A/N: This chapter, I believe, is the most daring piece of fanfiction I have ever published. To others, it may not seem * that * grandiose or special, but I've been pondering for months whether or not to include this fragment in the story - it was extremely challenging to write, and what is before you now, dear reader, is the fifth rewritten version of the original chapter. (I still can't say I'm entirely satisfied, by the way).


IX. Wells of Pain

The Fortress of Himring, FA 467, the fifth day of Víressë

The Warden of the East could hardly remember any occasion when he was trying to prolongate a small council, but today's meeting proved to be a remarkable exception. Time passed with unmatched, almost supernatural speed, and the discussion rushed through all those meticulous, worrisome subjects that otherwise occupied several hours.

It happened thus that he ran out of words, and had to face the inevitable much sooner than he'd intended to.

"Captain!"

Maedhros's voice clanged like a sharp blade on iron; he shielded himself with its stern vigour of authority, his speech blank and free of the low, gut-wrenching flame of doubt and foreboding that burned inside his chest.

"At your command, Lord Warden," Tulcestelmo said meekly, his shoulders shifting a little while he sat, and Maedhros reminded himself to lessen the intensity of his gaze. People seldom dared to look him straight in the eye; fruitlessly he wondered what were they seeing in their depths.

"The matter of the insolent Orc-filth, I believe, is settled, if your scouts had indeed killed them off. Is there anything else I should know about?"

"Nay, Lord Warden," said the Captain of Guards and he bowed, then looked around in the small room. "The attacks shall renew and our strength needs to be gathered; but for instance, we cannot do anything else but wait. If none of your lordships wish to comment, then I believe we could end the council meeting of this morn."

Maedhros looked questioningly at his brother Maglor, then at his counsellor Tyelcano who were seated at his two sides, and when neither of them raised any objections, he nodded his approvement.

"Very well. Today's small council is over, then. Captain, please pass my summon to lords Tyelkormo and Curufinwë; seek them out in person, if it is not too worrisome to you. I want neither curious eyes nor intruding ears around my halls today."

"As your lordship commands," Tulcestelmo said. He bowed once again and turned to leave the room, but Tyelcano called after him.

"Also, Captain, it would be wise to let them know that they were summoned in the Great Hall."

For the smallest fraction of a second, Tulcestelmo's face was ruled by confusion, even a sparkle of fear, but he swiftly regained control over his mien, and went to do as asked.

"The Great Hall!" Maglor exclaimed as soon as the door closed behind the Captain. "Why? Maitimo, I waited half a week, but my patience is over! Speak! What is this all about? I have so many questions..."

"So do we, lord," Tyelcano said, sadness in his eyes. "So do we. Yet we cannot decide if learning the entire truth could bring us any sort of satiety. Mayhaps even the contrary..."

Maedhros studied both their faces carefully. Maglor's health had considerably improved in the last three days, but an air of frailness and exhaustion still lingered around him, and the silvery light of his eyes burned lower than usual. Also, there seemed to be something remarkably different in his behaviour than before, but no matter how hard Maedhros tried, he could not guess what it was. Tyelcano, on the other hand, was as cool and collected as ever, his clothes moteless and austere, his hair in a tight braid without as much as a stray tress peeking out from amongst its dark waves. Yet his face was grave, and he seemed somewhat careworn. Maedhros knew his Counsellor loathed what was now to come as much as he, but he did not expect the task to take such a striking, visible effect.

"Let us not dwell on possible outcomes while we do not yet have enough insight on the present," he said casually, suppressing his doubts. "Never you worry, my brother: your questions are going to be answered, for great things have happened while you were away in the marches; terrible, but great things. We need to gather in the Great Hall in order to demonstrate the gravity of certain happenings. Brothers or not, we need to talk to Tyelko and Curvo seriously – let me explain why."

He picked up the thread of happenings on that fateful night when Tyelcano had brought him Caranthir's mysterious message; the tale unfolded almost by itself, and Maglor listened warily. Maedhros told him about Feredir's arrival and repeated everything the messenger had revealed; yet he did not mention anything related to his recurring nightmares. Without such mystic context the facts seemed dry and merciless, and they rang far more gravely in their ears than Maedhros had presumed. Uneasiness grew in his heart, and impulsively, he tightened his grip on the armrest of his chair.

Celegorm's and Curufin's actions, repeated aloud in these cold, impartial words, were nothing else than the story of a conspiracy.

A web of intrigues.

A series of crimes.

Crimes require punishment, Maedhros almost heard his father's pervasive, emotional voice emerging from the depths of time, be it even a Vala who commits them! Injustice is against the laws of life and nature, and it is to be condoned. If the Valar decide to close their eyes, plug their ears and hum, hoping that evil shall evanish like puffs of smoke, then let them! A king brings justice to his people, even if it means his death. A king is not cowed by fake wisdom; a king takes all his force and fights!

Would you be able to use the power of law against your own sons, Father? Maedhros thought, but even before he voiced the question in his head, he knew Fëanáro would.

Of course he would - if the want of the law was the same as the want of his will.

I am not as firm as you were, Father. I might waver. Yet I know that a judgement has to be made, so make one I shall. Give me strength, if you can hear me now: help me do what is right!

It was only then that it occurred to him that his Father may not have always done what was right; but who else could he ask for guidance?

"How do you feel about the things you have now heard, Kano?" he asked to break the uncomfortable silence. Not that he expected the answer to bring him solace.

