Woohoo! I back with another chapter, guys! Can you believe it? I've been gone for so long! Much longer than I intended, please forgive me. There was a LOT of drama I had to take care of. Thankfully, it's died down, so I should have more time to work on this story. I have absolutely no intention of abandoning it.
I did promise to make it up to you guys, and I will with a double update! So here I am with Chapter 10! Please, read and enjoy. Just a heads up, I refer to Maglor as Makalaurë when he is being seen through the eyes of his family members. For example, when one of the sons of Fëanaro, perhaps even Fëanaro himself, etc... is talking, or watching, Maglor, they'll refer to him as Makalaurë. Any other time, Maglor will be called Maglor.

Reviews are always welcome, especially if you guys have some constructive criticism.

~Duplicity~

Whatever he had dreamed, it had certainly disturbed Caranthir, which made Maglor immensely worried. Had Caranthir seen how their quest would end? Would they fail?

Distraught, Caranthir tipped his head up, dragging his eyes up to meet Maglor's own concerned blue orbs.

"I saw..." Caranthir started, in a small, meekly manner before his voice cracked. He coughed then heaved again and Maglor propped him up as best he could. "I saw..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, but Maglor pressed for an answer. He needed one. He needed to know what had made Caranthir react in such a way.

"What did you see, Moryo?" Maglor asked in a calm voice.

The answer he received was not one he was expecting nor what he had guessed as Caranthir went to respond in a haunted tone,

"Your death."

~Duplicity~

There were long moments of silence that passed after Caranthir's answer. All Maglor could do was stare at his brother, blinking every-so-often as though wondering if he had heard correctly.

Awkwardly, Maglor cleared his throat, trying to break the tense silence. "My...death?" He repeated in a soft, inquisitive tone.

Caranthir's dark brown eyes slid shut as he nodded, fighting to keep the tears glistening in them at bay.

"And it was all because of me."

Maglor instantly reacted to his brother's self-accusation, his voice forceful. "No!" He gently shook Caranthir's shoulders. "Don't you dare blame yourself, Moryo!"

"But it was me!" Caranthir vehemently declared, causing Maglor to flinch back. "It was my plan!" His voice cracked.

Maglor shook his head, moving to speak but Caranthir didn't let him. "I had thought it was better than stopping Atto from forging the Silmarils, but I was wrong. It made everything worse." He continued in a shaky whisper.

"Moryo, it was a nightmare."

"A vision, Maglor, not a nightmare." Caranthir hissed. "I think, being prone to having visions, I would recognize one."

Maglor confusedly blinked. "What do you mean?"

His younger brother didn't respond immediately, the Elf lowering his gaze to stare at the ground. "You remember those nightmares I used to have when I was little? The ones you could never wake me up from?"

"Yes." Maglor slowly replied, thinking he knew where this was going.

"They were visions." Caranthir whispered, clenching his fists tightly together. "They weren't nightmares. What happened in them...Happened in real life, only several decades down the road."

Maglor's eyes widened. "You are serious?"

Caranthir nodded, swallowing audibly. "I saw everything happen...When Laurelin and Telperion, the Two Trees, were destroyed, it came as no surprise to me. Atto's refusal to give the Silmarils to Yavanna was nothing I wasn't expecting. Our journey to Middle-Earth, the burning of the Teleri Ships, the Kinslayings...I knew. I knew they would happen long before they came to pass. I just never believed them until they did."

Now that Caranthir confessed this, Maglor found it wasn't difficult to believe him. It made sense.

"That explains...everything." Maglor murmured, raising stunned eyes to meet his brother's own haunted ones. The minstrel momentarily forgot about how they were previously discussing Caranthir foreseeing his own death, asking his brother, "Your actions...your acceptance...Why didn't you say anything?"

It was a genuine question rather than an accusation, and Caranthir quietly answered, "I had thought it would be of no use. After everything we'd done, what good would telling you of my visions do? We couldn't have gone against the Oath. We couldn't...we couldn't save ourselves. We were already doomed the moment we stepped foot out of Aman."

Maglor thought over his brother's words. He didn't blame Caranthir. After all, would they have believed Caranthir if he had claimed that he had visions when he was an Elfling? Not unless Caranthir had proven it, perhaps.

"Maglor..." Caranthir whispered, drawing Maglor's attention back to him. "We can't let Atto forge the Silmarils."

Maglor shook his head. "We don't know for certain, Moryo. I feel your plan is better than our original one. Din agrees. We know some of what would happen if we let Atar create the jewels. If we were to stop him, everything that needs to happen wouldn't. It would change everything, and we don't know if it would change it for the better or for worse." He reasoned, kindly disagreeing with Caranthir's statement.

Caranthir looked torn and upset. "Maglor, for these past five years, I believed you were dead." He raised his head and pinned Maglor with a mixture of pain mingled with grief and anguish. "I can't go through that again. Neither of us can."

"Moryo-" Maglor tried to speak, but Caranthir interrupted him yet again.

"What if I were to tell you that I saw a vision of my own death?" The dark Elf questioned his brother, leaning against Maglor. Resting his head against the minstrel's shoulders, he asked, "Would you still have wanted to go through with the plan even though you knew what the losses would be?"

Maglor was silent.

"You wouldn't, would you." Caranthir knowingly stated.

Maglor lowered his head, sighing quietly. "No...I wouldn't."

"Then you understand. Surely..." Caranthir trailed off, brows drawn together as he tried to think. "Surely there is something else we can do..."

Maglor sorrowfully smiled, shaking his head again. "Moryo, we cannot change everything. Even if we were to find a way to...to change my fate, who would suffer in my place? What would be the consequences?" He pointed out, still swaying back and forth as he held onto Caranthir. Maglor would be lying if he were to say he didn't feel afraid... but he had known that dealing with the Silmarils would call for a sacrifice of some kind. He had accepted that fact not too long ago. "If I am to die...At least I will know that we succeeded."

