Lessons from the Mountain by MithLuin

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Chapter 10: Prisoner

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Prisoner

Maedhros now wandered the Halls at will, not waiting for requests from others to leave his cell. But he was always sure to tell the North wall where he was going before he left. He was not sure if Námo had been serious about the problems he would cause if he met wandering Elves,…but he did not want to test the idea.

He often looked at Míriel’s tapestries, because they reminded him of his family. The ache of missing them had not diminished. If anything, seeing the twins made the loss of the others even keener. He had almost lost even them. It was not long before the residue of goodwill had worn off after their judgements. Then they had remembered that he was the one who led them to their deaths. They did not accuse him, precisely, but the anger was there, smoldering. He understood how deep it went when one day, Amras did not come. He resolved to let nothing stand between them, so went to visit both twins in their adjoining rooms. Without preamble, he told them of the War of Wrath and Morgoth’s defeat, his demand of Eonwë and the Herald’s response…and then, haltingly, how he had constrained Maglor to follow him in one last desperate act.

"We assaulted the host of the Valar," he said quietly. "We were mad, but they let us live. We fled with the Silmarilli – the two jewels that had remained in Morgoth’s crown all that time. And when we were alone, we divided them between us, like petty thieves dividing their swag. The jewels would not suffer our touch. It burned, burned my hand as black as Morgoth’s. I could not bear it, nor bear to let it go, and so I died. Maglor could not bear it either, but he lives on in pain."

The twins were silent after this tale, but the rift between the brothers was healed. Maedhros reflected ruefully that he preferred the days of their childhood, when such rifts could be settled by merely challenging them to a race and letting them win. Or when they grew older – trying his best to beat them.

The next time they visited together, they confided to him that Manwë had declared they could be rehoused whenever Námo deemed them ready. In all seriousness, Maedhros asked them, "Well then, what are you going to bribe him with?" He was punched in the shoulders for his audacity.

"Why would we want to leave?" Amrod asked in equal seriousness. "All of our family is here."

Maedhros frowned. "Here, but out of our reach. I fear that when you and Mother leave, I will be left alone."

Amras reassured him that it would be ages before Námo would deem them ready. "Three Kinslayings must take awhile to assuage. You can only die once for them."

Maedhros remained uncertain if he should be comforted by that thought or not. He had a long conversation with the puddle of water in his room about the payment of debts and guilt and innocence. He was not much wiser by the end, but he knew better than to demand answers about his brothers’ fates.

But his favorite place was still the courtyard Fingon had shown him with its fountain and benches, and that is where he headed today. There was an illusion of cool green plants there, though of course nothing grew in these Halls. He could close his eyes and pretend. He sat idly, longing for a time and place that would never return, and missing his absent brothers. He did not dare miss his father, but sometimes he would whisper to him when the pangs hit him. He wondered if Father could hear him…. But he supposed not.

At the sound of someone else entering his sanctuary, he opened his eyes. It was Fingon, whom he had not seen in a long, long time. Happily he sat up and smiled at his friend. "Come and sit with me," he said. Fingon walked over and gingerly took a seat. Maedhros looked at him curiously, thinking that something must be wrong. "What is it?"

"I’m leaving, Maedhros."

He went very still. He could not move or think.

"When?" he asked, after a time.

"Soon, I think," Fingon said quietly. "Námo told me that even Melkor was only held for three ages, so he supposed he had to let me go as well."

"Has it been three ages then?"

Fingon nodded. "I think so. Though he said the First Age counted for me."

Maedhros laughed, but it was strained. "You only died one hundred years of the Sun before the Age ended. Lord Námo is growing soft."

Fingon smiled ruefully. "I doubt it. When he told me, I insisted that I have a chance to take my leave. He threatened to make me wait another Age, but I went anyway. As it is, he said if he ever sees me again, I am here for the duration."

Maedhros’ eyes did not leave his lap. "At least I know two elves who will be here as long as I am," he said quietly.

"Two?" Fingon asked. "I know Míriel is here forever, but who else…oh."

Maedhros nodded. "My Father."

