Anything true?”

“Naught,” said Celegorm.

Curufin shook his head as well.

“Then judge you I shall, by the laws of the Ñoldor and in the name of our House. Tyelkormo and Curufinwë from the House of Fëanáro, I gave you a chance to explain yourselves and acquaint us with your deeds. You have most cruelly misused that chance. The faith that began to waver in my heart when I heard of your deeds has now disappeared entirely! Brothers we may still be, but I trust you not.”

Maglor grabbed his hand under the table, and squeezed it so hard that Maedhros feared his fingers would break.

This must be done, Kano, and you know it, he thought. Please do not spoil it with your good-heartedness.

“I give you two options and three days to make a choice. The first one is the following: You shall no longer hold a place in my council. You will live under my roof and use the smithy, the garden, the stables, or whatever else you need; you will be fed, housed and garmented; but no one shall be put under your command, lest they choose so themselves. And the second one: your titles you may keep, your blazons you may still use; but you leave Himring in a week, and take no one with you. Once you have left, you cannot return; and come strife or danger, I shan’t protect you. I, Nelyafinwë, son of Fëanáro, have spoken, and you have heard me. Three days from now, you will decide, and this matter will be over; and now, I bid all of you to leave the Hall. We may still meet at the dinner table.”

Maglor was the first to move. He sprang from his chair and all but ran out the door, slamming it shut. Next in line was Celegorm; he bowed and followed his elder brother with long, measured steps, his face blank.

When Counsellor Tyelcano rose as well and took his sword, Maedhros caught his wrist, and looked him deep in the eye. After a few moments of fruitless struggle with words, he bowed to kiss his forehead.

“Thank you, wise one,” he whispered.

“That, Lord Nelyo,” Tyelcano said bitterly, “was not a counsel willingly given.”

“It served us well nonetheless. Go, my dear friend, find yourself some rest.”

It was more of a command than a simple request; and Counsellor Tyelcano knew him enough to feel the difference. He bowed and went on his way, swiftly and silently.

Only Curufin remained now. He sat in his chair still, his face buried in his palms.

Could he be…?

Maedhros had never seen Curufin cry; not when the Trees were destroyed. Not when their Grandfather was lying on a bier in the empty treasure-hold of Formenos. Not when the ships were burned.

Not even when their Atar evanished in a pile of ash.

“Curvo -,” Maedhros choked, not knowing what to do, not knowing what to say.

His brother lowered his hands, and Maedhros saw that his eyes were dry.

“I told Erenis that she was useless,” said Curufin, his voice frighteningly casual. “That she was good for nothing. And I told Tyelpë that he was only used in Nargothrond for his talent. That no one really loved him. I thought I was lying to protect them – that was what I tried to tell myself afterwards, either way. But now I am not so sure. I do not always notice when I am lying anymore.”

“Today, you did notice.”

“I saw the look on your face when we met, and I thought you knew. So did Tyelko. But when you offered us cloaks… when you were kind with us, cared for us, fed us and took us home with you, we were starting to have our doubts! I can see now that it was planned as well, and I hold no grudge for it. It had to be done. It worked; for indeed, we never believed that you would take us back in, if you… if you truly knew.”

“If you were only honest with me,” said Maedhros, “I would have let you word my answer to Thingol, and as rudely as you might have wished. Though he may have been wronged himself, a thief is still a thief.”

“What is done is done already,” Curufin shrugged. “And yet, I must tell you this: Tyelko was against my plans. He wanted to tell the truth… I insisted to lie. I was wrong, Nelyo; it never even crossed my mind that you would let us stay here if you knew.”

“You thought – what? That I would banish you? Disown you? Let you wander the wilderness on your own? You think I could live with that?”

“I no longer trust hearts or forgiveness, Nelyo. Not even yours.”

“I see,” said Maedhros.

When his brother spoke again, his voice was soft, almost pleading.

“I… the judgement is up to you, brother, but Tyelko does not deserve it. He was against me!”

“He let you convince him.”

“I have certain powers to convince people, Nelyo, and I am not afraid to use them, as you have just witnessed,” said Curufin said. “I am also splendidly capable of harnessing Tyelko’s passion and anger when it rises. He is everything I have, Nelyo, and his fate is in your hands: better than mine, in any case. Please, if there is any warmth left in your heart towards us, let him stay, and stay in honour! He does not deserve to lose your trust. I know he will choose to dwell in your halls; please, let him be useful! That is all I ask for.”

“What about yourself?” said Maedhros.

The dull ache in his chest was almost unbearable; and all he wanted was to embrace the brother he could not trust.

Just ask for my forgiveness, he pleaded in his thoughts. Admit your regret, Curufinwë! Just let yourself cry properly, and I shall gladly fall in your trap again. Stay with me!

And bitterly, his brother laughed.

“You know me, Nelyo! You know that I would occasionally cast honour aside for comfort or convenience; and that I would trade comfort for an empty title without a second thought.”

“Is that your last word?” said Maedhros.

“More might come; and they will please you not. Now go, big brother, fetch yourself some wine before you faint! It must be horrible to live with titles like Warden of the East, Enemy of the Enemy and Head of the House of Hopeless Morons.”

 

---

Chapter End Notes

- This is the opening scene of Maedhros's POV, but due to the course of events - as you may have noticed -, his usually very sharp and lively consciousness was now considerably dulled; so you could say that Maedhros, for the first time we encountered him as a central character, did not really feel like Maedhros (at least, not my version of him).

- The concept of Curufin's enchantment was strongly inspired by the following passage from 'The Two Towers' (don’t try to tell me there’s no connection between him and Saruman…):

"Suddenly another voice spoke, low and melodious, its very sound an enchantment. Those who listened unwearily to that voice could seldom report the words that they had heard; and if they did, they wondered, for little power remained in them. Mostly they remembered only that it was a delight to hear the voice speaking, all that it said seemed wise and reasonable, and desire awoke in them by swift agreement to see wise themselves. When others spoke, they seemed harsh and uncouth by contrast; and if they gainsaid the voice, anger was kindled in the hearts of those under the spell."

/ The Lord of the Rings, Book III, Chapter X.: The Voice of Saruman /

- About Curufin calling Orodreth a “slow dullard”, which sounds a tad too rude: excerpt from the Lay of Leithian, Canto IX [one of my favourite passages detected]:

Curufin spake: 'Good brother mine,  

I like it not. What dark design            (80)

doth this portend? These evil things,

we swift must end their wanderings!

And more, 'twould please my heart full well

to hunt a while and wolves to fell.'    

And then he leaned and whispered low          (85)

that Orodreth was a dullard slow;      

long time it was since the king had gone,      

and rumour or tidings came there none.