Caranthir said nothing.

Maglor respected his silence.

"I still...I don't want you to die." Caranthir told Maglor, his voice trembling, and his grip tightened on the minstrel.

Maglor chuckled quietly. "Moryo, even if I were to die, we would reunite again, here." He reminded his distraught younger brother.

It would be better than having to watch all of you die again... Maglor thought to himself.

Caranthir hesitantly shook his head against Maglor's shoulder, clutching Maglor's hand. "That's where you're wrong." He exhaled shakily. "We wouldn't."

Maglor was confused by this. "What do you mean?"

Caranthir inhaled deeply, his breath stuttering. "Maglor...In the vision...I watched as your fëa was shattered."

Maglor blinked several times.

"That's impossible..."

"That's what we're led to believe." Caranthir softly negated. "But he managed to do it."

One word in that sentence caught Maglor's attention. "He?"

He would have pressed Caranthir further into telling who this 'he' was, but it was at that moment Maglor heard the sound of rushed footsteps approaching his bedroom. The already opened door provided entry to two Elves and a frightened Elfling.

Maglor drew his gaze up to meet Nelyo's concerned ones as their elder brother looked at Maglor's kneeling form and the curled up Caranthir he held in a comforting, loose, embrace.

"What happened?" Nelyo asked at once, striding over to them and kneeling before Maglor, reaching out to grasp Caranthir's shoulder. "Elerondo came to me claiming that Moryo had collapsed..." He said no more, waiting for his brothers to answer the unspoken question he'd left unsaid. Catching sight of Caranthir's tear-streaked face and haunted, pained, eyes, Nelyo snapped his eyes up at Maglor, demanding an answer.

"He-" Maglor began when Caranthir interjected,

"A nightmare happened." The dark-Elf muttered, staring off into the space.

Maglor sharply looked to him, pressing his lips tightly together. Nelyo shot Maglor a questioning glance, to which the minstrel nodded, going along with Caranthir's lie.

Well, was it even a lie? Perhaps a half-truth?

Did visions count as both a dream and nightmare depending on what it showed? Was a vision its own thing?

Maglor was going to say it was a half-truth.

"Are you alright?" Nelyo asked Caranthir, knowing full-well how terrible his nightmares could get. Caranthir didn't have to think over the question, slowly shaking his head.

Wasn't worth lying to his brothers.

Maglor spoke for him. "It will take him some time to recover."

Nelyo looked to him.

"It was a rather...intense nightmare."

Intense was an understatement, Caranthir bitterly thought to himself, feeling cold.

Nelyo appeared troubled and concerned, but he said nothing more. He knew Caranthir would grow irritated with all of the attention he was receiving, so he didn't press them anymore.

"If you say so..."

"Is he okay?" A small voice inquired and the Elves looked to find Elrond half-hidden behind Findekano, who'd remained standing in the doorway of the room. Elrond had his arms wrapped around Findekano's knee and was leaning against the tall Elf for comfort after being scared by Caranthir's collapse.

Findekano reassuringly placed a hand on Elrond's head, he, too, waiting for an answer.

"Fine." Caranthir huffed out. Catching sight of the disapproving look Maglor fixed him with, he corrected himself, "I'll be fine."

Maybe, he mentally added to himself.

Foreseeing the death of Maglor had shaken him badly. It was something he would never get over, especially when he knew for a certainty that it would happen. How Maglor took this all into stride was something he didn't understand.

He had reacted far better than Caranthir had, but he did recognize the faint glimmer of fear reflected in those sad blue eyes his brother had.

"Alright." Nelyo sighed, soothingly ruffling Caranthir's hair.

Caranthir growled, glaring up at the red-head from beneath a curtain of messy black hair. He didn't bother to fix it, not exactly wanting to move at the moment.

Elrond released his hold on Findekano and padded over, leaning over Nelyo's shoulder to see Caranthir. His wide grey eyes were filled with worry and concern for his uncle.

"It's alright, Elerondo." Caranthir assured the Elfling. "I'm going to be fine."

Elrond didn't believe him, but he didn't say anything. He only nodded uncertainly. He could sense the turmoil Caranthir was feeling and the distraught and mixed emotions whirling within him.

He wasn't fine, but Elrond knew better than to point this out.

After a few moments, Nelyo leaned over and kissed Caranthir's brow, brushing away the hair that stuck to the dark-Elf's forehead. "I will leave you with Makalaurë, then. I am certain you have no intention of returning to your own room." Nelyo knowingly said.

Caranthir tiredly nodded, telling Nelyo he was right. The Elf slowly sat up, and Maglor released him, only to help him stand.

Caranthir's balance was a little shaky, yet he managed to remain standing. Nelyo stood with them, a debate taking place in his mind as he regarded Maglor.

Maglor felt a pang of hurt and guilt stab through his heart when he recognized the uncertainty lingering in Nelyo's gaze.

His elder brother had no idea where he stood with Maglor, and it didn't help that Maglor also didn't know how to be around Nelyo. He had grown accustomed to dealing with Maedhros that he had nearly forgotten what it was to have Nelyo around instead of Maedhros.

"I bid you goodnight, then." Was all Nelyo said as he turned and headed for the door.

A rush of fear shot through Maglor and without thinking, the minstrel called out to his brother, reaching out and sinking his fingers into the fabric of Nelyo's sleeve before his brother could move any farther.

"Nelyo!"

He would not lose his brother! He refused to allow there to be any distance between them like he had between he and his Father! He had missed Nelyo too much, and now that he had the chance to be with him again, Maglor was going to embrace it. Especially with the limited amount of time Maglor had left in this world. He was going to make the most of everything.

Nelyo turned in time to receive an armful of Maglor as the minstrel hugged him tightly.

