It's common knowledge that none of them die at the Nirnaeth.
Common knowledge is wrong. Amrod dies there.
This passes unnoticed from everyone who is not among their family or followers for two reasons. One, it's extremely easy to mistake Amras for him at a distance.
Two, people do, actually still see Amrod. Still hear him, even. They just don't see him touching things anymore.
Amras is there when he dies. He goes charging forward, screaming, and then when he reaches his twin, he nearly gets killed himself because he does a double take.
Amrod is there on the ground, blood pooled around him.
Amrod is standing above his own body, looking down in confusion.
Not sure what else to do, Amras grabs the body and continues the retreat with it. His guard covers him. Amrod follows along. He can't fight, they discover quickly, but he works quite well as a distraction.
When they meet up with the others, Maedhros is in full grim commander mode, and Maglor is desperately trying to force some life back into him. "Look," Maglor tells him, "the Ambarussa are here. We all made it out. Not all is lost." And he tries to clap Amrod on the shoulder.
His hand goes right through.
"About that," Amras says.
Amras is terrified and confused, but also, frankly, a bit embarrassed. It's one thing to make the same stupid mistake in battle that your brothers have been telling you for years will get you killed, and another entirely to have to actually face them after it. Well. Did.
All of his brothers except Amras have gone pale. "You didn't follow the call of Mandos?" Maedhros says hoarsely.
"I didn't hear it!" Amrod protests. That, at least, is not his fault. "And I don't fancy just wandering in a generally westerly direction. What if they don't let me in?"
Celegorm looks grim. "Do you think that's it? The Doom won't let us pass?"
"Don't be stupid, if that were it, we'd have a lot more soldiers in the same boat," Caranthir says impatiently. "Maybe it's the Oath. It won't let us go until we've fulfilled it."
"Father swore it too," Curfuin argues. "He's not here."
The others look at each other uneasily. "He died in the shadow of Angband," Maglor says uneasily. "You don't think … "
"Morgoth would have taunted me with it if they'd had him," Maedhros says, and no one argues with him.
Curufin's mind picks at the puzzle. "The Silmarils," he says slowly. "Father put some of his very spirit into them. Maybe the rest of it was drawn there after his death."
This isn't actually much better, as two of the Silmarils are still with Morgoth whether the dark Vala is aware of it or not.
"If we could just check Luthien's," Celegorm starts.
"No," Maedhros says firmly. "It's waited this long. It can wait until we've gotten our people to safety."
They continue the retreat. Amrod slowly adjusts. Maedhros restrains his brothers until the Silmaril passes to Dior. At that point, they send messengers with even more urgency than they would have otherwise had.
Dior doesn't reply.
They're desperate for their father back, and it's so tempting to think he might be right there waiting like Amrod despite all possible arguments against it. The Oath adds to their desperation and torments their minds until they give in.
They attack.
Dior and Nimloth fight desperately to protect the two children they have not yet gotten to safety. Dior's sword slides neatly through Celegorm's chest.
The body drops. Celegorm, prepared, stays right where he is and grins. "Oops."
Dior goes pale and jumps back.
And Curufin's sword is waiting. It flashes forward, and Dior stumbles, a gut wound now ripping him open.
"Tell us where the Silmaril is," Curufin demands, and when Dior doesn't answer, he twists the blade. He ignores Dior's scream. "You killed my brother," he says. "I have no hesitation in making you beg for death unless you tell me where our Silmaril is."
The twins whimper in the corner they're hiding in. Curufin grits his teeth and ignores them, but Celegorm winces a little. He looks up in time to see Caranthir stumble.
"Curufin," he barks.
Curufin's on his feet in an instant and racing towards Nimloth. He manages to save Caranthir.
He doesn't manage to save himself.
Nimloth falls, regardless, and the fight is quick, so Dior is still hanging on when Caranthir limps over and Curufin floats.
"Tell us where it is," Curufin repeats.
Dior shakes his head.
