Maeglin's Choice by chrissystriped

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Chapter Sixteen

warning for this chapter: conversation about suicidal intent

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Fighting alongside Rog was awe inspiring and a little terrifying, Maeglin thought while he wiped the blood off his sword. His father -- his father! it was still exhilarating to think of him that way -- stood beside him, drinking from a waterskin. His face and armour was covered in blood and gore, the sweat running down his face had left furrows in the grime. He looked like a demon — he’d fought like one. No wonder the orcs had given him the name. Rog met his gaze and grinned, his teeth very white.

“Feels good to fight again — bring the war to them”, he said, his voice rough from screaming his battle-cries. “How I’ve missed this.”

Maeglin smiled weakly. The closeness to Angband weighed heavily on his mind. Rog had taught him how to raise additional, reinforced mind-shields and it was hard work to keep them up. (He also didn’t want to think of how little use they would be, if Morgoth were indeed to come for him. He doubted that even Rog could withstand him.)

“Are you alright?”, Rog asked, coming closer and laying his hand on Maeglin’s shoulder.

“Yes.” Maeglin sighed. “I’m glad we won, but it feels too easy. They were just Men, no reinforcements from Angband. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Yes. It's not over yet.”

Rog looked in the direction of the pen where the easterlings who’d begged for quarter had been put under guard. Tuor’s people were not inclined to show mercy towards them, and understandably so, but Turgon thought it prudent to give those men the chance to leave in peace. They would not be allowed to stay in Hithlum, but Turgon wanted to make as certain as possible, that they wouldn’t attack them again. He counted on them being not happy with Morgoth going back on his word and confining them in Hithlum.

Maeglin pushed his hand through his sweaty hair. He felt gross and wanted to wash. He nodded and smiled at his people, exchanging a word here and there as he and Rog walked back to their tents. It still didn’t come easy to him to be a confident leader, but he was getting more comfortable. He was following Rog’s lead, who’d told him how important the feeling that their commander looked with favour upon them was for the morale of the soldiers.

He was looking for Celebrimbor with half an eye, even though he knew his friend was probably tending to his own people right now. He’d seen him directly after the fight, when it had become clear that they’d won this battle, and had seen with relief that he was unharmed. You never knew in battle. The best swordsman could be felled by a well placed arrow or overwhelmed by superior numbers. Maeglin shuddered. The easterlings had had much more casualties than them, but everyone of his people, who’d died on the battlefield, pained him and he already dreaded to have to tell their families who’d stayed with Idril in the south.

“Will you be alright?”, Rog asked and Maeglin nodded.

“I need to get out of the armour and some water on my skin.”

“See you later then”, Rog slapped his shoulder plate.

Maeglin stepped into his tent, where his squire waited to help him out of his armour. He’d already prepared a basin of fresh water. Maeglin smiled gratefully at him.

 

Maeglin and Celebrimbor had come to eat with him. There would be a feast once they were back in Vinyamar and the soldiers were already partying, but after the din of the battle, Maeglin didn’t feel like socialising. Rog could understand him. He would have been annoyed by anyone else who had invited themselves to dinner, but Maeglin — and Celebrimbor by extension — were family. He could relax around them. Being with them did not leave him exhausted.

“Are you sure, you wouldn’t rather dance with a handsome soldier?”, Maeglin asked Celebrimbor.

“No.” Celebrimbor laughed and kissed his cheek. “I’d rather spend time with you. To be honest, I’ve had enough of war for a lifetime.”

“It’s not over, yet”, Rog said gruffly, before he could stop himself. “I’m sorry”, he added quickly and rubbed his forehead. “I’m not in the best of moods. The fighting… it gives me a rush, but it also drains me incredibly. I’m quite happy to spend a quiet evening with you two. It means I don’t have to socialize with our fellow lords.”

“It’s okay”, Celebrimbor said. “The stew is great, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.” Rog smiled wryly. It made him happy to see Maeglin with Celebrimbor and witness the love that was between them. He leaned back until he lay on his back, the bowl with stew on his belly. “Look at the sky”, he said. “The stars are back.”

It had been cloudy since before the Long Winter, Morgoth’s power seeping through, but now there were patches of clear sky visible, the Valacirca glinting brightly in the North.

“He cannot win forever”, Celebrimbor whispered. “Some day we will have the upper hand.”