Surprise stole over Nelyo's features as the Elf staggered back, deftly catching his balance and happily returning the embrace. Relief flooded through him as Nelyo quirked an eyebrow.

"What is this?"

"Don't ever leave without giving me a proper goodnight, Nelyo. I won't accept it." Maglor declared, a warm feeling overcoming him as he fondly recalled the times Nelyo would check on him after bedtime and bid him goodnight. "I went ten years without it, I'm not about to suffer another ten years deprived of it!" If only his brother knew it had been longer than just a decade...

Nelyo smiled against his brother's hair, patting his back. "Forgive me." He quietly apologized. The two stepped back and Maglor grinned up at him.

"What do you say to a spar tomorrow?"

Nelyo didn't bother to hide his surprise at the suggestion. "Spar? You?"

Maglor only smiled charmingly, mischief brewing in his dark eyes. "Of course. You'd be surprised by how much I have learned these past few years."

"Will I now..? Very well. I'm curious to see how you handle a blade. Where did you learn...if you don't mind me asking?"

"I was taught by a friend." Maglor evasively answered, wrapping an arm around Caranthir's shoulders when the younger Elf stepped up to his side. Caranthir didn't shake him off. "He figured it would do me well to learn how to defend myself."

"Indeed..." Nelyo frowned thoughtfully. "Would this friend happen to be Maedhros?" He asked, a knowing glint in his eyes.

There was more to it, Maglor knew. His brother had this...look on his face. It was the same one Turgon had described to him after Elrond had spoken about Maedhros to the entire family.

He bit back the urge to ask his brother what he knew.

Or what he thought he knew. It bugged him to know Nelyo seemed to be catching onto something, but he didn't know what.

Maglor only dipped his chin in response, sorrow stealing over his features. "It was Maedhros." He replied, quietly, almost reverently.

Though, if he were to be honest, it was Nelyo who had started to train him after the Silmarils creation. It was as if his brother had known ahead of time that Maglor would need to know how to fight. He knew his way with a blade before they left for Middle-Earth, and it was only after they had made a new home there that Maedhros started teaching him how to use other weapons just in case he was unable to use his blade or was disarmed.

The knowledge most certainly came in handy several times during their time in Middle-Earth.

Maglor tipped his head to the side and smiled widely,

It was a little odd to see, the minstrel smiling so much when he very rarely smiled now-a-days, but it made Nelyo's heart sing.

"Maedhros and I would spar often, until he was pleased with my progress." Maglor grimaced a little, vividly remembering those vigorous training sessions. Not once was he able to escape unscathed. "It was worse than when Atar tried to teach me, but I did learn a lot."

"I see..." Nelyo said, giving Maglor an odd look. It was a little difficult to envision his brother training, yet at the same time, Nelyo was curious to see all that he had learned. "Well, then, tomorrow morning- ah no. That won't do." Nelyo said to himself, thinking over all that he had to do the next day. "Evening. It will have to be in the evening. Ammë has asked me to complete some errands for her, and after I am finished with those, we can spar."

Maglor felt excitement growing within him and he agreed with Nelyo. It certainly would be refreshing to spar again. "Evening it is, then."

They bid one another goodnight, and only after Elrond had given Nelyo a hug, still put off with how much this Elf reminded him of Maedhros, did Nelyo and Findekano leave the room.

After they had left, Maglor turned to find that Caranthir had already taken his bed and was buried deep within the covers facing the window to watch the storm, hoping it would help him to calm down. Elrond had crawled in with him, tucking himself close to the dark-Elf, still sensing the troubling emotions his uncle was feeling. Caranthir didn't move, except to help Elrond get comfortable.

Maglor regarded his brother quietly, sighing silently. The vision had definitely affected Caranthir, and it set Maglor on edge.

Would their plan work? Would they succeed or would they fail? Would Maglor live long enough to find out?

He walked over to his bed, perching on the edge of the mattress and staring down at his hands. How much longer did he have to live if everything went according to plan? Exactly how would he die?

There were many questions Maglor wanted answers to, but he didn't want to press his brother into giving him more details of the vision, knowing it wouldn't help Caranthir out at all.

Perhaps he could ask Din a few questions...

It was worth a shot. Maglor would go for anything right now, even her vague responses. At least he would be able to work with something.

'Din.'

There was only silence. Confused, Maglor called out to her again.

'Din?'

Nothing.

Maglor frowned deeply. This was troubling. Din was normally always there, ready to answer any of his questions or just to talk. He had discovered that Din loved to talk, and so, for her to be this silent didn't sit well with Maglor.

It was always possible that Din had something to do that required for her to leave for some time, but wouldn't Din have said something to him?

Choosing not too worry too much over Din's absence, Maglor settled on the right side of his bed, intertwining his fingers together over his chest. Listening to the thunder and watching as lightning continued to light up his room, Maglor thought over their plan.

They needed to do something.

And they needed to do something soon. Was there a way they could, perchance, give their family hints of what was to come? Prepare them in a way?

That was only a question he could ask Din, but she was gone.

Another thing he needed to know was if Nelyo had been chosen. The words Din had said to him the other night made no sense to Maglor.

'If I remember correctly, Din said something about two being among us, another from a land far away, and a fourth who lingers in the shadows...' Aredhel had told him after admitting to Maglor that she was indeed Aredhel, as he had previously thought.

All in all, that made six of them.

If Nelyo had been chosen, Din would have told them that there were seven of them.

Releasing another sigh, Maglor turned over on his side and tried to get some sleep. He definitely needed it. Tomorrow, he would set to work trying to see what they could do about their little predicament.

~Duplicity~

The next day...

Maglor patiently waited for the time Nelyo would arrive for the spar they had scheduled for that evening. He definitely needed to spar. He had hardly been able to focus during the entire day, too caught up in everything that had happened last night and thinking of a plan. He had been tiring himself out mentally that it was draining him physically. Nerdanel had commented on how exhausted and weary Maglor had appeared earlier that day, her concern evident in those vibrant green orbs, but Maglor had only assured her that everything was fine. Nerdanel, of course, knew better but she didn't press him, instead sending him out to watch the twins.