"I am at a loss of words, brother," Maglor said slowly. "I... I feel something between deep worry, fury and disgust. This... what happened to Findaráto… is unspeakable. It is horrible. It is unforgivable! I honestly do not know what to say. I can't see Tyelko and Curvo committing such terrible deeds, but evidence speaks against them. They might have deserved their punishment, yet my heart weeps when I imagine the hardships they must have lived through, alone in the wilderness for a whole year...! And then, despite everything, they saved my life; they ran down the Orcs without a second thought when they saw me in danger. I owe them my life, my freedom and my sanity, but..." Maglor shook his head. "I don't know what should we expect if we mean to question them on this matter. Would it make the situation any better, not only worse...? And Thingol's letter..."

"Today's meeting shall determine the road we should take to handle them," Maedhros said determinedly. "We shall see how they explain themselves if they're asked about their deeds, and how they evaluate them. It should help us a great deal."

Maglor straightened his back suddenly, as if bitten by an invisible insect.

"Maitimo! Are you implying that we shall pretend we know nothing? That we shall... that we shall lay a trap for them?"

Despite everything, Maedhros had to smile.

Direct and chivalrous as ever, my dear brother. You do not deserve to see times such as these; your heart lives in fair Valinórë still.

"We shall suggest that everything we've heard, we've heard by obscure rumors. I shall show them Carnistir's letter as a start, but nothing else. If they are honest, this should not serve as a trap," he said. "Yet if they are not..."

"Do you honestly think they shall lie...?"

"We can never know, Kano. We should see it for ourselves."

"Maitimo," Maglor shook his head violently. "This... I cannot participate in this. They saved my life!"

"And by their cruel machinations, they took that of Findaráto!"

"They are our brothers!"

"Do you honestly think I have forgotten that?!"

For the first time that day, Maedhros could not contain his anger and frustration; he felt it springing out from the depths of his fëa and pervading his voice, creating a sharp edge to it that made his brother flinch.

"Listen, Kano," he sighed, taking a deep breath. "I offer you a deal. Should they both prove honest, I shall tell them the truth after they've confessed, and I shall apologize for not having trusted them, promising it would never happen again. I shall also tell that you were adamantly against the idea, and it was me who forced it upon you. Are we even?"

"No!" Maglor wuthered. "If someone has to take the blame, we shall take it together. By participating in such a conspiracy, I become an accomplice."

"Nay, Lord Makalaurë." Counsellor Tyelcano spoke softly, yet the power of his will strengthened his voice. "If someone must take the blame for such an action, that should be me. You brothers must not let such strifes separate you. 'Tis me who deemed today's hearing absolutely necessary, 'tis me who arranged it the way it will happen, and as long as Lord Nelyo does not order me otherwise, my mind is set. If happenings and circumstances prove I was wrong, the wavering of your brothers' good will and trust in me shall prove a fair punishment. Neither of you lords can risk that."

Maedhros felt Maglor's eyes on him, but for once, he didn't meet his gaze. His brother's soft musical voice cut his ear like a mistuned violin string; now Maglor, too, was perturbed.

"You gave your consent to this?"

"Counsellor Tyelcano was determined to set the plan in motion," Maedhros said carefully, "and I trust his wisdom. If he's wrong, I will share the responsibility with him, regardless of what he suggests; and trust me, Kano, we both hope he shall be wrong."

Maglor shook his head.

"But why? Why on Arda shouldn't we trust Tyelko and Curvo?"

This was one of those moments when Maedhros felt the need to sincerely ask his brother how did he survive the past five centuries; but as always, he suppressed the question.

"Kano...," He only shook his head instead. "Think for a moment, think about what you have just heard. Then repeat that question to yourself. You can answer it. Love them we do, fear for them we might... yet why on Arda should we trust Tyelko and Curvo...?"

"They are Lords of the Ñoldor, the Wise People. And they are our brothers, Nelyo! Our blood!"

"Our blood, aye. Atar was our blood as well - and we are his." Maedhros swallowed hard, and stopped the train of his thoughts. "We are living dark and cruel times. Fair faces and bright eyes do not speak to me, Kanafinwë; nor does blood; nor do wise words. Faces can wither, eyes can darken, blood can be spilled and words are wind. 'Tis the deeds that speak."

Maglor had no answer to that.

"Ai, wisely did your brother speak! You were unconscious then, Lord Makalaurë, so you may not remember it," Tyelcano said darkly, "but when we came to your rescue, and Lord Curufinwë saw us, there was a strange look in his eyes. I know that look; and I fear it."

~ § ~

By the time Celegorm and Curufin entered, a long table had been set in front of Maedhros's richly carved chair in the Great Hall, and four other seats have been settled around it as well. The one on his right was occupied by Tyelcano, and the other one on his left by Maglor. The seats were arranged in a fashion that the two wayward brothers would have to face the trio of their judges, not being able to escape their eyes.

The table was richly loaded with roasted meat, various garnishings, rich soup and several flagons of the finest wine the servants could find in the cold cellars of the fortress: a gesture that implied the sort of warmth and hospitality that Maedhros refused to stint his brothers of, whatever the situation.

"You have sent for us, Nelyo," Celegorm spoke.

In the days past, the two brothers were all but ordered to stay in the comfort of their beds and regain their strength; and indeed Celegorm had won back some morsels of his previous grace. His eyes were still empty, though, and his voice flatter than Maedhros remembered it to be.

"Is there a particular reason for the choice of place?" Curufin inquired, his stark eyes scanning the adornments on the walls, the lustres swinging down from the far ceiling, the long banners of the House of Fëanáro hanging tensely from each wall. They were made of red velvet with the Star woven into their middle with threads of gold: Maedhros's colours.

So it begins.

