Lessons from the Mountain by MithLuin

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Chapter 9: Brothers

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His sobs stopped abruptly when he was given an answer, albeit not in the manner he expected.

The puddle of water on the floor began to froth and bubble, casting madly sparkling light everywhere. He looked at it in wonder, and not a little trepidation, when an awful figure arose from it.

Ulmo, Lord of Waters, stood in his room, making it seem small indeed.

"What is it you wish, Son of Fëanor?" he asked in his deep voice.

Maedhros did not answer right away, but got slowly to his feet. Even so, he had to look up at Ulmo as if he were on his knees. "I wish fervently for the healing of Nerdanel my mother, wounded with grief for the loss of her sons. Please, will you bring her word of them, at least, if you will not permit them to visit her? You…or Lord Námo," he faltered, not knowing how these two Valar shared their authority.

"Would you have your mother healed and leave these halls?" the Vala asked him.

Maedhros paused only a moment before he nodded. "I am permitted to see her while she is here, but I would not stay her from a return to life. Not every elf is as content to live without a body as I am, and I would not deny her that. I do not seek to ease my own sufferings, which are well-deserved, but hers, which she incurred in all innocence. Her only fault was to love deeply, and for that she won death. Please, Lord, can you not have mercy on her?"

"Open your door," the Lord of Waters said in return.

Surprised, Maedhros turned and immediately did as he was told. When the door swung open, two people were revealed to be standing on the threshold. Two people he had not seen since before the War of Wrath.

He immediately stepped out into the Hall. "Ambarussa," he breathed, almost in awe.

"Which one of us do you mean?" Amrod asked cheekily. Amras merely grinned at him, too happy for words.

"I…" Maedhros drank in the sight of them, at a loss for words. Suddenly remembering something, he tried to speak. "I must apologize. I did not mean to…"

Amras waved him aside. "We all share the guilt. You need not apologize to us."

Maedhros embraced him. "Losing both of you was the last blow my heart felt. I have not truly lived since that day."

"Neither have we," Amrod said, embracing Maedhros in his turn.

When he released him, Maedhros took a step back and looked at each of them. "How are things with you?"

"They are well, brother," Amrod said quietly. "We are new-come from judgement, and even these Halls appear as the bright light of day when the earth is fresh-scrubbed with rain."

Maedhros tilted his head in confusion. "How is it that your judgement was delayed? Is time truly meaningless here?"

Amras looked at him sheepishly. "Nay, it was long overdue. We were…avoiding it."

Maedhros looked at both his younger brothers in wonder. "You must tell me this tale. But before you do, please tell me – whom have you seen here?"

"Only you," Amrod answered immediately. "We have only been with each other since we awoke."

Maedhros considered for a moment. He frowned, hoping he would not misinterpret the gift being offered him by the Lord of Waters. "Walk with me. There is something I would like to show you." Curious, they complied, easily falling into step behind him. The halls were silent and deserted, as they always were when Maedhros ventured into them. He knew where he was headed, but took the time to pause and let Amrod and Amras admire the tapestries they passed. They spoke quietly and sparingly; Maedhros did not press them for details of their story. That could wait. But the evidence before him was overwhelming – they were well, as they had not been since before the Darkening of the Trees.

Amras turned to him, saying "Something is different about you. You look…." And then his voice trailed off.

Amrod looked more closely, and blinked. "Your hand. It’s the wrong one. You’ve been…switched. Reversed in a mirror."

Maedhros laughed. "Nay, this is a new wound, and the old one has been healed. It is a strange fate to be always without a hand, but not a painful one." They continued on, and did not speak of that again.

When they reached their destination, Maedhros turned to face them. "There is an elf who would be glad to see you beyond this door. Are you ready to meet someone else?" he asked them, knowing that such a warning was insufficient.

Amras noted something in his face and asked, "Who is it, Maedhros?"

He looked back and forth between them, and at length answered, "Only one member of our family escaped death and these Halls."

Amrod looked at him in exasperation. "We aren’t going to panic when you tell us Maglor died too. When I saw you, I expected as much."

Maedhros shook his head. "Maglor lives."

Amras got there first. "Mother! But we left her safe in Aman! What wound could reach her there?"

"Grief," Maedhros said simply. "She learned of all of our deaths at once, and of our deeds in Beleriand. Now she is here."

Amrod shook his head, disbelieving. "Mother is strong; she would not have succumbed."

"She will be strong again," Maedhros answered. "The sight of you will do her much good. Will you come in?"

They both nodded. Maedhros opened the door and went in first, to prepare her for her guests.