He had watched young Pityo and Ambarto willingly. The twins always had a tendency to put a smile back on Maglor's face.

Caranthir had strolled out of the house to watch the sparring session, curious to see how much Maglor had improved since last he had seen him, taking Tyelko and Curvo along with him. Turgon, who had been accompanying Maglor for most of the day, was outside with the minstrel, walking down the path that would lead them to the small training field near their home.

Tyelko and Curvo, Maglor overheard as they strolled down the path, were making bets with one another. He rolled his eyes at the two, listening as Caranthir remained neutral. When they asked him his opinion, Caranthir would give reasons why Nelyo could win and reasons why he could lose, then do the same for Maglor, never specifically stating who he was wagering would win.

Tyelko and Curvo weren't amused, but decided it was useless to get Caranthir involved in their bet.

"Excited for your spar?" Turgon asked Maglor when they were halfway to the field. Maglor looked to him, smiling slightly.

"I am. It has been so long since last I sparred with him." He quietly replied. "It will be a little strange, but I cannot wait."

Turgon gave a barely perceptible nod at his words, tilting his head up to study the sky through the canopy of the trees surrounding them.

It was a lovely evening for a spar. There was a cool breeze that felt refreshing to Maglor and the forest's aroma was more than welcoming to Maglor. It reminded him of everything he had nearly forgotten about his childhood home. There were heavy, grey clouds blocking the sun from their view, but it was still pretty light.

As they were drawing near to the training field, the five Elves heard the sound of metal striking metal, informing them that there was already a spar, or training session taking place.

Maglor glanced back at his brothers inquisitively. "You are all here...Who could possibly be sparring?"

"Or training." Tyelko said, shrugging his shoulders. "No idea. Maybe Nelyo arrived early and decided to practice."

"Might be Findekano and Nelyo." Turgon suggested. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"Nor would we." Maglor and his brothers chimed, glancing at one another with a smirk. It had been awhile since they had ever said anything in unison. Maglor recalled many moments where it unnerved Elves who would listen as they would finish one another's sentences or say everything at the same time as if they had read each other's minds. It was a rather effective way in which they would get something they wanted. Their poor Grandfather was usually their victim, since he could hardly ever bring himself to say 'no.'

Tyelko then bounded up to Maglor's side, beaming up at his brother.

"Have you, by chance, been practicing archery?" He asked him, a tad bit more hopefully than he had meant to. He held his bow in his hand, one he had carved himself, and lifted it up for Maglor to see it.

Maglor laughed, a sound the sons of Fëanaro treasured.

The shell that had been their brother was slowly disappearing, with the minstrel warping back into the Makalaurë they once knew and loved dearly.

Still chuckling, Maglor nodded and answered Tyelko's question. "I have practiced my archery, and I daresay that I have become a good shot."

He had to be when hunting in the forests near the sea. He had mostly self-taught himself while hunting in the forests, trying to learn how to shoot a moving target. There was always that guilt that clung to him whenever he would strike an animal down, and he never understood how his brothers could hunt for fun.

"Really?" Tyelko excitedly asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "We should have a contest!"

Maglor laughed again, tugging his brother into a one-arm embrace. "Yes. That would be fun."

"Truly!?"

Maglor nodded, the smile never fading.

How he had missed his brothers. With them around, life was never boring.

"One of these days. But it's up to you to decide if we'll use stationary targets or moving targets."

Tyelko's eyes bulged. "You can do moving targets!?" He incredulously asked Maglor, shocked. Maglor nodded.

"Oh, yes. If they are big, of course."

Curvo chuckled at this and Caranthir grinned while Tyelko rolled his eyes.

"Big ones are no fun!"

"But they are easy. Maybe even targets about this size..." Makalaurë added, raising his hands to show Tyelko what he meant. The empty space between his hands was about the size of a rabbit...a large rabbit.

"Makalaurë..." Tyelko tsked, though his lips twitched upwards.

"If you want to do small ones, by all means, we can." Maglor shrugged one shoulder, telling Tyelko that it was up to him to decide.

Tyelko beamed, even more excited than before.

"Two days time?"

"I don't see why not."

"I can't wait!" Tyelko cheered, and Maglor couldn't help but smile at his brother's happiness. Tyelko's eyes shined brightly and his smile was one of pure joy, his golden hair dancing in the breeze as he walked beside Maglor.

'So young,' Maglor thought to himself. 'And so full of joy. We were all so young when it happened.' He narrowed his eyes on the path. 'It will change. It will be different. It will not happen again.' He determinedly thought. 'I won't lose them.'

"Hey, Makalaurë," Curvo piped up, his voice low and soft that Maglor wouldn't have heard him if the breeze hadn't carried his voice over to him. Maglor looked to find him right next to him, opposite of Tyelko, "You've promised to compete against Tyelko, you've sparred against Moryo, and are about to spar with Nelyo, and spent a lot of time with the twins..." Blue clashed with blue when Curvo raised his eyes to meet Maglor's. "What about me?"

Here, Maglor inwardly hesitated. He most certainly did not want to go to the Forge, much less into the Forge, but Curvo was giving him that look Maglor could never, ever, say no to.

Was he the one Ambarto and Pityo had learned the kicked puppy look from?

Though Curvo's was more subtle than the twins, Maglor could see the hope brewing in those dark orbs and he was a little surprised. Curvo was a quiet, reserved, Elf but he was most definitely a son of Fëanaro. He had the same temperament, though Curvo never truly lashed out at any of them, and he was much calmer. Because of the bored demeanor Curvo had, he often made other Elves believe he didn't have any interest in anything but forging or that he could care less about everything around him. He did have a sharp tongue, but no one ever truly took offense to anything Curvo said to them. Out of all of the sons of Fëanaro, Curvo strongly resembled their Father. He was basically a mini-Fëanaro, only much younger.