Maedhros remembered the words of care and comfort he'd greeted his brothers with when they first arrived, and for a moment, he wavered; but Curufin's haughty words came back to his mind in a distorted whisper. His brother had been even reluctant to accept a cloak from him, and seemingly, he had to cow himself in order to follow his requests. If such a small flicker of his precious pride had nearly proved too much for him to sacrifice, is the trust he, Maedhros is now fighting so desperately to protect even still there...?

We're becoming strangers to each other, he lamented, but silenced his mind at once, wary of the dark places his thoughts might take him. Curufin was looking him in the eye, after all; and though he was still so slim that the lines of his exquisite cheekbones hardened the edges of his face, his eyes were honest and a smile played on his lips. His whole being radiated of grace and nobility, and Maedhros found himself smiling back at him.

"Your arrival was so sudden I did not have the chance to make preparations for a welcoming feast," he said casually. He stood, tall in the daylight filtered by grandiose windows, and gestured towards the two empty seats. "Come, brothers, sit with us and be at ease; for we have much to talk about."

Celegorm slightly bowed and did as he's been told: he took the left seat, the one that faced Counsellor Tyelcano. Curufin, however, remained standing, his intent gaze scanning the faces of the three interrogators. He was still smiling, though the smile seemed now a sad one; the tension in his shoulders loosening a bit, he let out a soft, ethereal sigh. Yet no emotion reached his eyes; their orbs remained deep and lifeless like two greyish dark pools.

"Nelyo," he said in a low voice that was almost a whisper, "I do not see why would you consider to organise a feast for our arrival. 'Tis not a joyful or pleasant event, rather a day of great grief to us all. As you are probably aware, 'twas not the pull of brotherly love that pursued us here this time."

"Aye, that much I know," said Maedhros, and passion crept into his tone; he tried in vain to silence the words springing from his heart. "When I saw you in those stinking rags, part of me wanted to strangle you! Tyelko, Curvo, you are my brothers and I feared for you, I searched for you, I was furious with you! You cannot imagine how I felt when the Lord Counsellor sought me out in the middle of the night some weeks ago, and gave me this letter!"

With that, he handed Caranthir's message above the table to Celegorm, and waited for the effect. Curufin slid closer as well, gazing at the short note, his features unreadable.

"There it is," Counsellor Tyelcano cut in. "A stolen Silmaril, the pair of you banned from Nargothrond. And not even a word from your lordships for your worrying brothers to read. Not even the vaguest kind of news!"

"This is a most grievous matter," Maglor nodded. Maedhros still saw the lingering uneasiness in his eyes. "Would you please explain us what in Manwë's and Varda's name happened?! Who stole that Silmaril, where is it now and why were you banned...? Are those events linked by any means? We received your letter about a certain Man and the folly of Findaráto - could this mean that the impossible came true? That they succeeded?"

The words echoed in the Great Hall for a long time, finally evanishing into shocked silence. Then Curufin leaned back in his chair, and for the fraction of a second, a wave of something Maedhros could have identified as deep turmoil just as well as wild amusement rushed through his face.

"You -," he said slowly, almost experimentally. "You..."

"You know nothing?!" Celegorm swallowed, his voice becoming warm and steady at once. "Nothing? You have yet to hear..."

Another minute passed in sullen silence; only the air vibrated with the silent tension of racing thoughts. Finally, Curufin shifted a little in his chair, crossed his legs comfortably, and emptied his goblet. Counsellor Tyelcano leaned across the table and filled it again, his eyes never leaving Curufin's face, who nodded his thanks.

"They have yet to hear, Tyelko," he said after another silent, motionless minute, his fingernails playing a soft staccato on the rubies wrought into his cup. His voice was bemused and sad; Maedhros wouldn't have been surprised if he pulled out a lyre from under his cloak and started to sing a lament for some fallen hero.

"Drink deep and well, my lord brothers, Lord Counsellor, for this may be the very last time we feast together. For great wrongs we have done, and I shall not deny them. I only pray, Nelyo, that you hear our poor explanation. Please never mistake it for any means of excuse."

Curufin's voice was soft and melodious, his dark eyes shifting from every face in the hall, at one moment hidden behind his soot-black hair, at the other buried in his slender hands.

"I shall hear whatever explanation you deem fit," Maedhros said, steadying his tone, though all he wanted to do was to cross the distance between him and Curufin and pull him in a tight embrace, so great his sadness seemed to be. "Be at peace, brothers of mine; for no sin, no fault and no misunderstanding shall ever diminish my love for you. Whatever was it that you did, though, we need to hear it: otherwise, we cannot get ourselves ready for toils to come."

"Save your generosity for later, Nelyo," Celegorm said gently. "You shall gravely need it."

He exchanged a swift glance with Curufin, and for the fraction of an instant, Maedhros caught - or thought he did - that one glance in the latter's eyes Tyelcano was afraid of.

And then -

And then nothing happened.

Their meal went on, slow, delightful and perfectly usual; and the two brothers evolved their tale.

~ § ~

It was Celegorm who first picked up the thread of events, starting with that fateful day when a haggard Man came to Nargothrond's halls with a strange ring on his finger, and sought a private audience with the King. He precised an important detail - the importance of which had somehow not registered in Maedhros's mind before -, that King Finrod meant to keep the aim of the Quest in secret, and did not wish for anyone from the House of Feanor to know about the errand of pursuing a Silmaril, until the very last moment, when the departure of King Findaráto was announced before the people of Nargothrond.
"He must have hoped that the veil of uncertainty would serve him and his party well either until they die or until the stolen Jewel is safely hid," Celegorm explained, "and I do not blame him for that. It could have worked - but Curvo and I have sharp eyes and sharper ears. We had word of their plans, and evidently, we strongly opposed them. We spoke with the King three times, begging him not to go; out of simple friendship at first, for even if we held a grudge against Findaráto for not trusting us, we wished him well. When we saw that rational arguments were not likely to convince him, we tried relying on his close ones, implying that his passing would prove too great of a loss for many. But all our efforts were in vain. Lastly, I knocked on his door in the middle of the night before he went on that foolish errand, and I furiously reminded him of a King's duty towards his people. I said he had neither the right to send them all to a hopeless battle, nor the allowance to leave them and race laughing to his death. I told him he was being mad and irresponsible."-

"What was his answer to that?" Maglor asked softly.

