This one took a while. Not sure what I think of it myself. As usual I love getting your messages and I will always respond to a pm or review. Unless you are being a jerk. Seriouosly people, it is not the great American novel here, just a fanfic. Chill.

That said, please please please please read and review. Thanks!

As usual I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

~oOo~

Maedhros leaned back in the chair in front of the fire. He wore nothing but his breeches, unconcerned with exposed scars. He did not even bother to tie the laces to his pants, allowing them to hang loosely about his waist. He stared at the figure sleeping in his bed. She lay on her stomach, covers draped across her, leaving her back exposed. Her hair fanned out over the side of the bed obscuring her face. But he knew she slept. He could feel her content through the bond they shared and knew she was at peace. He closed his eyes and breathed it in, inhaling her serenity, allowing it to wash over him. It was in these moments he felt young again, he felt whole again. As if some missing piece to the puzzle had finally snapped into place and all of the horrors of the past were nothing more than a bad dream.

It changes nothing.

His eyes snapped open as Macalaurë's voice rang through his mind, disturbing his calm like ripples on a pond. The figure on the bed stirred slightly but did not wake. He settled his mind again and looked back at the fire. Macalaurë. While Maedhros had not told his brother anything, Macalaurë knew. He knew and said nothing. That was fine with Maedhros. He did not feel that he owed any explanation and had no intention of giving one. This was his and his alone. He had sacrificed everything, his youth, his love of word, the kingship, Káno – instinctively he grabbed his wrist, stifling the dull throb that started in his arm with even the thought of the name. The figure on the bed stirred again and let out a soft moan. Maedhros closed his eyes and calmed his mind once more. The bond. It made her susceptible to his pain. She could feel it as surely as her own. He would not allow himself to pass his torment on to her. Káno was gone, never to return and she could never replace him. Maedhros had thought he would never care about anything again as much as he did for Káno. But somehow she found him and awoke something he had not thought he was capable of anymore. The love she felt for him coursed through their bond and, all the things he had been denied in the past, he reveled in now selfishly. He could never have enough of her, the feel of her skin and the way her body felt when she was wrapped around him. He gazed at her hair and the curve of her back. The way her arms crossed beneath her head and the space between her neck and shoulder; her eyes in the firelight. He smiled. She was awake now. He glanced over at her from the corner of his eye and knew she was watching him through the curtain of hair. She could not control the bond the way he could and he could tell much. She thought him beautiful. His scarred and deformed body was perfect to her and she loved it all. She accepted everything and questioned nothing. He stood up and crossed the room and crawled into the bed next to her. She immediately turned to face him, arms wrapping around his neck and a leg hiking up around his waist. He looked into her eyes. No, she was not Káno, but he found that when he was with her, the name did not hurt as much as it used to.

~oOo~

"Mára aurë," said Saeran as she entered the kitchen.

"Aiya!" the three men answered back without stopping their work. One of the three called out to her a she walked through. "Titta osellë!" he said and tossed a bundle to her. She smiled at him.

"Hantanyel," she called as she walked out the door and into the corridor.

"Namárië," they answered after her in unison. Saeran laughed softly as she left the kitchen. They had come a long way, the four of them. She walked in to the main hall where Elros sat with Evon waiting for her and set one of the bundles down next to them.

"His lunch," she said gesturing to Evon as she slapped Elros's hand away. "This is yours and your brother's." She dropped the rest down in his lap and he gave out an "omph" of surprise. He flashed one of his winning smiles.

"Sweet lady, how can I ever repay you for the care you show us?" Saeran placed a hand on her hip and cocked her head at him.

"Teach him his letters and don't eat his share."

Elros narrowed his eyes at her. "You drive a hard bargain, but I accept."

Saeran shook her head at him and gave him a playful swat at his head which he easily avoided. Elrond walked up behind them carrying several books and reams of parchment.

"Come," he said, "we have much to do before we meet with Maglor today." He dropped some of the books on Elros's lap causing yet another surprised "omph" to escape his lips. "We are to translate these from Quenya to Sindarin before we meet with him to go over the metallurgy we were to study last night." Elrond looked at his brother. "You did study last night?" Elros took great offense at the question.