They sat in silence for awhile. At length, Maedhros looked up. "Soon, you will be able to see stars again." Fingon had not asked for his permission, and he would not have granted it anyway, but he could offer his friend this much congratulations. "And hear the wind whispering in the trees at night."

"And see a sunrise," Fingon continued. "And eat and drink…." He stopped. He would not taunt Maedhros with what he could never have again.

Maedhros did not notice. "And see Tirion-upon-Túna," he continued in a low voice. "The white city that we last saw lit by torches now gleaming in the sunlight." He sounded wistful. "But you will also have to meet the Noldor, and the Teleri, and for that," he looked Fingon in the eye, "I do not envy you. Here, I needn’t confront anyone who does not wish to see me. And I have not."

Fingon nodded. "I am ready, I think. I do not look for a welcome, but I will find my way."

Maedhros nodded. "Few could deny you. Of all of Finwë’s grandchildren, it was you who inspired people to love you. If only my brothers could have learned that lesson from you!" he added ruefully.

"Finrod was well-loved, do not forget," Fingon added. "I look forward to meeting him again. I wonder…I wonder if he will remember me after so long?"

"Do not be absurd. The memories of elves are not like Men, to forget all that was ever known in a single yen. Were you here for twice as many ages, Fingon the Valiant would not be forgotten."

Fingon smiled in response. "I will miss you," he said simply. The smile fell away.

Maedhros looked at Fingon intently. "Smile for me," he demanded. Fingon just gave him a puzzled look. "I must remember you until the end of Arda, and it is unlikely I will ever see you again. Smile for me!"

Fingon gave him a lopsided grin. "You will have all of your memories; you needn’t hoard this one especially." It was difficult to smile into Maedhros’ intense gaze. But Fingon took the opportunity to memorize his friend’s face. He, also, would be bereft until the end of Arda, though he did not dare remind Maedhros of that. "Perhaps," he said hesitantly, "there is something after Arda’s end."

They both stood, and stared at one another awkwardly. "This is the end," Maedhros said, reaching for Fingon’s right arm. "Namárië, dear cousin. May the Valar protect you."

But Fingon pulled him into a fierce hug. Maedhros felt as though the other elf were pulling his very essense to himself. "I will not forget you, my friend. I am sorry I ever had to hurt you."

"I do not miss my hand – either of them," Maedhros answered, finally smiling truly. Fingon had to laugh at that, though he flinched enough to let Maedhros know he would always regret that. "And at least you left me alive in the end – that is better treatment than I offered you."

"All faults are forgiven, now. I hold nothing against you."

"Nor do I you," Maedhros answered. They stepped apart, and then Fingon turned to go.

Maedhros had a strong urge to follow him, to tackle him and forbid him from leaving….but he could not deny his friend his very life. There was no life in these Halls. When Fingon was lost to sight, Maedhros collapsed onto a bench and did not move for days. He stared in front of himself, unseeing, trying to understand the double loss of the dead being parted from the living. He could make no sense of it.

He did not look up until he heard someone calling his name. He was disconcerted, but it seemed he had been called several times.

"I am here," he said, looking around.

A Maia stood by the fountain. "Lord Námo would like for you to return to your own hall now," he said, bowing respectfully.

Maedhros blinked. And blinked again. It was then that he noticed that seeing and not-seeing were not tied to whether or not his eyes were open. A very novel idea, but not one he ought to be thinking about at the moment. "Where am I?" he asked, bemused.

"In the Halls of Mandos," the Maia answered uncertainly.

Maedhros grimaced. "I did not forget that." He stood up. "Though, I am not certain I can find the way back today…"

The Maia offered to guide him, and he went back to his room in a daze, drifting through tapestry-covered halls without seeing them. As soon as the door closed behind him, he threw himself on the floor and wept. Never again was something he had hoped never to contemplate again, and instead, all his thoughts were of what could never be.

"I will never forget him. Never. Not though twelve times twelve ages pass. My dear brave cousin who rescued me when I had no hope for myself."

"Do you swear it?"

