The Suffering of Maedhros by Annatar_Targaryen

Pain and suffering were his constant companions from which Maitimo could not free himself or forget about. Not in his tragic, almost hopeless situation in which nothing promised hope for improvement. Even the glow of the new light, which the mighty Valar had created in their realm to give the world any other light than the cold glow of distant stars, did not reach here and his sight was unable to penetrate the dark mists that Morgoth had sent to hide his dwelling from the glow of this new light, for his servants feared and hated this new star, shining brighter than any of the old stars that had shone in the dark sky since ancient times, scattered as if some giant had thrown glittering jewels on the blue carpet that was the sky.

No, for Maitimo, the eldest son of Fëanáro there was no hope of changing the fate he found himself in, he lost it when he saw the blue and silver banners of his uncle, Ñolofinwë, disappearing behind the mountains, although at that time he felt in his heart the comfort and faith that the proud son of Finwë would hear his voice and send someone to save him from this oppression, but in vain. But unfortunately, his voice was drowned by the echoes bouncing off the rocks and soon his uncle withdrew with his whole host. Maitimo followed them with his eyes as they followed the same path they had come until they disappeared from his sight. Then he lost all hope of rescue and deliverance from the situation, wishing only for death to free him from all the pain he was currently experiencing.

His right hand, bound with an iron band, which, connecting with a metal chain, was attached to the side of the abyss of Thangorodrim, so that he hung over the abyss, unable to do anything, and his hand bore the full weight of his body, causing him unbearable pain. This was not the only pain he endured, for Morgoth, when he was brought in chains to Angband, with a wicked smile ordered him to be led to the dungeons, and commanded his fiery demons to torture his "guest", but in a way that would not lead to his death, for he did not desire it, as he added, before he was led to the dungeons that lay deep in the bowels of his sinister stronghold. Maitimo still remembered the unspeakable pain the Valaraukar had inflicted on him, their fiery scourges that had lashed his back and their steel knives that had cut his chest and arms and legs, though they had never dealt him any serious wounds that could have killed him. Their hideous laughter, for they found amusement in causing him pain. They would have gladly beaten him to death (which would have been a better fate than what Morgoth had in store for him) had it not been for the earlier words of the fallen Ainur, who did not yet wish for his death.

Not yet. He had not been tortured for long. Perhaps a day, perhaps only a few hours. Maitimo was not certain, but while the Valaraukar were striking him with their fiery scourges, Sauron had entered the dungeons and told them to cease torturing the prisoner, for Morgoth wished to see him at once and decide his fate. The demons then pulled him down from the wall where he hung in iron chains, then bound his hands with steel fetters before dragging him to the Throne Hall, located in the very center of Angband.

There, surrounded by his "court" of fiery demons, fallen spirits, Orc chieftains, and other abominations beyond the wildest nightmare, Morgoth sat on his black throne, as large as a mountain, or perhaps only the darkness of the hall blurred his vision. Tall and mighty, in armor as black as the darkness of his heart, an iron crown rested on his dark hair, in which the Silmarils were set. The jewels of his Atar shone with their own light, seeming to be the only light in the vast Hall, save for the glow of the fire burning on the black bodies of the Valaraukar. So close and yet so far.

Sauron, who was at the head, knelt at the foot of Morgoth's throne and spoke, and his voice was sweet as honey, but to Maitimo the voice might have been the voice of a serpent, for Sauron stood high among the servants of Morgoth, and only Gothmog, Lord of the Valaraukar, was said to have surpassed him in importance in Angband, save the Dark Lord himself.

"My lord and master, I have brought your prisoner as you bid," said Sauron.

"Very good, Mairon. You may go, I will deal with my royal prisoner myself," replied Morgoth, his voice booming like thunder in the mountains.

Sauron stood up, bowed low, and disappeared into the crowd of Morgoth's "court." Maitimo paid little attention to this. He had a much bigger problem. A problem that was right in front of him. Morgoth waved his great hand, and the demons threw Maitimo right at their lord's feet. He hit the hard, stone floor with a dull thud. With great difficulty he managed to rise and face the perpetrator of his misfortunes.

Morgoth looked at him, a wide smile on his pale face. Maitimo did not like this, not one bit. If the Enemy is smiling, it means that something so bad and yet so beneficial for him has happened that he is simply enjoying it like someone who has been gifted with something he has long dreamed of.

"My mighty prince, or maybe I should call you king, eh? After all, your cursed father is dead to my delight. I hope my hospitality is to the liking of a mighty king," he said in a mocking tone. "It is a pity that we must say goodbye. I would gladly allow my servants to continue to amuse themselves with you, after all, a ruler should allow his loyal servants to amuse themselves from time to time. But there are important and more important matters, as you will soon see, Eldar."

"If you wish to kill me, then why do you make me listen to your bitter words? Do what you wish to do and end my existence, for I do not believe in your mercy, for there is none," Maitimo said haughtily, although he felt completely broken and weak.