"Of course," he cried indignantly. "I just need to take a quick look at your notes to refresh myself."

Saeran looked at the three young boys in front of her. Well, at least one young boy. The other two were easily young men now. The twins would be sixteen with the coming of the warm season and Evon would turn five. Evon tried to emulate everything they did, he worshiped them so. They were infallible to him and he followed them everywhere. And when he could not follow them he attached himself to Maglor, begging him to read some book or play some tune, to which Maglor always obliged. She had tried to pull Evon away one day, fearing that he was becoming a nuisance and Maglor stopped her, assuring her that the time spent was treasured. And while he smiled as he spoke she could not help but feel an undercurrent of sadness in his words. She often wondered how much Maglor knew of her and Maedhros, or if he knew anything. In truth, she did not believe you could really hide anything from Maglor, even if you wanted to. She had asked Maedhros once if his brother knew of where she spent her nights but he just laughed.

"You just continue with your days as you normally would," he told her. "Your nights are no one's concern but mine." She would be lying if she said she was not pleased with that answer.

The first few months had been problematic for her. She had a very difficult time staying away from him. She would find herself wandering the keep hoping to run into him like some silly girl, staring dewey-eyed after him from across the room. She did not feel it was just her though. He enjoyed walking past her where she sat and letting his hand brush lightly against her hair or along her back, causing her to shudder involuntarily. He would always keep walking away after, leaving her to gather her wits about her on her own. She could feel his satisfaction through the bond and her irritation at that only seemed to please him even more. It was the damn bond. It gave her away every time. She often wondered just what all he could tell of her from their bond but whenever she asked him he would just smile at her and say "much". That was fine though for she had her tricks as well. While it was almost impossible for her discern specific feelings, she knew when she was getting rise out of him. Once, on a particularly hot day outside, her hair was free and she pulled it up with her hands to the top of her head and held it there, leaving her neck and shoulders exposed for the breeze, loose tendrils falling from her grip. She felt him through the bond then, a warm heat washing over her. And while she could not find where he watched her, she knew that he did. After that she would wear her hair free about her shoulders and always in his presence, she would casually gather her hair up or push all of it to one shoulder exposing the side of her neck. Always the same reaction, the same rush of heat. After a night of her pulling her hair to the side and leaning a certain way in front of him, he had grabbed her in the hallway and took her to his room, muttering about "foolish games" and "silly girls". She just laughed and exposed more than her neck as she covered him in kisses. Another time, Evon had taken a fall from Elros's horse and her heart felt like it had jumped out of her chest as she ran over to him blind with panic. Miraculously Evon was fine with only minor cuts and bruises, but as she stood to take him to Hestil she saw Maedhros in the distance on Ectheldoth. He had been with Thannor on the other side of the keep so she knew that he would have ridden hard to get there so fast.

Still, desire seemed to course through the bond more than anything and she wondered why that was stronger than most. She had asked him one night as they lay in his bed.

"It is like that in the early years from what I have been told," he said while absently twirling a lock of her hair between his fingers. "For begetting a child mostly I suppose." Saeran gave a start when she heard that and looked up at Maedhros.

"Children?" she squeaked. "You mean having babies?"

He gave her a bemused look came over his face, "The last time I checked, that was the usual result from begetting." Saeran sat up and pushed herself away, drawing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms about her knees. Her hair fell from Maedhros's hand, his bemused expression gone replaced with concern. "What? Tell me, what?" He sat up and pushed her hair back to see her face.

"I . . . Evon's birth was hard on me, on my body and my husband – my late husband . . . well, he was not the tender sort," she paused to find the words and Maedhros felt anger fester in the back of his mind at the thought of the late husband. "I cannot have children Maedhros, ever again. It is impossible for me to get pregnant."

He understood her then. She thought he would not want her anymore. He reached for her and pulled her partially on top of him and resumed playing with her hair.

"I was never meant to have children Saeran. I came to peace with this a long time ago," he chuckled softly as he spoke. "I am too old anyway."

Something about what Maedhros just said touched at the back of Saeran's mind. Reminding her of something she had heard before but could not quite remember. But then Maedhros pressed his lips to hers and all thought was lost.