"He coldly reminded me of Alqualondë, and asked if I thought I had the right to lecture him about honour and duty. People really need to stop to use that argument against us - 'tis becoming most tiring."

"But not invalid," Maedhros muttered under his breath. In any sort of debate, Alqualondë was a cruel weapon indeed, a pair of shackles on their wrists; he wondered if they could ever break free of them.

"It happened thus that we gave up convincing Findaráto: a most grievous mistake," Curufin spoke, his voice low and far more gentle than Maedhros had expected.

Perhaps a bit too gentle, he thought, but some deep fibre of his being suppressed that suspicion.

"Our time was growing short, and he seemed determined to go. We dreaded the day, Nelyo, when the King and his army would depart to Angamando, and leave the city of Nargothrond unguarded; and it came far too soon indeed. Thus at the last moment, out of desperation, we used the power of our voices to make the people stay - to save their lives. Mayhaps it was unjust and wrong what we did; we might have spoken and acted against the ruler under whose command we lived; but I am asking you, my brothers, I'm asking you Lord Counsellor: were scorn, life threat and exile a fair punishment for such a debatable act? Is it not enacted in the Laws of the Ñoldor that no one can be compelled to follow their lord into folly or cruelty?"

"Aye, Lordship, that is," Counsellor Tyelcano said softly, "at least, in theory."

"That theory should become practice, Lord Counsellor," Curufin said proudly.

When these words were uttered, there was a small flash in Tyelcano's eyes. He shifted a little in his chair, and suddenly he seemed to be listening far more intently than before.

"If the cause of authority is wrong," Curufin went on, his head held high, "otherwise treacherous deeds may prove valiant to impartial eyes. No one stands above law; and law is the command of reason and sanity. We did not let the people fall to darkness, we did not let them march into the Realm of Darkness unguarded. We saved them from falling victim to Moringotto's wrath, we saved them from dying in the dungeons of Angamando, we did not let them follow their king to utter folly; though Findaráto still took the best of his knights with him, all armed with the finest steel, a ray of light against the blackness of the Enemy's malice. The King left his people to wait, devoid of hope, and who did he leave behind to sit on his throne, take his stead and rule...? His incompetent nephew! I would rather see a Dwarf dwell in fair Nargothrond's halls than thin-voiced, stone-tongued Artaresto! That slow dullard! That..."

"Brother," Celegorm said alarmingly, and seeing a soft motion under the table-cloth, Maedhros suspected he took Curufin by the hand.

"You are right, Tyelko," Curufin said to his great surprise, and he let out a wary sigh, closing his eyes for a moment, his face suddenly tired, his voice meek. "I let my feeling run high. Artaresto must have taken our deeds for cruel treason, and he might as well have acted out of grief and desperation. Still, he ignored his duties and continued to pace back and forth along his halls like a ghost; thusly, it fell to us to govern the city. Our servants helped us much: without their assistance, we could have never held all matters at hand. For that we could be thankful; our forces were gathered, and the tasks were so numerous that we paid little heed to mourning King Findaráto. Indeed, that time we could not know what his fate would be, yet deep in our hearts, each and every one of us agreed that he would die. But we all know the ways of the people: they tend to separate, to set aside unpleasant matters from their everyday thoughts and wonderings, and with time, they forget them even; yet when the time comes and their darkest forebodings are fulfilled, who is then to blame...?"

"Their King," Celegorm answered the poetic question, his voice smooth and sweet. "Or their leaders. Their lords - which were us, in this unlucky case. Someone had to hold the reins, and we were willing to lead the people. Even under Findaráto's rule, we had a place of honour in his council, and people loved us, people followed us. Until that fateful day -"

"...when news came of Findaráto's death," Curufin sighed. "Did it come as a surprise to any soul within the city's walls? I cannot tell. Yet people were outraged, and they mourned their king in great sorrow and turmoil. Who could fault them? Not the two of us. Yet somehow, some way, everything we had done to maintain order in Nargothrond seemed to be forgotten at once; and we were exposed, pilloried and pointed at. People faulted us for having sent the King to exile by our evil machinations. I ask you, my brothers, I ask you, Lord Counsellor: was it not the pair of us who had most fervently opposed this Quest of folly at the first place? Yet that was forgotten as well. Even the final outrage was forgotten, when I stood up against King Findaráto when he was already at the gates, amount his white stallion, and told him he was abandoning his duties as a ruler. Half the city saw me there, standing there, uttering these words... as if some sort of dark magic, some sort of unexplainable, horrible doom had fallen across Nargothrond. We were no longer loved; and Artaresto finally woke from his winter sleep and banished us. At least he did not let the people slaughter us; for that much, we can be thankful."

Silence followed these words; and Maedhros pondered everything that he had heard. The beginning of the story had seemed almost like a song of forgotten Ages - it was vague, subtle, dark, and Maedhros found that Celegorm's rich, deep baritone was most pleasant for his otherwise racing mind to hear.

