Fingon laid his head against the backrest of the sofa and closed his eyes. "If you say so."
"I do." Maedhros leant against the window frame. "Fingon, we need to talk."
"Indeed." He opened his eyes again. "But can we keep the politics until tomorrow? I am far too glad that you are both here. First tell me how you have fared. What has happened there? From your letters, I could barely figure out how you managed to defend Himring, and Maglor did not even answer my questions on the Gap."
"What did he write then? The two of you have never exchanged so many letters as in the last few months?"
Fingon stared at the window. "I've asked his advice on what to do with Ereinion. I need to take some decisions."
A sad smile appeared on Maedhros' face. "You do realise whom you are asking for advice? There has been little understanding for his own choice."
"I know that. But despite everything, he still seems convinced that to leave his son with his mother in Valinor was the right thing to do."
"I know he is…" Maedhros still stared out of the window, avoiding to catch his regard. "But has Maglor told you as well how much it cost him to make that decision? You knew Maglor before. He was different then. Every time when I see Curufin with Celebrimbor, I must admit I doubt on who made the wisest choice. Think about that as well before you decide."
"Haven't we all changed through the years, Maedhros? Was it truly only leaving his child behind that made Maglor who he is today? But I hear you. I will not make a rash choice." Fingon hesitated a moment, "Something has to be done though. This is no place for a child. He needs to play with other children his age, instead of being surrounded by grim soldiers. I am thinking of sending him to Cirdan when spring comes. At the Falas he should be safe from all the strife – and perhaps in a few years I will be able to go there to visit him."
"Does he know?"
Fingon shook his head, "No, I did not find a way to breach the topic yet. " He sighed, "But enough about me. What about you? Are all your brothers safe? I heard Curufin and Celegorm made it out of the pass?"
"I heard the same. I have not seen them since. Word has it that they fled to Nargothrond. Maglor says he hopes Finrod kicks them out sooner rather than later, but I am pretty sure that he won't, even if they are bound to test his patience. Our cousin is simply incapable of fathoming how much trouble those two can cause."
"They haven't made a lot of friends lately, have they?" Fingon muttered.
"No they have not." Maedhros laughed bitterly and finally went to sit in the chair. He leant his head between his hands. "It is the least you can say. I just hope that they will behave themselves in Finrod's kingdom."
"You are not responsible for them, you know. They have been adults for a while now."
Maedhros looked up, "Sometimes, you sound just like Maglor. At least Caranthir is out of trouble. He went to Amon Ereb, to Amrod."
"A pity that he did not choose to come to you. He might not be the easiest to live with, but he is the best military engineer we have."
"Amrod can use him better than I. There is little to be improved in Himring. The fact that we were able to withstand the attacks of the dragon proved as much."
"Tell me about the dragon."
Maedhros' look shifted away from him. "Not tonight, Fingon."
He was surprised to hear his cousin's voice quaver. He had thought that there was nothing that frightened Maedhros anymore. Not after what he had gone through. Apparently he had been wrong.
"Then tell me about Maglor. What has happened in the gap?"
"You ask the same question once again. Ask my brother if you must, but not tonight."
Fingon stared at his own hands. It must have been worse than he had thought. "Is that why Maglor has stayed with you? He always hated it when he had to stay in a keep for longer than a few days."
"He still does. He has not changed that much. There is just no other place for him to go to."
Maedhros looked sad, and Fingon was concerned by the despair that sounded through his words. "Surely he could go to the plains in the south? I assume he has lost many of his horses, but could he not rebuild his cavalry there?"
"Less than thirty of his riders escaped to Himring."
Fingon opened and closed his mouth, lost for words. Then he sighed. "Why did he not tell me? He never said a word about what happened there. Why did you not tell me?"
Maedhros was about to reply when a soft click of the door announced the bard's return.
"The little one is sound asleep. He has practiced well. Clearly he has inherited his father's talent for the harp."
Fingon bowed his head to hide his confusion and gestured to the food and drinks. "Help yourself, you must be starved."
