Chapter III

Vorindon once again proved to be indispensable and the years spent on defending Himring, then Amon Ereb, allowed them to understand each other without words. Maglor was grateful for his help as Maedhros's adjutant had taken upon himself a lot and organised guards and meals preparation, leaving the organisation of the orphaned troops to the son of Feanor.

Unfortunately, it soon proved that it was not going to be an easy task. Most of them despised the forced stay in the Sindar dwelling. There was a risk the refugees would try to regain their home, so they had to be vigilant as the potential attackers would be familiar with the underground city. But as nothing seemed to be happening, the elves became impatient and would gladly be on their way back home.

Celegorm's soldiers in particular were eager to voice their displeasure. Some turned their mourning into anger, some criticised the earlier judgement and the verdict carried out so promptly by Amras. Maglor tried to stave off conflicts, especially between the elves of his fallen brothers and the Sindar who had not managed to escape from Menegroth and were currently kept under guard. No one wished for more bloodshed, though the prisoners reacted in various ways. Some dealt with all the restrictions and caused no troubles, but there were some who purposely provoked the guards. Those had quickly been separated as to not agitate the rest.

Maglor himself would give a lot to be far away from here, but the wounded needed to gather some strength before the journey and the issue of the lost children and the search was another matter that postponed their leaving. He really hoped that once Amras returned, regardless to the results of the search, Maedhros would be well enough to travel. He watched the growing tension with concern and wondered just how much longer he was going to keep them all in check without rest.

The dusk must have already come when Maglor spoke shortly with Vorindon and decided to check on his brother, but before he went to him, he came across Alcarino. Though the healer didn't say a word, his whole posture, his firm, practiced movements, his back too straight and stiff - it all spoke of reprehension. Maglor didn't remember when was the last time he had seen him like that and he wished not for any confrontation, so he just asked about Maedhros.

The last thing he wanted to hear was that Maedhros had gone with Amras to search for the children against any logic.

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The Noldor soldiers rushed to help as soon as they spotted their two commanders struggling to make another step. Maedhros was almost limp in his brother's strong embrace and barely moved his legs. His half-conscious gaze was locked on the ground before him and it seemed that the only thing keeping him upright was Amras's arms. Despite limping himself, Amras didn't pass the wounded to his men, just let them support him from the other side, at the same time sending someone to fetch Alcarino.

The healer met them before they reached the chamber and Amras let him take his place. Together they led, or rather dragged the wounded to the room the brothers had taken for their use.

Once seated on the bed, Maedhros slumped on the pillow and curled on his side around his broken arm, indifferent to the fact that he was still wearing his boots and his snow-covered cloak.

"Don't sleep, Nelyafinwe," Alcarino sighed in defeat. He placed his hand on the forehead of the wounded and hissed as he confirmed what he could see. "Do you hear me, Nelyo?"

"Mmm..."

"It seems to have finally closed," said Amras quietly, pointing at the bloodied bandages under the jacket.

The healer nodded and having assessed the state of the wounded, he poured the broth he had brought from a bowl to a mug. Encouraging Maedhros to sit proved to be troublesome, but finally Amras lost his patience and sat beside him, so that his brother could lean against him. They didn't risk giving the mug to the wounded, so Amras pressed it against his lips despite his weak protests.

"I will not say farewell to a fourth brother," he hissed angrily as Maedhros rested his head on his shoulder in a frail attempt to object. "Drink, Alcarino wants you to."

Slowly, sip after sip Amras forced the entire mug into him. Maedhros surrendered and swallowed as he was told, but his head kept lolling with soft moans and his fingers wandered aimlessly on the cloak.

"Alright, show me," said Alcarino. He returned to the bed with a small lamp and forced the wounded to raise his head. "Open your eyes, Nelyafinwe."

"No... Hurts..."

"If you hadn't gone, it wouldn't be so bad," Amras reminded him cruelly, still holding him and not allowing him to lie down.

"Open your eyes."

Maedhros obeyed and Alcarino looked right into his eyes, dazed and mulled with pain. He looked for a moment, lamp in his hand, and asked about how much Maedhros remembered from the last two days. Finally he gave him a few sips of a brew with an intensive scent and removed the light. The wounded immediately turned his head, closing his eyes and hiding his face in his brother's jacket.

