Ash and Blood by StarSpray

Ash & Blood

His father burns, and Maedhros knows suddenly, deep in his bones, that this will be his end also.

There is no body to bury. No cairn to build. There is only the cold north wind to scatter the ashes, and Maedhros does not know if he only imagines the cold laughter that he hears on it. For many long minutes, none of them speak. Their father is gone, a thing that had seemed impossible, even after everything else.

All that remains is the crown, partially twisted and melted, and stained with soot and blackened blood. Silently, Maedhros picks it up.

.

The crown remains scuffed, half-melted, stained with blood and soot, and Maedhros does not clean it before he hands it to Fingolfin. Their eyes meet over it: this is what it is to be the King of the Noldor.

Fingolfin takes it anyway, his jaw set with grim determination. His spirit blazes as bright as Fëanor’s ever had, but colder and harder—tempered by the frozen wastes. His fate will be not unlike Fëanor’s, Maedhros thinks. But he will not burn.

Maedhros turns away, dispossessed and glad of it. He leads his brothers east, and does not look back.