Fanworks Tagged with Maedhros/Maglor

Five tents, he counts. Two dead guards. The fire within him burns so white, he wonders if it will leave anything of himself behind. Wonders if he can bring himself to care. Wonders, too, if this is what his father had felt like when he found the innards of their grandfather’s head spilt over his well-wrought front steps.

If so, perhaps Maedhros finally understands.

Maglor is taken. Maedhros handles it as well as can be expected, which is not at all.

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They speak as if they have not been sending messengers to keep each other informed of what was necessary. As if this—war, strategy, cold facts—is not all they have exchanged ever since Maedhros had removed them East.

He wonders if Maglor has forgiven him yet—for giving away the crown, for not asking him first, for coming back someone other than himself. He wonders if he has forgiven Maglor yet—for leaving him to Morgoth, for looking at him returned only with horror and guilt. For not forgiving him yet.

They have not spoken in twenty years. Maedhros doubts that this is the kind of reuniting that their uncle had in mind.

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He used to be able to read his brother better than his own mind. He used to think that he would do anything, would bear anything, to have him back.

Maglor’s worst crime to date, he thinks, is that in this, too, he has proven himself a liar.

Maedhros abdicates the throne. Maglor copes, more or less (it's definitely less).

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And he would not fool either of them, clearly, claiming that it did not settle something within him that has been in uproar ever since they set foot on Beleriand’s shores.

“Go on,” Maedhros says, his voice gentle now. “Will you not do this for me, Káno?”

Maglor knows what Maedhros is doing, allowing him to pretend. And yet—

And yet. Maglor would not deny him anything, not any longer. He cannot.

Maglor struggles to give up control. Maedhros makes sure that he learns.

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There is shame in it, scathing-hot and heavy. If Makalaurë is honest, that only makes it more of a delight.

Everything in Tirion is holy perfection, white-pure and immaculate. This is just the latest desire of breaking something open, of getting to watch how it bleeds over untainted marble.

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Maitimo has been avoiding him. Makalaurë deduces why.

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Maglor had expected it to give him an edge. He had not expected to level the battlefield and the forest, everything but Maedhros who remains, untouched and staring at Maglor as if he has been awoken from a long and terrible sleep.

Even their horses are gone. Maglor’s throat feels as if he has swallowed glass.

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The first time they are attacked after Maedhros' rescue, Maglor handles it very well.

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Maglor comes alive beneath it all the same; is not proud of the noise that makes it out of his throat and cannot bring himself to care, not even a little. He pushes closer, greedy suddenly, so greedy.

They used to do this often, in a time long past; back when the Trees still washed Aman in hallowed light, when their family had been its own world, without running brothers and mad fathers. Back when there were not yet cousins and mountains of guilt between them.

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After Maglor loses the Gap, Maedhros offers comfort in the only way he still knows to.

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All is not as it seems when Thranduil enters the ancestral Feanorian estate, but he fails to fully comprehend the scale and nature of the risk. If he's very lucky, one day he might even get to leave.

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After the War of Wrath they were taken again.

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"They do not touch anymore, not even in violence. Maglor has no need of him. It is his foals, grazing upon his barren spirit, who have brought him back to life."

A messy entanglement, from four perspectives. 

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Maedhros' decision to cede his claim to the High Kingship drives a rift between him and the brother who held the crown for him through his captivity. Through their reconciliation, Maedhros grapples with shame over the feelings that Maglor's devotion awakens in him, before he at last accepts the balm for loss and failure that Maglor offers.

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When Maedhros and Maglor attempt to steal the Silmarils after the War of Wrath, they are seized and taken as prisoners back to Valinor. As it turns out, a pardon has been negotiated on their behalf - but no one bothered to tell them this, or the unique conditions on which they have been released from their oath. They have simply been tied up and dumped in two different remote locations: Maglor outside a white tower near the borders of the Sundering Seas, and Maedhros on a dock at the rim of the world.

[Maedhros and Maglor are Eärendil and Elwing's war prizes and everyone has sex.]

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