"Hello, Mother, I have come to see you once again." He stood there awkwardly. All his scheming did not prepare him to be standing before this person in front of him.

She looked up from where she sat, and smiled graciously at him. "It has been a long time, my son. Your cousin brought me your gift. It was very thoughtful of you."

"Kind words for a crude drawing." He spoke dismissively. "But I have come to make a request of you." She looked up at him, curious. "Would you receive other guests today?"

"Who are these friends of yours?" she asked with a sad smile that reminded him suddenly of Míriel.

"Two of your sons," he said quietly. Her hand flew to her mouth, but did not cover her suddenly white face as she looked to the door. "Please, let them come," she said at last.

Maedhros opened the door, and the twins rushed in to embrace their mother.

They visited for a long time. Maedhros was content to watch, seeing that his mother’s smile was no longer that of Míriel, but resembled an honest smile as she had worn in life. The last time he had seen the three of them together was several lifetimes ago. Amrod and Amras seemed less bashful; he could only suppose that they did not yet realize that they had driven their mother here as surely as he had. He would not remind them. Eventually, she grew weary, and Maedhros suggested that they leave. He promised to come again, but did not say anything about the twins. They seemed uncertain, and merely expressed their joy at being reunited at last.

Out in the hall, he once again took the lead, intending to go directly back to his room. But at the first turn, he met a Maia; one of Námo’s. He nodded his head, feeling uneasy. He stopped, not sure if it would be rude to walk around. He did not have long to wait, though.

"Pityafinwë, Telufinwë, please come with me," the Maia said respectfully.

Maedhros shot his younger brothers a panicked look. He had the urge to bolt, dragging both of them away from this Maia who threatened to take them from him. But he only had one hand. Instead, he embraced each of them, and then stepped back. "You will have to tell me your stories another day," he said bravely. He would not be ungrateful for the boon granted him. He got to see them, didn’t he? But he could not walk away. He merely stood still as they left him. When they turned out of his sight, he fell to his knees and wept. He could hope to be reunited with them again, but dare he let himself?

How long he stayed there, kneeling on the stones, he did not know. But the same Maia who had stopped him before returned. "Nelyafinwë, it would be best if you returned to your room now," he said, again with deference.

Maedhros stood, and slowly turned to look at him. "To one who does not know how things work here, the decisions of your Master seem capricious." He would allow himself that much complaint.

"It was not my Master the Lord Námo who sent me, but Lord Ulmo." The dreary-looking Maia actually smiled. "Seldom does he come to these Halls, so I am as much at a loss as you."

Placated, or at least knowing this one was not the person to ask questions of, Maedhros followed him back in silence. When the door closed behind him he sat down on the floor of his empty room, and drew his knees up to his chest. He gazed at the water morosely. "I was given what I asked for," he admitted. "The twins were reunited with our mother. She smiled again. I even got to see them. And yet…" He sighed. "It was difficult to lose so soon what I had just gained. I thought I would have a chance to speak with them. They started to tell me their story…"

But he had stopped them, to take them to Nerdanel. No, that had been the right choice. That was the only reason Ulmo had granted his request – because it was for Nerdanel, not for him. He would accept that if he had to…but it wasn’t easy.

"No, this will eat at me. I must know. Will I see them again?" He addressed the water, since that was the last place he had seen the Lord Ulmo. No answer. He rested his chin on his knees to wait.

***

But he could not wait forever. He grew restless, and stood up. He walked about the room again. When he was sure he would scream at Lord Námo if he stood here another moment, he jerked open the door and stepped out into the hall. He did not know where he was going, but he wanted to go somewhere. He did not stop to consider whether or not he had permission to be roaming about these halls – he just went. After getting hopelessly lost and passing by halls of tapestries unseeing, his steps finally slowed. He looked around, and wondered where he was. There were doors in this hallway – were there other elves behind them? Suddenly, he hesitated. He knew he shouldn’t be here. A door at the end of the hall opened, and he fled. He did not see if another elf stepped out behind him and he hoped that no one saw him. He did not stop until he reached a hall without any doors. Curious, he looked at the walls. There were no tapestries, not even the colored stones of his own room. The walls were unrelieved dark black stone. Matching pillars marched down the length of the vaulted hall, disappearing in darkness on his right. On each pillar was a bracket holding a brand, but none of the torches were lit. The room was somber and silent – his footfalls did not echo in the wide space. The floor was of white marble, and seemed to glow eerily in the dim light. He walked into the hall to see it a bit better, but seeing there was nothing there, he turned to go. He did not reach the door. The other end of the hall was where all the decoration was. It was…a throne room.

One he had seen before.

