Mereth Aderthad by chrissystriped

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Chapter Two

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“Do you think those would suit me.”

Findekáno was eyeing the wooden earrings, painted with intricate patterns, displayed by a Laiquendi jeweller.

“They’d look beautiful on you”, Maedhros answered with a smile.

They were taking a stroll over the market that had sprung up at the site of the feast Nolofinwe had invited to.

“Which ones, though?”, Findekáno said, tapping his chin as he looked at the different colours and patterns.

He’d had his earlobes pierced in a fit of youthful hastiness — Findaráto and a jug of wine had played a part in that as far as Maedhros remembered — but he said, he’d never regretted it, yet.

“Can I be of help?”, the vendor asked.

Maedhros looked around as Findekáno talked to her. People were milling around, looking at the offered goods, elves of all over Beleriand mingling happily. Nolofinwe had done well to host this feast. He narrowed his eyes, when he saw an elf sneering at another, pushing him away from the fabrics they’d both been examining.

Maedhros walked over before he’d made the conscious decision. The attacked elf was hunched over and trembling, his arms were scarred, his short hair only growing in patches.

“What’s the matter here?”, Maedhros snapped, although he was sure he knew: Hostility against a survivor from Angband. He would not have it.

The attacker looked at him wide-eyed, mumbling something and quickly walking away. Maedhros didn’t spare him any more thought, he’d recognise him, if their paths crossed again.

“Thank you, my lord”, the vendor said. “I didn’t know what to do.”

She looked scared about the incident. Maedhros said something reassuring, then he turned to the attacked elf who was still trembling and looking like he’d have liked to vanish.

“Do you need help?”, Maedhros asked gently. “Can I do anything for you?”

The elf looked at him with huge, tear-filled eyes. Maedhros saw him relax as their eyes met and he knew him for what he was — a survivor like him.

“I just wanted to take a look!”, he stuttered. “I meant no harm, please…”

“I know”, Maedhros said. “You aren’t in trouble. Do you still want to look? I’m sure the nice lady would be thrilled to show you her wares.”

“Of course, please, come closer. What are you looking for?”, the vendor said, taking the cue.

“Or I could take you to where you are staying, if you’d rather be somewhere that feels save", Maedhros added.

“I want to go home, please”, the elf whispered.

“That’s alright. Do you want me to come with you?”

The elf nodded. “Thank you.”

Maedhros stayed close to him as they walked over the market, he felt Findekáno fall into step beside him. He didn’t know how much his friend had witnessed, but he was glad, he didn’t ask questions.

“What’s your name?”, he asked the elf.

“Rovo. You are… are you really Maedhros?”

“What gave me away?” Maedhros winked at him and Rovo gave him a shy smile. “This is my cousin Findekáno. He’s alright.”

Rovo glanced at him and nodded. “Thank you for… intervening, my lord.”

“I couldn’t look away. Do things like that happen often?”

“They mostly just glare. It’s my own fault.” Rovo wrapped his arms around himself. “I shouldn’t have gone to the market alone.”

“No one should be scared to be attacked just because they are on their own", Maedhros growled.

He noted with surprise that Rovo was leading them to the part of the camp that had been assigned to Turukáno and his people. If he’d been asked who would be most likely to not feel distrust toward escapees from Angband, Turukáno wouldn’t have been on the top of that list.

“You belong to Turukáno’s people?”, he said.

“Yes.” A small smile came to Rovo’s lips. “He invited us, gave us his trust. His people never react hostile toward us — neither do your kin in general, to be honest, it’s mostly our own kin that don’t accept us." A sad look crossed his face. “Anyway. I won’t steal any more of your time, my lords. Thank you, again, for your help.” He bowed to them both.

Maedhros was curious who that ‘us’ was, but he didn’t want to make Rovo uncomfortable by asking questions, when the fear had barely left his body language. He’d look into it another time.

“What was that about?”, Findekáno asked, as they walked back. “You were suddenly gone and when I turned around, you looked like you were about to bite off the head of that other elf.”

“Rovo is a survivor of Angband.” Maedhros said. “As you might know, many are distrustful of them.” ‘Us’, he thought. He was acutely aware, that the only reason why he was exempt from treatment like that was his station. That didn’t mean people weren’t thinking the same of him. “I saw that other elf attack Rovo and stepped in.”

Findekáno smiled gently at him and linked their arms. “That was kind of you.”

