The Tempered Steel by Lyra

Part II, Chapter VII

In which Maedhros and Caranthir have a talk and a midnight snack.

They had left him alone after all, and he had fallen asleep swiftly. As usual, the nightmares returned after only a brief phase of dreamless sleep; he awoke in the middle of the night, breathless and terrified.
At first he experienced a strange feeling of dislocation, staring at what little he could see in the sliver of flighty moonlight that crept through a crack in the curtains. Then, slowly, he remembered where he was. His thoughts felt thick and slow, crawling through his aching head like slugs. It was very hot. The heat in the room seemed to radiate from one corner in particular. He squinted into that direction and discovered a faint glow of embers. His heartbeat quickened before he managed to tell himself that it was only a stove, nothing to fear. Combined with the warmth of the thick coverlet (Maitimo felt for its filling and found something very soft and fluffy; not the downy softness of feathers, but the richness of unspun silk), the heat was unbearable to him. He tried to get rid of the quilt, but his limbs were now taking revenge for the exertions of the day, and when he tried to move, they hurt viciously. He did not move much.

There was a soft click as the door opened, and a face peered in, blocking the light from the hallway beyond.
"Who's there?"asked Maitimo. To his dismay, his voice sounded more like a raven than an elf.
"I'm here," the other replied, and then added, a little sheepishly, "Carnistir. You were dreaming."
Maitimo felt his cheeks grow even warmer than they already were. "Did I make much noise? I am sorry if I woke you."
"You made no noise, and you did not wake me. I often lie awake at night. I just thought something was wrong."
"Oh," said Maitimo. His first impulse was to assure his brother that nothing was wrong at all, to tell him not to worry and to send him back to bed. Then he thought better of it. He had been quite good at boasting or telling fibs to his younger brothers, and for the most part they had believed him - but Moryo had always known. Moryo (and, of course, their father) had never fallen even for the most masterfully constructed lie. There seemed little point in lying to him now. At any rate Carnistir had already marched into the room, bringing a lamp with him. When Maitimo's eyes had grown accustomed to the sudden bright spot, he took a moment to take in his brother's strange appearance. Carnistir was wearing a long night-shirt that he held pursed with one hand so it formed a kind of basket, like a child gathering fruit. Maitimo couldn't see what was in it. On top of the shirt, Carnistir was wearing a cloak, but his feet were bare, sinking soundlessly into the soft carpet that covered the floor.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, padding closer. "I have a secret stash of bread and cheese that I'm willing to share."
Maitimo blinked. "Thank you, I'm not hungry, but –"
"No," Carnistiry sad pensively, sitting down on the mattress; Maitimo could see now that he had been carrying the bread and cheese he had spoken of in his shirt, along with a knife. "No, I suppose hungry is not the word. Famished is more like it. I could count your bones this afternoon. At least they're still all there, except -"
With a sigh, Maitimo interrupted him, "I meant, I do not feel hungry just know. Just thirsty and-"
Carnistir handed him his tea-cup at once. The infusion was still lukewarm; either, Maitimo thought, he hadn't slept long, or the room must be very hot indeed. He emptied half the cup in one swig. Afterwards, his throat felt less raw, and he dared to say, "Could you open the window?"
"It is freezing outside."
"And I am melting in here. Please?"
Carnistir gave him a long hard look; then he looked down, placed the food and the knife on the quilt, and rose. As he drew back the curtains of the nearest window, moonlight lit the room more fully; Maitimo could now make out the outlines of the furniture, the shadows of the drapery and tapestries on the walls. The door- and windowframe had been carved elaborately, as had been the bedstead. Obviously a lot of care had gone into furnishing this room - the simple chamber he had occupied in Nolofinwë's house could not compare in the least. Strangely, he still found himself missing that small, bare room where he had spent his first weeks of freedom. He certainly missed having Findekáno beside him.

