Long live the King by Aprilertuile

It was a few hours since Maitimo should have arrived with his people on the site to parley with Moringotto’s envoys. The brothers were uneasy and Makalaurë more specifically started to feel restless.

“I’m sure something happened.” He whispered one too many times.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll go and take a look.” Tyelkormo snapped, out of patience.

“… But if nothing happened and our presence makes a problem…”

“I’ll be discreet, no one will notice me.”

“Not alone.”

“I’ll take one of my hunters with me.”

Makalaurë nodded with hesitation.

He felt like something terrible was happening but if it was just his prejudice and nothing was actually happening and that by going they actually started something…

He watched as Tyelkormo went to speak to one of his people, a noldo with hair that had been cut drastically short following a fiery meeting with a Balrog’s whip.

Tyelkormo could feel his brother’s eyes on him as they prepared to leave the camp, his friend Loscarmë, Huan and him.

They walked, careful of the noise they made until they reached the place of the meeting, a solid hour and a half away from where they made camp with some of their people just to be ready, just in case… and Tyelkormo’s blood froze in his veins even as Loscarmë emitted a painful whine at his side.

Nelyafinwë’s second in command was Loscarmë’s brother… And his head detached from his body was the first sight that greeted them.

“No. No, no, no, no, no…” Loscarmë whispered painfully.

The two rushed ahead, mindless of the potential danger and they reached the bodies and checked them one by one.

There were orcs, foul creatures that they were, but more, every single elf sent with Maitimo was laying there, slain.

“Loscarmë, you’re quicker than me, run back to camp and tell my brothers.”

“I…”

“Bring them here. I’ll try to... I’ll take care of the bodies and I’ll try to see if I can find… Something. Anything. Go.”

Loscarmë did. He left running, hoping that he wasn’t sealing the fate of the prince as surely as the parley seemed to have sealed the fate of so many people.

Makalauë saw him coming back running, and alerted his brothers and their respective seconds.

“What happened?”

“We found the site, but our people are dead and prince Maitimo is nowhere to be seen.”

“Eru no…” Makalaurë breathed, shocked.

“Where’s Turko?” Curufinwë asked Loscarmë sharply.

“Prince Tyelkormo sent me back to warn you. He said he would try to find something on the site. Traces or… Whatever he can find.”

The brothers left galloping, a few of their people following. None of them cared that horses were far from discreet. What mattered to them was to get to the site as soon as possible.  

And they found Tyelkormo readying the bodies of the elves for a pyre.

“Fucking hell, what happened here?!”

“A massacre.” Tyelkormo answered.

“Did you find something?”

“Balrogs were there. Orcs as well.” Tyelkormo answered, pointing at the burning footprints and the orcish bodies on the ground.

“Nelyo?”

“Taken as far as I can tell. Or… Dead and taken. I don’t know.” Tyelkormo said quietly

“We need to go after them!” Makalaurë said sharply in a voice that still sounded desperate to Tyelkormo’s ears.

Tyelkormo frowned at that, whereas the twins immediately agreed wholeheartedly with that plan of action.

“Tyelko?” Carnistir asked quietly.

“That is actually not a good idea.” Tyelkormo said softly, feeling sick at having to say it aloud.

“What do you mean it’s not actually a good idea?!” Makalaurë spluttered, shocked.

“I mean that we know exactly nothing about the situation. So who do you want to send into what is potentially a trap?”

“What do you suggest then? Just abandoning him like that?”

“Send scouts. I’ll even go with them. Assess the damn situation. Don’t rush into something without all the information necessary once again. Because so far doing so cost us our father, and Nelyo. So let’s… You know… Let’s do the clever thing for once.”

Not that doing the clever thing was usually his forte, but if he had to treat this whole thing like a hunt to survive, he would and the first thing he ever learnt at Oromë’s side was that running mindlessly into a situation one knows nothing about was a sure way to end up in more trouble than it was worth.

“Scouting will take too long.”

“Better than to send our people blind into a trap.”

“If we double the amount of people Nelyo took…” Makalaurë started.

“Oh? So you already know where we can intercept the party that took Nelyo, their exact number after the battle that obviously took place here, and what reinforcement they potentially met on the way back as we speak? Alright, then enlighten me, brother.” Tyelkormo said sharply.

Makalaurë was looking wild there:

“Then we’ll all go. They can’t…”

“With the time it actually takes to move an army you want to manage to move all our people in time to catch them before they hole up inside their… Fortress?” Tyelkormo answered with a raised eyebrow.

 “We can’t leave Maitimo there!”

“Makalaurë, I hate to say it, but it’s too late. You said yourself you sent me to check the situation because you thought it was taking too long. Well, it did, and it’s been hours since the battle took place. Brother, they’ve been on the move for hours. By the time we get back it’ll be another hour perhaps, and I’m not even counting the time to move the rest of our people! For all we know they’re already back to a defensible position, or back with the bulk of their army.”

And Tyelkormo felt like he was going to throw up as he was saying so. 

“If we go now…”

“We lost dad. We lost Nelyo. In his absence you are our king! Think like one! How many of our people do you want to sacrifice on a failing endeavours? We know nothing of Moringotto’s resources. Obviously he has quite the strength available, and we know nothing of his army and nothing of the lay of the land.”

“Nelyo’s our brother.” Makalaurë said between closed teeth.

“And our brother is dead.” Tyelkormo snapped.