Almost against his will, he took a few halting steps forward, and then a few more. As he got closer, he could see the differences. His first impression had taken him back, so that he was standing once again in the pit of Angband, looking up at a dark throne. But this one was not disfigured. The carvings behind the throne were elegant, not mocking. And, of course, the throne was empty. The presence of Morgoth (or in this case, his absence) was not something to overlook. He would not approach the dais, but he did dare to take a closer look at the wall behind the throne. Most of the relief was stylistic, so that he did not know what was being depicted. But he did notice the gems embedded in the work. And directly above the throne, there was a crown…a crown with three diamonds glittering in it. He sucked in his breath (or would have, if he still breathed these days), and took several steps back. The similarity he had seen was not accidental, then.

"Mine was the original," a voice behind him said quietly.

Maedhros whirled around, trapped. There were no archways out of this hall near at hand. The Lord of Mandos stood before him.

"This is…Angband," he said uncertainly.

"No," Námo shook his head. "Melkor seldom made more than a copy. I suppose he preferred my throne room to his brother Manwë’s. For some reason, I have never been flattered by his imitation."

Maedhros looked at the Vala uncertainly. It seemed a joke, but not one to be laughed at. What could he say? "I like yours better," he said in all sincerity. "But when were you ever in Angband?" Probably too audacious, but he was sick of being timid. It suited him ill.

"Before the Eldar came to Valinor," Námo replied gravely, as if he were asked such cheeky questions all the time. "I have not used this room since." He looked at Maedhros closely. "Why are you here?"

Maedhros, for his part, examined the veins in the marble floor. "I…went for a walk."

"What were you seeking?"

"Answers," Maedhros whispered. "Or at least patience to await them."

"Why did you not ask for them?" Mandos asked.

"I did!" Maedhros said angrily, looking up. "I spoke clearly. I only spoke once, but by all means, if you cannot hear, I will repeat them as often as I can. WILL I SEE MY BROTHERS AGAIN?" he shouted.

"You will," Námo said calmly.

"Why…why didn’t you just say so?" Maedhros asked, genuinely confused. What was he missing here?

"You ask the wrong questions...of the wrong people. You were permitted to see your brothers, because you willed their good and Nerdanel’s. I am not opposed to giving you what you want, Maedhros Son of Fëanor, but I will only give you what is good for all those in my care. As long as you see things as being about you alone, you will not see."

"I…am sorry. I did not mean to take it that way. It is just so difficult when I do not know what will be."

"Of all beings in Arda, I am least likely to understand what you mean by that."

This time, he knew Námo was teasing him.

"In all your long years of dealing with elves, you have not learned how we react to uncertainty?" Maedhros shot back.

"It is seldom pleasant," Námo conceded. "But knowledge and experience are different things. Tell me, though, why you are here, and not shouting at me in your room?"

"I…did not want to shout at you."

"Why not? You seem much more pleasant now that you have."

"I will not be a rebel again. I tried to find freedom that way, and it eluded me. You have offered me a chance, of sorts, and I will not squander it. I give you my word."

Utter silence descended.

"Nelyafinwë, Nossenehtar ar Torninehtar, are you proud that Vandaracindo cannot be appended to your name?"

Maedhros shook – with rage or fear, he did not know – and got out in a measured voice, "Whatever else my faults, I do keep my word. Do not deny me the only honour I could bring to your gates."

"It is time we found you some new honour. Will you stop this timid lurking and be the restorer of your House?"

Maedhros cocked his head to one side, and looked at Námo quizzically. He was not being reprimanded. "I do not understand, Lord," he said honestly enough.

"Your efforts at trust do you credit. But I cannot have you fleeing in fear. Think of the chaos you would cause in my Halls if a wandering elf could encounter you at any time."

Another joke. He was not getting used to them.

Maedhros fell to his knees. "Lord, I beg of you, speak plainly. I want nothing better than to see my family restored. Even if I could not see them again, knowing that they were whole and healed would be…good. If you tell me this can truly be, and that you work to make it so, then I will trust what you do or do not tell me. But no one has told me that there is any hope, so I continue on in doubt and fear."

"That depends upon them. I only tend spirits; I do not make them."

Maedhros bowed his head. "Then my trust will only be what it was before, for how can I know that all will be well?"

Lord Námo did not answer, but he extended a hand to the kneeling elf. Maedhros hesitantly reached for it with his right hand, and gasped in surprise as the Lord of Mandos pulled him to his feet. He had expected the hand to feel cold, but it was not – it was warm in a way that no fëa here was.

