Sorry for flooding all my dear followers' inboxes, but I'm trying to make up for my absence before things pick back up like crazy again. : / I'm taking this opportunity to type up all the stuff languishing in my numerous writer's notebooks. :D
DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING YOU RECOGNIZE. JUST A FAN WHO IS ALSO A WRITER. JUST BURROWING. :))
Maedhros slowly arose from the bed, not his bed, the bed.
The bed in the room he had laid in for days, weeks.
The room was bursting at the seems with color, that was Fingon's doing, Maedhros would have known even without seeing him bringing in the clay pots of all different sizes filled with so many flowers, day after day.
The room had a window, a curtained window, but the sunlight could still break through, just enough to remind Maedhros that it was still there.
He couldn't remember his time on the Thangorodrim very clearly, it was all a blur without time, really.
All he could remember was the pain, the cold of the air and the sweat on his skin, the cold sweat of enduring that soon dried up with his thirst.
Maedhros could remember a straining feeling, not just on the hand and arm from which he was dangling, but also, and maybe even more keenly, on the inside.
As if something inside of him were slowly breaking, and there was nothing he could do except take in each labored breath,
And time stretched on into forever, until he heard a song on a pure, elven voice, a voice that he knew and loved, soaring up tentatively to embrace his ears.
And as the voice broke in emptiness and sorrow, he had sung back, making a voice work that had gone so long unused, and with a dry, hollow sound, had finished the verse.
He had begged Fingon to shoot him, for he had given up hope of ever getting away, and to be killed swiftly by a friend was much better than to be die slowly and painfully by the hand of Darkness. All Maedhros had had then was a choice.
But Fingon, dear stubborn Fingon, had said 'No', that he wouldn't, couldn't, do it.
Stubborn Fingon who loved him to a fault had cut Maedhros' right hand off at the wrist, caught him as he fell forward, and had held him tightly in his arms as they flew out of the dark lands on the great eagle of Manwe.
Maedhros' brothers had been there, waiting. They had helped the son of Fingolfin down off the bird's back, and had taken their eldest brother's unconscious form in their arms.
And they had laid him in a room, a room soon full of flowers.
A room that soon became the room, and now Maedhros was walking away from it, the place he'd been hiding, to face his destiny. To face his brothers, to face Fingon, Maedhros' childhood friend and rescuer, to face Fingon who whenever he had entered the room, Maedhros had pretended to be asleep. To face everything he had nearly forgotten, and try to catch up where he'd been left behind.
There you have it. I so dearly love Maitimo. And Findekano. And all the Finwions. But I digress.
Please review and tell me what you thought! Fav. if you liked! Have a happy holiday season, and a great new year!
~Thurin