Lessons from the Mountain by MithLuin

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Chapter 4: Doom

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"Ready? I truly do not know how I could be. But I will listen." He threw his shoulders back and drew himself up to his full height, head erect.

Suddenly, the Ring of Doom was suffused with light. For the first time, he could clearly see each Vala seated on a throne. The full weight of this moment fell on him, and he shuddered. His fate was not in his hands; it was in theirs.

"First, you will face those of your victims who are willing to face you," the Lord of Mandos said. Maedhros had no desire to see those whose deaths he had caused, but he was not afraid of them, either. After all, he had seen all of them before – in the moment they had died.

First came the elves of Alqualondë, who were mostly silent, though their looks were accusing. He found himself counting them, just to see. But then he remembered that these were only the ones who wished to look on him, and gave up. He was surprised to see elves of Formenos who had drowned on the ships, though less surprised to see the ones who had died with Fëanor. Then came his troop that fell when he was taken. He took a deep breath – nearly all of them were there. The captain Carnildo stepped forward. "My lord, forgive us for not saving you from the demons of fire." Maedhros bowed low before them. "I hold you guiltless in all that happened that day, and after. Forgive me for leading you rashly to your deaths." They kneeled, and were gone. The procession was long, for the years that followed in the Hither Lands were full of death and destruction, and he was the Lord of all the Fëanoreans, and thus responsible for all that happened in East Beleriand. Soldiers and innocents, young and old – even some Children of Men and dwarves joined the procession. Some were silent, their faces sad, or even full of pity. Others were enraged, or barely contained their anger and resentment. He forced himself to remain silent and not respond to any barbs that were slung at him. Well he knew that he had an audience, and that those on the thrones would decide his fate, not his victims. At the last came those who had fallen in the Kinslayings of Doriath and the Havens. These were hardest to look at, but he steeled his heart and regarded them all impassively.

But then at the last, two young elflings stood hand in hand between the thrones of Manwë and Varda, gazing at him uncertainly. They took a few tentative steps forward, but did not speak. Maedhros looked on them in horror.

"No! These are not mine!" he shouted, his eyes wild. "I did not leave them to die, I did not order it. I slew the elves who did this! I tried to find them, but I could not. Why do you bring these specters before me? Why?" For the first time, he reached for the sword that was not there, and cursed when the pain from his left hand shot through his arm.

"Children, tell him what happened the day you died," the Lord of Mandos commanded.

In a voice that was very young, but not the least bit childish, one of the twins answered. "We were with Atto when the horn sounded. He commanded the servants to take us to the Cave that could be locked, our safest stronghold. He stayed with his warriors."

His brother took up the story. "We hurried along the corridors until we reached our hiding place, but it was nearby, so we were soon safe. We heard the sounds of battle, but the servants bid us be silent. We were not there very long when Atto’s swordsmen banged on the heavy door and demanded we let him in, too. It was crowded with his warriors in there, but we were glad he was no longer in the battle."

"Then someone else banged on the door," his twin resumed. "But he spoke funny. Our Atto looked for a place for us to hide, but the best we could do was crawl behind shields in back of the servants’ legs. The door shuddered as if a giant were pounding on it. All day the pounding continued, until the door finally splintered apart in shards of twisted metal and chips of flying wood. The battle was fierce, for there was no room in the cramped quarters. The leader of the enemy was tall and fair, like father, but he was dressed in black and all his warriors had dark hair and fell voices. Father fought the leader, and killed him. We hoped that then the other warriors would run away, but they cried out in anger. Two of them attacked Atto, and…" he trailed off, starting to sob.

"They killed him," whispered his brother, and the rage in his voice was truly frightening in one so young. "Our warriors tried to save him, but all they could do was kill his murderers. There were too few of them, and they soon fell. Then, only the unarmed servants were left."

His brother sniffled. "But they killed them too! So then it was only us. We tried to stay hidden, but they searched the whole room, and found us. They even kept searching after they found us. We could not have hid from them."

"We were afraid, but they were afraid, too. They did not know what to do with us. They kept looking at our father, and their fallen lord. Then one of them said, ‘I dare not bring word to the Lord that his brother is dead.’ The others said, ‘The Silmaril is not here. He will be wroth.’"

"Then one seized me in his anger, and would have run me through, but the others forbade him. The first one who spoke took me and Elurín and said, ‘I will dispose of the wood-elf’s whelps. You can tell our Lord the news.’ Two others agreed to go with him, so they carried us out of Menegroth, then binding our eyes, took us into the wood. When they finally stopped, it was night. They tied us to a tree, and said, ‘Let the woods keep them.’ Then they left us, and it was bitter cold. We wept for our family and for ourselves."