A cold silence fell between them for a moment.

Then Makalaurë shook his head and whispered with a voice full of emotions:

“I would know if he was dead. I know he’s alive.”

“We can’t save him Makalaurë. We have neither the resources, nor the knowledge to do that. Nelyo was arrogant. We told him not to go. That it was a trap. He underestimated Moringotto. Will you make the same mistake and doom us all?”

And oh, his brother was glaring at him. Tyelkormo didn’t care. The rest of their brothers meddled not between them.

“So quick to abandon our brother, Tyelkormo?”

“So quick to throw away all our lives and that of our people, Makalaurë?”

When would his brothers learn? This was a hunt, no more, no less. Having taken Maitimo so soon after their father’s death, Moringotto got both natural leaders of the house, so they needed first and foremost to reorganise themselves and stop sending their leaders AND their people to certain death.

“Brother, if you order us to go after Nelyo, I’ll have to order my people to stay behind.” Tyelkormo said firmly.

He hated himself more with each word from his lips, but he couldn’t just let Makalaurë throw all their lives away on an endeavour that they all knew would fail.

Why could Makalaurë not see the problems here? Why couldn’t Maitimo see the danger properly before even?

No. No, it was unfair. Their brother was now in the hands of their enemy, and suffering who knew what sort of torment. The cursed Vala had proven already he was not a friend to elves, Tyelkormo couldn’t put that situation on his brother’s shoulders. He couldn’t.

“Carnistir, your opinion?” Makalaurë asked coldly.

“We lost our father already. Nelyo’s gone, and we don’t know what fate awaits him. Our people are already tired of battles and we just arrived. We aren’t going to win anything in these circumstances. I think Tyelko’s right.”

“I see. Curufinwë?”

“Tyelko’s the one with what resemble the most actual battle and strategy training. You’re a musician, Makalaurë. I’m a smith. What do we know of these things? If Tyelko says it’s not a good idea then let us listen. Let us not make the same mistake twice.”

“Ambarussa?”

“Well… I mean, Tyelko does make sense.” One of the twins said sadly.

Makalaurë sighed, looking lost at that.

“He’s our brother Tyelko!”

“I know. But if we go, we’ll have come to these lands for nothing, for we’ll all be dead and at the mercy of our oath. Remember the punishment we invoked for failing our goal? ‘To the Everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth’? We can’t afford to fail. Not now, not ever.”

“I can’t…”

“You must. Say I forced you if your conscience pains you so greatly at the idea of not dooming our people.”

“What do you suggest we do then?”

“Retreat to a defensible position, learn the lay of the land, and make allies. Perhaps create fortified defences if we can before Moringotto decides to go after the rest of us.  That’s how we can save our souls from our own stupidity and avenge our family.”

Makalaurë deflated at that but nodded.

His minstrel brother was shaking.

And so was he, Tyelkormo noticed distantly.

May the Valar, Eru, whoever is still listening to them cursed kinslayers, not make him actually responsible for the fate of his siblings. He could not do that.

It wasn’t fair: he was a hunter. He was a spare useless third child of the house, never supposed to have a real impact as a leader of their house. Why was he now the one stopping their remaining elder brother from killing them all in stupidity and grief?

The way back to the lakeside was long and tiring and filled with what Tyelkormo would call a heavy silence.

He was neither blind nor deaf:

He had noticed Makalaurë falling silent every time he caught sight of him, his face contorting in a polite grimace that barely hid the sneer that wanted to come out. And Tyelkormo had the feeling, seeing the cold judgement, the lack of trust, in his brother’s eye, that perhaps he lost something he had never meant to lose by telling him what he thought of his plan to go after Maitimo. Time would tell if losing his brother’s trust was worth it, he supposed.

He had noticed Ambarussa talk, and stop often, falling silent as soon as they saw either him or Makalaurë, eyes full of doubts.

He had noticed Carnistir being… uncharacteristically cautious around him and Makalaurë, as if he feared a random comment would ignite something they’d all regret.

He had noticed Curufinwë making himself particularly busy, teaching his son something that Tyelkormo was pretty sure young Telperinquar already knew well anytime he or Makalaurë approached him.

Every time he noticed those behaviours, he wanted to get in the face of his brothers and start a fight.

They had made that decision, the decision to yes abandon their elder brother to Morgoth, by a majority vote. Yes it was him who voiced the need to not go after Maitimo like idiots, but they had all voiced their opinion on it.  

If they had something to say against his reasoning, or against their brother’s terribly fey mood, they should say it honestly. Void, they should have said it earlier even.

Their mother had been right when she said that the silent treatment was unhelpful to the extreme. To think he used to believe that it at least avoided unnecessary conflict…

Tyelkormo thought to give his siblings space and joined scouting parties every day, leaving to his brothers the duty of commanding their people as a whole.

They didn’t know the land enough to separate anyway.

Besides it gave him the possibility to fight whatever creature came after them and that helped him control his fraying temper.

And oh, the land was crawling with creatures in need of being sent to what served as their afterlife.

Orcs for instance. Orcs were truly disturbing creatures.

He had barely been able to see them when he had first encountered them, relying more on his perception of movements in the dark than on actual sight. The problem was that they surrounded themselves with lights in the camps they made. Torches, their father’s lamps… Whatever worked.

Only it didn’t work well when it came to fight in the dark.