Maglor breathed in deeply. He did owe his brother. If Curvo wanted him to come down to the Forge, he would.

"What do you want to do?" Maglor asked him, part of him guiltily hoping Curvo wouldn't want to go to the Forge. Curvo looked down at his feet, as if debating what he wanted to do, then back up at him.

"I want to go riding."

Maglor blinked a couple of times. "You want to go riding?" he slowly repeated, as if to make sure he had heard him correctly. Curvo dipped his head in response.

"Down to the Valley."

It took Maglor a moment to understand what his brother meant, his thoughts automatically turning to Rivendell when he said 'Valley.' Thankfully, since Din had restored his memory, Maglor could remember the Valley he and his brothers used to always go down to and camp out for a few days just enjoying one another's company. Maglor immediately agreed, having missed those days greatly.

"I would love to do that...It has been a while."

Curvo gave a barely perceptible grin.

It was at that moment that the five Elves emerged from the woods to find themselves in the training field. Looking up, they found that it was Nelyo who was sparring...but it was not Findekano he was sparring against.

Maglor stopped suddenly, having not expected to find Fëanaro here, in the training field. Yet, there he was, dueling against Nelyo.

Both were covered in sweat, telling Maglor that they had been at it for a while, and the duel appeared rather intense. Fëanaro was beating down on Nelyo with all of his strength, refusing to hold back, and Nelyo was doing his best to counter the blows he was raining down on him.

The Elves watched the lethal dance, entranced by the graceful ways in which both Elves fought. Their movements were fluid and precise yet fast and dangerous.

Fëanaro would lash out with a quick strike Nelyo would skillfully manage to block by twisting his blade and deflecting the blow. Both moved to attack and their swords clashed against one another. Locked together, Fëanaro and Nelyo tried using their strength to shove the other back. It didn't work, seeing as they were about as strong as the other. Fëanaro was stronger, but not by much. Nelyo also had the advantage of height.

Though height could also be a disadvantage, Maglor mused, recalling a certain incident that had taken place when Maedhros had been training Elrond. It had been the first time Maglor had ever truly seen Maedhros taken by surprise yet impressed with the shy Peredhel's quick thinking.

The dueling Elves ended up shoving one another back, ripping their blades away from one another then lunging in an attempt to land a hit on each other. Fëanaro had acted faster than Nelyo, leaving Nelyo with no choice but to spin out of the way in order not to be struck by Fëanaro's strike. Nelyo then ducked when Fëanaro swung his sword diagonally, and Maglor started when the blade narrowly missed Nelyo's head by centimeters. He knew neither of them would intentionally harm the other, and that they had enough expertise to keep from accidentally hurting each other, but it still made him nervous when he would watch them spar. There were so many moments filled with close calls that made Maglor feel edgy.

Nelyo spun on his knee, immediately tipping his sword back in time to catch another one of Fëanaro's attempt to hit his unprotected side. Fëanaro flicked his sword away from Nelyo's, their blades screeching. The elder flipped his hair back over his shoulder, taking a step back and lowering his blade, faintly smiling.

Nelyo backed down, planting his blade into the ground and leaning against it, breathing heavily.

"You did well." Fëanaro said, his tone neutral, though Maglor could see the pride shining in those blue eyes.

Nelyo shook his head. "I could have done better."

Fëanaro quirked an eyebrow, silently urging his son to explain.

"I am still weak on my left side." Nelyo clarified, shaking his left hand in the air. "I need to practice more with my left. If I am ever incapacitated and unable to use my right, strengthening my left will be beneficial to me. I would still be able to hold my ground and defend myself successfully, without any trouble."

Almost at once, the image of Maedhros popped into Maglor's mind and he darkly agreed with his brother.

"Good. The ability to identify and acknowledge any weakness you have is something that will help you to improve greatly." Fëanaro looked rather pleased, but the look vanished, only to be replaced by his usual, emotionless mask. Nelyo only dipped his chin in acknowledgement. It was then Fëanaro peered over his son's shoulder to find Curvo and Tyelko staring at them in awe with Turgon and Moryo watching with veiled amazement, and...

Fëanaro nearly started upon seeing Maglor there, a dark look stealing over his smooth features.

Sensing his Father's eyes on him, the dark look morphed into an unreadable one as Maglor evenly met his gaze, with no trace of emotion visible.

Fëanaro felt a pang of hurt flicker through him, only to be replaced by a dull ache in his chest. "It appears we have company." Was all he said, jerking his chin in their direction. Nelyo turned to find his brothers and Turgon standing behind him and smiled upon seeing them.

"Ah, Makalaurë..."

"Nelyo." Maglor returned, raising an eyebrow at his brother's disheveled appearance. Loose, red, strands of hair clung to Nelyo's face and neck and stuck up in odd directions and his tunic was drenched in sweat.

They must have been having an intensive training session.

"We did plan to spar...but based from your appearance, I don't know if that's a good idea." Maglor teasingly told him, flashing Nelyo a mischievous grin. He missed the look of complete surprise that flashed across Fëanaro's features when he heard Maglor's words. "You might be too tired and won't perform as well..."

Nelyo huffed, straightening his back and tugging his blade out from the ground. "Be careful now, Makalaurë." Nelyo brushed his words aside, returning the grin. "Wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself, now do we?"

Maglor smirked. "That confident are we, Nelyo? Are you sure you shouldn't be saying that to yourself?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Curvo and Tyelko shared a look upon hearing Maglor and Nelyo bantering back and forth. They most certainly didn't remember Makalaurë ever being that outspoken or outgoing. This was a completely different side of their brother they had never seen before.

"You heard me."

"I see." Nelyo hummed, twirling his blade in his hand. "I won't go easy."