"No," Maglor softly answered. "I'll take a cup of wine to my room. Your time together is already so rare, you don't need me here. I'd just be an intruder."
"Maglor…." Maedhros said in a pained voice. "You are not a nuisance. Please join us."
The bard smiled. "Don't worry about me. I had a very nice evening already. I am weary and I don't mind to be alone for a while. I have some ideas to refine the lyrics of that song that I wrote a few months ago. You know how they have been bothering me."
Maedhros gave in all too easily. "I'll see you in the morning then."
Maglor nodded, taking one of the simple stone cups from the table, before he left again. As the door fell shut behind him, Maedhros hid his head in his hands. He looked so desperate that Fingon moved over to him and put his arm around his cousin's shoulder, hugging him tight. "What happened? You know you can tell me."
For a long time, there was no answer. Fingon patiently waited. Eventually Maedhros would tell him, of that he was sure. All he could do in the meantime was to hold his cousin tight, silently letting him know that he was not alone.
Maedhros leant his head against his shoulder, hiding behind his long hair. "I thought I had lost him too. If I had not sent my own guard to chase away his pursuers, he would not have made it to the keep. And all I could do was to watch the scene unfurl in front of me, while I was standing on the high parapets of Himring. He was barely alive when they brought him in and there was nothing I could do. How my hands itched to go after those orcs myself, but right behind him, the dragon came and my advisors convinced me that it would be a bad idea to leave the keep." Maedhros shuddered. "We succeeded in fending off its attacks, the stones of Himring are not so easily damaged. But to think that my brother's troops were burnt alive when he tried to hold his stances…"
"Maglor faced the dragon?" Fingon whispered.
"Do you think anything but the Great Worm could have made him leave the Gap? He knew he would leave the passage to the hinterland open if he fled. But he had no choice."
Fingon thought that Maedhros sounded unconvinced, "do you think so? Was there nothing he could have done?"
His cousin's eyes were shining with a feverish glow. "What are you insinuating? You did not manage to stop the filthy Worm either, did you? I heard he attacked your troops in the mountains too."
"Hush, I did not mean to insult you. "
Maedhros' anger was quickly deflated and with a tired sigh, his cousin withdrew from his touch. "I know you did not mean to. But however disconcerting it is, you might have spoken the truth, Fingon. There was something else he could have done, and I suspect Maglor was very close to choosing that other path." His cousin looked up again. "He could have stayed there. He could have decided to stay and die there."
Fingon let go of his breath. He had not even realised he had been holding it. He bit his tongue, thinking of something to say, but found nothing.
"Aegnor and Angrod were surprised by the attack and perished before they could flee. I have the impression my brother wishes things had gone the same way for him. He feels humiliated. He is ashamed because he thought he let us, his brothers, down – as if he was the only one responsible for this defeat. And while I keep trying, I cannot convince him that he did all he could. That there was nothing else that any of us could have done. That what he did was enough to buy us time to regroup, to flee. That he was enough."
Fingon stared at his hands. The eerie echo of his own doubts still resounded in his head.
"So Fingon, please, let me convince you instead. There was nothing you could have done that would have changed your father's mind. Nothing at all. In the end we all make our own choices. Your father did, Maglor did, my father did and I most certainly made my own mistakes. While others might give us advice, no one is responsible for our deeds but ourselves."
"Perhaps. But isn't that a too heavy burden to shoulder? Circumstances affect us, others convince us and give us advice that changes our perspective. Sometimes we heed their advice, sometimes we go straight against it, but it does influence us. I for one am certain Maglor returned because of you. There is no one whom he trusts as much as you."
"Sometimes I think he only returns to me because he still feels guilty, because…"
"Don't start, Maedhros." Fingon interrupted. "We've been there before. If you doubt the sincerity of his actions, think back on how things were in Valinor. He trusted you then, and you trusted him. We might have all changed, but some things have not." He took a deep breath, "so I will try to trust you, and believe you when you tell me I did all I could." A pause fell before he continued so quietly that he could barely be heard. "I did all I could, and I'll have to come to terms with the idea that it still was not enough to stop him."