Carnistir had not exaggerated about the temperatures outside. As he opened the window, a rush of icy air entered the room. It felt wonderfully soothing to Maitimo, whose head was hot and heavy: the cold air on his face was a blessing. There were flowers made of crystals on the glass-panes, he noticed now; the patterns were beautiful but strange, unlike any design he was familiar with. "Who did these?" he asked, indicating the flowers.
Carnistir laughed softly. He touched one of the intricate crystal-patterns and it dissolved, melting under his fingertips. Maitimo gasped.
"It is only the water from the air," said Carnistir. "I told you it was freezing."
"It is wonderful," said Maitimo. "I am wrapped warmly enough."
"Hm," said Carnistir, returning to the bed. He noticed the half-empty cup and went to the stove where he refilled it from a glazed earthenware teapot. Then he sat down again, huddling into his cloak. He cut the bread and cheese, and shoved a few slices at Maitimo. "There. Eat."
Startled, Maitimo took the food. "You don't need to feed me, Moryo," he said cautiously. Now that the first joy about the fresh air had abated, his head was aching again, as if something was hammering inside his skull, trying to get out.
"Someone has to," Carnistir said.
Maitimo closed his eyes. "Of course. But not necessarily in the middle of the night."
His brother made to get up. "Do you want to sleep again? I can go." His brow creased in a frown.
"Eventually," Maitimo said, "but I couldn't fall asleep right now, anyway." It was probably true. Despite his heavy eye-lids he would likely try to stay awake for the rest of the night.

"Hm," Carnistir said again. "Then you might as well eat." There was a tone of hurt in his voice, and Maitimo decided to comply, nibbling the cheese somewhat unenthusiastically. Carnistir, too, began to eat, biting large chunks off his slice of bread. He noticed Maitimo's surprised look and tilted his head, his eyes asking the "What?" his full mouth wasn't currently capable of.
"I remember it was always a bit of a battle to get you to eat," said Maitimo. "It is good to see that your habits have changed."
"They haven't," said Carnistir when he'd swallowed his mouthful. "I still don't eat much. Except at night." He shrugged again. "I'm only hungry at night."
"I see," said Maitimo, taking another careful bite. "Is it possible that you've never talked to me this much before?"
Carnistir gave him an inscrutable look.
"You didn't need me to talk to you," he eventually said. "There was always someone else."
Maitimo frowned. "That doesn't mean-"
Carnistir went on. "Of course it does. You were always surrounded by important people; there was no call for me."
"Carnistir-" Maitimo began, but again he was interrupted. "It doesn't matter. I am not blaming you."
"You should have said something. I had no idea –"
"I said, I am not blaming you. Do not blame me, either."

Maitimo no longer knew what to say. He took another bite of his cheese to make the silence feel less awkward, although he was already feeling queasy.
"Now we are two outcasts," Carnistir went on, his voice softening again.
"Moryo, no," said Maitimo at once. "Nobody cast you... us... out. We've always tried to stick together."
"Yes, but you could never understand me. And now they will never quite understand what happened to you."
"Neither do you," said Maitimo, and then he frowned: "Or do you?"
"Unlikely," said Carnistir, "but I am not afraid of trying."
"I don't understand."
Carnistir leaned in closer. "If you need to talk about what happened to you – you can. I think you want to get it off your chest but you're afraid we can't bear it. I would."
"You don't want to know."
"Indeed not," said Carnistir. "Still, if it would help you to talk -"
"No." Maitimo pursed his lips.
"- I am willing to listen."
"We do not need to discuss this." He gave his younger brother a hard look.
Carnistir turned away swiftly. "I just thought..."
Maitimo's face softened. "I know, and it's a kind offer, but no."
"As you wish," said Carnistir, and his voice took on the distant quality that Maitimo remembered. He sighed. It had been strange but not unpleasant to speak with Carnistir like with his other brothers, and he felt that Carnistir was withdrawing into his shell again now. But before he could think of something to say, his stomach lurched unpleasantly, and the headache returned. He closed his eyes. Soon he felt the additional weight lifting off the mattress as Carnistir rose, doubtlessly in order to leave him. "Moryo, wait," Maitimo said, but then his stomach revolted for good and he just barely managed to roll over and hold his head over the side of the bed before vomiting violently onto the beautiful carpet.

