Authors Note: This just came to me today, totally uncalled for. I have never felt particularly drawn to Maedhros, but there you go. Any constructive criticism is gladly appreciated. Tell me if you think it's too over-dramatic.



Reflections of a one-handed elf





I have destroyed Doriath. The halls of Menegroth are no more but crumbled, shapeless, burnt ruins.

I have slain elves, that which I vowed never to do after Alqualondë.

I have slain and spilt the blood of the innocent; Nimloth, oh Nimloth, wife of Dior the fair, who was slain also. And for what? The Silmaril was not recovered, yet the oath of my father pursues me still. I cannot rest, I cannot sleep, and it follows me, and will do till the very end. But what end? Shall the oath be in vain? Yet it cannot, for an oath is an oath, I am bound to it, we are one, and no one can release me from it.

As the eldest, it is my duty to fulfil the oath, by any means possible, to avenge those dearest to me. My father Fëanor, and my brothers Celegorm, Curufin and Caranthir.

Maglor, Amrod and Amras live still, but I feel It the heaviest. To submit now is to submit to doom, and everlasting darkness shall surely be mine forever. Where is the light at the end of the tunnel?

Aye, there is no light. The tunnel is shut to me.

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I hear cries in my mind. But where? Why? The victims of Doriath pursue me, even in my dreams.

Yet it is not so. These voices, these voices are not of the clashing of swords or of elves succumbing to their last gasp in Doriath. They are children's voices. Sweet, pure, untainted, but clamouring, despairing, crying voices.

I know not who. I know not why.

I listen to their voices. I understand who they are crying for, Nimloth and Dior.

Wait. Did I never hear word of their young ones?

I am awakened from my reverie. A servant of my deceased brother Celegorm tells me it is possible that Elwing has escaped.

Elwing? Had she not brothers?

Yes. Two siblings, Eluréd and Elurín. Where are they?

They are gone! Yes, the servant tells me he had found the two young boys hiding in a small alcove; no doubt their parents thought they would be safe there. He and another have seized them and taken them deep into the forest, to starve, to die.

Could it be their voices I can hear? Maglor cannot hear them. He looks at me strangely. I know he is not untouched by this useless slaying, but the oath drives him on too, as me. He wants to be rid of It, I can tell, but there is no way. Repentance does not come all too easily to kin slayers, but if we reclaim at least one Silmaril, then it will not have been in vain.

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The forest is unfriendly. The trees are as fell creatures, swaying in the wind. I must find Them, or the voices shall stay with me forever. The path is icy, treacherous, even to me. I shudder to think how They are fairing. I call for them:

'Eluréd!'

'Elurín!'

'...'

My voice echoes in the surrounding bleakness, but it is the only sound I can hear. The trees shake their heavy, icy branches at me, and claw at me as I pass.

'Eluréd! Elurín!'

I am beginning to despair. My voice sounds muffled, croaky, shaky.

The trees are closing in on me. I repent for my deeds! I did not mean for this to happen!

The silence is oppressive. I cannot continue.

I flee.

They are gone.

Eluréd?

Elurín?

...