He knew he wouldn't get out of this alive, and he doubted Morgoth would simply let him leave Angband. If he was going to die, it would be on his own terms, even if those terms were the throne room of Angband. He didn't want to endure any more torture at the hands of his cruel servants, nor would he want to live as his slave, probably toiling in his mines or his forges, though perhaps he could escape. He only felt sorry that he would never see his brothers again. Or Findekano, his dear cousin, his best friend, his brother by choice.

But Morgoth laughed as if he had said something quite funny. Many in his "court" laughed as well, following their master's example.

"Who said you would die, King Nelyafinwë? You see, I sent my servant Mairon to make an offer to your brothers. The offer was that if they would abandon their war with me and go to Aman or even far south, I would let you go. But they refused my generous offer, and according to Mairon, even went so far as to fortify their camp on the shores of Mithrim. They value their father's jewels more than their eldest brother's freedom, it seems, or perhaps one of them desires to become King of the Noldor himself, taking your position rather than seeking your freedom, not that I blame them in the latter case. I myself have tried many times to deprive my brother of the rule of Arda, and I do so still," said Morgoth in an almost cheerful tone, as if he were talking to an old acquaintance rather than one of his enemies.

Maitimo knew well why his brothers had refused such a treaty with Morgoth, and it was not only that their enemy was a liar whose lying words had caused his Athar to quarrel with his brother Ñolofinwë, which had finally led to his father abandoning his half-brother and burning the ships of the Teleri that had brought them to Middle-earth. Maitimo refused this, remembering his dear brother by choice. His brothers had refused for the same reason that he himself had found himself in such a hopeless situation. For when their father died, a messenger from Morgoth had come, none other than Sauron himself, with an offer from his dark lord.

His brothers refused for the same reason that he himself found himself in such a hopeless plight. For when their father died, a messenger from Morgoth came, none other than Sauron himself, with an offer from his dark lord.

"My lord and master, Morgoth, considers himself defeated and wishes to make peace with the mighty sons of the great and noble Fëanár, and is willing to sacrifice one of the priceless Silmarils to this end, provided they cease further war. My lord proposes that the meeting be held at Ard-Galen, halfway to Angband, and that each side should come with a party of twenty warriors, no more. Choose one of yourselves, or let all seven go with an escort. Tomorrow, at a place agreed, peace shall be made and the Silmaril returned," said Sauron in a gentle tone.

Maitimo did not trust Morgoth, however, and his brothers shared his opinion, but the Oath they had made in Tirion with Atar was still in force, and this was an ideal opportunity to recover at least one of the Silmarils. So he persuaded his brothers to agree that they agreed to Morgoth's proposals (in reality, he planned to kill the messenger who would bring the Silmaril and then return to Hísilómë and continue the war with Morgoth). His brothers reluctantly agreed, for it was obvious that they would gladly behead Sauron rather than negotiate with him. Maitimo addressed Morgoth's messenger in these words:

"Return to Angband and tell your lord that I, King Nelyafinwë and my brothers agree to his terms, and tomorrow our messenger and his escort will come to the agreed place."

Sauron's face did not change expression, but Maitimo had the impression that his amber eyes were laughing at him. But he spoke these words:

"My lord will be glad of this, my lord. Truly, you have a wisdom that few have. I will gladly tell him your words, and tomorrow his messenger will meet yours, and so peace will be made between us."

Then Sauron rode away, though instead of a horse he rode a beast resembling a wolf, only almost twice as large, equal in size to the horses of Aman. Later, when they returned to the camp by Lake Mithrim, Maitimo arranged the rest of the plan with his brothers in his tent, away from curious eyes and ears.

"I will go with a large escort of my choosing and meet the messenger of Morgoth at a place agreed upon, where I will receive the Silmaril. None of you will go with me, nor will I risk your lives if this proves to be a trap set for us by the Enemy," he told his brothers once they were in the privacy of his tent.

"Brother, this is surely a trap. If you go, the servants of Morgoth will surely kill you, or worse, drag you to Angband. You shall not go," protested Káno, the closest of his six brothers.

"I do not wish to go, brother. But I must go. The Oath we made in Tirion hangs over us like a cloud of thunder. There will be no better opportunity to recover even one Silmaril than if I accept Morgoth's offer. And if this is a trap, as you think, then only I will fall into it, and if I perish, you may continue the war and seek to recover our father's jewels. But if we all perish, the Oath will never be fulfilled, and indeed, eternal darkness is ours," Maitimo replied, and that was the end of the matter, though he had the impression that Turko and Moryo were also objects to his plan.

