Frustration and lament by Aprilertuile

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Frustration and Lament

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When Elrond awoke that morning, he felt straight away that this day would be a bad day. He didn’t even need to look at Maglor to know the elf was locked in memories. Or something very close to it.

He considered briefly pretending to be sleeping. For the rest of the day. Until dawn tomorrow at least. But finally sighed and rose.

He may not have things to do specifically, but he couldn’t let Maglor get lost in his memories this way. The other elf was family and had saved him a good number of times. Who was he to abandon him in turn?

Maglor didn’t react when Elrond rose; he just sat there, a piece of paper on his laps, harp at the ready, eyes lost in memories. A hand on his shoulder drew his attention somewhat.

“Hey, atto, bad night?"

"Nelyo.”

Elrond nodded at the whispered answer. He didn’t doubt it. Probably a nightmare startled Maglor, and he’s been trying to get out of it since then. Or a stray thought had turned into something more during the night when Elrond was too asleep to react to Maglor’s changing mood.

“Talk me through what you’re doing?” Elrond offered.

Distracting Maglor with music was always more successful than not.

The plaintive melody of the harp answered for Maglor. He’s been trying to write a lament. Or was that one of the melodies that he hid from the twins for so long perhaps?

No it felt too raw in Maglor’s hands, like he wasn’t entirely sure of it yet. Too raw to be old.

“Tell me, atto. Show me.”

The song was a mess. Grief at Maedhros’ loss, rage at his brother’s suicide, back to sorrow, back to furor, incomprehension, understanding, sadness, fear…

“I’m the worst." Maglor said simply in the end.

"Why?"

"I’m furious. I was never that angry at… Father died because he was stupid and didn’t know better.”

Elrond didn’t say what he thought at that, and kept his mind carefully shrouded. Any idiot with even half a brain knew that charging a Balrog was suicide, thank you very much. But Feanor had taken far too many bad decisions at the end of his life to be normal for a supposed genius so… Something was escaping Elrond and it wasn’t the moment to discuss it with the man’s last living son.

Thought it might make an interesting distraction one of these days. If he needed to anger Maglor for some reason…

“Ambarussa died because they were betrayed at Sirion. Oh rightfully so probably. We were monsters by then, all of us. But they wanted to attack the haven because they knew that resisting the oath was killing Nelyo and I not so slowly."

"Not them?"

"They weren’t the ones with the power to command our whole army. That was Nelyo and I. Even if they had wanted to, they couldn’t have mustered our forces, just theirs and their followers were… even more limited in number than ours. So the oath laid a bit less strongly on their minds.”

Elrond tilted his head to the side at that. Interesting fact to know.

“Tyelko, Curvo and Carni died in the sack of Doriath going after skilled or lucky swordsmen, our luck had to go out at some point. It was pointless deaths, as we all know but unavoidable considering our oath. But Nelyo? Nelyo CHOSE to die. He CHOSE to abandon…"

"He chose to abandon you." Elrond completed calmly for him.

"I could have. If he had. If I…”

In an uncharacteristic show of temper, Maglor threw his harp away with a scream of frustration, words escaping him.

Elrond wasn’t alarmed. The harp was solid and it wasn’t the first time he saw Maglor act up when words, his chosen and much beloved craft, escaped him.

“No one could have predicted his reaction. And no one could have stopped him. Neither you, nor I, nor any power of this world."

"He was my brother. He was… I used to… We…”

Elrond sat patiently. Maglor wouldn’t hurt him but he needed to express his rage.

“We could have. If he had just…”

Maglor emitted a wordless scream of anger before continuing: “I mean, I understand. After everything the last thing of our father rejected us. I get it. BUT WHY WASN’T IT ENOUGH TO STAY TOGETHER?”

The volume and strength of Maglor’s voice gave Elrond a headache and made even the trees surrounding them shiver.

“He was hurt."

"HE WAS AN IDIOT! A PRIDEFUL, HURT, IDIOTIC, DESPICABLE BEING!"

"Despicable is a bit strong of a word no?"

"He chose to abandon me. He chose to rob us of a chance to. To survive and get better. He DECIDED the rejection of the cold, WORTHLESS STONES was of more value than the love of his last left LIVING BROTHER!”

It’s not often that Elrond thought it, but an orc attack would be terribly welcome right about now. It’d give Maglor’s rage somewhere to go. Alas, why think orcs would be useful even once in their lives. There wasn’t even the whisper of a shadow of one in the vicinity.

“He pushed for the last kinslaying. I wanted to surrender, but noooo. He wanted to complete the oath as much as possible. So I said fuck it, fine, he’s my last living brother, I love him, fine, let’s do it. AND I DON’T WANT YOUR OPINION ON MY ABSENT MORAL STANCE! And if I had known he planned to abandon me right after, I’d have killed him there and SAVED US THE TROUBLE!”

Elrond raised his hands in sign of surrender. He always found Maedhros and Maglor’s moral stance doubtful to start with but that never stopped him from loving them. Just… The oath did give them a terribly skewed view of everything.

Or was it that their upbringing gave them a skewed view of the importance of respecting direct family that allowed for the oath to even exist?

Something to think about later perhaps. Much later. When Maglor wouldn’t do his best to give the fear of elves to poor innocent trees in the course of expressing his rage.

In any case he hadn’t been about to comment on Maglor’s moral stance or lack of one. He knew better than to engage in that kind of discussion. It was an exercise in futility with Maedhros or Maglor. Or any of their followers, come to think of it. Too loyal, too lost to their respective oaths to see any other course of action.

On the other hand, if you were on their side, the feanorians were an impressively strong and protective force.

You just had to avoid lusting after a jewel that had the incredible ability to make itself desirable to people or you were screwed.

As proven by Doriath and Sirion.

Elrond winced and turned his attention back to Maglor who took to pacing while muttering Elrond preferred not to know exactly what.

Would sparing help or be more dangerous than strictly necessary?

In doubt, Elrond decided to let Maglor pace and picked up his harp, checking it for damages. Good thing for Maglor the harp was fine. He’d have hated himself otherwise.

Elrond let his fingers fly on the strings of the harp for a few long moments, until Maglor calmed down enough to sit back down, eyes red and face unnaturally pale.

“Feeling better?"

"At least I didn’t try to go and become warg food just to spite my still living brother.” Maglor snarled at him.

"Right, I’ll take that as a “no and shut up”."

"And give me that while you’re at it.”

Elrond chuckled and gave Maglor his harp back. If the elf wanted to play music until he felt drained, in the absence of handy orcs to kill or of a Maedhros to handle his brother, he’d encourage that endeavor.

Even if he sort of missed the feeling of the harp right about now. Perhaps Maglor had a point when he suggested he needed one.