"I have you," he said, "and that is enough." Maedhros stared at the lock of hair he spun around his fingers for a moment before he spoke again. "Do you miss your late husband?"

Saeran looked at him slowly, as if he had sprouted another head. "You are aware how he became my "late" husband yes?" she asked somewhat warily. Maedhros let out a laugh before he could stop himself.

"Yes, I am aware." He smiled as he continued to play with her hair. "I was just wondering if you felt regret." Saeran laid her head on his chest and listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart for some time before she spoke.

"Fferyll's only contribution to my existence was the creation of my sons. And even that was torture. After the birth of Evon it was determined that I would never have another child and I spent many nights in fear waiting for him to dispose of me, for I was now a useless thing, something he took great pleasure in reminding me of. He was cruel and hateful and I have no regret over his loss other than the certain doom I left my mother to." She stopped for a moment and thinking again on what she had done. "If my soul is damned for these acts then it is a worthy sacrifice to save my sons. Although," she spoke now so softly now that if Maedhros had not the hearing of the Eldar, he would never have heard, "one was lost regardless so perhaps that is the price I pay for my wickedness."

Maedhros suddenly held Saeran tight to him as he rolled over and situated himself on top her. He pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. She felt herself respond and arched her body against his. When he finally released her, she was shrouded in his hair and his eyes were ablaze with light so white it seared into her. His lips lightly brushed against her as he spoke, "you are not wicked," he whispered in her ear, and she trembled as she felt the warmth of his breath and the feather light touch of his lips travel down the line of her neck. "You are mine now," he said softly as he positioned himself between her legs, his mouth gently moving to the other side of her neck. "Nothing will ever harm you again, this I –" that was all he was able to say for she pulled him into her then unable to deny herself any longer. But words were no longer needed for they spoke to each other through their bond and she lost herself in his light as it consumed them.

And so she went about her days in the usual manner, which consisted of assisting Hestil whenever she was needed most of the time. Being the middle of winter there were plenty of colds and coughs to deal with, but nothing beyond the aid of a warm meal and rest. She enjoyed her time with Hestil and found herself wishing she could tell her the secret she carried. Saeran still took time to see Dannil as well, in spite of the cold weather. Hestil always fussed at her to wrap up when she did, always reminding her how easily the second born get sick. So she wrapped up in the fur lined cloak and gloves she had and made her way to Dannil's hill. She would never stop going. For as long as her legs would carry her she would come out here. A light snow had begun to fall and she wrapped her cloak tight around her where she sat. The tree had been partially pulled up with the last large quake that had shaken the land, but it did not die. She liked to think it stayed to offer some shelter for her son. He would have been sixteen this season as well. She rubbed at her eyes. She did not wish to start crying out here today. It was too cold and her nose would run. She felt for the bond and found the comfort she needed. She smiled to herself and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She would not stay long today. Even if it had not been so cold, she still would leave early. Maglor had asked her not to wander to far from the keep. Many evacuees from various areas of Beleriand had been passing through on their way to the mountains and not all were agreeable. Maglor felt there were some very unsavory types coming through lately and while he did not deny anyone aid, he did not let some of them tarry; giving them supplies and then sending them quickly on their way. She would head back soon. It was cold and her nose would run and she knew if she did not get Evon, he would try to stay outside with the twins and Maglor as they practiced with swords today. They did not feel the cold the she and Evon did and Evon did not seem to understand he was not an elf. She kissed her hand and placed it on the small mound that was becoming sprinkled with snow. With a sigh she pulled herself from the ground and headed back to the keep.

She made her way past the practice yard to see if Evon was with the twins. A she approached the clearing she stopped just short of it, remaining in the tree line. Evon was at the edge of the ring atop Thannor's shoulders. It never ceased to amaze her, the fascination that the elves of the keep had with her son. Even the soldiers would stop what they were doing to assist with him. She was not sure if it was because there were no children in the keep or if elves just liked children in general, but Evon was never lacking for fathers. But that is not what she watched at the moment. The twins were starting a round of sparring practice and in the center of the ring were Maedhros and his brother. Back to back they stood with the twins and an extra soldier each flanking them on both sides. The twins wore a light armor and Elros wielded a long spear while Elrond had his practice sword. Maedhros and Maglor wore nothing more than thin overcoats over their tunics, although Maedhros had his cloak on and draped over his right arm as usual. Saeran noticed jealously that the cold did not touch any of them. I bet their noses have never run a day in their lives, she thought bitterly. When she realized that Maedhros was completely unaware of her presence, so focused was he on the task at hand, she decided to stay and watch. She was rarely ever able to walk up on Maedhros unnoticed and wanted to take advantage of it.