It was clear that Maitimo, like his brothers, did not trust Morgoth, and although the conditions given by Sauron allowed only twenty warriors to be taken as an escort, Maitimo took fifty with him, not believing that Morgoth would keep his word. However, it was of little use, because when he appeared the next day (if you can call a night illuminated only by the light of the stars a day) at the agreed place with his escort, Sauron appeared, accompanied not by twenty orcs, but over a hundred, as well as four Valaraukar. Morgoth's servant looked at him, and an evil smile was painted on his face.

"You have fallen into the trap like a child, King Nelyafinwë, though I see that you yourself have not kept the terms proposed by my master, but that will not save you. My lord knew that you would not give up the opportunity to gain one of the Silmarils of that fool, your father, and as it turned out, he was quite right," said Sauron, his tone full of satisfaction and contempt for Maitimo. He turned to his escort, "Kill them all, but take the son of Fëanáro alive. Our lord has plans for him."

The Valakaur and Orcs then rushed at them with wild cries, and the Daemons waved their fiery whips. Maitimo then drew his sword from its scabbard and cried to his Elves.

"Fight, Noldor, fight, for we have been betrayed by the Master of Lies!"

Maitimo remembered little of that fight, he fought fiercely then, as when a swarm of Orcs attacked them in the great battle. He was taller than even the tallest Orcs and the light in his eyes burned with such brilliance that many of his enemies fell on their faces. Perhaps, if they had not had the Valaraukar with them, they would have won that day, unfortunately they were not destined to win, when one of the demons came up behind him and knocked him to the ground, depriving him of consciousness. When he finally regained consciousness, none of those who had come with him were alive and he was bound.

Maitimo mourned bitterly for those he had led to their deaths, and he doubted whether he would ever be able to stand before their families and ask for forgiveness for leading their fathers, sons and husbands to their deaths in the name of the Oath. Soon after, Sauron dragged him to Angband and there Morgoth ordered him thrown into the dungeons and then the Valaraukar came and tortured him.

Maitimo dismissed these thoughts, focusing on his current situation. If Morgoth did not want him dead, what would he do with him? He would probably make him his slave, forcing him to do hard labor or some other devilry he planned for him. Finally, however, he decided to ask what the Dark Lord had in store for him.

"What then do you have in store for me, O Morgoth, Black Enemy of the World?" he asked.

Morgoth's grin from ear to ear was more disturbing to him than if he had a grimace of anger or mockery on his face.

"You will be chained to the cliff of one of the peaks of Thangorodrim. I myself will place a metal ring forged in my forges on your right hand, and the chain will be fastened to the slope. You will hang like that until the end of time, or one of your brothers will rescue you. In any case, you will not die anytime soon and your punishment will be an example to the Eldar that you will not be at odds with me,” Morgoth replied and burst out laughing, along with his entire “court”.

Maitim, however, was not in the mood to laugh, quite the opposite, he was terrified. He did not want to hang by his hand on one of the cliffs of Thangorodrim for all eternity. He tried to break free and escape, but one of the demons caught him and dragged him by force to the top of Thangorodrim. Morgoth joined them, who chained his right hand with a steel ring, which was connected to a chain, which he drove firmly and securely into the hard rock of the mountain, and then ordered the demon to push him into the abyss. Maitimo did not fall, but the pain he felt in his right hand made him prefer to fall and die among the iron-hard rocks. For a long moment he thought that his joints would tear out and his entire hand would become useless, but that did not happen. He hung there over the precipice, with a vast view of the plains of Ard-Galen.

"Enjoy your stay, King Nelyafinwë. You have a beautiful view of my  kingdom from here. I almost envy you," said Morgoth with a mockery in his voice, and then he left with the demon.

After that Maitimo was left alone with himself. No one came to him, not even to mock his fate. Day after day, each one the same as the last, darkness reigning over the world and only the glow of distant stars in the sky belied the total darkness. And so it was for a long time until Maitimo lost count, no longer knowing whether he was chained for a month, a year or a hundred years. This monotony changed when a great silver ball appeared on the horizon. It came from the west, shimmering with a faint silver glow, and Maitimo had no doubt that it came from Aman and was the work of the Valar. But his astonishment at the sight of this new object could not be compared to that when a great, flaming globe appeared in the west, so bright that he had to look away or he would be blinded. He heard the cries and squeals of Orcs, who, like ants from an anthill, began to hide in Angband.

Then he heard the sounding of horns and trumpets, and toward the gates of Angband marched a great host of the Eldar, far greater than that of his brothers. With amazement he saw that it was his uncle, who had somehow come to Middle-earth. A new hope came to him, for this was his hope of salvation. He began to cry, but his voice was muffled by the echoes that bounced off the rocks. He did not give up, but at last he saw his uncle's host retreating to Hísilómë, and his hope faded. But somewhere in his mind a thought arose that if his uncle Ñolofinwë and his people had reached Endor, then Findecáno might be here as well. This lifted his spirits again, though only for a time, when he clung to the thought like a drowning man to a rope thrown from a ship.