"When we woke we were so cold, but also thirsty. Eluréd broke the clasp on his cloak, and with the sharp edge, we were able to free ourselves. We went in search of a stream, but I don’t remember ever finding one. We were tired and cold, so we lay down together to sleep… and then our spirits fled to him." He pointed at Mandos, who looked at them. Maedhros had to look away. His eyes jerked back when he heard the voice of Mandos.

"So you see, these are yours, most assuredly, eldest Son of Fëanor and Lord of the Fëanoreans. They are just the bitterest fruits of the Kinslaying you ordered."

He had no answer for the Vala. He dropped to his knees and rocked back on his heels. Looking at the young boys gravely, he said, "Come here." Such was the power of his voice in life that few would disregard his commands. Hesitantly, the twins took a few steps closer to him, then looked back to Mandos. Maedhros did not know what the Vala did, for he did not take his gaze from the young elflings. But they each took a deep breath and crossed the remaining distance to where he waited within the Ring. Maedhros reached out his right hand hesitantly, and very softly touched the hair of Eluréd, tucking it away from his face. He shivered at the contact; it was the first time he had touched someone since his death. "I am truly sorry," he said quietly. "I did not mean for your father to die. It is a terrible thing to lose a father, and you should have had many more years with yours. I looked for you, but I could not find you."

"Who are you?" asked Elurín in confusion. "I have never seen you before."

Maedhros looked at him gravely. "I am the older brother of the elf who killed your father. It was to me that your killers feared to bring the news." Elurín recoiled in horror, but Maedhros restrained him. "Do you wish to avenge your father’s death?" he asked.

"The elves who killed him are already dead," Eluréd pointed out, still sniffling.

"And so am I," Maedhros said with a crooked smile. "But my fate has not yet been decided. You know the Lord of Mandos, and he will not refuse to listen to your request. Whatever vengeance you wish to see, you must tell him now."

"Why are you saying this?" Elurín asked, forgetting to pull away.

"I must accept whatever doom the Valar speak, whether I will or no. But I will gladly accept whatever judgement you render against me, sons of Dior, if only you will hold my debt paid." With that, he let go of Elurín’s arm. But the brothers did not flee.

"Our father taught us to say ‘All is well,’ when someone says ‘I am sorry,’" Eluréd remarked thoughtfully.

"Your father was noble," Maedhros said, swallowing. "But all is not well. You are dead." Weeping, he pulled both of them to his chest in a fierce hug.

"Farewell," he said, releasing them. "You are remarkably like to your sister-sons." They looked bemused by that. "Go on, talk to Mandos now." He shooed them towards the throne of Mandos, then let his own head drop, overwhelmed by grief.

He did not look up, so he did not see the two boys scramble onto the throne and be gathered into the Vala’s lap. Even his elven ears did not catch their whispers. But then Mandos laughed, and the sound was both alarming and terrible, but full of joy. Maedhros looked up quickly, forgetting his own grief, indeed forgetting himself. The Lord of Mandos kissed the brow of each elfling, and they vanished. Maedhros wanted to ask what torment they had devised for him, but could not form the words.

***

"We have now heard your tale, and you have seen your victims," Manwë said. "Answer our last questions carefully."

Maedhros did not stand, but braced himself with a deep breath.

"Maitimo, have you a mother?" Nienna asked.

He looked at her in confusion. "The Lady Nerdanel, who dwells in Tirion," he replied slowly, trying to heed the warning he had been given.

"Why have you never mentioned her, Son of Fëanor?" she continued.

"She and my Father quarreled. I last spoke to her before we removed to Formenos." This was all true, but also well-known. He had been told she spoke to his father during the muster of the Noldor in Tirion, but he had not seen her then.

"And have you only one grandfather?" she added.

"No! My grandfathers are Finwë, first King of the Noldor, and Mahtan the Smith, of the Aulendilli." He was careful to say no more, though he was starting to see where this line of questioning was headed.

"Did your love of your Father and your brothers blind you to all other loves? Did you forget the rest of your family?" Nienna asked, her voice laced with sorrow.

Maedhros looked down. "I did not forget them," he said quietly. "But the path to Endórë led me far from them. I would be ashamed to face them today. But…I do miss them." This last was barely a whisper.

Each of the Valar in turn questioned him about one aspect of his life. Some of the questions he expected; others surprised him.

Vana wanted to know about his brother Maglor’s foster sons, while Nessa asked him about his source of strength while he was recuperating in Hithlum. Estë asked him about his dreams in Aman, of all things. He was starting to think that the Valier were not all that bad.

Aulë asked him about Himring, which surprised him, but he admitted that that was the one place he had considered home. Mandos asked him why he never foreswore his Oath, and he had to look down while saying that he feared the Eternal Darkness more than he feared the wrath of the Valar or death. Irmo of Lorien asked him whom he spoke with at the Mereth Aderthad, which led to a discussion of why he had brought only Maglor with him, and his vision of the realms in Exile.