Maedhros and Maglor never moved as they watched the twins and the other two guards circle cautiously around them. And when movement finally did come, it was quick and Saeran became light headed trying to follow it. She thought it started with Elros and his man lunging first and Maedhros dropping down so Maglor could parry Elros and Maedhros could block Elrond who attacked as soon as Elros moved. But then Maedhros was back facing Elros, snapping his cloak like a whip to push the boy back and parry the other soldier as Maglor spun back to Elrond and his man. It was dizzying to watch, but from what she could tell, Maedhros and Maglor never left the other's side. They never left the other exposed. Their movements were almost as one, fluid and quick. No ground was gained for Elros, Elrond or their men and the frustration became plain on the twins faces. But Maedhros and Maglor betrayed nothing. Their faces were blank and unreadable. The difference was striking on Maglor. Saeran was so used to his visage seeming gentle, if not tired, in a far off day-dreamy kind of way. This look did not suit him and yet when he moved it was as natural to him as if he were taking up his music. But where it was unsettling on Maglor, it was frightening on Maedhros. She did not know who he was at the moment. He looked . . . cold, unfeeling. He landed every blow with deadly accuracy. And he pulled nothing and spared no one. Several times Elrond and Elros would get taken down only to scramble desperately out of the way before he landed the next blow, knowing that if it connected they would not be getting up as quickly as they went down. But his face is what haunted her most. Gone were the stormy grey eyes that looked on her with such longing at times that she would have to leave his presence if others were around. They looked black now, and empty. A thought came to her as she watched him like this, something she had heard somewhere that was now dredged up like the memory of a bad dream, something about chance and fate.

Ill chances and strange fates.

As the thought rang through her mind, she looked at Maedhros and was suddenly afraid. Maedhros abruptly turned and looked to where she stood in the trees, his cold dead stare landing directly on her causing her to take an involuntary step back. Elros saw his distraction as an opportunity and leapt at him, spear swinging. Maedhros simply stepped aside and caught Elros's feet with his cloak and yanked the boy straight to the ground with a loud thud. Elrond turned and attempted to go to his brother's aid and ended up being disarmed and dropped on the ground next to him by Maglor.

"Elros," said Maglor, "when are you going to learn to keep your feet on the ground?" He bent down and took the twins by the hands and helped them both up.

"I will tag you one day," said Elros rubbing his backside. Maglor raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on Elros's shoulder.

"And when you do I will give my sword to you, but until then," he poked his finger at the young man's chest, "keep your feet on the ground." Elros broke into a wide smile.

"I will hold you to that."

"I am sure you will."

Maedhros never turned from the trees, his eyes locked where Saeran stood. She could not move. "Again!" he barked. "That was sloppy. Thannor, take the boy inside to wait for his mother. We will need you for the next one." If there was any dissention about having to go again no one spoke. They simply gathered themselves and began to reset. Thannor turned with Evon towards the keep and Saeran silently tore herself from Maedhros's gaze to follow, never stepping out of the tree line. And while she was certain no one could see her where she walked in the shadows, she knew that one set of eyes never left her as she did.

~oOo~

That night Maedhros and Thannor rode hard through the hills of Amon Ereb and along the great wall. The battle was raging today and the ground rumbled under the weight. After reaching the nearest peak of the Andram they looked over the remains of Doriath to where the war pushed towards Tol Sirion and into the north. The hosts of the Valar were arrayed in forms young and fair and terrible and the mountains rang beneath their feet. But the host of Morgoth was also great with uncounted legions of orcs and the whole of the north was aflame with war. But it was the fires that held Maedhros and slowly filled him with the dread of the past. The flames of unnatural heat, searing the eyes and the skin. The Balrogs came forth in numbers great beyond count and Maedhros closed his eyes to the memories of Thangorodrim and of Balrogs that crushed bodies to pulp beneath their feet. He sought out the bond to remind himself he was no longer alone but found little comfort and for the first time in many days he felt dread.