However, the longer he thought about how his uncle and his army reached Endor, the more grim he came to a conclusion. They had no ships, his Atar ordered them to be burned to deny his uncle and his men transport to the other side. The only way out was to take an extremely risky crossing through the frozen Helcaraxë strait, and this inevitably involved many losses. It was a miracle that any elf who marched with his uncle managed to reach Endor unharmed. However, there would certainly be no love between them and his brothers, which meant that he could forget about any help from his uncle and cousins. Probably even his brother by choice would not come to his aid. He did not know that when his Atar burned the ships, he did not forget about him. He directed his thoughts to the One, asking him to tell Findecáno that he was thinking about him. After this he sank into black despair, for he saw no end to his sufferings and Morgoth chose not to show him any mercy, not even death, preferring to see him suffer beyond measure, according to his own malice and cruelty.

Some time after the departure of his uncle's numerous host, Maitimo felt the summit of Thangorodrim shake as if it would burst at any moment, when thick, dark clouds shot up from its summit and began to cover the whole region with darkness, and he knew that this was Morgoth's answer to this new source of light for all the world, to which he had hitherto had no answer. Maitimo was saddened, for now he was entirely cut off from the brilliance of the new star, condemned to live forever in the twilight of the Enemy, unable to leave that grim prison, forever bound to the rock and suffering torment. None of his brothers appeared, and he doubted whether they would risk their lives to save him. They had certainly simply written him off, just like his uncle and cousins, they had no reason to save him anyway, they certainly considered him and his brothers to be accomplices in Atara's actions, and Maitimo couldn't blame them for thinking so.

However, there would certainly be no love between them and his brothers, which means that he could forget about any help from his uncle and cousins. Probably even his brother by choice would not come to his aid. He did not know that when his Atar burned the ships, he did not forget about him. He directed his thoughts to the One, asking him to tell Findecáno that he was thinking about him. After that, he sank into despair, because he did not see the end of his suffering and Morgoth would not decide to show him any mercy, not even death. The days passed, as monotonously as the days when this new light was not in the world. Having nothing else to do and wanting to distract his thoughts from the suffering he endured here, he invented names for both sources of light. The one that appeared at night he called Isil, and the one that shone during the day he called Anar. At night the silver Isil shone to him, and during the days the fiery Anar, but because of the dark vapors that Morgoth had let out of Angband, its light almost never reached him, which only deepened his gloom.

But one day, like all others, something happened that completely changed the unfortunate fate that Maitimo had.

For it happened that a beautiful song reached his ears, which extolled the beauty of Valinor, before Morgoth and his demonic monster had defiled it by destroying the Two Trees. At once he recognized the voice, and tears came to his eyes, for it was the voice of his dear kinsman, Findecáno. A joy that he had not felt for a long time filled his heart. His brother by choice had not forgotten him and had come to save him. Without wasting any more time, he began to sing, although his voice was weak, for he had learned the song that they had sung together in happier times, when they had traveled through the Blessed Kingdom, and Findecáno found joy in creating songs and singing them with all his heart.

Soon after, he noticed his brother by choice, who was standing at the foot of the rocky wall to which he had been chained. Findecáno was dressed entirely in gray, including his cloak, which allowed him to blend in with the darkness that reigned here. In his hands he held a harp, and on his back he carried a bow and a quiver full of swift arrows. His brother by choice was looking for a way to climb and get to him. However, he found nothing, and Maitimo saw his tears; he understood then that he could only count on death. So he turned to his cousin with these words:

"Dear Findecáno, my brother by choice. Show this one, only mercy to your dear friend, even if he does not deserve it, and end my suffering. Strike me dead with a swift arrow, that I may not suffer the torment of the Enemy. I beg you, do this, for I will bear it no more," he said with deep despair in his voice.

He saw his brother by choice throw away his harp, draw his bow, and nock an arrow. Maitimo braced himself for death, so he closed his eyes when he heard his friend's melodious voice:

"O King to whom all birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the Noldor in their need!"

Maitimo realized that his friend was calling upon Manwë himself. He opened his eyes, and to his great astonishment, saw the largest eagle he had ever seen in his immortal life swoop down upon Findecáno. He estimated that its spread wings measured some one hundred and eighty fathoms. It must have been Thorondor, the King of Eagles, of whom he had heard in Valinor. He stayed his brother's hand by choice, and then took him on his back and bore him to the place where Maitimo hung. He was saved, for perhaps death was not yet written for him.

"I came to save you, my brother by choice, to settle the quarrels between my Atar and your brothers, and also because my heart for you has never died, Maitimo," said Findecáno, drawing his sword.

"I will never forget you, my brother by choice. You have always been closest to me in heart, and on the day when my Atar commanded the ships to be burned, I took no part in it, and my thoughts were with you," replied Maitimo with tears in his eyes.

