Radiance by StarSpray

Two

It was very dark when they finally stopped, far from the encampment of the Valar. Heavy clouds obscured the stars and moon, and the air smelled of coming rain mingled with the sulfur and fires of the still-shifting lands. Maglor held the chest bearing the Silmarils; it was plain and unadorned, but well made.

Maedhros was tired—bone-achingly weary. But the Oath no longer whispered to him in the back of his mind, pushing and prodding him toward actions that, once upon a time, he could not have fathomed, let alone stomached. He let his sword fall from his fingers, clattering onto the stone. Maglor flinched at the sound, and set the casket down more carefully. It was yet hard to believe they had really done it, had really come away with both the Silmarils and their lives. Maedhros took a deep, shuddering breath and deliberately turned his thoughts away from the memory of E önwë’s face, stern and yet grieved, as he watched them go.

For a few moments neither of them moved to open it. Finally, Maedhros reached forward and pushed up the lid. Light, glorious and radiant and so bright he had to look away for a moment, spilled out of the chest. It was the silver-gold of the Mingling Trees, and it was starlight and sunlight and moonlight, and firelight and laughter and a youth they could never return to. When Maedhros looked at Maglor he saw tears on his face, and realized that he also was weeping.

Only two Silmarils lay in the chest, on the somewhat-tattered folds of what looked like someone ’s cloak. “One for each of us,” Maglor said after a moment, voice rough and hoarse.

Maedhros both yearned and dreaded to touch them. He knew what would happen. But he reached in anyway, to close his fingers around one of the jewels. It flared, brighter than the noonday Sun.

It burned.