For a change of scenery, we are going to Amon Ereb.
7. The Twins
Amon Ereb
"Ada… Ada Maglor…"
Maglor looked up from his latest composition. Two gangly figures stood in the doorway. Their limbs were long and clottish. Two pairs of grey eyes peered fearfully out of two pale faces framed by dark hair. He made a mental note to seek out the seamstress once more as their nightshirts were far too short. The twins had grown like weeds in the recent months. Now they were far taller than elflings their age should be. Perhaps their Mannish blood was showing through.
"It is him again…" Elros whispered hoarsely. "We heard him cry out…" Maglor understood. The bruise on Elros' cheek was fading. Maedhros had struck his student during a training session three days ago over some small misstep. Maglor had been expecting this since then. Maedhros had never raised a hand against the twins until now.
"Go to bed. I will see to him." With hesitant nods, the twins silently slipped off back to the chamber they shared. Maglor put aside his parchment and ink. It would be a long night. The light of the Silmaril shone down on them, a mocking reminder of the Silmaril which had slipped their grasp. When that new star first appeared in the night sky, his brother was the first to recognize it for what it was. It had driven him into a fit of insanity which greatly alarmed their charges. When Maglor tried to calm him, Maedhros had lashed out like a cornered animal. He had heaved the dinner table over as Maglor clutched the twins close. He had ranted and raved like a madman until he collapsed from the exhaustion of his frenzy. Afterwards he had been most apologetic about it.
Maglor remembered the broken wreck of his brother when Fingon allowed him into that healing tent on the shores of Lake Mithrim so long ago. The horrors Angband inflicted on his big brother had scarred him both hroa and fea. He had no inch of skin left unmarked on his body. Scars crisscrossed each other in a horrid tapestry of his sufferings. Maglor had blamed himself for leaving him there although logic argued that Morgoth was not one to honour his promises. The loss of Maedhros' right hand – his sword hand – had been the least of his hurts. He had whimpered fearfully at Maglor's approach, clinging to his valiant rescuer for comfort. Afterwards as he regained his strength, the wild mood swings came. The healers prescribed herbal teas and powders to ease him into sleep so that he might find rest despite the nightmares.
The physical wounds faded to scars. The hroa regained its strength despite the loss of his hand and the awkward twist in his shoulder and spine caused by the years he was hung off that accursed cliff still plagued him with pain. Even now Maglor had to lace his brother into a back brace every morning. More alarming were the moods of wrath and moroseness which came and went long after most of the physical hurts healed. The nightmares were of concern too. They said those captured by Morgoth's fiends were never really free even if they were rescued or escaped Angband. Maedhros had feared that when he handed the crown to their uncle. Celegorm would claim afterwards it was Fingon who put him up to it, whispering the idea into his ear as they shared their bed. Celegorm was wrong. That was Maedhros' idea alone as he feared for his own sanity.
Maglor never really understood how important Fingon's presence was to his brother. Even after Maedhros had seemingly recovered, Fingon had made constant rides to Himring to be with him despite the protests of his father and people. The pair had always been close but the rescue had drawn them even closer. Only after Fingon's death did Maglor appreciate how much a pillar of strength Fingon had been for his poor brother.
After Fingon became High King and the Feanorions took up residence in Amon Ereb, Maglor had noticed the small cracks in his brother's façade. Fingon's death utterly devastated Maedhros. He had shut himself up in this room for two weeks refusing all food until Caranthir kicked in the door. Curufin and Celegorm had played on Maedhros' weakness, urging him to attack Doriath. It was to cost them all dear. The unknown fate of Dior's twin sons was another millstone about Maedhros' neck. In a blind rage, he had hacked to death the elves who abandoned the twins before Maglor could stop him. The rage was soon followed by a period of deep self-loathing, a pattern Maglor had grown used to.
Elrond and Elros were a blessing into their blighted lives. They both delighted in teaching the pair their letters. The boys had been plagued by nightmares at first and the Feanorions had sat up with them like concerned nursemaids. Despite themselves, they truly cared for the children. Maglor had naively believed Elwing's twins would help his brother heal but the fits of rage and melancholia were back now, and growing in frequency and intensity. Twice this week young Elrond had helped to prepare a calming tea for Maedhros. Elrond's growing interest and aptitude in herb-lore had not gone unremarked on by the healers. Elros was a little warrior and adventurer, forever clamouring to be allowed on the patrols with the warriors. Sometimes he would imagine the boys growing up under their care – Elrond as a loremaster, bard, or healer while Elros would be a mighty warrior, explorer, and leader… but now…
His brother was cowering under the bedclothes, sobbing and keening like a lost child. With a resigned sigh, Maglor approached the bed cautiously. Blood. There was blood on the floor and on the bedclothes. The porcelain ewer lay shattered on the floor. When he was not greeted by more screams or a pillow to the face, Maglor sat down on the mattress and removed his shoes before crawling under the bedclothes.
"F-Finno, sorry… miss you so…" Maedhros whimpered. "Here… to take me with you… to Mandos?"
"Hush, it's me - Kano… you are safe now…" Maglor pulled his unresisting brother into his arms. Was he always so gaunt? Maedhros had slashed open his thigh and was still clutching the shard in his bleeding hand.
"Not safe… never… can't… never free…" A heart-wrenching sob tore at Maglor's heart.
"Look, you are bleeding. Let me fetch some bandages and…" Maglor tried to leave but a bleeding hand clamped down claw-like on his wrist.