"I wouldn't let you." Maglor went to stand a few feet in front of his brother, his deep blue cloak fluttering behind him. Nelyo shook his head.

"This Maedhros did more than train you in weaponry, it would seem." Nelyo commented, pleasantly surprised by the excitement he could see in Maglor's vivid blue eyes. His brother had become much stronger and had grown more confident...and yet, Nelyo couldn't help but feel a little uneasy at this difference. What had led his brother to change? What influenced the change? It couldn't have been all Maedhros's doing.

'Atto and Maedhros close friends. Brothers.' Elerondo's words from the day before rang in his mind, and Nelyo found himself studying Makalaurë closely. The way Makalaurë spoke of Maedhros...with such reverence, fondness, and pain...

Well, that chased away the sneaking suspicion he'd had growing in the back of his mind.

When Makalaurë had returned, neither Nelyo nor his brothers recognized him other than for his looks, but gradually, hints of the old Makalaurë were slowly making themselves known.

"He did teach me many things." Maglor evasively replied.

Before they could spar, Fëanaro turned sharply to look at Nelyo. "I will take my leave." He told the ner. "Once you are finished, be sure the equipment is returned to its proper place."

Nelyo curtly nodded. "Of course."

Maglor frowned, eyeing his Father. "You will not stay?"

Fëanaro drew his gaze over to Maglor, his lips pursed together and expression guarded. "I imagined you wouldn't want me here." Was all he said, a little coldly.

Outwardly, Maglor was unfazed by Fëanaro's sudden coldness, but it did ignite a spark of anger within him.

The two held one another's gazes tensely, and Maglor narrowed his eyes dangerously. He had been told by his brothers that Fëanaro had started to act a little odd. He had been quick to anger, more so than usual, was always brooding, and giving almost everyone the cold shoulder.

His brothers, with the exception of Caranthir, didn't know why he was acting this way. Maglor did. Their entire group knew.

This was something Maglor couldn't allow. He wouldn't allow Fëanaro to give in.

"You have made it quite clear that my presence sets you on edge and that you wish to have nothing to do with me." Fëanaro continued in a steely tone, maintaining eye contact with his second-born. Fëanaro scowled darkly, appearing rather threatening.

Maglor never faltered and made to speak when Fëanaro cut him off.

"There were many times that I had hoped we would be able to reconcile, that I would be able to learn what it was that drove you away from me, but I found that it wasn't to be. You still shun away from me. All of those times I was filled with false hope..." Some of the hurt Fëanaro had felt then seeped into his voice, and Maglor swallowed thickly, realizing just how much he had messed up.

I am a fool...What have I done?

"I raised you, loved you, and cared for you...I suppose that amounts to nothing. I have no idea what it was I could have possibly done to you to turn you away from me, but I no longer care to find out. It is clear to me that you no longer wish for me to be around. Have you not noticed how I have been respecting your wish?"

Maglor had noticed, and it made everything worse, because his Father was wrong...

The other sons of Fëanaro and Turgon were watching them with bated breaths, shifting uncomfortably as they watched Maglor and Fëanaro basically glare at one another.

Maglor grit his teeth together as Fëanaro continued with his poisonous words, his anger rising. Anger directed at both himself and Fëanaro, and an angry Maglor was not a pretty one. Very few had ever witnessed an angered Maglor, but those who did would fearfully watch him rage, noting to themselves to never anger the minstrel.

His brothers had seen him once, after the burning of the Teleri ships and the first Kinslaying, and then Maedhros had to deal with a furious Maglor during their argument in Himring before he fled into the night to return to his Gap.

"Had I known that you and Nelyo were to spar, I would not have come here."

That hurt more than Maglor wanted to admit. He didn't show it, his face devoid of any emotion save for the fire blazing in his eyes.

Nelyo was caught between them, uneasily looking from Fëanaro to Maglor, wondering if he should step in or stay out. He hadn't expected for this to happen, and judging by the look on everyone else's faces, they hadn't either.

Although...

Nelyo frowned at the smile growing on Moryo's lips, and there was a glimmer in his eyes...One that spoke of satisfaction as he watched Makalaurë and Fëanaro face off.

Odd...

Nelyo looked back to their Father and Makalaurë. Was Moryo happy about this conflict? Or was there more to it than he could see?

The cold, blank, expression Fëanaro wore was no match for the dark one covering Makalaurë's features...

Makalaurë looked dangerous, and the Elven glow enveloping his body increased, anger flashing in his eyes.

"It is for that reason I am leaving." Fëanaro faintly snarled, spinning on his heel and making for the path hidden by the shadows of the trees, his shoulders tense and movements rigid with barely concealed anger. "With that said, I kindly take my leave."

Fear shot through the minstrel and Maglor snapped, casting aside all sense of precaution and reason as he watched his Father walk away. He knew if Fëanaro were to walk away, he would have lost his Father for good. That was something Maglor would never be able to live with.

And it would be all his fault. He knew this.

Without even thinking, Maglor bit out, "Don't you dare turn your back on me!"

Fëanaro stopped dead in his tracks.

Nelyo's eyes drifted shut, bowing his head, dreading what was sure to come. Caranthir, Tyelko, Curvo, and Turgon had all frozen in place, stunned and unable to believe what had just taken place in front of them. Everyone of them apprehensively waiting for what they knew was going to happen. Tyelko hid his face in his hands, shaking his head worriedly.

"Valar forbid..." Were the only muffled words Nelyo could hear Tyelko saying.

All was dead silent, including the animals of the forest. No one dared to break the silence, too afraid to.

Fëanaro turned his head slightly, his voice devastatingly calm when he spoke, "What was that?"

Maglor remained unmoved. "You understood me perfectly."

Fëanaro, with agonizing slowness, turned, though not completely, to face Maglor, a steely glint in his eyes.