Findecáno tried to cut the steel band, which failed. Then he tried to cut the chain, which also failed. At the end he tried to pull it out of the rock, but it was too tightly attached to do so. Maitimo then realized that he was destined to die, so he begged his brother by choice to kill him, so that he would not have to suffer here any longer.

"That I will not do, because I want to save you. However, it will cost you your right hand, but there is no other way to deal with this hellish chain carved in the dungeons of Angband," he said, and with one, sure stroke he cut off Maitimo's right hand, who fell on Thorondor's back.

Maitimo lost consciousness, and the last thing he remembered was the strong embrace and strong arms of his brother by choice.

Chapter End Notes

Maedhros - Nelyafinwë - Maitimo

Feanor - Fëanár

Maglor - Káno

Celegorm - Turko

Caranthir - Moryo

Fingolfin - Ñolofinwë

Fingon - Findecáno

Mairon - Sauron

Atar (Q.) - Father

Valaraukar (Q.) - Balrog

Endor (Q.) - Middle-Earth

An important headcanon here is that Sauron takes the role of Morgoth's messenger who presented the offer to the sons of Feanor and who ambushed Maedhros.
I see Maedhros and Fingon's friendship as a great example of bromance and here it shows as them treating each other as brothers by choice rather than just cousins.

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When Maitimo opened his eyes, he saw Káno's face above him, looking down at him with a mixture of joy and relief.

"Maitimo! You have awakened, thank the Valar! I had feared that you were finished. I could not believe my eyes when I saw our cousin Findecáno on the wings of the King of Eagles, holding you in his arms. All the Eldar in both camps praise the valor of our kinsman, and our uncle has asked that I inform him when you regain consciousness," said Káno, hugging Maitimo warmly.

Maitimo, for his part, embraced his younger brother tightly, tears of joy flowing from his eyes. He had never expected to see his brother's face again, perhaps only in the halls of Mandos.

"If it were not for Findecáno, I would not be here, brother. To him I owe my life, even if it was at the cost of my right hand,” Maitimo said as his brother finally released him, and he sat down on the bed beside him.

He found that he wore no clothing except his trousers. His chest and back were wrapped in linen bandages, as were both arms. When he pulled his right hand out from under the blanket, the stump was also wrapped in white bandages, a reminder of his time in Morgoth's thrall more vividly than any scar the Dark Lord's fiery demons had left on his body, though even that could not compare to the mark that would remain in his mind and heart. The shadow of the horrors he had experienced would haunt him forever.

“I am sorry, brother. I know that our cousin had no choice but to cut off your hand to free you in the first place. Though Turko and Moryo jumped at him, thinking he had maimed you on purpose, and the twins aimed their bows at him, ready to kill him on the spot. As if Findecáno could do the same to you! I stood in his defense, restraining the impulses of our impetuous brothers, and Findecáno patiently explained that there was no way to free you without cutting off your hand, for neither the chain nor the iron band that bound your hand could be cut, nor could the chain itself be torn from the rock. This convinced our stubborn brothers, and soon the heroic deed of our cousin spread far and wide through both camps of the Noldor, and all praise him for it," said Káno.

"And what does our uncle Ñolofinwë think of this? He is certainly proud of his heir's deed," asked Maitimo, well aware that the son of Finwë had always been proud of his first son.

"Of course he is proud, though he was troubled early on. Findecáno disappeared without a word when he went to rescue you, and when it was discovered that he had disappeared, he was troubled. Worst of all was Turukáno, who loudly told anyone who would listen that certain cursed Feanorians had killed his beloved brother and buried his body far from their camps so that none of the Noldor could find him. These rumours reached our camp, and some of our brothers sought to settle it in a not-so-pleasant way. I stopped them from doing so, and went to my uncle's camp myself to speak of the slander. Our uncle rebuked Turukáno for spreading such rumours, though he was clearly troubled by the strange disappearance of his eldest son. I assured him that we had nothing to do with his disappearance, and suggested that since Findecáno and Maitimo were great friends, he might take the risk and go and rescue him. Uncle agreed, though he was clearly in a gloomy mood. He said he had already lost one son and would not want to lose another,” Káno explained.

“He lost one son? But since Findecáno and Turukáno are alive, it must be Arakáno, the youngest of Uncle’s sons. Did he die during the crossing of the Helcaraxë?” Maitimo asked.

Káno shook his head.

“He survived the crossing, but when Uncle’s host entered Endor, they were attacked by Orcs north of where we landed. He managed to fight his way through to the Orc captain and kill him, which contributed greatly to the victory, but he was killed by Orcs shortly afterward,” Káno explained.

“He died a warrior’s death then. May his fëa rest in the halls of Mandos,” Maitimo muttered.

"And why does Turukáno think so ill of us that he accuses us of killing Findecáno?" Maitimo asked after a moment. "Is the main reason the treachery our Atar committed against our uncle and his host, when he ordered the ships to be burned instead of sent to them?"