Maedhros drew himself up to his knees. "Leave me alone," he said darkly. "I make no oaths. It is simply true that I will never forget him. You are not the only one who can speak dooms. I will not forget my own name, and I will not forget his face – unless you stoop to Morgoth’s level."

"That will never be," the Vala assured him gravely, though he did not seem angry. He also did not seem to leave.

"Why are you here?" Maedhros asked. He wanted to beg him to leave, but he would not, at least, not yet.

"To request a favor of you."

Maedhros stopped. Stopped moving, stopped thinking, simply stopped. "What can I do for you, my Lord?" he asked in an altered voice. A thrill of fear ran through him, and he did not know why.

"I would like for you to visit an elf who will not listen to me."

Maedhros gave the Lord of Mandos a wry look. "I am hardly as intimidating as you."

"Perhaps not," Námo’s face remained grave, but his eyes were grinning. Hard to see how he could do that. "But I would like for you to try, nonetheless."

Maedhros stood up shakily. "Now?" Námo nodded. "What…what should I say?"

"Whatever seems best to you."

Maedhros felt he was walking in the dark again. He did not know what the problem was nor what was expected of him – not even who the elf was. Suddenly, that seemed important. "Is it a Noldo?" he asked.

Námo nodded. "No more questions. You will see how things are when you arrive. Ránevaryar will guide you."

Maedhros opened his door, and found that the Maia who had guided him back from the fountain was standing there. They went in a direction that Maedhros had never gone before, past many halls without tapestries, until they reached another hall with doors. This time, Ránevaryar withdrew a key from his robes and unlocked the door. "If you need anything, simply call," he said. Hoping he was ready for whatever was awaiting him, he opened the door and stepped inside.

The room was very dim, so he was looking through a grey mist. An elf lay unmoving on a pile of rags on the ground. Not wanting to startle him, he called out a greeting in Quenya. The head jerked up, and he noticed two things at once.

The clink of chains as the elf shifted his arms and legs.

And Caranthir’s eyes staring back at him.

They stared at one another for a moment in shock, and then without realizing it, Maedhros crossed the distance between them and gathered his brother into his arms. He held him tightly and wept. He could not help but be reminded of Menegroth, where he had found Caranthir’s body. His brother had died alone.

At last he drew back, holding his brother’s shoulders at arm’s length and looking at his face. "Caranthir, what has happened?" he asked in distress.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," Caranthir answered in a bitter voice.

"But why are you in chains?" Maedhros pressed, shocked and ready to be angry on his brother’s account.

"He said I would stay this way until I was ready to be reasonable," Caranthir stated.

"Who?" Maedhros asked, though he thought he knew the answer.

"The Doomsman. "

"What…what did you do?"

"Something stupid," Caranthir muttered, but did not elaborate.

"Well, I am sure you will not do it again." Maedhros stood, and went to the door. "Ránevaryar!" he called. "I need the key for the chains."

He handed them over at once, much to Maedhros’ surprise. He had expected to be told he could not have them. He wasted no time in freeing Caranthir’s hands and feet.

They sat on the floor facing one another. Finally, Caranthir spoke. "I suppose you died, then." Maedhros nodded. "In Doriath?" He shook his head. "Can you tell me of the others?"

Maedhros hesitated. Could he? "I…do not know," he said helplessly. Caranthir did not know that the twins and their mother were dead. Should he tell him? Desperately, he cast about for some news that was less dire. "Finrod has been re-embodied," he said brightly.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Caranthir muttered.

"And Fingon…" he whispered, choking.

"Is Father here?" Caranthir demanded. Maedhros nodded. "Have you seen him?"

He shook his head. "No, not yet."

"I have not seen anyone," Caranthir complained. "He’s kept me locked up in this prison cell since I died. Do you know how long that’s been?"

"Two Ages," Maedhros said absently, remembering his earlier conversation with Fingon.

"I’m going to go crazy if he doesn’t let me out soon."

"Did he tell you why he wouldn’t let you out?" Maedhros asked warily.

"He said I was a prisoner until I submitted to the Valar’s judgement. They can force me, but I will never submit willingly."

Maedhros stared at his brother in shock. "You…you haven’t been judged yet?"