Carnistir stared, dumbstruck; then, to Maitimo's distress, he ran out so fast the door almost slammed in his back. Maitimo curled up and tried not to cry. A foul taste was in his mouth, and his head and stomach would not stop hurting. And the spoilt carpet –
Maitimo dug his fingers into his stomach, trying to force it to be still. He was ashamed of the display he made, angry with his treacherous body, and felt resentful against Carnistir, although he told himself that his younger brother's reaction was perfectly natural. Still he wished he didn't have to lie in the smell and darkness alone. He did not dare to move and reach for the rest of his tea for fear that his stomach would rise again.
The door clanked open again, and Carnistir came rushing in, followed by two other Elves. One wore only a night-shirt and looked sleepy and anxious; Maitimo recognised Herenyo the healer. The other was fully dressed and bore a pitcher and some cloth. He at once began to scrub the stain on the carpet away.
"I am sorry," Maitimo began feebly, but then Carnistir and the healer had reached him, and he was cut short.
"Can you sit up?"
They made to help him even before he had time to reply, and he hurried to uncurl and sit despite the leaden weariness in his muscles. A cup of water was held to his lips, and he drank gratefully while Herenyo took his hand and felt for his pulse, laid a cool hand on Maitimo's forehead, and looked at his tired eyes. "A fever," he diagnosed finally, "doubtlessly brought about by the cold air and the exhausting journey." He looked a little relieved, pleased with his explanation. Carnistir hurried to shut the window.
"I am warm enough," Maitimo protested wearily, "and I can't breathe in this heat."
"My lord, I do beg your pardon, but we have to keep the cold outside," the healer said decisively. "I will make you a draught to pull out the fever, but you must keep warm, too." He hurried out of the room.
Carnistir waited until the servant had cleaned the spot on the floor and left the room again, bidding them a good night with a worried look. Then only did Carnistir meet Maitimo's eyes. His face was flushed darkly. "I did it, didn't It?" he asked, and seeing his brother's confused look, explained, "My prying. That made you sick."
Maitimo pondered this, but then he shook his head. "I don't think so," he said softly. "You didn't make the memories worse than they are anyway, so I don't see how it should have... brought this about." He grimaced. "Maybe it was the cheese."
Now it was Carnistir's turn to frown. "I didn't notice anything wrong with it."
Maitimo sighed. The warm air was making him drowsy and didn't help his headache in the least; he found it hard to concentrate, and his thoughts fluttered apart like scared birds. "I don't know," he managed, and then he didn't know what else to say. They were silent when Herenyo came with the promised draught, a hot concoction that smelled so nasty that Maitimo could barely swallow it. He grimaced at the bitter, barky taste, barely sweetened by some honey.
"I know it does not taste very good," Herenyo said firmly, "but I assure you it'll help."
Maitimo nodded wearily and drank, but he didn't try to hide his dislike, and he dismissed the healer as soon as he had emptied the bowl. At least his stomach was quiet now, although his head was still spinning.

Carnistir looked down at him with a grim expression, brow contracted and cheeks flushed. "Will you be all right?"
"Don't know," Maitimo mumbled. "I think I should sleep."
Carnistir nodded. "I'll leave you in peace then." Again Maitimo felt that there was a hint of bitterness in his voice.
He tried to smile. "I don't mind if you stay," he said, to appease his brother. "In fact, I'd be grateful if you did. I just can't stay awake."
Apparently it had been a good thing to say, for a rare smile appeared on Carnistir's face. "Then I'll stay," he said. He found himself a chair and dragged it to the bed. Before he made himself comfortable, he opened the window again.
"Thank you," whispered Maitimo, his eyes already fallen shut.
Carnistir took Maitimo's discarded cloak and wrapped it around his own.
"You are quite welcome, Nelyo. Sleep well."