But now, now his eyes were pretty used to the night sky and the environment, and the orcs were… Well, ugly to start with.

But it wasn’t just that.

They were… Disturbing in the way they moved, like they were something between feral creatures, civilized enough to use weapons. Their eyes lit up like that of nocturnal animals in the light of the torches and they were looking sick and frighteningly cold, full of such hatred that Tyelkormo was pretty sure no elf ever truly deserved, not even them kinslayers and cursed as they were.

For that patrol that day, Tyelkormo joined a scouting party composed of his own hunters. People he’s known since he was little.

Once they were far enough from the camp, Loscarmë turned to him with hesitation. Tyelkormo waited patiently. Loscarmë never hesitated for long, not with him.

“My lord… We…”

Tyelkormo tilted his head to the side, observing his friend. It wasn’t in his habit to be shy. To the contrary even, the elf was usually near unstoppable and even worse than him in putting his foot in his mouth.  

“Yes?”

“I know we’re cursed, I mean, we all know it, we all heard it. Lord Námo wasn’t shy in letting every Noldo know about that. But… We’ve noticed that… hm… I’m sorry but…”

“Take a deep breath and say it. I won’t be mad.”

“We have been having worse and worse luck as we’ve been hunting without obeying the rites of the Hunt that you used to apply before.”

That took Tyelkormo by surprise, and felt to him like a punch to the gut.

Well he knew why Loscarmë had been hesitant now.

“The Valar turned their back on us. ‘Not even the echo of your lamentation shall pass over the mountains’, remember? I doubt lord Oromë will pay attention to… Well… Us.”

Tyelkormo noticed Loscarmë exchange a helpless look with another of their party, and he sighed.

“Alright, fine, it can’t hurt anyway, can it? We’ll scout around, and we’ll do the rites, and leave a sacrifice when we’re done, and see what will happen then.”

At worst Oromë will simply not care, and nothing will happen. Tyelkormo doubted that Oromë would stoop so low as to lead Moringotto to them out of spite so…

And at best… Well, at best perhaps Oromë will still see fit to bless their party, though he doubted it.

The elves in his party seemed to take hope from the announcement, and they kept going, carefully watching their surroundings.

They came not upon prey they could hunt for food, but upon orcs. It looked to be a scouting party as well… but the elves were quieter… And more deadly.

Tyelkormo relished in the violence of the fight. It wasn’t right, he supposed, to relish in violence, but while he was fighting for his life, he didn’t have to think of anything else.

The fight was short. The orcs all fell.

“Wait, stop! What are you doing?!” Tyelkormo called Loscarmë as he saw the elf take a dagger and put it in the torso of a dead orc, ready to cut it open.

“… I’m taking the heart to leave as a sacrifice for a successful scouting mission?”

Tyelkormo hesitated.

On one hand it would be just so easy to do, the orcs were dead and their bodies available but…

On the other hand the orcs seemed to be thinking creatures and to cut open the body of a creature that had probably somewhat of a civilization… Language at least, elaborate tools… Was… Unheard of. And on a non-cultural but very religious side of it, the orcs were foul creatures that felt foul…

And it seemed wrong to him to sacrifice something so foul to Oromë. Whether or not he had been uncaring in the end, he didn’t deserve to be given a foul offering. He still taught them well. He still welcomed them among his Hunters and he still gave them his blessing.

Giving something foul as an offering felt like an insult.

Better no offering at all.

Not that he was going to voice any of his opinion. He was pretty sure there were considerations that his people didn’t want to acknowledge he had. After all, Fëanáro’s family was well known to have only scientific disdain for faith. And utter contempt for the Valar.

And never mind that his father had been entirely hypocritical about it since he used to adore working with Aulë and Tyelkormo was quite certain that some knowledge he had obtained from the vala was actually a gift. But ah…He had no proof and no will to engage in this debate with anyone. The shadow of his father, even deceased, was terrifying enough.

“Don’t. Not the orcs.”

“My prince…”

“No. That’s not negotiable. You don’t thank Oromë for a successful hunt by leaving behind something foul that’s more likely to poison any animal brave enough to eat the sacrifice than to be of any help.”

Loscarmë took his dagger out of the creature and looked at Tyelkormo with a strange sense of grief.

“Then what can we do? There’s only those foul beasts around.”

He wasn’t wrong, the sound of the fight, or the orcs, would have driven any animal away by now.

Tyelkormo sighed.

“Come. Let’s take some distance and may those orcs rot in the void. I’ll… Figure something out.”

He had a pretty good idea too.

Tyelkormo took a look at Huan and grimaced at seeing the state of the hound after the fight:

“You are getting a bath at the first opportunity, just so you know.”

And the more he thought on it as they walked away, walking in somewhat of a circle around their camp, the more he had the certainty he was right.

If it’s a hint, my lord, it’s not subtle! Tyelkormo thought silently.

He received no answer, and shivered in the dark, though Huan came to lean against him.

Once their turn was over and they were ready to rejoin the rest of the host, Tyelkormo stopped and looked at his men who were looking at him with expectation.

“Alright. Alright. Let’s do this.”

Tyelkormo stood in front of them. He felt unsure in a way he hadn’t been in years when it came to following the rites of the Hunt.

“Today was successful. We lost none of our party and a party of orcs, our foes, have been killed. Despite the distance... Despite our deeds, despite our doom, let us thank Oromë for this success.”