Caranthir shook his head, suddenly embarrassed, and therefore angry. "And so? Why should I accept their judgement? I know they have already condemned me."

"We have condemned ourselves," Maedhros said, not realizing he was quoting Lord Námo.

Caranthir looked at him warily. "What has happened to you, brother?"

"Nothing. I died, of course," Maedhros admitted. "And I did face my judgement, because I hoped I might see you again. Lord Námo said I could not see any of my family until after I faced the Valar."

"Then why can I see you?" Caranthir asked. Maedhros could not tell if he were suspicious or confused.

"I do not know…but I suspect it is because you did not cause my death." Maedhros answered quietly.

Caranthir laughed at him. "You did not cause my death either, dear brother. Do not be absurd."

Maedhros shook his head. "Did you follow my leadership all your life?"

"You know I did," Caranthir answered.

"Then your death is on my head, for I gave the orders to attack Doriath."

"Is that what judgement teaches you? That everything is your fault?" Caranthir countered.

"No…but the Valar are surprisingly good at seeing the truth of things," Maedhros answered ruefully. "All illusions burn away under Varda’s gaze, and Manwë utters no falsehoods."

"That is not what I have been told. I hear that the elves who are judged fall to the floor and beg and blubber because of tricks the Valar pull."

"Where did you hear that?" Maedhros asked, surprised.

Caranthir refused to answer. "Tell me what it was like for you," he countered.

Maedhros went still. "Unpleasant. And…exhausting." He looked at the stump of his left hand. "The pain was my own, though, nothing they subjected me to."

"But did you stand through it all? Did you cry?"

"What business is that of yours?" Maedhros asked. "Face it yourself, and then we shall compare notes. Do not let it be said that any Son of Fëanor feared to face the Valar."

"I’m not afraid!" Caranthir shouted, leaping to his feet.

"No?" Maedhros asked. "Then why are you questioning me like a maiden before her wedding night? Just do it and be done with it."

"What would you know of such things?" His brother said in scorn.

"I’ve spoken to Míriel," Maedhros answered quietly.

"Our…grandmother?" Caranthir said in shock.

"Yes. I’m sure she would have visited you, but you have a lock on your door, because you are too stubborn to do as you’re told."

"Oh, that is rich, coming from you! You are nothing if not stubborn."

"At least I did not let my pride reduce me to this!" he shouted back, standing and gesturing at the mean cell. "My room has light in it, light that I brought with me when I came here."

"What light is that?" Caranthir asked.

"The light of a Silmaril, mingled with fire," Maedhros answered. "I will show you, when you are free of here."

Caranthir laughed at him. "Easy for you to say! You fulfilled the Oath, it seems, while I died leaving it unfulfilled. If I face the Valar, I have only the Eternal Darkness to look forward to, not a return to these Halls. So keep your curséd light!" He spat at Maedhros’ feet. The gesture was not as effective without any real spit, but Maedhros understood his intent clearly enough.

"Fool. You only face the Eternal Darkness if you refuse their judgement. That is why Lord Námo chained you, isn’t it? To keep you from fleeing…"

"He told you?" Caranthir asked, enraged. "That was no business of yours!"

"He told me nothing, not even who was in this cell. He merely said that you had not listened to him." Maedhros sighed, and his anger vanished as suddenly as it had come. "I only knew because I too feared the Eternal Darkness when I came here, and I too had to learn the hard way that it was not the Valar I should fear, but myself."

He looked at Caranthir for a long time, contemplating. Caranthir said he had met no one here, but Maedhros could guess who had given him such a dim view of judgement. He’d been forced to listen to that Voice while he was chained on Thangorodrim, and the thought of his brother seeking that out as an escape….

"Answer for your deeds, and do not sit in fear," he said at last. Caranthir said nothing. "If you do not, I will put the chains back on you, because I will not lose a brother to the Darkness through any carelessness of mine."

Caranthir chuckled, and it was an odd sound. "Where were you when the darkness of death took me, eh? You could not protect us all, could you, older brother?"