But when Curufin spoke, his sensations changed again: the soft, pervading voice soothed his fëa, cleared his perceptions, ravelled out the painful bogs in his thoughts. As if new perspectives of truth and reality had just opened before him...!

With no more than the help of that subtle voice, he suddenly understood rapports and coherencies he'd never before took in; and all at once, everything seemed so simple and evident. Of course people would be less wise than his brothers; they are Lords of the Ñoldor for a reason. Of course they would wrongfully blame them! Of course his brothers had to cruelly suffer, in order to save the people - someone had to take the blame, and they were willing. They did not flinch...

A vague impression floated through Maedhros's mind; the mild suspicion of having forgotten something.

Could it be something about woodelves, mayhaps?

He still sat wordless, his gaze wandering back and forth between his brothers' faces, enticed by the expression he saw on them. Celegorm sat straight like a king robbed of his throne, discarded by his knights, alone with his selfless generosity and righteousness; and Curufin was like a great scholar next to him, a master of crafts, a gentle and misunderstood soul: too proud to ask for understanding, but too wary to demand respect.

"O, my brothers, my dear Lord Tyelco," he said mournfully, "how terribly pained I was, how guilty I felt when I heard of Findaráto's death! I could not free myself from under the impression that I did not do enough. I failed to notice some way out of future disaster. I should have convinced him somehow... some way... but Findaráto was a good king, and an Elf of strong will. A worthy kinsman of ours: once he was determined to do a deed, nothing and no one could stand in his way. Unfortunately, not even Tyelkormo and Curufinwë from the mighty house of Fëanáro."

Curufin bowed his head, as if the weight of his past decisions was pressing too hard on his shoulders. Celegorm wrapped an arm around him, comforting him.

Counsellor Tyelcano was listening still more intently.

"And that is not the end of the story," Celegorm said, a shadow of his ancient vigour in his voice. "When we were banished from Nargothrond, the folly of fear was so great in the hearts of the people that even our own servants: our kinsmen, our soldiers, our guards, our followers betrayed us! They took us for traitors, for murderers. Not even Tyelpërinquar and Erenis were willing to follow us; in Nargothrond they remained, under the rule of Artaresto. It was with great pain that we parted from them, but we had no choice."

"I paid a great price for my mistakes indeed," Curufin agreed gently, his eyes suddenly fixed on his hands. "To the end of my days I shall grieve for that day. But by the grace of Oromë, Hunter of the Woods, I hope that we shall find our ways back to each other. That is all a father can wish for."

When Curufin looked up to meet his eyes, Maedhros saw something in their depths - a flicker that was definitely not one of grace, wisdom or sadness. It was cold, it was bright, and it was frightening; and for the smallest fraction of a second, Maedhros felt a heavy veil of fog lifting from his mind, allowing his thoughts and feelings to run free, no longer anchored on empathy towards his brothers. This tiny period of time was enough for him to perceive that something was fairly and truly missing from his brothers' account - yet he could not guess what was it. The pieces refused to come together for some reason; could it be that he did not pay enough attention? That he erred? Or could it be... maybe...

Another disturbing feeling seized him: the nagging sensation of not seeing something that was right in front of his eyes, the feverish wish to remember a thought that was just outside his grasp. The aftermath of a forgotten impression, an important memory still lingered in his fëa, but he could not ease it back into his mind. Perhaps it was something about Thingol - but how on Arda would Thingol fit into this story...?

Maedhros stole an uncertain glance at Maglor; his eldest brother was leaning towards Celegorm and Curufin and took their hands, unshed tears glistening in his wide eyes.

"Oh, Tyelko, Curvo," he whispered, "I am dreadfully sorry for what you had to endure. How could our trust waver in your righteousness! How cruelly misunderstood you were! How badly you must have been treated! Where did you go afterwards? What did you do? O, dearest brothers, when did your fine garments become stinking rags?"

"That is not a story worth telling, Kano," Celegorm answered him with a humble smile. "Snow, frozen rivers, lack of firewood, poor nourishment and wolves - that is what one can expect from winter. But life got better in spring; and last summer was a remarkably rich and beautiful one. We rejoiced on our way here, but circumstances slowed us, and we lost our way as well, once or twice. We had to sacrifice our map halfway to help us light a fire."

"But we are here now," Curufin added reassuringly, "here, under your care; and we have fine cloaks and leather boots to warm us up. We dine at your table and we sleep in your beds. We could not be more grateful for all the help you have to us, dear brothers. 'Tis good to have a warm home in such treacherous times."

Maedhros felt another pang of disturbance in the back of his mind. He could remember perfectly well that Curufin had even refused at first to have a new cloak. He didn't want to be helped, he didn't want to be "lectured and humiliated", as he put it.

What happened...? Did the long desperate months take their toll, did he merely speak out of wariness, or mayhaps out of great relief that no matter what does he do, no matter what does he say, we, his brothers would still be there for him...?

Nay: that sounds far too emotional to be true.

Something is not right. I have forgotten something...

"There is a detail I do not exactly understand, Lord Curvo," spoke Counsellor Tyelcano, his voice steady, each of his words precisely articulated. Looking at his stern, expressionless mien, Maedhros perceived with surprise that his eyes were bright with a strange light: determined and furious.

"And what would that be, my good Counsellor?" Curufin calmly inquired, not seeming to notice Tyelcano's silent wrath.

"Something must have triggered such an indignation among the citizens of Nargothrond", the Counsellor said, his voice still dreadfully calm and collected. "My heart wavers at the thought that you were so cruelly misjudged."

There was a strange edge to his voice.