"No, please… don't leave me… Not you too…" Maedhros pleaded with his eyes shining with tears of desperation. Reluctantly, Maglor relented and joined his brother on the bloodied sheets. He applied pressure onto the wounds with his hands to staunch the bleeding. Whimpering incoherently, Maedhros rested against his brother's chest.
"Oh, Nelyo, what did they do to you?" Maglor breathed into his brother's ear as the blood loss finally caused Maedhros to lose consciousness. Gingerly so as not to wake him, Maglor left his brother to fetch warm water and bandages. He took the discarded shard and flung it as far as he could out of the window. The sheets would have to wait. Whatever Maedhros suffered in Angband, he never shared with his brothers. He did share them with Fingon though. In Himring, Maglor once found Fingon at the door of Maedhros' chamber early one morning, dark circles showing under his eyes from having spent the night up. Fingon had shot him the most withering glare.
"Why did you leave him to suffer Angband?"
Guilt gnawing at his fea, Maglor did not notice the pair watching him from the shadows.
"Think they will really send us away?" Elros whispered as they curled up under their coverlet. They had always slept together as far back as they could remember. The nightmares of fire and blood came less frequently now.
"I dunno," Elrond replied. We should hate them – for killing nana, burning Sirion – but we can't… Elrond added in osanwe as he snuggled closer to his twin's warmth.
He is hurting, you know… inside… Elros winced slightly as Elrond touched his injured cheek. Maedhros' outbursts of rage never failed to shock them. The Feanorions had treated them with kindness since they were brought to Amon Ereb. The memories of their real parents and Sirion were a distant dream now. At first they had sworn to flee for home as soon as they were old enough to make their escape. However, they soon came to look upon the Feanorions as family and their grim fortress as home.
At breakfast after the latest outburst, Maedhros had informed them they were to be sent back to their kinsman Lord Cirdan. The twins remembered the old elf with his white beard and his kindly eyes the colour of the waves. They vaguely recalled the pretty seashells he showed them on the sand. Thinking back on their early childhood, they recalled the light from their nana's gem the most. They had seen the same light as a new star in the sky and wondered at it. Elrond thought perhaps the Valar had put their nana's gem up in the sky because their parents were dead and they could not find them at Amon Ereb to give it to them. They had come to terms with the prospect that they were orphans.
Nana chose to jump, Elros reminded.
She turned into a bird… Elrond added with a yawn. Looking back, it was like a surreal dream. Elves did not turn into birds, do they? Elros had leapt off the stable roof once and was fortunate to land in a big pile of manure. Elrond had to wade into the pile to drag his brother out. Maedhros had given them a stern talking-to after Maglor had the pair scrubbed raw in the baths.
Home was Amon Ereb, not distant Sirion. There was no Ada Maglor and Uncle Maedhros at Sirion – not as they knew them. They had been reeking of blood and smoke then. Strong arms grabbing and dragging them away from a burning tower, riding away into the night and the unknown with their captors.
I am sure he doesn't mean it.
It will be a great adventure if he does… Elros smiled. Everything had the potential to be a great adventure for him.
I don't want to leave… Elrond insisted. I am afraid to leave them like that…
"Mornel! We have news from your brothers!" Galadriel called out to Mornel as she and Gil-galad strolled back to the citadel after a lazy day on the beach gathering shells.
To Lord Cirdan's dismay, the young king had no desire to spend such a beautiful day in council with the Elven leaders of the Host. Gil-galad had coaxed Mornel into joining him on an excursion to the rock pools at dawn. They met Lady Uinen there. The young king had been awestruck meeting a Maia of Lord Ulmo's. He had heard tales of Lord Ulmo appearing to Tuor and Voronwe, but he had never expected to meet a Maia in person. Lady Uinen giggled, and said that had he gone to the war council like a good little elf, he would have met several of the Valar. Lords Ulmo, Orome, and Tulkas would be in attendance this morning, and perhaps even Lord Manwe himself.
Midway through the council meeting, a pigeon from the Mouths of Sirion arrived. A lone messenger elf from Amon Ereb had arrived with an interesting proposition from the Feanorions.
"They wish to return the sons of Earendil?" Mornel asked. "Without conditions?" she added and immediately hated herself for it. She had been hearing so much of her brothers' bloody deeds that she could no longer picture them willingly surrendering Earendil's children without seeking the Silmaril in return. Had they really fallen that far? Yet they had raised the elflings for the seven years since they were carried away from Sirion, Mornel reminded herself.
"Aye, but this will still pose a problem. The road to Amon Ereb is long and fraught with dangers for young elflings. It will not do for your brothers' troops to ride freely into Sirion. Neither will they tolerate us sending warriors to Amon Ereb to fetch the twins. Further negotiations will be required," Galadriel replied grimly. Tyelpe would be one of their messengers, but Galadriel wondered what her cousins would make of their little sister.
Author's Notes:
At this point, the twins are about 13 years old. I imagine them as being equivalent as to 10-year-old human children physically, but intellectually they are both way ahead thanks to their Maia heritage. Yes, Maedhros is definitely slipping into insanity.
Tyelpe - a familiar form of Celebrimbor's Quenya father-name (Telperinquar). I imagine Curufin and the Feanorions would continue using Quenya in defiance of the Thingol's ban. I have Galadriel using it as an affectionate form of address for him.