Káno sighed heavily, and Maitimo noticed that he had not slept for a long time, his long, dark hair disheveled, though not the artistic dishevelment that his younger brother often preferred in Valinor. The dark gray eyes he had inherited from their Amal shone with a pale light, though they looked tired.

"Our cousin lost his wife during the crossing. She was carrying their daughter in her arms when the ice broke beneath him. Turukáno rushed to their rescue, but he could only save Itarillë when Elenwë drowned beneath the ice. Since then there has been no love between him and us, and I doubt that will ever change, brother. When our uncle's troop arrived in Mithrim, Turukáno demanded to speak to our Atar, and when I said he was dead, he went up to Curvo and punched him in the face, and in return punched our cousin in the face. My uncle and I had to intervene, or we would have killed each other, especially since Turko had rushed to our brother's aid. Our uncle dragged Turukáno away, who was shouting and calling us traitors and betrayers. I had to hold Curvo with Turko so that he would not try to attack our cousin," explained Káno.

Maitimo could not blame his cousin for being furious with them. He himself would have felt the same way if, because of his relatives' betrayal, he had been forced to take the dangerous route to get to Endor and lose his beloved wife along the way. He preferred not to think how Turukáno would have reacted to them if he had also lost his daughter during the crossing. He knew what he had to do to restore peace among Finwë's descendants, though he was aware that some of his brothers would not like it. And he had to learn to fight with a left-handed sword, which would certainly take some time.

"Káno, be so kind as to bring me a shirt. I must rise immediately and speak with Uncle Ñolofinwë. The feud between us must be ended immediately, or our enemy, Morgoth, will benefit from it," Maitimo said, throwing off the sheets and sitting on the bed. He brushed back his reddish hair, which fell in loose curls down his bare back.

"Brother, you should lie down and rest. You are not quite recovered yet," Káno objected, catching Maitimo by the arm.

"I have lain long enough, brother. It is time to act, not to be idle in bed. I have recovered enough to speak to our uncle, so be so good as to bring me some clothes, and at once!" Maitimo replied.

Káno gave in, seeing that he could not persuade Maitimo to change his mind, and brought him a red silk shirt, woven in happier days in Valinor, which Maitimo put on at once, glad of their gentle touch against his bare skin. He also changed his leather trousers for woolen ones, then put on high boots and a belt from which hung a sword and dagger, to replace the weapons lost in Angband, and went out of the tent in his company.

Outside there were tents as far as the eye could see, and most of them were bustling with Noldor, minding their own business. Maitimo could see the outline of a palisade far away, which surrounded the camp in a wide arc, protecting it from all attack. Maitimo noticed that Lake Mithrim was now behind him instead of in front of him. He guessed that his brothers and their followers had moved their camp to the southern shore of the lake. He didn't need to ask why they had done so. It was all too obvious to Maitimo.

He looked for his brothers and saw Turko and Curvo sitting by their tents, within bowshot, deep in quiet conversation. Huan, Maitimo's younger brother's loyal hound, sat at his feet, lifting his shaggy head, looking around curiously. It would have been hard to miss him, for the hound was as big as a horse. And even without that, Turko could have been easily spotted among the other Eldar.

His silver hair – a rarity among the Noldor – stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of ​​black and brown that prevailed among the Eldar of that race, unless one had golden-haired Vanyar as one of their parents. Then there were the golden-haired Noldor, such as their cousins, the sons and daughter of their uncle Arafinwë, who had become a coward and decided to return with his tail between his legs to Tirion, as Atar said contemptuously. Turko had tied his silver hair into a single long braid that fell freely down his back. He sat with his back turned to him, talking to the dark-haired Curvo, who reminded him painfully of the dead Atar. On his right cheek was a purple bruise, a reminder of a blow dealt by Turukáno, though Curvo seemed unconcerned.

"Where are Moryo, Telpinquar, and Ambarussa?" Maitimo asked his younger brother.

"Moryo decided to go with the scouts to check the western outskirts of Hísilómë, to see if Morgoth had sent Orcs to test our vigilance. Telpinquar is probably in Curvo makeshift forge, Ambarussa's somewhere, you know they always liked to go their own way and keep to themselves. They've checked on you a few times, like all of us. Findecáno visited you too, more often than most, when you were unconscious. He was the one who bandaged your mangled hand so you wouldn't bleed to death on the flight to camp," Káno replied.

Maitimo felt great gratitude for his cousin, his brother by choice. If it weren't for him, I'd still be chained to a cliff on one of Thangorodrim's peaks, suffering without much hope of rescue or even death to free him from this torment. Findecáno will have his eternal gratitude for what he did for him.

“Brother, go to your uncle’s camp and tell him that I wish to meet with him at our camp on an important matter, which is the reconciliation of our families and followers,” said Maitimo.

“As you wish, brother,” replied Káno, and then he left.