Could it be mockery...? But where would Counsellor Tyelcano find the courage to mock any of my brothers? Maedhros thought with rising anger.

"Unfortunately, Lord Counsellor, such scandalous things happen," Curufin lamented. "I cannot explain it any more than you can; but surely, one who is so well-versed in the ways of intrigues and diplomacy as yourself, shall eventually find some sort of explanation."

"Are you perfectly sure, lords of mine, that nothing, nothing happened in Nargothrond that would make you traitors?" Tyelcano inquired.

We failed to protect Findaráto -" Celegorm sighed.

"Nay, Lord Tyelko. Anything else, I mean."

"Anything else?" Celegorm eyed his brother, and once again, Maedhros saw the dangerous flash in Curufin's eyes.

"Nothing else we are aware of, Counsellor," he said a bit stiffly. "I should have probably fought more to make my children see reason; but I decided they were far too mature for that. I let them choose their own way, and though grieving because of their choice, I let them go."

"My interests," Tyelcano said very slowly, very patiently, "lie still elsewhere."

"We cannot think of anything else," Curufin shook his head, almost as if excusing himself for not being able to respond to the Counsellor's question.

"So if we leave the exile of Aran Findaráto out of consideration, nothing of your deeds in Nargothrond would make you traitors?"

"Nothing, Counsellor," said the brothers in unison.

"And how about being liars?!"

"Liars!" Maglor exclaimed with indignation. "Be careful with your words, Lord Counsellor! My brothers are well-willing Elves, and knights of honour! How on Arda could they be liars?"

Liars.

Maedhros shook his head. Why would Tyelko and Curvo be liars? He knew them since their birth, the very spring of their childhood. Surely he would perceive if they lied...? And why would they lie in the first place? Kano said it right: they are honourable.

But I have forgotten something... something about Thingol...or was it Carnistir, perhaps?

Surely, that was Carnistir. I am being ridiculous.

"Lord Counsellor," Maedhros said sternly, "you will excuse yourself in front of my brothers. You have no right to accuse them thusly, especially not after the wrongs they have recently suffered. I am most displeased with your behaviour!"

"Is their power so great over you, my lord beloved?" Tyelcano all but shouted at him. " Are you this easily enchanted?! Do you not see how viciously are you, both of you, being misled?!"

"This was the very first time you allowed yourself to speak to me in such a tone, servant of my House," Maedhros sprang to his feet, eyes alight with fury, towering above his Counsellor like a giant, "and the very last one as well. Am I understood?"

"Not if I see your lordship in grave danger," Tyelcano withstood his gaze, though his voice trembled with emotion.

"In that case, I order you to leave this hall. Now."

"My lord..."

"Leave!"
"Please, Nelyo, spare your wrath from our good old Counsellor," said Curufin gently. "He wishes the best for you."

"Sadly I hear that we have lost your trust and good will, Lord Tyelco," Celegorm added with a sigh, "but such wounds cannot be healed in the heat of the present. With time, I am sure we shall be as good friends as before, and you shall learn to believe us anew."

"Do you not see how cruel you are?" Maedhros turned the whole intensity of his gaze at Tyelcano's ghastly pale face. "Thrice I command you: leave, Counsellor, and avoid my company for the next few days!"

Slowly, Tyelcano emerged from his chair and looked around in the Great Hall, his hands tightening into fists at the two sides of his body. Then with a hiss of breath, he raised his chin, proud and unwavering before his lord. With a swift, fluid motion he drew his sword, and laid it at Maedhros's feet.

"Never my faith and trust shall waver in you, Lord of my home and King of my heart," he said. "If you deem my words and deeds wrongful, I respect your judgement and I shall leave; but for the sake of the countless years I've spent serving your family, Lord Nelyo, I beg you to take this letter, and read it again: read it, as you have read it to Lord Makalaurë an hour ago! Read it over and over, lest you forget what is truth and what is illusion!"

With that, he pulled out a thin scroll of parchment from under his cloak, and he held it out to Maedhros, not flinching before his gaze.

I have forgotten something.

Maedhros took the parchment, and his eyes widened when he saw the flaking shards of wax around its seal.

It was Thingol's seal, and it was broken.

The message has been read indeed.

"Nelyo, may I...?" Curufin shifted in his seat, a pang of uneasiness in his voice.

"No, lordship," Tyelcano barked at him, "You may not."

"You are being impossible, Counsellor!" Celegorm's eyes flashed with anger. "Curvo only wants to help him!"

The waves of shame and indignation that washed through Maedhros's consciousness at these words were almost too much to handle; like many, far too many other times in his life, he felt naked, spoiled, exposed.

"I may be a cripple, if that is what you are implying, brother," he said icily, "but I believe my condition is stable enough to be able to read a letter by myself."

By the time Celegorm perceived his grievous mistake, it was too late; Maedhros wedged the top of the parchment under his goblet, and unrolled it, his eyes running through the text.

And then it all came back to him.

"Nelyo?" Maglor shifted closer to him, allowing himself a feather touch on his shoulder. "Is aught amiss?"

"…now this is a most interesting take on the previously discussed events," Maedhros said after a few seconds of silence (and considered with rueful pride that his voice was not shaking with rage). "I should like you to hear it; especially you, Tyelkormo and Curufinwë. I cannot wait to hear what you will say to this."

His brothers' faces were pale, expressionless masks around him.

Maedhros rose, and began to pace behind the table: back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Something was trembling in the depths of his being; his head felt excruciatingly hot while his chest and his limbs were freezing.

"Listen, my dear ones," he said, and a grin crept onto his face; a large, scornful grin he could not supress or hide. "Amusing like a bedtime story, this one. Hear me thee!"