Tyelkormo had no food on him, nothing that would be suitable as a sacrifice that he could leave behind in the forest…

He made a shallow cut on his arm and let his blood flow slowly on the floor of the forest, reciting the usual prayer of thanks he used to say in Valinor. He preferred to leave a piece of meat for animals to feast on when they’d find it, but whatever worked in the end.

If giving a sacrifice to Oromë could somewhat guarantee some victory and some food on their plates while they settled, he’d do it with gratitude for the help. 

The members of the party listened to his prayers, some probably praying silently in their corner, and when they were done, he hid the cut on his arm with his sleeve. He’d have to find a better solution for next time, if there was a next time, or his brothers would find it alarming.

Or perhaps they would just not care, who knew?  

Upon their return to the others, they crossed paths with Carnistir who finally looked at Tyelkormo without looking away in an effort to avoid a conversation.

“Brother.”

Tyelkormo snorted at that.

“So you decided I was worth talking to finally?”

Starting an argument seemed better than to give Carnistir the opportunity to notice and wonder about the cut on his arm. Either he’d have to lie on how he got it, or he’d have to tell the truth and he could already hear the arguments. No, better to distract by a good old brotherly fight.

“I was not… Overjoyed at your… our reasoning and situation.” His brother answered carefully.

“Yet you also voiced a similar opinion. So isn’t it a case of the cauldron calling the pot black?”

“We decided to abandon our brother, Tyelko. I’m sorry if I’m not overjoyed that being cautious cost us a member of our family!” Carnistir snapped.

“Only fools rush ahead without an idea of what may await them. I didn’t take you for a fool brother.”

“And I didn’t take you for a coward.” Makalaurë voiced from nearby.

“Well, I guess we can all be disappointed then, Makalaurë.”

“Were you injured in this scouting mission?”

“No. We did cross paths with orcs. It looked like a small scouting party.”

“Did any escape?”

“No.”

“Well, at least you’re useful for something.” Makalaurë said snidely before crossing over to talk to one of their people.

Tyelkormo’s hands closed into fists and he took a deep breath to avoid the temptation to start a brawl with his brother. It was one thing to put your fist in the face of your unbearable older brother, it was another to put your fist in your king’s face.

Alas.

Their camp near the lake was fortified first, everyone’s effort going into it, into ensuring that the camp couldn’t be entered easily by creatures seen or unseen, and then building they could live in and work in started to be built.

Tyelkormo knew that Curufinwë’s attention was focused mainly on that these days.

So his brother had missed the arrival of several elves from… Well, natives to the area. He had missed the way they started to exchange with them, and started to learn their language as they were learning theirs.

That’s how they learnt the place was called the lake Mithrim, in Hithlum.

While his brothers were doing their best to make the camp into an actual liveable settlement, to ensure the people’s safety, and create what could be called an actual city with its own economy, Tyelkormo kept riding out.

Honestly he needed to have some breathing space.

He could only focus on his dog to the exclusion of his brothers for so long, no matter how much he adored Huan.

And Makalaurë was a vicious thing when he wanted to and felt slighted. And this time, abandoning Maitimo to whatever fate he was now suffering, or had suffered… Well, it was far more than a simple slight, and Makalaurë was acting in consequence.  

So riding out was his best escape.

Huan was always at his side, and did his best to distract him when he inevitably had to work with his elder brother but…

It wasn’t even that Makalaurë was finding every possible way to call him a coward every time they spoke that bothered him the most. It was the way he did it in public as much as in private. Because of that his own people didn’t know anymore if they should acknowledge being his or should keep their head down.

It was also the sheer hypocrisy of his little brothers that was getting to him.

Yes, he was the first who spoke against going after Maitimo.

Yes, the others saw the wisdom of his words.

He wasn’t alone in thinking that running blindly after their eldest brother would have been a useless act that would kill them all.

But ah… He supposed that staying in Makalaurë’s good grace and isolating one of them was easier than confronting the same truth that sent Tyelkormo to wake up screaming almost every night. That they, collectively, chose to save their own lives by sacrificing one of them.

Tyelkormo kept his arms covered now. He didn’t know what his brothers thought of that, or if they indeed thought anything at all about it, but he didn’t care.

He’d tell them the truth one day: that he made sacrifices to Oromë every time he went out with his people, for safety, and protection, and thanks, for the comfort of habit, for the desperate hope he hadn’t lost… Oromë. That half the time it was meat or pieces of food he kept and half the time his own blood.

But…

One day. When they’d stop being hypocritical assholes in the face of their brother’s rage.

Perhaps in an age or two, knowing Makalaurë.

It’s funny how the less likely of them could in fact be the most like their father in his grief. It’s also funny, how all the brothers adapted to it as they adapted to their father.

Once upon a time, disappointing Fëanáro had seemed like a terrible thing, but since he created the Silmaril, Tyelkormo started to really fear the violence of his reactions.

Once upon a time, risking a mocking song in retaliation for angering Makalaurë had seemed worth it. Now… Tyelkormo could feel it wouldn’t be a mocking song that’s befell them, no, but he didn’t know for sure what his brother would be capable of, and he was half afraid to meet this beast.

The more he thought about it, the more he regretted not having offered to go meet the envoy himself. After all, Perfect Nelyo would have known how to tell his brothers that they couldn’t try to intervene, and it wasn’t like they’d miss him anyway.

