Maedhros met Orome at the gate.

"Oh no. I am sorry for your loss," said Orome, on being informed of events. "We came as quick as we could, but that foul mirk…"

Maedhros nodded slightly, understanding only too well – though he hadn't thought anything could affect a Vala that way – or that he'd ever see a Vala wearing that hangdog expression. It reminded him of Huan. Perhaps he'd overestimated their indifference and underestimated their incompetence at dealing with Moringotto last time around.

"Finwe will be safe in Namo's hands by now, but we need to get the Silmarils back so that life can be restored to the Trees. The trail is clear, and we will follow it. I shall leave a couple of my people to protect you in case he comes back."

"Do you have any skilled healers?" Maedhros asked. "We have injured among us."

"Not dedicated healers: that would be Este's following. But I shall leave Romestamo with you. He has some skill, and will give you what help he can."

With that, the Vala and his following rode off north into the dark, on the trail of their adversary. While Maedhros wished them all success, he had little hope that they would succeed in their hunt.

After a few minutes of bickering, the brothers decided that they really ought to inform their father that Finwe was dead and he was now King of the Noldor. The maia staying here had some very special horses indeed… which they agreed to lend to Feanaro's sons at Tyelkormo's entreaty.

Half an hour later Maedhros, Curufinwe, and Tyelkormo set out to tell their father the news. They left Makalaure organizing things back in Formenos. Of the three of them, Tyelkormo was the only one who had ridden one of Orome's horses before. They weren't the same as typical horses available to elves, so Maedhros listened carefully as his brother told them what to expect.

"They are very fast, and have a very smooth gait. They can see well by starlight. They can run without tiring from one mingling to the next, and will not founder. They are also far smarter than our horses, and have minds of their own. You'll need a firm mind and a firm hand if their mind disagrees with yours, or you'll wind up where and doing what they decide. If you're unlucky, that's dangling from a treebranch or sitting in the bottom of a ditch. Fortunately their masters have told them that they are to bear us according to our wishes." One of the horses snorted. "And yes, they understand whatever you say." The horse bumped Tyelkormo with her nose. Tyelkormo stroked it and nickered at her. She flicked her ears at him.

"So introduce yourself to your horse, and let's get going,"

They led the horses arounds the wreckage in front of the destroyed gates. Just outside, Tyelkormo leaned down and stopped his horse to examine a fair-sized boulder. Maedhros looked more closely. It was stained with ichor.

"Looks like we hurt the spider-thing with that trap," said Tyelkormo.

"Pity it didn't kill it, but better than nothing." said Curufinwe. "At least someone managed to make a blow count."

They set off without further incident. The horses were fast indeed. It was hardly the first time that Maedhros had ridden somewhere at a gallop, but this was by far the fastest horse he had ever ridden. It was more like flying than ordinary riding. A fierce grin spread across his face.

"Amazing, aren't they?" said Celegorm with satisfaction.

"Do you two mind?" said Curufinwe irritably. "I'm trying to figure out how we break the news to Father." His voice wasn't easy to hear over the wind of their passage.

"There isn't a good way to break news like this," said Maedhros, sobering. "We should probably try and get him alone. We'll also need to tell his half-siblings, but not at the same time, if at all possible."

"Why are you worrying about them now?" asked Curufinwe.

"Political reality," said Maedhros. "Finwe is their father too, whether we like the fact or not, and they're going to care that he's dead. I doubt Nolofinwe's going to be pleased that our father is now the rightful King. The fact Father's still exiled from Tirion, and Nolofinwe's Finwe's Regent there, only adds to the mess. There's likely to be strife enough between them that I don't wish to add to it."

"You just miss Findekano," said Tyelkormo.

"As you miss Irisse, brother. We've all got friends who stayed in Tirion. This division in the Noldor is dangerous."

"Hang the Valar's exile of Father, and your precious political reality, Maitimo. We should go to Middle-earth and pay Moringotto back for what he's done to us," snarled Curufinwe.

"We'll need the rest of the Noldor as allies if we do that," snapped Maedhros. "Or is your mind still addled by his last attack? If we must fight Moringotto, I intend to win." He raised an arm to rub his head. It had begun to hurt more fiercely again – smooth gait or not, riding so fast was not helping his concussion. He should probably have sent Makalaure, but he'd clean forgotten about his injury during the press of events. And it was his place to tell his father, his duty. He'd just have to live with it.

They continued riding, the horses flying down the dirt road beneath the stars.

On they went, and on, and on, beneath stars and scudding cloud, on the track through forest and fen, meadow and field. Maedhros' vision narrowed to the horse's neck in front of him, then to darkness, as he slid into an odd state, not truly awake or truly asleep. Finally, his horse neighed loudly and slowed suddenly. Maedhros slid forward onto the horses' neck and canted sideways, grabbing the horse's neck and mane frantically, his head stabbing at him. The horse snorted and stamped as Maedhros struggled right himself.

Tyelko's strong hands grabbed him, and rebalanced him on the horse's back before he could fall.

"You can't go to sleep, you fool," said Tyelkormo. "Rocco says you're about to fall and break your neck."

"My head," slurred Maedhros. "It hurts. I can't see straight."

"Damn. It's that concussion," said Curufinwe's voice. "He should have stayed behind. Stubborn fool."

"Now what are we going to do?" asked Tyelko. "We can't leave him sitting in the middle of the road in the dark."

Maedhros winced, because Tyelko was right. "Sorry," he said, forcing his eyes open.

"Do you have any limpe?" Curufinwe asked.

"I left it with the healers helping the wounded." said Tyelko.

"Get up behind him and keep him steady in the saddle. You can trade off horses if the horse gets tired."

"You'll help me if it comes to that," said Tyelkormo. "Maitimo's no lightweight."

Then a warm body settled into the saddle behind Maedhros, and strong arms wrapped itself around him to keep him upright. "Thank you," said Maedhros quietly. He closed his eyes, and trusted his brother to keep him safe as they set off again.


A/N: I figure the horses of Orome must have been pretty special. A lot like Shadowfax, only more so. Perhaps like horse versions of Huan.

As for the reappearance of Maedhros' concussion, well, they're funny things, and I'm sure that picking fights with Ungoliant, followed by riding implausibly fast horses for hours, is not recommended by doctors.