He shook out the parchment, and held it out far before himself. His pacing became slower, more controlled.

"To Maedhros, son of Fëanor, Lord of the Himring and Warden of the East," he read in slightly accented Sindarin, slowly, dramatically, the way they used to read to each other with his cousin Findekáno when the world was still young and fair, "Elu Thingol, Lord of the Sindar, King of Doriath and Protector of the Woodland Realm sends his kind regards."

He paused for a few moments, watchful for the others' reactions. Maglor's breath was caught in a sharp hiss, Celegorm cast Curufin a swift, sidelong glance, and Curufin himself resumed his thrumming on the jewels wrought in his goblet. Counsellor Tyelcano was still kneeling before him, his sword on the floor, his head slouched.

"I turn to thee in an hour of dire need, for my heart is anxious. The shadow of the Enemy grows, and of late, it seems to have winded its way through the borders of our realms. 'Tis with great sorrow and concern that I think of the heavy losses your kinsmen have suffered of late.

I inform you with discontentment that your two brothers, lords Celegorm and Curufin have kidnapped my daughter by pretending to save her, and refused to return her home unless I grant Lord Celegorm her hand," Maedhros read in the same theatrical voice, carefully outlining the words "anxious", "discontentment", "kidnapped" and "pretending".

"How could you...!" Maglor whispered in a horrified voice. "You lied to us! Right to our faces! You – you deceived and enchanted us! Like… just like…"

He could not say who; and nor could anyone else.

"I did not count on any irreverence of that sort from the proud Ñoldor, and by the laws and customs of our realm, I must thusly deny any future request for a union between our Houses," Maedhros went on reading mercilessly. Later, at the mention of justice, Curufin shifted a little in his seat, and Celegorm buried his face in his hands.

Silence followed his words: deaf, icy, painful silence. Maedhros was struggling with his breath, which came in impatient hisses, his heart drumming like the beat in a war-chant. Hot claws of fury were gnawing at his stomach, and his fist clenched around the thin parchment.

"Shall that be enough for us to finally be able to hold an honest conversation?" He asked. "Or would you like me to read further, and acquaint you with a written testimony from Feredir, messenger of Doriath?"

"Why, Maitimo?" Celegorm whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "Why did you play us for fools if you already knew everything?"

"To corner us," Curufin hissed. "I should have guessed – and we all know what is coming now. Our big brothers, our good brothers, our chivalrous brothers shall name us liars and murderers. You will never understand why we did what we did, and why we wanted to keep it in secret. That was a risk we took; and we did not succeed. Lay a trap for others, and 'tis you who shall fall in it, so the wise say; yet if I ever expected a trap, Nelyo, it was not laid by you."

"Are you still capable of palliating yourself?!" Maglor snapped. "You won't be able to fool us again! Your power may be as great as Atar's; but Atar was wronged and blinded by pain. You, Atarinke, are simply vicious."

"Calm yourself, Kano," Maedhros said sternly. "Tyelkormo and Curufinwë, do you have anything else to tell us? Anything to give us further insight on your deeds – anything true?"

"Nothing, my lord brother," said Celegorm in a lifeless voice.

Curufin shook his head as well.

"Hear my doom, then. I have been asked to make a rightful judgement; and judge you I shall, by the laws of the Ñoldor and in the name of our House."

Maedhros made a desperate attempt to ease the dryness of his throat; but there was nothing to be done. The trial, however challenging and unusual, was over.

"Hear me thee, Tyelkormo and Curufinwë from the House of Fëanáro! You have been given an opportunity to freely explain yourselves and acquaint us with everything you have done. You have most cruelly misused that opportunity. The faith that begin to waver in my heart when I heard of your deeds has now disappeared; brothers we may still be, but I trust you not."

Maedhros almost gave a start when Maglor grabbed his hand under the table, and squeezed it so hard he feared it would break. Bracing himself, he ran a soothing finger along the back of his brother's palm, heroically fighting the horrible, burning ache in his chest.

This must be done, Kano, and you know it. Please do not spoil it with your good-heartedness.

"I give you two opportunities and three days to make a choice. The first one is the following: You shall no longer hold a place in my council, nor shall you be granted with any kind of confidential knowledge. You may own a house of your own in the lands of Himlad, a smithy, a garden, a stable, or whatever else you wish; but the title of lord I take back from you, and you can no longer command any servants. And the second one is the following: your titles you may keep, but you leave this castle in a week, and take no one with you. Horses and provisions you may have, but you cannot come back; and come strife or danger, I shan't protect you, nor shall I take any sort of responsibility for your future deeds. I, Nelyafinwë, son of Fëanáro, have spoken, and you have heard me. Three days henceforth, I shall hear your decisions, and this matter will be over; but now, I have heard enough for today. I bid all of you to leave the Hall. We may still meet at the dinner table."

Maglor was the first to move. He sprang from his chair, and all but ran out the door, shutting it echoingly behind himself. Next in line was Celegorm; he bowed and followed his elder brother with long, measured steps, his face sinking back to indifference.

When Counsellor Tyelcano rose as well and took his sword, Maedhros caught his arm, and looked him deep in the eye. After a few moments of fruitless struggle with words, he bowed to kiss his forehead.

"Thank you, wise one," he whispered.

"That, Lord Nelyo," Tyelcano said bitterly, "was not a counsel willingly given."

"It served us well nonetheless. Go, my dear friend, find yourself some rest."

It was more of a command than a simple request; and Counsellor Tyelcano knew him enough to feel the difference. He bowed and went on his way, swiftly and silently.

Only Curufin remained now. He sat in his chair still, his face was buried in his hands.