"Kano!" Curvo hissed, silently pleading for his brother not to do something he was most definitely going to regret. Based off of the look Fëanaro was fixing Maglor with, it was already too late.

Maglor, however, also looked positively murderous, but it wasn't that that struck Curvo. It was the manner in which Maglor held himself in. He looked regal in the royal blue and silver silk clothes and cloak he wore, and his countenance was confident, with a challenging air about him. He looked like one who held authority and was battle-hardened, ready for a fight. One he was certain to get. Maglor knew this, and he was prepared.

There was also a sense of desperation and yearning Curvo caught onto that he knew Fëanaro couldn't see because he was blinded by anger and grief.

For Fëanaro, believing that Makalaurë had been dead had been hard enough, but to lose Makalaurë because his son was turning away from him was even worse.

Maglor, on the other hand, knew he was being reckless and that he was treading on thin ice, but he was purposefully venturing on dangerous grounds in order to reach out to Fëanaro.

Curvo knew he was the only one who could see this, but even he didn't agree with Maglor's methods. His brother was digging himself a deeper hole, one he was probably going to bury himself in if he wasn't careful.

Fëanaro glowered at Maglor, his scowl deepening. "You dare speak to me in such a way?" He demanded to know, his voice low and threatening.

"I do." Maglor evenly stated.

Nelyo was torn as he watched his Father and brother have a stare-down, each daring the other to back down. This was not supposed to happen...

Fëanaro's grip tightened on the hilt of his thin, and sharp, blade. Maglor caught the movement and sneered, something the brothers had never seen him do before.

"Go on. Raise your blade!" Maglor reached into his cloak and drew his own blade. The sharp sound of metal being drawn from its sheath rang through the air, and soon, a beautifully crafted blade unlike any the Elves had seen was being pointed at Fëanaro.

Fëanaro appeared a little taken aback, and Nelyo looked completely shocked. The other Elves' jaws dropped as they watched Maglor raise his blade against his Father, but Maglor could care less.

He had waited thousands of years for this moment, and now, here it was.

It was a dangerous move he was making, and one Maglor feared he was going to deeply regret for the rest of his life, but he couldn't turn back.

"Long have I waited for this moment." Maglor proclaimed, his blade completely still in the air. His Elven glow had brightened considerably, and no one could ignore the dangerous air that swirled about Maglor. His eyes had hardened, lips pursed together as he locked gazes with Fëanaro. "Longer than you could ever imagine. You want answers to your questions, but I cannot give them to you. Now you know how I feel. There are answers to questions that I have been seeking but could never find, and may never be able to. You wish to know why I am the way I am, why I act this way, why I am so different, and as much as I want to tell you, I can't. No matter how much I want to, I cannot risk it. I had wished you would understand, and it is my fault you are unable to. It is my fault this has happened, and it is my fault it has come to this. I never wanted this distance that lies between us, Atar, and if there is anyone to blame for it, it is me. I know this."

Maglor twisted his blade in his hand, falling into position as he faced Fëanaro. "And it isn't easy..." his voice trembled slightly as Maglor went on. "Finding my way back home, returning to my family...I can't pretend to be who I used to be, who you want me to be." He looked at everyone when he said this, skipping over Turgon and Caranthir.

Tyelko, Nelyo, and Curvo looked a little stricken and guilty, while Fëanaro pursed his lips tightly together. On the outside, he appeared unaffected by what the minstrel had said, but inwardly, Fëanaro felt a little unsettled. The elder Elf watched Maglor closely, as if unsure of what he should do.

Should he give Maglor the fight he was clearly ready for?

As tempted as he was to see how skilled his son was and hurt by Maglor's shunning him, Fëanaro knew dueling against him would be dangerous. He was already seething with anger deep inside from recent events he'd kept from his family and Maglor also seemed upset...

If they were to have a duel, it would probably not end well.

"But I won't apologize." Maglor reached up to unclasp his cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground and stepped forward, spinning his sword expertly in his hand. "Are you ready?" He asked Fëanaro.

Without waiting for a response, Maglor launched his attack.

Nelyo leaped back when Maglor lunged forward and swung his blade to the left then swiped it back up diagonally. Fëanaro reacted almost immediately, bringing his sword down to meet Maglor's with a clang!

Maglor had already thought over the advantages and disadvantages he and Fëanaro had in the duel. He had over four thousands years of experience with a blade and knew his Father's fighting style well, however, Maglor hadn't practiced as often as he should have. He was still lethal with a blade, and could fell an entire group of orcs without trouble- something that occurred more often than people would think. Orcs had been gradually growing in size causing the minstrel to be concerned. Even Elrond had noticed and the Peredhil had been unsettled with the possibility of a new ruler over the Orcs arising.

Fëanaro, on the other hand, was a quick-thinker and a fast adapter. His instincts never failed him and Fëanaro could calculate his opponent's move before they even thought of it themselves.

Their blades met again, Maglor easing into the duel he had started. It had been a while since he had fought against someone he knew, or someone of his own kind. He'd missed his sparring sessions with Nelyo and Fëanaro, but this wasn't a spar. Nor a friendly duel.

Maglor gracefully ducked underneath one of Fëanaro's hits, whipping to the side and raising his blade in time to deflect another blow. Another difference between them was that Fëanaro preferred double-handed blades. Maglor was more comfortable with one-handed blades. Sometimes, he would even fight with twin knives. Fëanaro was also more direct, more forceful in his fighting while Maglor went with the flow, effortlessly meeting his Father's strikes blow-for-blow.

The minstrel could see Fëanaro's control of himself wavering and gave a faint smile. Yes, this was what he wanted. For Fëanaro to vent out all of his anger and pain in this one duel. He wanted Fëanaro to release everything he was keeping locked away inside of him, to let loose his frustration and irritation...to just let it all go.

Just to speed up the process and break down those frail walls guarding Fëanaro's emotions, Maglor purposefully provoked him.

