Long live the King by Aprilertuile

the cliff

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.