And his shoulders were shaking.

Maedhros had never seen Curufin cry before; not even when the Trees were destroyed. Not even when their Grandfather was lying on a bier in the empty treasure-hold of Formenos. Not even when the ships were burned.

Not even when their Atar evanished into a pile of ash.

"Curvo -," Maedhros choked, not knowing what to do, not knowing what to say. His mind felt strangely cool and collected when he placed his hand on his brother's shoulder; but the hand trembled.

"I told Erenis that she was useless, Nelyo," Curufin whispered, "that she was good for nothing. And I told Tyelpë that he was only used in Nargothrond for his talent. That no one really loved him. I thought I was lying to protect them – that was what I tried to tell myself afterwards. But I am not sure. I cannot be sure. I do not notice when I am lying anymore."

"Yet today, you did notice."

"I want you to understand."

Curufin raised his head, swallowed, looked him in the eye. Glistening trails of tears were running down his cheeks, yet his voice was calm.

"I saw the look on your face when we met, and I thought you knew. So did Tyelko. But when you offered us cloaks, when you were kind with us, when you cared for us, fed us and took us home with you, we were starting to have our doubts. I see now that it was planned as well; I hold no grudge against you for it - it had to be done. But at the moment, we could not believe that you could show such an amount of care any empathy towards us, if you… if you truly knew."

"If you suspected I already knew everything, why did you lie?"

"Because I was certain you, too, would banish us as soon as acquainted with the entire monstrosity of our deeds. It seemed only a matter of time. I am telling you this only because… because Tyelko was always against it. He wanted to be honest. I insisted. I did my best to convince him, and finally, I succeeded. I thought that at least if I tried to win you with my voice and succeeded, we might stay here until the truth is revealed. I did not want to go back to the wilderness; and if my honour was worth a few weeks of food, calm and comfort, I decided to pay that price. I was wrong, Nelyo; I did not trust your good-heartedness. It never crossed my mind that you… that you would let us stay here if you knew. You cannot imagine how relieved I am, now that I heard the choice I must make."

"You thought I would banish you?" Maedhros closed his eyes for a moment. "That I'd let you wander the wilderness on your own? You think I could live with that?"

"I could no longer trust hearts or forgiveness, Nelyo. Not even yours."

Curufin's voice died out for a few moments, and another wave of tears sprang from his eyes. When he found his voice again, it was very low and very soft, almost pleading.

"I… the judgement is up to you, brother, but Tyelko does not deserve it. He was against me."

"You convinced him."

"I have certain powers to convince people, Nelyo, and I am not afraid to use them, as you have just witnessed," Curufin said, and Maedhros was amazed at the stern vigour of his voice despite the tears flowing down his cheek. "Also, I am splendidly capable of exploiting Tyelko's passion or anger when it rises. He is easily exposed, and though I would never do him deliberate harm, he has always been a great help for me to pursue my wants and needs."

Maedhros's eyes widened at the confession; but if ever, then now he believed Curufin was telling the truth.

"He is everything I have now, Nelyo, and his fate is in your hands: better than mine, at any case. Please, if there is any warmth left in your heart towards us, let him stay, and stay in honour! He does not deserve to lose his lordship, nor your trust. I know he shall be happy dwelling in your halls; please let him be useful as well, that is all I ask for."

"What about yourself?"

The dull ache in his chest was almost unbearable. The Warden of the East and the Lord of the Himring were nowhere now; the stern and fearsome Lord Maedhros was reduced to a lonely, lonely soul who wanted nothing else but to embrace the brother he could not trust.

Just ask for my forgiveness, he pleaded soundlessly. Admit your regret, Curufinwë. Just let yourself cry properly, and I shall gladly fall in your trap again, and you may deceive me. Just do not leave!

And bitterly, Curufin laughed.

"You know that I am a proud person, Nelyo. I would freely throw my honour away for comfort; yet I would throw my comfort away for an empty lordship without a second thought. Now go, big brother, fetch yourself some wine before you faint. It must be horrible to live with titles like Warden of the East, Enemy of the Enemy and Head of the House of Hopeless Morons."


A/N 2.

1) This is the opening scene of Maedhros's POV, but due to the course of events - as you may have noticed -, his usually very sharp and lively consciousness was now considerably dulled; so you could say that Maedhros, for the first time we encountered him as a central character, did not really feel like Maedhros (at least, not my version of him).

2) The concept of Curufin's enchantment was strongly inspired by the following passage from 'The Two Towers' (don't try to tell me there's no connection between him and Saruman…):

"Suddenly another voice spoke, low and melodious, its very sound an enchantment. Those who listened unwearily to that voice could seldom report the words that they had heard; and if they did, they wondered, for little power remained in them. Mostly they remembered only that it was a delight to hear the voice speaking, all that it said seemed wise and reasonable, and desire awoke in them by swift agreement to see wise themselves. When others spoke, they seemed harsh and uncouth by contrast; and if they gainsaid the voice, anger was kindled in the hearts of those under the spell."

/ The Lord of the Rings, Book III, Chapter X.: The Voice of Saruman /

3) About Curufin calling Orodreth a "slow dullard", which sounds a tad too rude: excerpt from the Lay of Leithian, Canto IX [one of Laerthel's favourite passages detected]:

Curufin spake: 'Good brother mine,
I like it not. What dark design
doth this portend? These evil things,
we swift must end their wanderings!
And more, 'twould please my heart full well
to hunt a while and wolves to fell.'

And then he leaned and whispered low
that Orodreth was a dullard slow;
long time it was since the king had gone,
and rumour or tidings came there none.