He could tell it was working from the way Fëanaro was getting riled up.

The volcano was going to erupt soon.

Nelyo worriedly watched their duel from the sidelines, keeping himself a safe distance away but close enough to intervene if it grew worse. He didn't understand exactly what was taking place, but from the warning glare he'd been given by his brother, he knew he couldn't stop them now.

Makalaurë was up to something. He was doing this for a reason. Nelyo was going to trust his brother on this one, but he didn't know if that was a good idea.

Curvo and the others had all moved a little closer to the duel, watching in wonder as Makalaurë and Fëanaro dueled. It was unlike anything they had ever seen before. It looked more dangerous than when Nelyo and their Father would spar, and far more intense. Neither Fëanaro or Makalaurë were holding back.

"I never knew Makalaurë was capable of...of..." Tyelko started to say, staring at his brother and Father astonishment. Unable to find the word he was searching for, Tyelko fell back on just waving a hand in Makalaurë's direction in amazement.

"Neither did I." Curvo murmured in agreement, sharp eyes analyzing the minstrel. Something didn't make sense to him, however, and Nelyo knew exactly what didn't, for he had also caught onto it.

The surety in Makalaurë's eyes and the perfect strikes and attacks he executed told them that he must have received training for longer than ten years. The moves Makalaurë would make, even the most complex, were performed as though they were second-nature to him. But, when could he have possibly started training? How could he have hidden it from his family? Everyone knew Makalaurë never enjoyed sparring. It was one of the reasons he only allowed Nelyo and Fëanaro to train him in using a dagger for basic defense. He didn't want to learn the way of the sword, yet...this Maedhros managed to convince Makalaurë into learning how to wield a blade.

How?

This Maedhros had changed his brother so much. Makalaurë was different. It wasn't a bad different, but it was something Nelyo would need to get used to.

He continued to watch the duel anxiously. Black and blue moved in rhythm, with Fëanaro gaining the upper hand in some tense moments, then Makalaurë suddenly turning the tables and forcing Fëanaro to retreat.

Makalaurë backed away suddenly, smoothly gliding out of Fëanaro's reach and smiling darkly. Fëanaro's brow crinkled in confusion at his son's odd behavior, but didn't allow it to distract him.

The smile vanished as soon as it appeared, replaced by a neutral facade. "You are slower than what I remember." Makalaurë abruptly commented, pulling his long hair back and over his shoulder.

Fëanaro blinked.

Makalaurë carelessly dug the tip of his sword into the ground and leaned on it, regarding his Father with analytical, and pained, eyes.

"What?"

Malakalaurë narrowed his piercing blue orbs, which, Fëanaro found, were much darker than before. "You're holding back." He uttered lowly, almost in a growl. "Why are you holding back?" He demanded to know. "Are you afraid that you might injure me?" He didn't give Fëanaro any time to answer before plowing on. "You should not worry about hurting me. It is nearly impossible to."

Fëanaro's frown deepened at the implication behind his second-born's statement, his grip tightening on the hilt of his blade as the anger he felt before flared back to life. He forced the anger down, knowing what Makalaurë was trying to do. He wouldn't give in.

Makalaurë watched him a few moments longer, lips pursed tightly together. Faster than what Fëanaro thought was possible, the sword was back in Makalaurë's hands and his son was lunging towards him. "Don't hold back!"

Fëanaro barely had time to move. He did manage to raise his own weapon to meet Makalaurë's, only to be stunned by the strength of his second-born. Makalaurë was much stronger than what he appeared!

Their blades remained stuck between them, both Fëanaro and Makalaurë attempting to use their strength to make the other falter.

Nelyo watched as the two exchanged words, talking loud enough for only the two of them to hear. He saw Fëanaro's expression darken as he bared his teeth in irritation. Makalaurë calmly watched him, unaffected by the glare his Father was fixing him with.

As much as Nelyo wanted to know what they were saying to each other, he wished Makalaurë wouldn't goad their Father so. It was already difficult enough dealing with his dark moods and frequent outbursts.

Without warning, Makalaurë forcefully shoved Fëanaro back. Fëanaro staggered, eyes widening marginally in shock.

His son fought like a fully-trained warrior, an expert even!

Makalaurë gave him no time to recover, slanting and swinging his blade in a vicious arc. Fëanaro bent back, feeling the rush of air brush against his face.

That...Had been a close call, Fëanaro thought to himself, the memory of the sword flying just centimeters in front of his face fresh in his mind. He scowled. Too close.

Very well...

The ner made up his mind. If his son didn't want him to hold back, then he wouldn't. Falling back into position, Fëanaro reigned in his anger. Little-by-little, the suffocating emotions welling up inside of Fëanaro gradually fell away until Fëanaro could feel nothing.

Makalaurë had better be prepared, for Fëanaro would show him no mercy. If this was what his second-born wanted, had asked for, then he would receive it.

Maglor was able to sense the change settling over his Father and, for a brief moment, inwardly celebrated his victory. It was working.

Then he worried.

His Father was most unpredictable when he was like this. He had no idea what to expect. The only time he had ever seen his Father fight was in battle or in the sparring sessions he often held with his other siblings. Maglor, himself, had never sparred against his Father. Well, he did a few times, until Fëanaro got the point that Maglor had wanted absolutely nothing to do with weaponry and only wanted to compose music.

Then, he reminded himself that he had fought in more battles than his family- in this time- had, so, he had more experience and was prepared enough to face his Father.

Maybe...

Maglor inwardly sighed.

Why did he get the feeling that this was going to be a disaster?

He really should have thought this through.

~Duplicity~

That's it for Chapter 10! I hope it was okay. If there's anything I need to fix, please let me know and I'll fix it as soon as I can! Chapter 11 will be up soon, I promise!

I also wanted to say thank-you to the sweet reviews I've gotten! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this story!

~ Juliette Morbu