"No, none of you," Maedhros answered, suitably cut. He had forgotten his earlier hesitation to speak of this.

"None? " Caranthir asked sharply. "Did we all die, then?"

"No. Maglor lives still, though his path will be the hardest of any of us."

"Only…only Maglor?" Caranthir went pale.

"I will tell you what happened, when you are ready to hear it," Maedhros said wearily. Námo had said he should say whatever seemed best, after all. "When you are free of this place, you may even visit the twins, who will be glad at the sight of you."

"I…I don’t want to be judged!" Caranthir whined. It would have been funny, to see him acting like a child again, but Maedhros did not miss his brothers’ tantrums.

"Do you want to be chained, then?" he said, exasperated.

"So you think you are a match for me?"

Maedhros drew himself up to his full height. "Yes, I do. If I could take you on left-handed, I am sure I could chain you right-handed. But there is a Maia at the door who would intervene if we started fighting."

"Your…right hand. Where did that come from?" Caranthir asked stupidly. He had not noticed before.

"We’re dead, silly. Did you think cutting my hroa would injure my fëa?"

"Then…what happened to your left hand?" Caranthir asked uneasily.

"I…" Maedhros blushed suddenly. "I…did something stupid." He shook his head. "So, do you want to stay chained in here for another Age?"

"No…I want…to live again." He bowed his head.

"That I cannot promise you. But if you would know your fate, you must face Lords Manwë and Námo. The Valier are not so bad, but I will warn you that Varda’s gaze is unbearable and…the Lady Vairë doesn’t like me very much," he confided in a whisper.

Caranthir smiled at that. "I suppose…it cannot be much worse than staying locked in here. And I am already dead – what more can they do to me?"

"I cannot go with you," Maedhros said with some regret. Should he warn Caranthir about the affect of learning the truth? "But…I can wait here for your return. Would you like me to?"

Caranthir nodded.

"I’ll even let you beat me up, if you still want to." That elicited the smile he hoped for. They embraced, and when Caranthir stepped back, he disappeared.

Maedhros picked up the chains, and the key, and returned them to Ránevaryar. The Maia bowed, and planned to resume his post.

"I will wait here until my brother returns. You need not wait for me."

Somewhat surprised, Ránevaryar departed.

He walked idly about the cell for awhile, knowing that he would have a long wait. He was amused to find that Caranthir’s cell was exactly the same size as his. But the walls were different, having recesses evenly spaced throughout and being made of a different type of stone. He thought there were no colors in it, but he could not be sure in the dim light. Torches or lamps in the recesses would not be remiss, he thought.

He then examined the pile of rags. They were filthy, but not too ragged. He did not want to know where they had come from, or how they had gotten so dirty. But it probably would not be too difficult to clean them….

"Ránevaryar, if it is not too much trouble, can I have a bucket of soapy water?" he asked. Well, if the Lord Námo could hear him, then perhaps his servants could too?

He did not have to wait long, though he was surprised to hear a key turn in the lock before the door was opened. "So, I am locked in?"

Ránevaryar nodded. "But here is your bucket. Did you want to leave?" Maedhros shook his head.

As soon as he left, Maedhros realized he should have asked for a bucket of clean water as well. Ah, well. He laid the rags out on the stone floor, and poured the soapy water on them, one at a time. He scrubbed them vigorously, so the dirt ran away in trickles. When he finished, he stuffed them in what was left of his soapy water to soak. Having run out of tasks to do, he soon became restless. Where was Caranthir? How long could it take to go over his life?

And what if it did not go well?

After all, his own judgement was far from pleasant, now that he thought about it. And Caranthir was…well, Caranthir would not take it well if they made a fool of him. He may have earned the beating he had offered to submit to. But if it kept Caranthir free of the Outer Darkness, it would be worth it.

But where was he?

He stopped his restless pacing, and was ready to call for the bucket of clean water, when he suddenly was not alone any more.

The Lord of Mandos stood before him, with Caranthir’s limp body in his arms.

Maedhros cried out – in fear or surprise, he was not sure.

"Hush, he is resting," Námo scolded softly, putting Caranthir down gently on the stone floor.

