Title: Through Fire
Authoress: Lyra the Bard
Warnings: Angst, Slight Gore, and a depressed Maedhros and distraught Maglor for your reading pleasure.
Summary: Maglor reflects on whether or not the Oath was a good thing.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Silmarillion. It is all credited to its respected creator of such a great work, J.R.R. Tolkien. I own only any created characters I insert into the story and of course the plot of this story as well.
Authoress' Note: Decided to write another small story involving the sons of Feanor once again! I can't seem to leave these poor guys alone. Must make me mean since I seem to put them through a lot of angst, especially the poor twins and Maedhros, but Maglor's time is soon coming. I also needed to desperately write something because I hadn't written in quite some time and also did it to relieve my boredom. Wrote it out during a day of sitting up at the college and waiting for one of my classes to start. Please R&R and only constructive criticism please!
Maglor shifted, his booted feet scuffing every now and again against a dead body and he had to bite back his disgust as his grey eyes scanned the room with intense scrutiny before landing on the hunched form of his older brother, Maedhros. A lump rose within the minstrel warrior's throat as he let his eyes trace downward to see that his older brother was running his hands through Amrod's hair. He had not moved an inch since their last encounter a few minutes beforehand when Maglor suggested that they give chase to Elwing in order to retrieve the Silmaril from her grasp. It made him die a little inside as he once more pushed and waved his way through the dead lining the room before allowing himself to stop a few feet away from his elder sibling.
He had to fight back tears of his own as he watched Maedhros absent mindedly run his hands through their younger's brother hair, sending a shimmer of crimson upon fiery red as the blood upon his hands seemed to glimmer with a sinister light of its own and reflect off of Amrod's brilliant mane...which to Maglor's despair was so much like that of Maedhros. He wondered if it was the fact that his brother seemed to be staring death in the face and he had to admit that it indeed looked as if Maedhros were holding his own corpse in his hands as he once again let his fingers stray through the red locks as his other hand went down to a spattered cheek. Maglor knew not what to say as the lump within his throat seemed to grow and constrict as he took in the scene for a few more seconds before deciding to break the silence with a surprisingly clear voice. "She's gone, Maitimo…" he said, his voice verging almost to a mere whisper as he felt his head pound from grief and utter helplessness as he watched Maedhros say nothing but continue on as before, only this time he reached down with one of his strong and slim hands.
The minstrel watched as the eldest of the Sons of Feanor pressed his fingertips against the other's eyelids, which he imagined were probably cold as ice by now, and shut them gently, as if he were afraid that they were glass. His throat only worsened as it constricted. Worried now that he had not received an answer, Maglor went to approach but stopped short as he heard Maedhros finally speak, his voice taking an odd quality that reminded him of a piece of paper being burned within a crackling fire. "I know, Cano," he whispered as he once more let his long and nimble fingers brush through fire, not even bothering to turn and look. "And it is gone with her as well, I imagine." Maglor's heart clenched as he felt a small tear trickle down his stained cheek, breaking past his defenses as he answered. "Yes…it is gone…" He then began to wonder if he should tell him about Elwing's children, twins in fact, and of how their mother had either purposely or accidentally left them behind but thought it better to wait for a few more minutes at most. He could not impose that upon him now, could he? Not after what they had both been through and he was afraid that if Maedhros were to see them, it would only remind him of the twins they had lost.
Maglor could only fight back a wave of tears as he heard his brother's deep and yet broken voice reach him from across the room as he continued to runs his fingers through their dead brother's hair. "Are we doing the right thing, Cano?" Maglor halted. He was unsure of what to say to such a question. Silence once again seemed to burn through the both of them as each sat there, unmoving. Maglor blinked, trying to lift the haze of battle from his watery eyes as his distraught mind fumbled for an acceptable thing to say while Maedhros continued to run his hands through pure and fiery red, his eyes blank and unblinking. The second eldest of the Sons of Feanor could only stand there for a few more seconds, his eyes seeming to water profusely and sting as he took in a harsh breath through is nostrils as he continued to watch Maedhros stroke Amrod's hair affectionately. He could see terrible sorrow intertwined in each action, each stroke, and each whisper as Maedhros seemed to speak to himself as much as to his younger brother. Maglor could only watch as his eyes took in the rest of the carnage that was sprawled out in the room and could make out the faces of both he and Maedhros' victims.
Their cold eyes stared back with a look of bitter apathy and he had to tear himself away to keep the images of the dead from overwhelming him as he looked back at his older brother to see that he had finally let Amrod's head rest in his lap rather than holding it. Once more Maglor had to fight back tears as the lump within his throat began to grow and for a moment he feared that perhaps he would be strangled to death by it as he allowed his vision to take the sight in with bitterness and sorrow. Silence reigned and to Maglor it felt as if time itself had stopped, as if Arda had come to a complete halt around him before the stillness was shattered by the intense and burning eyes of his elder brother as grey met grey. "By the Valar!" he thought to himself as he noticed his brother's eyes darken a bit before seeming to die like a fallen star. Maglor could not help but admit that for a few seconds he swore he saw his father...their father, in his brother's eyes. It was like staring at Feanor all over again and it did little to help his rising anguish and tumultuous emotion. He swallowed and forced himself to speak as he tried to shove the color of dark grey and absolute fire away from his mind. "Brother? What is wrong…" He then went silent for a few seconds as Maedhros said nothing and he felt the knot tighten ever further, like a noose that was being strung up around his slender throat.
How could he say anything? Seeing his brother, for once in all of this time to fulfill the oath that they had made, utterly silent and beaten…it made Maglor cold inside. Maedhros had always been the one that had tried to lead them all through more peaceful negotiations and that it had been he, and he alone, that had went off looking for the twins Elured and Elurin. It then struck Maglor like a Balrog's fist as he thought about it. Not only would the twins remind him of his two youngest siblings, but also of the twins he had failed to find. The thought made tears form in his eyes before he brushed them aside and looked to see that Maedhros was still looking at him while simultaneously running his blood stained hands over Amrod's face and forehead, leaving trails of red across pale and unmoving flesh. After a lengthy and agonizing silence, Maedhros turned back towards Maglor, his eyes rimmed with tears and crimson, almost making it look as if he were crying tears of blood. "You may go to them," he whispered softly, so softly that Maglor nearly had to strain to hear it.
His breath caught in his throat. Maglor felt as if he were unable to breath and it only served to push him even further into despair as he let his eyes take in the room once more, seeing the fallen bodies of other elves. Even children…he hated himself, he thought suddenly. How he hated himself for all that he had done. And how had Maedhros known of the twins? Perhaps he would never know and it was perhaps best that he did not know how or why. He looked back up to see that his brother was no longer facing him and that he was looking back down at Amrod's corpse. Frowning deeply and fighting back against all the emotions that threatened to boil over, Maglor nodded as a single tear slipped past his defenses and tricked down a pale cheek. He swerved on his heel and began to leave, but turned at the last second before exiting the room to see that Maedhros had now went back to running his red tipped fingers through Amrod's once glossy and vibrant locks. He had to get away from that room. It made him ponder too much on the past and if he did not push it behind him it would consume him. Even then, after leaving that room full of blood stained walls and fresh memories, he could only think of one thing as he walked off to find where twins had hidden themselves. He didn't doubt that Maedhros was thinking of the very same thing. Had the promise they had made so long ago… been for nothing?