“How did your brother come by them, do you know?”, Maedhros asked.

“He came across Rog when he was walking alone in the forest… oh, years ago.”

“Rog?” Maedhros raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, I doubt that’s his given name, but it’s what everyone calls him. Anyway. There was a village of them hidden in the mountains, away from their kin who shunned them. Turukáno offered them a place among us. And despite some of the Sindar muttering he hasn’t had cause to regret it, yet.”

“That’s good to hear.” Maedhros felt weirdly happy about the fact, that there was a place in the west as well as in the east, where escapees would be welcome — even if it was with Turukáno whom he’d never had a particularly good relationship with. He wondered, why Nolofinwe had never mentioned it. “Did you decide on a pair of earrings?”

“Yes.” Findekáno showed him the wooden disks, covered in red, white and green dots and lines forming a pattern of waves and flowers. “I think I’ll wear them at the merrymaking tonight.”

 

“There’s an elf asking to see you, my lord.”

Maedhros sighed. He’d retreated to his tent for a bit of quiet. He wasn’t used to so many people anymore, Himring was a lot quieter.

“Ask him in.”

The elf who entered his tent had scarred cheeks and intense eyes. Maedhros offered him a seat.

“My name is Rog, Prince Maedhros. Rovo told me what happened at the market this morning. My thanks.”

“I have survived some of the same things as you and him. How could I look away? I’ve heard there are more of you following Turukáno?”

“Yes. We are a few hundred by now. Many hid in the woods and mountains after they escaped, because no one would have them. Turgon is taking everyone in that I deem save.”

“He trusts you?”

“Yes.” Rog held his gaze and Maedhros realised he was scrutinizing him as much as he did him.

“I’m glad he does”, Maedhros said finally. “There’s sometimes people who make it to Himring and I help them, if I can. It’s good there is someone in he west, too. Though I was surprised it is Turgon.” He changed to the sindarinised form of his cousin’s name that Rog had used.

“He is a good lord”, Rog said with flashing eyes. “I won’t have him insulted by you!”

Maedhros bowed his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to.”

He remembered Turukáno’s hostility towards him after Findekáno had rescued him, but of course he had enough reason to hate him anyway — his wife had died on the Helcaraxe. Rog nodded, accepting his apology.

“I wanted to ask you: Rovo is scared now to go again to the market. And as much as I wish we could show those people that we won’t let us be pushed out, I won’t force him into an uncomfortable situation. But do you think, the weaver would be ready to come to him with her fabrics? He’s a tailor and I’d like to give him the opportunity to stock up on fabrics.”

“She didn’t seem hostile, at least. I can show you her stall.”

“That would be great. Thank you!”

“Let’s go.” Maedhros stood up.

 

The weaver looked a little startled when she saw Maedhros and Rog come towards her. And he supposed they were a little intimidating with their scars.

“A friend of mine wanted to buy from you, earlier this day”, Rog said and she paled.

“I didn’t mean him to be scared of!”, she stuttered. “Really. I’d have gladly sold my fabrics to him!”

“We don’t blame you”, Maedhros hurried to say and threw Rog a look. He had sounded a little harsh.

“No, not at all”, confirmed Rog. “He is a little rattled by his experience with that elf. Would it be a great bother for you, to come to our part of the camp and show your fabrics to him there? I’d pay you extra for you trouble.”

“Oh, of course I can. I’m sorry, he was scared off.” She looked at them awkwardly. “I don’t believe that they -- you -- are a danger to us.”

Rog tensed, but he smiled at her. “Thank you. When would be a good time for you?”

“Mornings are usually slow. I can ask my son to take over here for a while. Tomorrow would be a little short notice, but the day after is good for me.”

“That would be great. Thank you. That went smoothly”, Rog said to Maedhros as they walked away. “I’m a little surprised at that. Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome, it’s not that I did much.” Maedhros liked the elf, for all his curtness. “Don’t get angry with me again. I don’t mean you to be disloyal to Turgon, but if you ever feel like moving closer to danger, to have an eye on Angband, I’d welcome you in Himring.”

Rog smiled at him. “I appreciate the offer, but I won’t leave Turgon. He trusted me, when no one else did, he gave me and my friends a save place to live. I want to fight, but I’ll do it at his side.”

Maedhros nodded. “I can understand that. Good luck to you and yours.”