Maedhros just blinked in surprise. What, precisely, had he expected?

Námo stood and looked at him. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"What? Oh, I…" Maedhros did not know what to say. The idea that he had done a favor for the Lord of Mandos was just too…too…surreal. "You are welcome, my Lord," he finally managed.

"You will wait for him to awake?" Námo asked, though Maedhros was certain he already knew the answer.

"Yes. I told him I would. And…I am in no hurry to be anywhere else."

Námo’s eyes glittered in the dim room. "Do you require anything?"

"Oh! Yes. A bucket of clean water. And lamps for the alcoves. Or torches, if that would be easier."

"I will have them brought," Námo agreed.

"Wait…did it go…well?" Maedhros asked.

"Caranthir will tell you himself when he awakes," was the reply. Maedhros sighed. He should not have expected a clear answer.

"Thank you for letting me see my brother, my Lord," he said instead. "I may not be as intimidating as you are, but Caranthir has been accustomed to listening to me since he was a small child. A distinct advantage."

"Agreed. If only my little brother would listen to me," he added, and then left. Maedhros still did not know how to react to the Vala’s jokes, and was left pondering it in silence. An image sprang up in his mind of Irmo, Lord of Lorien, as a child sulking in his room and refusing to come out, while Námo, Lord of Mandos (but only four feet tall) stood on the other side and threatened him with various dooms if he did not…. Well, he hoped none of the Valar could read his mind at that moment.

Then the bucket of water arrived.

He rinsed out each cloth and wrung it out as best he could with only one hand. Then he laid them flat on the floor to dry. Just as he finished, the lamps arrived, and he set one in each alcove. He would have liked to have hung them, but he had no hooks. They brightened the room considerably, and he hoped Caranthir would be pleased with the improvement. As he had thought, the walls were not patterned or colored, but a solid grey. The floor, though, was made of different stones in no pattern that he could discern.

He settled down on the floor, and watched his brother intently. Caranthir’s face was relaxed and peaceful. Maedhros could not remember when he last saw it that way. He was not sure what to expect when his brother awoke, but still he sat watching him. He was still as death, but…they were both dead, so it was not that surprising. For a fleeting moment, he worried that Caranthir might never awake, that this senselessness was his doom.

But he could not bring himself to think that of the Valar. Their cruelty took different forms. Lord Námo did not lie; if he had said Caranthir would awake, then he would.

Finally, Caranthir stirred. And when he sat up, he saw his brother and recognition lit his face. "Maitimo! You’ve waited for me!"

Maedhros grinned back. "I told you I would."

Then Caranthir looked around his cell. "It’s…different."

"I couldn’t do much with it. My plans aren’t very well thought out these days," Maedhros admitted. "But I hope you like the light."

Caranthir nodded. "I missed light…." He looked more closely. "Why, it’s my lamps! You remembered!"

Maedhros looked again, and suddenly remembered that Caranthir had had lamps just like these in his room in Tirion, before they removed to Formenos. Their light was bluish, caught in a fine mesh of wire behind frosted glass.

"I merely requested lamps," Maedhros admitted reluctantly. "The thoughtfulness of providing these must be credited to Lord Námo."

Caranthir paused, thoughtful. "Hmmm. I never would have thought…."

"I would not have expected anything I have found in these Halls. And I still do not understand how things work here," Maedhros said in exasperation…though he was smiling.

"I will have plenty of time to learn with you," Caranthir said quietly.

Maedhros went very still. "Why is that?" he asked cautiously.

"It is unlikely I will ever meet the demands of the Valar," he replied with a quirk of his mouth.

Maedhros nodded, not pressing him for any details. "So…do you want to beat me up?" he asked instead.

Caranthir leaped to his feet and laughed, then tackled his brother for the sheer joy of it. Laughing turned out to be his undoing, for Maedhros soon pinned him. "I thought you were to let me win?" he gasped out.

"I forgot," Maedhros smirked, and then found himself flipped over. "I suppose the guard left."

"It seems that way," Caranthir agreed. "Though there is no door…"

Maedhros took advantage of his distraction to escape. "Of course there is a door," he said, smoothing his clothes. "How do you think I got in?"

