hand in hand, as brothers we will stand by Arveldis

hand in hand, as brothers we will stand

Written for @dreamingthroughthenoise's Tumblr prompt "Aegnor and warmth."

The sounds of the coals popping in the iron braziers, the fire crackling in the hearth, and the soft scratching of Angrod’s quill filled the silence of the room as Aegnor polished his armor. The pleasant warmth of the room and the monotony of his task might have lulled him into comfortable quietude, but for the thoughts that warred within him and turned his mind this way and that.

Across the room, Angrod pushed away the small pile of correspondence he had responded to and turned to collect the mending he had set aside earlier, examining his previous stitches. 

Aegnor hesitated, the words that he wanted to say crowding on the tip of his tongue even as his mind urged him to stay silent. Stalling, he held his breastplate up to the light of the fire and watched the reflection of the firelight flicker upon its burnished surface.

“You wish to say something,” came Angrod’s voice from the other side of the room. “Speak.”

Aegnor sighed and lowered the breastplate to look at his brother. “Do I wear my thoughts so plainly?”

The corner of Angrod’s mouth curved as he threaded his needle. “You were polishing with more vigor than the task demands.”

Aegnor set the breastplate aside, using the moment to gather his thoughts before he spoke. “How did you know that you wished to marry Edhellos—that what you felt for her could not be mistaken for aught else, and that you must either act upon it or forever rue not doing so and think ever of what might have been?”

Angrod regarded him over the sleeve of the tunic he mended. “Do you ask because of Boromir’s eldest daughter, Andreth the Wise-woman?”

Aegnor’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Have I worn my affections plainly, too?”

“Not to others, but I know you better than any other,” Angrod said, returning to his mending. “I have seen your eye upon her at the feasts, and you have spent much of this visit out upon the heaths and hidden in the woods. Doubtless you know better how the birds and beasts of Dorthonion fare than how its people do.” Though he jested, his voice was warm.

But all mirth faded as he looked at Aegnor again, and his voice when he spoke now was no louder than the popping of the coals or the crackling of the fire. “But I need not tell you that such a union would end in great grief, Aikanáro. There is no painless friendship between Eldar and Edain, much less the deep love of marriage.” Angrod’s gaze was gentle and compassionate. “Though she is young now, Andreth’s years are few, and the grief of the sundering would be fast on the heels of whatever brief joy you may find together.”

Aegnor smiled sadly. “That I well know, and it is that which complicates the matter, for I know my heart and what it would have me do, but that which I know in my heart is tempered by the voice of my mind, telling me that such desires should never be.”

Angrod watched Aegnor but said nothing, and his silence encouraged Aegnor to continue.

“I had thought that I would never marry, for my heart turned toward none in my youth, and the grief of the kinslayings and the bitter crossing drove any such concerns wholly from my mind. I was content with guarding the leaguer and protecting these lands, but now I find myself at a crossroads, and I do not know in which direction I should turn.” Aegnor twisted the polishing wax in his hands. “My heart tells me that I should not squander what I have found, nor the short time that love lays to my hand, but my mind tells me that the grief such a course would bring would be my ending. 

“And were I to follow my heart’s bidding, where should I take her?” He moved to stand in front of the fire and clutched at the mantle, peering into the flames. “North to the siege and draw her nearer to danger, or flee to the east or south and so leave everyone I and she hold dear? Were I to do so, the guilt of not holding to what has been entrusted to me would dog my heels even in the short time of joy I would have while Andreth lives, and yet were I to choose my duty, I could not escape the guilt of forsaking what has grown between us. The choice before me is bitter and full of woe, and I must lose something I cherish in the choosing."

Aegnor fell silent for a moment, and the snapping of the fire filled the silence. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I know what Andreth would wish for me to choose, and I would choose it though it bring me grief until the breaking of the world, but for the warning in my heart that the leaguer will not hold, and my presence will be needed at the front ere her years have run their course.

"If the leaguer broke during her twilight years, it would grieve me beyond words to leave her alone and unaided, defenseless and dependent on the goodwill of others in the midst of great danger. Better it would seem to take her away from the north, but were I to do so, I would have the blood of all Dorthonion on my hands.” Aegnor closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the mantle, and he heard Angrod's soft step move toward him.

Angrod was silent for a long moment, and his voice, when he spoke, was quiet. “I can give you no wise counsel, Aikanáro, for I have no wisdom in this matter, nor, I deem, do any of our people, for such love has never existed between Eldar and Edain, nor, perhaps, was it ever meant to. But such words do not ease the burden of such a choice, nor do they bring comfort.” 

Angrod turned and clasped his brother’s shoulder. “So I will say this instead: Know that whatever choice you make, I will help you bear the burden of it, as I can, for it is a burden and grief none should bear alone.”

Aegnor placed his hand over Angrod’s. “That is a comfort greater than words could provide.”