A movement at his right led him to turn his eyes, and he found one of the local elves. A woman who introduced herself as Renieth.

Communication had been difficult at first but Tyelkormo deeply enjoyed their conversations now, and often Renieth went with his own hunting or scouting parties.

She had showed him quite a few plants, edible and poisonous both.

Some he learnt, were deadly even to elves.

It made Tyelkormo wonder if those plants grew in Aman too, and where they did, for he never saw those, not even in Oromë’s woods or the darker areas that the tree light barely touched. Or were they a Moringotto created perversion of a plant of Yavana?

It was very possible, admittedly.

“Ready?” He asked her in Sindarin.

His abilities to talk in Sindarin were very limited still, and he knew his sentences were quite terrible, but it worked and he made progresses quickly enough. Certainly more quickly than some of his brothers. But then, he supposed, they all had different duties that got in the way.

They went with their party, hunting for food this time. They were all ready to gather edible plants as well if they found some, but they were really hoping more for deer or boar.

Sadly, as they were hunting, the traces they found were not of deer or boar, not of rabbits or quails.

No.

The silence of the forest was alarming. Even Huan, usually very full of energy and confidence was being careful, standing guards next to Tyelkormo.

And orcs fell upon them before they had a chance to decide to go back.

The fight was short.

The fight was brutal.

Orcs were trying to get at Tyelkormo specifically and were in enough number to be trouble.

The fight saw Renieth thrown against a tree, throwing her back painfully.

The fight saw Loscarmë losing an ear.

The fight saw Tyelkormo take a sword to the belly.

But they were also lucky:

The orcs were killed. Huan tearing apart more than his fair share of them, and they could regroup and retreat, and another party came to their aid, having noticed the unnatural eerie silence being suddenly broken by shouting, and fighting sound of steel against steel.

Tyelkormo wondered briefly, hearing Huan whine softly in distress in his ear, whether he was going to survive that one. 

He felt sorry for Huan. He wanted to reassure him that all would be well…

But he couldn’t. His arms felt like anvils were resting on them and he could only whisper the name of his beloved dog before darkness took him.

Tyelkormo survived.

He woke up with a gasp of pain, having moved in fitful sleep, and found himself immediately surrounded by his brothers, all talking over each others, meaning that Tyelkormo didn’t understand a single thing they said, and they only achieved to give him a headache on top of the pain he already felt.

Something must have shown on his face, for Makalaurë’s voice rose above that of his other siblings:

“ENOUGH!” He called.

Silence fell in the room.

“Thank you. How are you feeling Tyelko?” Makalaurë asked gently.

And Tyelkormo blinked slowly. He knew the words. He understood them individually… But it didn’t seem to make any sense in his head. As a result, he chose to ignore the obvious question of his brother and to answer with one of his own:

“What happened after I lost consciousness?” Tyelkormo asked, “and where is Huan?” He added, upon realising that his dog was nowhere to be seen.

His brothers all exchanged looks at that.

“Sindarin, Quenya and…?” Ambarussa asked curious.

“Primitive Quendian.” Makalaurë sighed.

That had Tyelkormo grimace.

Did he mix his languages again? That happened so rarely. Only when he was really out of it. At least this time apparently he stayed in elven languages.

“Yes, you did.”

“Did I speak aloud?” Tyelkormo asked, focusing carefully on one language at a time.

He hoped at least.

“Yes, you did.” Makalaurë answered again patiently.

“Alright. What happened after I lost consciousness and where is Huan?” He repeated in the hope of being clearer and getting an answer this time.

He wanted to see Huan, he wouldn’t put it past his siblings to try to hide it if something had happened to him.

“The healers said his presence was not good for…”

“Huan is my companion. Huan’s presence is good for me. I want my dog.”

Curufinwë snorted at that but went to open the door of the room. Immediately a massive hound jumped him with a woof of happiness seeing Tyelkormo awake and aware, more or less.

“Hey boy, come here Huan, come!”

Huan sat on the floor, putting his massive head against Tyelkormo’s side and only then did the elf relax.

“So… I ran out of luck, uh?”

“According to your extremely aggravating second, the orcs were prepared for you lot. They came in numbers and set up an ambush. They noticed the weapons and better armour than average and the orcs clearly meant to try to take your party down.”

“They’ve learnt well.” Tyelkormo mused.

“… Please, don’t talk about those creatures like you speak about a hunting dog. We don’t want them to actually learn anything, least of all well enough to take you down.” Curufinwë snapped.

“And yet, we have to recognize that they have learnt enough to know exactly where to lay their ambush, meaning that they’ve noticed a pattern that no one noticed we were using. They’ve learnt enough to know what number would be utterly inefficient to take a party of us down. They’ve learnt to recognize some of us to concentrate their efforts on us. That means they’ve been watching us for long enough already.” Ambarussa said, realising what Tyelkormo meant and had difficulties to articulate properly for now.

“And so without us noticing them.” Makalaurë said with a frown, understanding his point.

“Yes, and that right here is a problem.” Tyekormo nodded.

Languages were hard. Whoever said the contrary was a lying liar who lied.

Makalaurë nodded and left the room, looking like wrath incarnate… And Tyelkormo relaxed and closed his eyes briefly, curling up against… One of his brother’s hand. He’d be unable to tell which one at the moment, but it felt… Like safety.

His head was swimming, he felt like he was perceiving everything through a thick layer of fabric, he felt both hot and cold, but his brothers were around him, Huan at hand, Makalaurë had listened to his concerns and he had been here.

