Súlimëo Quentar: March Stories by Elleth

Midwinter

While seeking for Eluréd and Elurín, Maedhros' past catches up with him.

(Horror, hence possibly disturbing images in this fic. A drabble according to Open Office.)

The forest is full of spectres, Maedhros only alive among them. Falling thick as snow, the dead of all his faults and battles, iced-over bones from Helcaraxë cracking under footsteps, dead brothers peering out from snow-drifts, blue-lipped, Fingon's ruined face blowing him kisses. Unhorsed, pathless, he stumbles, seeking – what? It's cold, midwinter. His fire gutters out, there's Ambarussa laughing. Twins. He's seeking twins, Dior's sons, and rouses the dead of Doriath, shrieking, driving needles in his face.

Enough, a woman whispers. They are safe with me. Leave now.

He flies along a sudden path. The dead, unsatisfied, follow.

Chapter End Notes

Written for the following prompts:

O68: Here we come A-Caroling: "We won't go until we get some!", Fëanátics: Maedhros went to look for Elúred and Elúrin, Horror: Footsteps and whispers, Relationships: same-sex relationship