Many Journeys by Elleth

Oath Fulfilled

Originally written for 15_minute_fic at LJ, the prompt was 'acquire'. Maglor, and the Silmarils regained.

Their last bid was gambling on all or nothing.

It would have been easy, too easy, to walk away from it, but with that idea came the certainty that Maedhros was mad enough to attempt it alone. And besides, loneliness and several kinds of blood bound them together, and he had already abandoned him once. The thought of losing his last remaining brother nearly made his music fail. So did the thought of the Everlasting Dark. He feared it, and wondered if his father had known that as well, used that fear to coerce them all into action, and into fulfillment of the quest. Five, six, seven were dead already, doomed to that very dark if they were failed now. What was a little more blood on their hands in exchange for their family's freedom?

And so he had at last agreed. Ambarussa, smiling as they made a game of their revenge for losing the Silmaril again, and dying with that same smile on their faces, were fresh on his mind as he fought. So were Curvo, smirking and pressing a hand to his chest to stem the flow of blood (the healer, seeing him, shook her head mutely and reached for her herbs to ease the pain of his last few minutes) and Moryo, facedown and a pool of red beneath him, and so was Tyelko, run through by Dior's sword as Dior was by Tyelko's. And so, even centuries distant, was the sight of their father's body falling to ashes.

What was a little more blood on their hands in exchange for all of them? They gambled high and won, and Maedhros died with the Oath Fulfilled and the certainty that he would find the halls of Mandos, not the Void.

It would not be the Everlasting Dark for them, and that was a relief. But it would be something, being a minstrel, he feared more; the everlasting silence, or else the twisted tales of loremasters and bards that had only heard far rumours and made them history. What were the Silmarils returned into sky, earth and sea? Only the fate of the world fulfilled. There was no need to trouble himself over it any longer. What was a burned right hand in exchange for remembrance?

After a while he learned to play the harp one-handed. It would have to do. After all, he had not lost his voice.