He woke up again later to a healer screeching at the presence of Huan:

“You throw Huan out, I’ll follow him.” He said, making the healer splutter but shut up.

Oh, it was easier to think now. The pain felt sharper but everything else felt clearer and closer to normal. The drug they used to dull the pain must have faded away then. Good. He preferred to have a clear head and the ability to communicate properly. 

The healer nodded sharply, looking deeply unhappy as he glared at Huan as if he was a rat in his soup bowl.

Really, healers were far too concerned about insignificant things like dog hair and drool and dog weight and strength that could potentially reopen stitches on accident.

It’s not like it was a real concern.

Alright at least it’s not like it was a real concern with HUAN.

Tyelkormo didn’t guarantee anything for any other animal, thank you very much.

Huan emitted a woof of distinct amusement and Tyelkormo eyed him: “Did I talk aloud?”

The dog emitted a funny face that said it all and he groaned.

“Your mind is an interesting thing to be in, certainly. Do you often have nightmares?” Carnistir asked him.

“See, Huan, I never wake up the camp with my wailing. What a relief.” Tyelkormo mused.

“Tyelko, I was serious.”

“Often enough, if you must know. Why?”

“We had to wake you up twice but with the medication you weren’t… Really… Aware of things and… It made for an interesting time.” Curufinwë said.

“Did I injure anyone?”

“No. Not really.”

“’No’ and ‘not really’ aren’t the same brother.”

“Well no then.”

“Huan, was that a ‘no you didn’t’ or a ‘I say no even though you did because I just don’t want you to concern yourself about it right now kind of no’?”

A simple woof answered him, and Huan’s tail was beating the floor crazily.

Tyelkormo sighed, and looked at the healer:

“How bad is it?”

And that’s how Tyelkormo learnt to never challenge healers, for that one seemed to have decided to take revenge for the presence of the dog by going into technical details that had Tyelkormo going from utter boredom to absolute horror.

After his recovery, Tyelkormo was put back to handling the hunters and food rotation, and their defences and welcoming the local elves when they joined them.

Of course, Makalaurë had made a beautiful discourse about the honour and responsibility of this duty.

It seemed to appease all their people, making them seemingly forget the not so cordial disagreement that had shaken the brothers since Maitimo had been taken.

However, Tyelkormo had no illusion on the matter. He knew his brother far too well for that:

Seeing him at death’s door had been enough to calm Makalaurë’s desires to start a fight, had stopped him altogether from finding all the possible ways to call him a coward, but nevertheless, Makalaurë couldn’t forget that it was him who first opposed his decision to go after Maitimo.

Tyelkormo could understand that. He hadn’t forgotten either. His dreams punished him often enough regarding that very matter.

The duties piled on to him were just silent acknowledgement from his brother that abandoning their elder brother had been Tyelkormo’s plan and not his own.

That their brothers had preferred to follow his counsel and not Makalaurë’s own desires.

A petty bit of: ‘you took control then, you can keep control now’. 

Or perhaps he was reading too much into things and it was just Makalaurë’s way of admitting that he indeed knew less than himself of those matters. 

Who knew?  

But if it was indeed done with a hint of malice… Well he could take it. He’d take the silent accusation. He’d take his brother’s pettiness with glee.

Yes, he’d take it all because it meant that his brother was free to do so. He was still alive, and he was finally acknowledging that he had recovered enough.

It was more than time.

If his brother had kept on trying to treat him like a baby who needed his strong older brother to so much as get dressed in the morning, Tyelkormo would have had to bite him as he did once upon a time as a child. Yes, Tyelkormo’s patience with being coddled was gone. Disappeared. Went to settle in the void.

And for now at least things were well enough and back to normal:

Makalaurë was back trying to pretend he was a good king and not at all writing laments about their father and elder brother during the day and treating all the files and information they gave him during the evening and half the night.

Seriously, why was it their MINSTREL brother who was king? At this rhythm Makalaurë was going to kill himself through exhaustion, and that’s all it was going to do.

Carnistir was elated to focus again on trying to set up a proper trade in and outside the camp, with whoever willing to discuss trade with him at all, which was always deeply interesting to see as, in his tactics to set up and discuss trades, Tyelkormo often recognized manners from both their parents, Makalaurë’s gift with words, and even some of his own ways to circle and lead a prey exactly where he wanted it to be.

Curufinwë was back with his son to create wonders of weapons and defences. And thanks the Valar for small mercies because there was only so much talk of blacksmithing that Tyelkormo could tolerate without crying for mercy, and he had alas reached his limit within one hour the first day of suffering enjoying his brother’s company after his injury.

And the Ambarussa were both surprisingly efficient at talking with the sindar-speaking elves they met and unsurprisingly efficient at leading hunts as well on Tyelkormo’s command. 

The Oath seemed to be… Dormant. Patient. Quiet for the moment, leaving them to pick up the pieces of their lives until such a time it’d rear up its ugly head again.

Finally, that day, Tyelkormo found himself surprised that Makalaurë summoned him to what served as his office outside of their scheduled daily meetings. 

By the time he joined his brother in the room, their other siblings were with Makalaurë already.

“You summoned me?” Tyelkormo asked Makalaurë with a drawl.

Hey, they were in private and even if Makalaurë was technically their king, he remained his brother, Tyelkormo knew him too well to bother respecting the crown above annoying his brother.