"Done? Can I... lie down?" he muttered pleadingly, though he had been stubbornly walking just a moment earlier.

"I need to see what you have done with your side," Alcarino left him no space for delusions. He could not rest just yet. "Amras, keep him that way," he ordered when Maedhros tried to back away as the healer touched his side.

"No... it hurts..." It seemed Maedhros still remembered that he should not hide anything from Alcarino. "Head... Side... a lot... A-arm?" Panic appeared in his voice. "Can't move... Arm?"

"It's an open break, what did you expect?" snorted Amras. "Just broken, remember?"

"You have not lost anything from your arm, Nelyo," the healer calmed him down. "But let me see your side."

Alcarino undressed Maedhros and reached for the bandages. Carefully, layer after layer he removed the soaked dressings until he got to the last one. Damping a cloth in a bowl of water, he wetted the bandages to remove dried blood, then finally got rid of the rest.

Amras inhaled sharply and embraced his brother tightly, even though the wounded no longer had strength to struggle and was only shivering.

"Is it bad?" asked Amras shortly over Maedhros's head.

"It is, but it's not fatal," replied Alcarino grimly, cleaning the wound. "I will have to stitch it, Nelyo. Nelyo, do you hear me?" he repeated and placed his hand on the cheek of the wounded.

"No... leave it..."

"You are safe, I will not harm you," promised the healer calmly. "But I cannot just leave it like that."

Maedhros muttered something unhappily and sank lower resignedly to lean more comfortably against his brother. Amras embraced him tightly, moving up his left arm to immobilise it. Maedhros clenched his fingers weakly on his brother's arm and their shaking was the only indicator that he was still conscious.

Alcarino worked silently, cleaning both wounds at his side, entering and exiting one. The wounded shivered weakly, but didn't make a smallest sound. The healer put fresh stitches and bandaged the side, then carefully placed his hand on the sweated forehead of the eldest son of Feanor.

"Done?" moaned Maedhros and Amras jerked, surprised that his brother was still lucid.

"I am," promised Alcarino. "You can lie down and sleep."

Amras sat his brother and unbuckled his cloak to take it away. As soon as he was done, Maedhros lied down with a sigh of relief, shivering from cold and exhaustion, deprived of warm coat, though soaked with melting snow. His brother covered him with the nearest blanket and limped to bring more as Alcarino was cleaning his tools. Before he returned, he glanced outside and passed some orders to the guards protecting their commanders. He sent one to clean Maedhros's cloak and forbid the rest to knock, biding them to enter if there was something important going on.

Amras returned to his brother and placed the blankets at the edge of the bed. The wounded was already asleep, drained with the blood loss and the healer's actions. Amras crouched by his legs, still hanging limply from the bed, but hissed and changed position to kneeling. He removed his brother's boots, under which a puddle of water had gathered, and placed his feet on the bed. Maedhros didn't even stir, neither then nor later, when he was covered with two additional blankets.

"Sit down," ordered Alcarino calmly when the youngest son of Feanor was finished. "Nelyafinwe is going to need you."

"You think his nightmares will come," realised Amras grimly, sitting obediently on a chair. He straightened his legs and winced with disgust. "This is just what he needs now. What we all need."

"Show me you ankle."

"As you wish." Amras shrugged, but allowed the healer to remove his boot from his swollen ankle and put some smelling ointment on it. He was still furious he had managed to twist it in Thingol's accursed forest, but returning with Maedhros had been taxing and the ointment brought some relief.

"Leave it like that for now." Alcarino stopped him after bandaging the ankle, when the younger elf wanted to put his shoe back on. "And sit comfortably, Nelyafinwe will need someone hear."

"You are doing this on purpose," realised Amras, but he was weary enough to sit at the edge of the bed and rest his leg.

"Maedhros has to sleep for my treatment to work," Alcarino reminded him. "And he will not sleep nor rest if the nightmares return. Watch him, please, he will listen to you. We can't leave him with a stranger now, it won't help."

Amras just snorted and leaned against the bedhead. The healer picked his things and left quietly.

Going out there wasn't very wise, was it, Nelyo?

Thank you for reading :)