“If the Valar keep Ulmo’s promise and deign to show up, maybe”, Maeglin mumbled, not sounding confident that this would indeed happen.

Rog was inclined to agree with him. He’d seen Angband’s power from closer up than he cared to ever see it again. A single orc might not be much of a challenge for an elf, but they were outnumbered and the army they faced was led by a Vala and his Maiar. They could not win this alone.

“I have never trusted in the Valar”, Rog said. “They’ve not done anything for me or my kin who chose to stay in these lands. But Tuor is so certain. I cannot trust in the Valar, but I want to believe his hope.” He remembered him standing before Turgon, wearing the armour that had been left behind for him hundreds of years ago, and Ulmo’s words coming from his mouth. He’d been touched by them, then. “And whatever is going to happen. Morgoth is not going to have me or either of you, if I can help it.”

Maeglin met his eyes and nodded once, taking his meaning.

Celebrimbor shivered. “To take your own life is a sin”, he whispered.

“Yes”, Rog answered firmly. “But those who made it so never were slaves in Angband. Your uncle would agree with me.”

Celebrimbor shuddered again but said: “I do not doubt it. But… it chills me to think of an eventuality where I’d be faced with the decision to take my own life.”

“As it should be”, Rog answered. “I’m just saying that knowing what Angband is like, death is preferable.”

Maeglin had laid his arm around Celebrimbor and said softly: “It won’t come to that. We’ll be fine.”

And despite the serious topic and his own dark mood Rog felt a smile tug at his lips. Yes, he believed those two would be fine, if they managed to survive this war in freedom.

 

They’d spent the last days on horseback, making sure every last easterling left Hithlum. Maeglin had felt sorry for them. Most of their warriors were dead, these were women and children and old people — but there was so much bad blood between them and the people of Hador, understandably so, that they couldn’t stay. And given that they expected Morgoth to strike back at them soon, they couldn’t risk having a hostile force in their midst. But still… it had left a sour taste in his mouth to force crying children and women carrying all their belongings on their backs on a road into nowhere. Where would they go?

They’d fed their horses, had eaten and washed and now they sat in front of Celebrimbor’s tent watching the sun go down. Celebrimbor was rubbing his neck and Maeglin leaned into the touch, shivering pleasantly.

“You look sad”, Celebrimbor said softly. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just thinking of these people wandering around without a home.” Maeglin sighed. “I know they couldn’t stay here, but… it feels wrong. How many of them are going to die before they find a new place to settle down? I know they treated the people of Hador badly, I know there really was no other way, but I wish we could have found one.”

Celebrimbor leaned his head against Maeglin’s. “You are such a compassionate person”, he said softly. “In a better world we might have found another way.” Celebrimbor sighed. “You know… I sometimes dream of leaving. Going somewhere else, where I can start fresh, build a place where everyone is welcome, no matter who they are or what their past is.” He shook his head. “You must think me naive.”

“No!” Maeglin turned his head and gave him a quick kiss. “That’s a lovely dream. I thought about staying in Vinyamar, after the war, I mean… if you don’t want to go south again. But maybe… maybe, we should go somewhere completely different.”

“You’d go with me? Not right now of course, but when this is over?”

Maeglin laughed. “You sound very surprised about that. Of course I’d come with you.” Maeglin licked his lips and touched Celebrimbor’s cheek, turning his head, so their eyes met. “I love you”, he croaked. It still felt frightening to say it. Say it first. Risk rejection. What if Celebrimbor didn’t say it back? What if he’d changed his mind?

“Maeglin”, Celebrimbor whispered and Maeglin steeled himself. “I love you, too.”

Maeglin breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed.

“We’ll find a place for us”, Celebrimbor continued. “Were we can build something together.”

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

Maeglin kissed him again and Celebrimbor’s hand curled around his nape, rubbing his skin gently. Maeglin shivered, leaning into the touch.

“I love you”, Maeglin whispered again and wrapped his arms around Celebrimbor. “Whatever may come, I’m so glad I met you.”

Celebrimbor gave him a dazzling smile. “Me, too.” His hand travelled down Maeglin’s back. “Let’s move inside”, he whispered.

Maeglin gave him a kiss and let himself be led into Celebrimbor’s tent. It was tight and Maeglin was well aware that only fabric separated them from the other people in the camp, but he longed to be close to Celebrimbor now. He wanted to be one with him, melt their bodies and souls together until no one could separate them.