Priorities.

“Moringotto sent us a message. He says that he holds Maitimo hostage and will not release him unless we leave far from Beleriand and abandon our war.”

“I beg you, tell me you don’t actually believe he’ll ever willingly release our brother?”

Makalaurë, Maglor as he started to call himself, using the Sindarin version of his name, hesitated but shook his head.

“I too have heard the stories of the elves that are teaching us Sindarin, brother. I just…”

Tyelkormo nodded, bitterness in his heart. Maglor didn’t want the whole responsibility of dooming their brother to endless torments to fall on his shoulders alone and just passed along the hot coal.

He would remember that.

“You know my answer.”

“I’d rather hear it anyway.”

Coward. Coward. Coward. Makalaurë Kanafinwë Maglor… No matter what name he used was a coward parading with a golden crown that suited him not at all.

Makalaurë looked at him with a clear challenge on his face and Tyelkormo sneered at him.

Oh he knew it worried the rest of their brothers, the idea that this argument would grow between them again.

He got it.

But he had difficulties to respect an elf so unable to take his responsibilities, and he knew that Makalaurë had difficulties to accept the necessity of not fighting for their brother now.  

“If we give in now, we’re lost, and for nothing: Morgoth will never release our brother. I don’t know how much plainer I can make it. I don’t know how many times I must repeat it for it to make sense to you, Maglor.” Tyelkormo said sharply.

And that was assuming that the dark Vala was even truthful when he claimed that their brother was still alive... And Tyelkormo was quite skeptical on that point. 

He dearly hoped for the sake of his brother that he was dead and not still suffering what torment Morgoth could devise in that fortress. 

“I’m just… Making sure you didn’t change your mind.” Maglor answered him. 

“Kano… We’re all chess pieces on a game board that is already rigged against us. Either you learn strategy, or you’ll kill us all, and our people with us, for nothing, doing nothing, and dooming us. He says he holds Nelyo hostage and if we give in to his demand, he’ll use that forever to make us dance to his tune. What do you want to be Makalaurë? A free elf, obeying our father’s oath and gaining our freedom from it all, or a thrall of Morgoth chained to his will by the captivity of our sibling? What would Nelyo do, do you think?”

“Don’t worry, Tyelko. I have a good memory, as you know. I’ll always remember everything you say.”

“Then at least act like it.”

Tyelkormo was starting to get fed up with his brother. If he wasn’t to the point of contemplating active murder, it was starting to reach the point where he was contemplating the merits of undermining him in public until he either stepped up to his role or passed up the crown.

Yes, it was petty. Yes he had enough. No, he wasn’t above humiliating his brother and taking the crown if that continued.

It wasn’t even like his brother even wanted the damn thing and if he had to be the one who constantly made that hard decision, then he could as well do the rest, and spare Maglor the burden of being able to doom all of them in a fit of stupidity. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been taught as well as Makalaurë had been anyway.

Tyelkormo’s eyes fell on Curufinwë who was looking at him thoughtfully and he shook his head.

Better not think that too loud, his crafty sibling might well try to help him by actually making it happen.

Again, Celegorm, Tyelkormo, had been summoned by Makalaurë, and for the love of all that was holy, he was going to put his much beloved sibling on FIRE next time.

“What?”

Makalaurë just pushed a report toward him.

Tyelkormo took it and read. He felt sick upon reading. Maitimo’s been spotted hanging from the cliffs of Thangorodrim. Fucking sick bastard of a Vala, may he rot in the void indefinitely for that.

“Happy?” Maglor sneered at him.

Tyelkormo snapped and his fist flew before he could think about what he was doing. Maglor seemed to have been waiting for just that and answered in kind.

When Curufin entered the office, he swiftly closed the door behind him so that their people, the guards at the door at least, wouldn’t notice the brawl inside.

“ENOUGH!” He called in a powerful voice that usually wouldn’t have any effect on Maglor or Celegorm.

Usually.

Both however, seemed to realise the position they were in and the potentially far reaching consequences of being found fighting like kittens over the last piece of fish.

Makalaurë actually gave Tyelkormo a hand to stand back up, and Huan seemed to materialise from whatever corner he had hid into when the brawl started.

“What is with you two? Are you completely addled? Do you have any idea what may well happen if people know you’re fighting like trinket sellers on the market square?” Curufin asked them aggressively.

“That, hm… We were behind closed doors.” Maglor pointed out haughtily.

“What you were, is stupid! I can’t believe you two. Is now really the time to act like children?”

“I mean… We’ve always fought anyway, and half our people already saw us as kids so most of them won’t even be surprised if they learn we fought?” Tyelkormo tried.

Curufin’s glare at that made Tyelkormo feel like a naughty child. Dear Valar his brother mastered the parental art of making his child feel terribly guilty with a single look.

He got that from their mother certainly for their father never quite managed that one.

“You will compose yourself and act with more maturity than Tyelpe, or so help me I’ll poison the both of you and be done with it.”

“Yes well, read the report before you judge us.”

“I don’t need to read it, I heard the rumours. The question is what are we going to do about this? And fair warning the twins are going to ask you exactly that question when they hear about Nelyo.”

“No, they won’t.” Tyelkormo said with confidence.

“Oh?”