At that moment, two shadows flashed before Maitimo's eyes, jumping on him and wrapping their arms around him. He recognized them as his youngest brothers, his inseparable twins, and hugged them warmly.

"Maitimo! How glad we are that our oldest brother is back on his feet!" cried Ambarussa when they finally let go of Maitimo.

They were both as alike as two peas in a pod, although Pityo had darker hair. Both twins shared Maitimo's red hair from their grandfather Mahtan and were dressed in green robes, carrying bows and quivers full of arrows on their backs. Like Turko, they were keen hunters and often irritated Amal when they brought home hunted animals. They were also known to love making jokes, and this did not limit them to making fun of their older brothers, but their cousins ​​also fell victim to their jokes.

"I am glad to see you too, my little brothers," Maitimo replied, genuinely happy to see his youngest brothers.

"And where did you send Káno in such a hurry?" asked Telvo, the younger of the twins, with a curious look in his gleaming grey eyes.

"To Uncle Ñolofinwë's camp, I wish to speak to him on an important matter," Maitimo replied.

"Then we will go and tell Moryo to return from his patrol. Such important matters concern all the sons of Fëanáro," said Pityo, and without waiting for Maitimo's reaction, he and his twin ran for the horses. They quickly disappeared from the camp, racing against the wind.

Maitimo shook his head at Ambaruss's suddenness, approaching Turko and Curvo. Huan was the first to notice him, beginning to bark, wagging his large whip-like tail in a friendly manner. This caught the attention of his brothers, who looked towards Maitimo. Smiles appeared on their faces. Turko was the first to speak, standing up and walking over to Maitimo, hugging him warmly.

"Brother, it is good to see you awake. We feared that despite our dear cousin's heroism you would not survive. But the Valar have been kind to us, or perhaps your spirit has been more resilient than any of us had imagined."

Maitimo patted his brother on the back. They might not always get along, but he loved his brothers and would stand by them.

"Surely my spirit has been more resilient than even I could have imagined," he said.

"Brother, my son suggested to me the idea of ​​forging a new hand for you, to replace the one our brave cousin Findecáno had chopped off. For that reason too the Noldor would call you Maitimo the Golden Hand," Curvo said, his dark hair falling freely down his back. Around his neck he wore a golden necklace studded with multicoloured gems, and he was richly attired in garments of various shades of red and black.

Maitimo laughed heartily at his brother's words. It was a very amusing thought to wear a false hand in place of his lost one. But even his late Atar, the greatest craftsman in the history of Arda, had not been able to make a hand that could function like a real hand. He doubted that Curvo, who had learned the craft under their father's eye, would have much chance in the matter. He thanked his brother for his offer, though.

"Such a golden hand would be a burden to me, however, and I would have little use for it. I intend to learn to wield a sword with my left hand, so that our enemies may fear the wrath of the one-armed Nelyafinwë Fëanárion!" said Maitimo.

Turko and Curvo laughed at this and Huan barked happily.

"I knew it would be so. After all, such a golden hand is not very handy indeed and I am not skilled enough to make one that could act as a real hand. I doubt even our Atar could do something like that. Perhaps Aulë could do something similar with his art of creation," said Curvo.

Maitimo mentioned to the brothers that he had sent Káno to their uncle's camp and the Ambarussa rushed to bring Moryo back to their camp.

"I wonder what important matter it was that made you send our brother to our uncle's camp?" asked Turko and Curvo's grey eyes seemed to ask the same question, though their owner remained silent on the matter.

"You will see when I speak to our uncle, my brothers," replied Maitimo shortly and refused to let the brothers taste anything from him. Turko even used Huan for this purpose, but Maitimo scratched the lovely hound behind the ears, but could not be persuaded to reveal what business he had with his uncle Ñolofinwë.

Before the uncle's arrival the twins returned, accompanied by Moryo and six other riders on swift horses from Aman. A ruddy complexion and jet-black hair, much darker than Curvo's dark hair and Káno's dark brown hair, distinguished Maitimo's brother. A broad smile appeared on his face when he saw Maitimo. He walked briskly up to him, hugging him warmly.

"Brother, I knew you would recover. Too strong a spirit inhabits your body for torture and the loss of your right hand to destroy you. My heart rejoices at the sight of you as never before," said Moryo.

"It is good to see you too, my brother. I see you are doing quite well. It is good that all the sons of Fëanáro have gathered in one place. Uncle Ñolofinwë will soon arrive at my invitation, and then many matters will be settled between our families,” replied Maitimo.

