On Pleading, and An Older Brother by awwyeah107

Chapter 1

I wrote a good chunk of this roughly a month ago, and then I realized, "Hey, M&M week is coming up in about a month...this would be good to post during/for that week!" So this week I edited and wrote more to flesh it out fully. Just a word of warning, this does not end on a happy note. [Content warning: implied/referenced suicide.]

Nicknames:
Nelyo = Maedhros
Laurë = Maglor

Customary disclaimer: I do not own The Silmarillion or any of the characters in it.
Also, I do NOT give permission to ANYONE to feed this into ChatGPT or any other AI, or to repost it onto another website or public platform without my consent. Please treat my work with respect.

Maedhros never asked him for anything, at first.

In fact, it would be Maglor making the demands: for Maedhros to accompany him on a trip to the frog pond, to listen to his new song, to read him a story, to let him crawl into bed and snuggle when a bad dream or thunderstorm scared him. Maedhros graciously indulged all these requests. He is Maglor’s older brother, Nelyo, after all; he is the one who Maglor can run to for comfort, for an adventure, for anything. If Maglor calls him, he will come.

While Maedhros is still the oldest, Maglor becomes an older brother as well, and he grows used to the younger ones pleading for things from him as well as Maedhros. At first, toys or sweets; later on, to let them back in the house after sneaking out; and even later, for favors of trade or diplomatic cover-ups in Beleriand. But Maglor was never able to get used to Maedhros, his older brother, his rock, the steady hand of guidance on his shoulder, the safest port in any storm—he could never get used to Maedhros asking him for anything more than the simplest acts of service, such as passing salt across the table.

Maedhros did not do it often, and never until they had reached Beleriand.

Maglor can still recall the first time his brother begged him for something: they were on the shores of Losgar, the sky dark above their heads, tears shining in Maedhros' eyes as he pleaded with Maglor to stand against their father, please Laurë, you know this is wrong! And Maglor, too frightened to do anything but bend to their father's will, stared back at him, wordless.

(The memory is clear in his mind, and he has always regretted it since.)

And he swore to himself—not an oath, but a promise—that he would never deny Maedhros anything his brother asked, if he could help it.

Maedhros’ recovery is long, and though at first he is reluctant to ask for anything, even the slightest favor, he learns to ask. For water, for food, for help changing his bandages.

For the first time he needs Maglor; really, truly needs him. It is a badge of honor Maglor wears with simultaneous pride and fear. Because his older brother has been reduced to this awful, helpless state; because for the first time he is leading Maedhros and not the other way around; because Maedhros is trusting him in the way that Maglor once trusted Maedhros, and it is a strange, unfamiliar, terrifying weight.

And then, the day Maedhros takes up the mantle of leadership again, the relief nearly drowns Maglor. One aspect of his world has been returned to normalcy.

Or so he thinks.

That illusion shatters when his brother staggers into Maglor’s room with terror in his eyes and a desperate, intense look on his face; at first, he speaks demands of one who is not there, and then tearful apologies and pleading for forgiveness. It all feels so sudden, although it shouldn’t be unexpected, not really, and Maglor struggles to ignore the flare of panic in his chest so that he can calm Maedhros to sleep. Only later does his heart slow and he wonders at the ache that has taken up residence there.

It is not the last time this sort of…occurrence, or episode, as he terms it, happens. And often, there are implicit requests underlying any explicit ones, whether Maedhros is aware of them or not.

So Maglor learns to anticipate.

He learns how to listen better to the tune of their brotherhood, to pause the moment he detects the first note of change in the music. He learns he can, and he must, let himself rest from time to time, to put aside any lingering uneasiness over the state of Maedhros’ wellbeing. He learns when to draw back from his natural, eager pursuit of his brother and to settle himself in place firmly as either a welcome refuge or a walled-off city, depending on the nature of Maedhros’ plea.

The unsteadiness has returned to Maglor’s world. It will never be unbroken again.

When Maedhros approaches him, he is wearing an earnest look on his face, and Maglor instantly knows his brother has come to ask him for something. It still scares him, that look, as well as the note of softness in his brother's rough voice when he pleads with Maglor. Always, always Maglor has followed Maedhros; always had it been Maedhros who led him and his brothers. What power does he, the second son, have? Why does Maedhros give any to him, wrap his hand around it and tell him that it is his to hold? This reversal in role never fails to unsettle him, though he has cared for Nelyo many years now.

And as Maglor has learnt to do, he pulls back his heart, takes a deep breath, and fortifies himself.

(He cannot refuse his brother. Nor their Oath. This he knows, even while his insides twist with anguish and his sigh is heavy with exhaustion. Maedhros looks at him with hope in his grey eyes, hope that only Maglor can fulfill by agreeing to go with him.)

He goes, if only so that Maedhros will not be alone.

For the first time in centuries, Maglor raises his voice to beg Maedhros to come to him as his oldest brother stands at the edge of a fiery chasm, staring down. His plea is not answered.

Chapter End Notes

*offers tissue box to readers*

I'd considered writing an extra part to this so that it ended less painfully, but I realized that it wouldn't really fit with the rest of the fic, and I would be trying to add something inorganically, so I did not. (Perhaps another time I shall write a more positive follow-up.) This fic became rather bleak, but the theme of supporting a loved one and the full-circle or parallel aspects I desired to write exist, and it feels complete to me, even though it is pretty sad.

All editing done by me. If there are any typos or grammatical errors, feel free to let me know!
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Thank you for reading!