“They’ve been hunters for long enough to understand the concept of bait, brother. They maybe won’t like it, they’ll be worried, they’ll be sick of it all, but they won’t ask. We all know that if we take the bait, none of us and none of our people, will escape the trap that will spring on us, the twins aren’t any less clever than us, they’ll be aware of it too.” Celegorm answered.

“How do you know Nelyo is…”

“Because if it wasn’t bait for us, considering the scouts are forced to stay at a distance of the fortress, none of them would have been able to notice our brother on Thangorodrim.”

“I hate that you’re right. I hate it. I hate you.” Maglor breathed with a sob.

“That makes two of us. It doesn’t change reality. You heard our sindar friends as I did, Maglor. Thangorodrim was a place of nightmare unending already when only Morgoth’s lieutenant was controlling it. Now Morgoth is back in there, there’s no way we can do anything to take it. None of the scouts we've sent so far have survived getting too close to the fortress. Or at least none of them returned to tell of what they saw. So, unless you’re hiding a Vala in your pocket and unless Curvo and his crafters have managed to find out how to build weapons to fight of Balrogs and whatever other horror the place may still hide from us, we’re unable to go there and help.”

“Can’t we at least try?” Maglor asked quietly.

“If we try you have to ask for volunteers only, and you have to make it very clear that it’s very probably a suicide mission. There will be no return from it. I can’t, and won’t stop you. But don’t sell it as a grand thing because it won’t be a grand anything but a failure.”

“I hate that we now have a word for that.” Maglor said in a voice that carried a ton of pain.

“A word for what?” Tyelkormo asked.

“Suicide.”

Tyelkormo grimaced at that. The sindar explanation on that one had been… ah… interesting.

It’s funny how living sheltered made it so that they never had to consider that their language was missing a word for killing yourself.

Celegorm was throwing up, leaning against a tree.

He felt miserable. He felt disgust against himself. He felt.

Morgoth’s void.

His brother was back. Findekáno had left the camp about as soon as they’d been told by Maglor that Maitimo had been taken by Morgoth.

And his cousin... He had come back on the back of an eagle, with Maitimo.

And the state of his brother…

Their cousin did what the rest of them had failed to do for years.

Did it mean they could have too, if they had tried harder?

But no, Findekáno only managed because an eagle came to his help. No creature of Manwë would have helped them. That at least was a certainty.

He was heaving.

Their cousin could. He managed!!!!

They’ve been here since Maitimo was taken! Perhaps there was something they could…

He jumped, startled as a hand fell on his shoulder, and he leant against his brother.

Curufin.

“I know brother.” Curufin said quietly.

Celegorm shook his head:

“It was my decision. Not going after him. Strategically… It was my decision that doomed our brother. And now he’s back, and he’s back against all logic… If I hadn’t…. If I hadn’t pushed perhaps we might have…”

“Don’t be stupid. I wish I could say you were wrong all along, but our cousin only managed because Manwë answered his prayer. No Vala would have answered to OUR prayers. Not even your Oromë.” Maglor intervened dismissively.

“You don’t know that.”

“Have you had any sign of your Vala since Alqualondë brother? Hints that someone, anyone is paying attention?”

“I…”

Celegorm stood up a bit straighter, if only to distance himself from the scent of vomit.

“I haven’t lost His blessing as far as I’m aware, but that’s about all.”

He wiped his face with his hand. It was wet. He hadn’t realised he had been crying.

“You were right and we’d have died. None of us could have done what our cousin did. We owe him for that.” Maglor said again.

Celegorm nodded.

For that, and for that alone he’d stop harping about the fact they abandoned their fortified camp to the rest of the Noldor.

“What did Findekáno said exactly?”

“He went toward Thangorodrim. Honestly it was the most stupid and reckless move anyone could have done. He went alone for starter.”

Celegorm raised an eyebrow at that.

“Did he hope to die?” Celegorm asked in a rough voice. 

“Don’t ask me. In any case, he said he was starting to despair ever finding Nelyo so he started to sing, of all things…”

“Near Thangorodrim.” Curufin said flatly.

“Yes.”

The brothers all exchanged looks at that.

“Am I the only one who feels there’s something going on there? Our scouts who are all careful, with years of training and experience still get caught if they come too close, and our cousin could just waltz there, singing and not get caught?”

“Bite me. In any case, Nelyo heard him and called to him. Nelyo begged him to kill him but our so valiant cousin prayed to Manwë who sent his eagle to bring our cousin to Nelyo on the cliff and the rest, you know.”

“See, brother? No need to blame yourself for not being a suicidal fool. None of the Valar would have answered our prayers. If we'd bother to pray in the first place.”

Celegorm nodded weakly.

Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

He still made the decision to abandon him there.

And Celegorm didn’t think that he’d stop doubting his decision anytime soon now that their cousin had managed on his own.

“Nelyo is back and he’ll… Hopefully he’ll heal. I’ve been told I could go back to our… Dearest family’s side of the camp and see Nelyo tomorrow. I’ll keep you updated. I will however ask you to hold the camp in my absence. Do not go over the Fingolfinian side of the lake without my approval. Am I clear?”

“Crystal clear. Just… Yeah. Yeah. We’ll wait for you.”

Maglor nodded and left them there.

Celegorm leaning still against Curufin, body still shaking.

“I still gave him up for dead.” Celegorm whispered in a broken voice.

“We all did. We all did.” Curufin answered quietly. 

And would they ever forgive themselves for that? Would Nelyo?