Soon his uncle arrived, accompanied by his sister, Aunt Irimë, slender and tall, who shared the dark hair of the House of Finwë with her brother and his children. Unlike her elder sister Findis, who had stayed with her mother in Aman, Irimë had gone with her brother, leaving Aman and had survived the passage of the Helcaraxë straits. Findecáno, Turukáno, and Írissë, dressed in white and silver, with raven-black hair cascading down her back, had also come. He saw Turukáno cast them a hostile glance, but Findecáno smiled at Maitimo, and all that mattered to him was that his brother by choice still held him in true friendship. With them were also the sons and daughter of Arafinwë, golden-haired Findaráto, who loved to wander, Angaráto with strong hands and a serious disposition, Ambaráto with eyes that seemed to burn with a bright light and hair of gold, straight and stiff, generous and noble among the Noldor, and of course the unwavering Artanis, the fairest of Finwë's descendants, with hair of gold interwoven with silver as if someone had imprisoned the light of the Two Trees in it.

Maitimo had heard that it was her hair that had given his father the idea of ​​creating the Silmarils, and he knew that during the events in Alqualondë she had stood up for her mother's kin, killing more than one of Atar's followers. With her he would have to be careful, for she had previously felt little love for them and now probably none at all.

There were also many other Elves who accompanied their uncle, and at the head of the whole procession went his brother Káno. Maitimo smiled at his brother, who quickly joined them.

His uncle stepped out in front of the group and approached him with a serious face. His long, jet-black hair fell almost to his waist.

"Welcome, Nelyafinwë. I am glad to see you, for I see that my son and heir's risky rescue of your life from the hands of the Enemy was not in vain. I regret that I did not hear your voice when my host and I stood before the gates of Angband. If I had heard you then, I would have sent someone to rescue you. Despite the treachery of your father, my half-brother, I bear you no ill will, nor your brothers," spoke Ñolofinwë, crossing his arms over his chest. "I wonder what matter you wish to speak to me about. Kanafinwë's words were brief enough."

"And what can these faithless and traitorous men tell us? Why did Atar agree to come to Nelyafinwë's summons at all, as if he were his trained dog? We have no reason to treat with them,” Turukáno said, looking at them with undisguised hostility.

“Be calm, brother. Maitimo must have a good reason for summoning our father to his camp. I have known him long enough to know that he would not waste time without a good reason,” Findecáno put in a conciliatory tone.

“You will listen to your brother, my son. Findecáno is not blinded by anger at the sons of Fëanáro as he is by you, though I understand the reasons for that. So let Nelyafinwë tell us what he wishes to tell us,” Ñolofinwë said, looking sternly at his other son.

Turukáno fell silent, but Maitimo could see in his grey, sad eyes a burning hostility towards himself and his brothers. He was grateful to his chosen brother and uncle for silencing Turukáno, he would not interrupt him when he said what he had planned.

"I assume my brother has told his uncle all that has happened since your arrival on the shores of Endor?" Maitimo asked.

Ñolofinwë nodded.

"Yes, I have heard of my half-brother's death, who fell in battle with the demons of fire and shadow who serve our common Enemy. I will mourn Fëanáro as I remembered him before the lies of Morgoth divided us, rather than the Elf he became," his uncle replied.

Maitimo knew that relations between his Atar and his uncle had always been strained, but he was grateful for the words. He also knew that what he was about to do was surely good for all of them, even if not everyone would like it.

"If there lay no grievance between us, lord, still the kingship would rightly come to you, the eldest here of the house of Finwë, and not the least wise."

The words surprised everyone present. Uncle, cousins ​​and his brothers. Maitimo was aware of the controversial nature of this decision. That he was renouncing the title that belonged to him by birth and inheritance. However, he considered that his uncle deserved the title, for he had been a good king in Tirion when he had ruled the Noldor in his grandfather's name, and it had also reconciled their followers with those of his uncle. Now more than ever they had to be united against the common enemy of all the Eldar.

"I will not say that I am not surprised, for I expected that you would take the title yourself, which belonged to you by right of birth and kinship. But I will accept it, and let it be known that there will be peace between us and an everlasting alliance. Let nothing more divide us, for we must be united if we are to cope with the threat from the common Enemy," said Ñolofinwë.

Maitimo saw that some of his brothers did not like this, but none dared to protest. He knew it would probably give him headaches, but he did not care. The important thing was that the Noldor remained united against Morgoth.

"Maitimo, why don't you take a walk with me in the starlight? We can reminisce about the more peaceful times we spent in Aman, before the Enemy ruined it with his lies," Findecáno said, a familiar twinkle in his gray eyes.

Maitimo could only smile at his best friend.

"With pleasure, my friend. We have much to catch up on," Maitimo said, and soon they were out of the camp, chatting like the good old days.

Chapter End Notes

Amrod - Pityo - Ambarussa

Amras - Telvo - Ambarussa

Turgon - Turukáno

Aredhel - Írissë

Finarfin - Arafinwë

Finrod - Findaráto

Angrod - Angaráto

Aegnor - Ambaráto

Galadriel - Artanis

I follow Tolkien's version, in which Orodreth is the son of Angrod, not Finarfin.

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