Yavanna asked about his hopes during the long peace, and tried to draw a parallel to the rising of the Sun, though he did not understand the connection. Vairë asked him why he did not heed the message of Eonwë after the War of Wrath, and with that question he revised his assessment; some of the Valier were not that bad.

Tulkas asked him about fighting left-handed, and he suspected that the question was due to honest curiosity rather than any significant meaning or bearing on the current judgement. He smiled wryly. Morgoth was the exact opposite of Tulkas as a warrior – all cunning and strategy, with no personal bravery. Oromë asked about Nargothrond, which was odd, since he had never been there.

When Ulmo spoke, he winced, fearing his displeasure, but the question was truly an odd one. "When did you lose your delight in the things of earth?" He wanted to say, "I never did," but he knew the question deserved more consideration than that. He had become weary long before the end, and tormented so that few things gave him pleasure, and few people brought a smile to his face. But…he never truly lost that, did he? "I always took comfort in Maglor’s voice. Even…even at the bitter end. The rising of Eärendil’s star filled my heart with wonder and delight. I never became blind to beauty, though as I became weary I failed to be roused by it. All food tasted like dirt after the Havens. But I shut out the sound of the Sea after Losgar, and so I must suspect that was the answer you were looking for, Lord." When he followed up the question with, "Did you fear me, or your Father?" Maedhros did not know how to answer. "Now, I fear you. My Father has little power over his sons from the Halls of Mandos." He had noted that his Father’s fëa was not among those who had processed before him; neither were any of his brothers’.

Only Manwë and Varda refrained from questioning him, and for that, he was glad.

***

"Stand," Manwë said, and Maedhros obediently scrambled to his feet. Gone was the haughty prince who had faced them earlier. He looked now as a humble page, patiently awaiting the word of his lords.

"It grieves me that you did not make use of the reprieve I granted you," Manwë said sadly. "Even after you saw so clearly what fate awaited you. There are indeed many chances in the world, but we had hoped you would have turned away from the path you chose."

"You fought so valiantly to avoid becoming Morgoth’s thrall," Varda continued. "But did you not see that only a thrall of Morgoth would have kept your blasphemous Oath?"

Maedhros looked up into the face of Varda, and immediately regretted doing so. Her gaze pierced him to the core; he felt stripped of everything. If he had not already been dead, he would have given up the ghost in that moment. But here and now, there was no escape – he could not even look away.

Then Manwë spoke, and his voice was as terrible as Varda’s gaze. "Neither we, nor Taniquetil, nor Ilúvatar ever accepted your Oath. The only Vala who would keep such blasphemy…is your Enemy. In the end, you chose the fate you feared in your captivity. In keeping your Oath, you became the thrall of Morgoth that led each of your brothers to death and torment, and robbed us all of the Light of the Silmarils."

Maedhros shrieked in horror. Under any other circumstances, he would have been appalled to hear such a sound emanate from his throat, but as it was, he never noticed. He collapsed with a keening wail, blubbering words that could not be understood. His limbs were shaking, and great shuddering sobs wracked him. He curled tighter into himself, knowing there was no escape from the truth. For the first time, the nothingness of the Eternal Darkness seemed appealing. But even as he thought it, he knew the temptation for a cheat. There was Someone in the Outer Darkness, Someone he would rather not meet again. He would stay here, and face the Doom of the Valar, and count it kind and merciful. They were dreadful, but not evil. He was evil, and deserved whatever they would do to him. His limbs went limp, uncurling, as his sobs subsided. He was too disoriented to think of moving, or of anything else, really. He waited.

***

Manwë continued speaking, but Maedhros did not feel skewered by his voice this time. "Lord Námo, what doom would you give to Nelyafinwë Fëanorion?" he asked.

"The doom he requested," Námo answered gravely. Intrigued, Maedhros put the effort into sorting out which direction was up, so he could lift his head. He got it right on the third try, and managed to turn his head towards the correct throne. "The doom of Eluréd and Elurín was this: that he not be parted from his Father. For his crimes, not least of all the Kinslayings of Doriath and Sirion, and the attack on the Herald of Manwë, he will remain in my Halls until the end of Arda, as will his father Fëanáro."

Lord Manwë, the Elder King of Arda, nodded. "So be it. I commit him to your care."

Weary beyond belief, Maedhros let his head sink down onto the stone. Finally, it was over.

*** *** ***

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Chapter End Notes

The Oath of Fëanor (and his sons) was sworn upon Taniquetil, the holy mountain, with Manwë and Varda as witness. They called for Iluvatar himself to hear it. The words of the Oath are given in several places in HoME; see The Lays of Beleriand for two versions.

Nelyafinwë Fëanorion – Third-Finwë, Son of Fëanor. A name of Maedhros.

Carnildo is named after the planet Mars, though I imagine the connotations are different for the Eldar than for the ancient Greeks and Romans!