Long live the King by Aprilertuile

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To doom a brother

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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?