"Walk with me," he said quietly, and led Maedhros out of the ancient throne room. They walked in silence through many corridors, most of which Maedhros had never seen before. There could be no such thing as an easy or companionable silence with this Vala, but still, he felt the time was…peaceful. They did not see another soul, and Maedhros was not surprised when they reached his doorway once again. "I will leave you here," Námo said, breaking their silence. Maedhros bowed, and turned to open his door.

He was still confused, but his thoughts no longer crowded and chased each other, driving him to distraction. He was content to wait. He did not understand why the Vala’s mere presence was so calming – he had learned nothing new. And yet his doubts were laid to rest, and he could patiently wait for the future to unfold. Was this what it meant to trust?

He turned North. "Thank you, my Lord," he said quietly. "Next time, I will not make you come find me." He smiled to himself – he was fairly certain there would be a next time.

***

No one called for him, and he did not call for anyone else, for quite some time. But then he was startled by a tentative knock on his door. He opened it, and was surprised to see Amrod and Amras standing there. They had returned to him! He embraced them both, and then beckoned them into his room. They both immediately went to the water and gazed at the light in awe.

"What is this, brother?" Amras asked.

"Something I brought here with me," Maedhros said, smiling enigmatically.

Amrod looked at him, puzzled. "How could you bring anything but yourself to the Halls of Mandos?"

"I do not know," Maedhros conceded. "But it came with me nonetheless. The light was trapped in my hand."

"Which one?" Amras asked, guessing there was more to this story.

"The left one," Maedhros admitted, looking at his stump. "When I died, my hand was not fully willing to let go, and somehow I was stubborn enough to bring that much with me."

Amrod laughed, and muttered something that sounded like, "Why does that not surprise me?"

"You are the most stubborn of all of us, you do know that, right?" Amras said.

Maedhros ignored them both, and officially welcomed them instead. "I am sorry I have no furniture to offer, but please, have a seat on the floor. I hope you will not mind…"

"With that light?" Amrod asked. "Not at all. This room is much brighter than the rooms we have."

"So, tell me, what have you been up to since last we met?" Maedhros asked.

"Sleeping, mostly," Amras said sheepishly. "We’ve only been up and about a few times since our judgements."

"I am still confused. How is it your judgements were delayed?" Maedhros asked them.

"We…didn’t want to face the Valar," Amras explained, looking down at the floor. "I said I would not go if I could not be with Amrod."

"And I just said I would not go," Amrod added. "Apparently, you have to consent to judgement, because it didn’t happen until we agreed."

"I went first," Amras said, absurdly pleased with himself. "They told me I would only be able to see Amrod if he also faced them."

"Is that why you changed your mind?" Maedhros asked.

Amrod shook his head. "No – I would not have gone in any event. But…Lord Námo told us what you did at yours, so we had to be brave enough to go."

"What did he tell you?" Maedhros asked, uncomfortable with the idea of others discussing his judgement.

"He said that you had asked Manwë and Varda to release all of us from the Oath…and that your request had been granted. I do not know how I could have gone before them when I knew perfectly well I had left the Oath unfulfilled when I died."

"Would that I had as well," Maedhros said quietly.

Amras looked at him in surprise. "You…got the Silmaril?"

Maedhros nodded. "One of them.  But that success was worse than the defeats of Doriath and Sirion. Please, do not ask me to speak of it today."

Amras looked back at the light in the water. "That light…is it from the Silmaril?" he asked instead.

"Perhaps," Maedhros said. "It was in my hand when I died."

The conversation moved on to more pleasant topics, though they avoided talking about any other family members. Maedhros made sure his pillow was Tree-side up. It was not long before the twins were both yawning, and a Maia came to retrieve them.

After they had left, Maedhros had much to consider. Námo was right; he had been foolish to consider only himself. They were so newly come from judgement that he should not have expected them to tell him their story after the visit to Nerdanel. "If someone had only told me," he muttered. He would have to learn to ask. Looking back, Lord Ulmo had done exactly what he asked...and no more. 

He was encouraged that his request had enabled Amrod to face judgement. He knew by now that he never would have been allowed to see them if they had not done so. But he had not asked them about their fates. He hoped they hadn’t been given too grievous a punishment. They, after all, had always been the followers. He was the leader; the guilt rested on his shoulders.

And he could not imagine them without each other.

Now, for the rest of his brothers….would he ever see the other half of the Sons of Fëanor again? He knew whom to ask, now. It was just a matter of waiting.

*** *** ***

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Chapter End Notes

Nossenehtar ar Torninehtar (Hánornehtar): Kinslayer and Brothers’ Bane

Vandaracindo: Oathbreaker

Thanks to my beta Fiondil for the Quenya translations!