"You're awfully sanguine for someone with two very vulnerable children in the room," Curufin says just as Celegorm's servants come running into the room. "I may not be able to touch them anymore, but I assure you, they can."
Dior's face, already pale from blood loss, goes even paler. "No. Please," he gasps.
The servants are already snatching up the children with bruising grips. The twins twist and cry, but they're no match for the older elves.
Celegorm's stomach twists, and he sees the distaste in Caranthir's eyes, but he trusts his brother, so he keeps quiet.
"Tell us," Curufin says.
But Dior dies, and he has no Oath to bind him.
"Should we kill them, my lords?" the captain asks.
Celegorm is ready to step in then, but Curufin does first. "Of course not," he snaps. "What good would that do now?"
"We'll take them to Maedhros," Celegorm orders. "See what he wants done." He follows his men out and tries to think how to explain what just happened to his eldest brother.
Caranthir lingers with Curufin. "I'm sorry," he says. It is not something he says often.
Curufin waves it away impatiently. "I knew what I was doing." It is the closest he will come to saying it was worth it.
Caranthir nods over to the corner where the twins were hiding not long ago. "Would you have done it?"
Curufin's lips twist, but his shoulders hunch a little too. "I haven't sunk that low yet, brother."
Maedhros would dwell on the yet. Maglor would take hope from the initial statement. Caranthir accepts it for what it is.
They go to find Maedhros.
For the immediate future, it's decided they'll have to look after the twins. It's not like they have any other options. Long term, perhaps they can ransom the boys for the Silmaril once they know who escaped with it.
It's a good plan. They retreat to Amon Ereb. Maedhros does his best to keep the boys safe and away from the more bloodthirsty of their followers who are eager for revenge after their losses both at the most recent battle and for those losses they blame on Doriath's previous extreme isolationist policy. Maglor encourages Maedhros's involvement, as it helps him focus on something other than their increasingly hopeless situation, and consequently gets involved himself. Amrod and Amras are fascinated by the other set of twins, Caranthir mostly leaves them alone, and Celegorm is happy to have them around. It's almost like having Tyelpe around again.
Curufin, for his part, is the only one that actively avoids them, a task that's harder now that he can't spend all his time in the forge. On the few occasions he is cornered into it, though - Well, Celegorm catches him in Elured and Elurin's room once when they have a fever, and he's singing an old lullaby Celegorm hasn't heard since Tyelpe outgrew it. Curufin refuses to acknowledge his presence until the twins are asleep.
"We could send him a letter, you know," Celegorm tells him.
Curufin brushes him off. "He didn't want to talk to me when I was alive. I very much doubt that's changed just because I got myself killed in another kinslaying."
It takes two decades to be absolutely sure the Silmaril is in Sirion. Partially because the survivors there are smart enough to keep it quiet at first, and partially because even as desperate as they are for it, after that least battle, they're not sure they really want to know. Once they do know, they send messengers with their offer.
They're all hoping it will be accepted. Of course they are. If they're all privately a little devastated at the idea of giving the twins up, that's no one's business but their own.
They needn't have bothered. The offer is declined.
"Declined," Maedhros says flatly. If the messenger he's talking to hadn't fought in the Nirnaeth, Maglor suspects he'd be shrinking back right now. "The offer was declined. Why?"
"Some of the councilors believed it unlikely the princes were still alive after all these years," the messenger says. "Others seemed to think it possible that they would not hold Sirion's best interests at heart if they were returned."
Ah. They thought the boys had been brainwashed into loyal Feanorians. And, most likely, "And if the boys were returned, one of them would be king, which would upset their own positions," Maglor says wryly.
"I detected something of the sort, yes, my lord."
"But their sister?" Maedhros asks incredulously.
"She is quite convinced they're dead, my lord."
Maedhros dismisses the messenger wearily.
"How are we going to tell them that?" Celegorm asks.
No one answers.
"Now what?" Maglor asks Maedhros.
No one answers that either.
A/N: I don't own the Silmarillion. This was originally posted on Tumblr.