"I don’t know…I was rather confused by that earlier. But why can I not see it?"

"I could not see my door at first, either," Maedhros reassured him. "When you can see it, you can leave this room."

"An efficient system," Caranthir admitted. He surveyed his room again. "What are the buckets for?" he asked, noticing them off to the side.

"I was washing your…rags…while I waited," Maedhros admitted.

Caranthir looked over the cloths that were drying and laughed suddenly. "Rags? Are you blind?" Maedhros looked back, and still only saw an assortment of cloths, now jumbled from their earlier tussling. "Those are the pieces of a standard."

Sure enough, they were all the right colors to make the standard of the House of Fëanor. He picked up one piece and looked at it more closely. It was even cut in the correct shape, it seemed. He had been blind, to miss that! "It was dark while I was washing them," he defended himself sheepishly.

Caranthir picked them up one at a time. "If I had some thread and a needle, I could put it together, I suppose." He frowned. "Well, it would give me something to do while I wait!"

"I have neither, but I know who can help us." He looked up. "Lady Míriel!" he called.

"Does she just come when she’s called?" Caranthir asked in surprise.

"Everyone here does, if they give you permission to call them."

"Even…Lord Námo?" he asked skeptically.

"Only when he wants to," Maedhros admitted. "But you can still call him, if you wish."

"No, thank you," Caranthir said politely. "I…heard enough from him at my judgement to last me for a long while."

There came a knock on the door, and Maedhros opened it. He was relieved that he was no longer locked in. Míriel looked at him in surprise. "Oh, it is you! I wondered who was over here…"

Then she stepped into the room, and saw Caranthir. Her face lit up in recognition. "May I present my brother Carnistir?" Maedhros said by way of introduction.

"Lady Míriel," Caranthir said, bowing politely, but otherwise lost for words.

She fussed over him, and Maedhros explained that they wanted a needle and thread to make the standard. She considered the request and promised to fetch Caranthir what he needed. Before too long, Caranthir’s attention wandered. So they bid him farewell, both promising to come if he called. And Maedhros said he would bring the twins next time. Then they left him.

Míriel insisted on walking Maedhros back to his room. He was glad of her company, for he did not know where he was going. And in truth, he had been alone for quite some time.

"What is troubling you?" Míriel interrupted his thoughts.

He frowned at her. "Findekáno has been re-embodied. My brothers assure me they will be here for a long time, but that is not forever. I fear I will lose them all again….all but you," he amended.

She looked at him, and smiled sadly. "There is nothing I can say to reassure you. It is painful to lose those we have gained. But I will say, Maitimo, that I am glad to know that I will never lose you."

He was not much comforted by her words.

---

The twins were happy to see him again, and pestered him for an explanation of his long absence. When he told them about Caranthir, they demanded he take them to see him as soon as possible. So they visited, all four of them together, and Maedhros forgot his cares watching his brothers. Míriel had brought Caranthir his supplies, and he had started on the banner. Caranthir had always been closer to the twins than to his older brothers, so Maedhros was not surprised when his youngest brothers promised to return as soon as possible. No one mentioned Nerdanel yet.

Back in his room, alone, he had the opportunity to put his thoughts in order. He was not pleased with his lack of foresight and planning. Too much of what he did of late seemed haphazard and impulsive.

He turned to the North wall. "My Lord, I have two other brothers in your care. You know that my mother would be pleased to have news of them, but I would not have her disappointed. If there is anything I can do to make the news good, please, let me know."

He looked at his pillow again. Celegorm and Curufin. They would not be happy to see him, he knew. Truth be told, he was nervous to see them. They had died in bitterness and anger. Who knew what they were like here?

 

---

Chapter End Notes

Ránevaryar means "Protector for the Wandering Ones" and was coined by Alec Bisan as a translation of Faramond. See the Quenya Lapseparma.

Caranthir was married; this was mentioned somewhere in HoME.  This isn't relevant to this story, but is another difference between him and Maedhros, and might explain a couple of their comments here.