~oOo~

That night Saeran found herself standing upon a great precipice. It was lightless and unfamiliar. She thought she was alone in the gloom when a man came towards her from the shadows. At first she had thought it was Maedhros, for he had his face but his hair was dark and he was bigger and brighter in a way she did not think possible. He was blinding to look at for her and she had to turn away. But when she did, he began to change. His eyes became a sickly yellow and his teeth became pointed and sharp and he wore a crown with two glowing orbs upon it. She tried to run but found herself chained and unable to escape. And then he laughed. He just laughed and laughed as monsters made of fire began to cut along her body.

Saeran jerked awake with a gasp to find herself back in her room, Maedhros lying next to her. Her breathing was ragged and she struggled to control it. She pushed her hair from her face to find herself damp with sweat. Holding her hand to her chest he regained control of her senses and look down at Maedhros and saw his eyes flutter beneath closed lids. He is sleeping, she thought in slight shock. Every night he had spent in her rooms or her in his, she had always awaked to him either staring down at her or sitting in front of the fire. Never before had she ever seen him sleep, much less dream as she thought he was doing now. And from what she could tell, it did not look to be a pleasant dream. He had returned late tonight. She had already been in her rooms asleep when he arrived and unaware of him joining her in bed. The tremors had started again with increased frequency and he and Thannor had ridden out to survey the damage. She did not like it when he left on these forays into the wild. He came back grim and pensive. And the bond, while always there seemed to feel . . . murky to her. As if she knew of his presence but could not find him or reach him. No, she did not like that sensation at all. As she looked down at him she touched at the bond lightly and recoiled in alarm. Turmoil and fear and rage coursed through in such force she thought it would tear her from the inside. She laid her hand upon his chest and spoke gently.

"Maedhros," she whispered. His eyes continued to flutter rapidly and she thought he may have flinched when she said his name. "Maedhros," she said, her voice becoming more urgent with each word. "Maedhros please my love, wake. Mae – "

Saeran stopped talking suddenly unsure of what was happening. The words were on her lips and she tried to speak but found she could not. She could not breathe. Somehow she had become pinned against the headboard and could no longer breathe. A great pressure was upon her throat and her hands reflexively reached up to remove the obstacle only to find she could not. It was a hand and it was crushing her. Realization and panic began to build inside of her as she looked at her assailant. Maedhros stood hunched over her, his face contorted with rage and his eyes, his beautiful grey eyes, were black. Gone were the fire and stars. Black, empty, dead eyes stared at her filled with cold, vengeful death. He was hissing something at her, but she could not understand him. Her vision was becoming blurry and the frantic blows she rained down on his arm did nothing. Desperately she reached around for something, anything to defend herself with. She felt something hanging along the head board, something long and heavy at the end. And with a last determined burst of energy she swung the item at Maedhros as hard as she could, striking him along the face. It did not knock him down, but his head snapped to the side and he seemed to awaken from his stupor. His grip relaxed on her throat and she dropped down on the bed, ragged desperate gasps for breath came from her person. Maedhros looked at his hand next to her throat, the belt in her hand, and felt the welt forming on the side of his face. A horrible awareness came to him. He shrank back against the headboard, the horror of what he had done becoming clear in his mind. Saeran was on all fours on the bed, her head hanging down, still gulping air into her lungs. She wanted to reach to him, to comfort him but found her movement sluggish and when she tried to raise her hand out to him she ended up collapsing on her side. Maedhros let out a little cry at this and reached out and scooped her up into his arms, kissed her face and wept.

~oOo~

"Maitimo what have you done."

Maedhros looked at his brother and said nothing. He knew not what to say. The nightmares that had been gone for so long, the dark spirits that had hunted him in the night, they had found him again. After almost a year of evading them, they tried to take him again and this time, they tried to take her as well. The bruises on her neck, dark and angry, accused him every time he looked at her. When Maglor saw Saeran's neck, the silence he had kept for so long was now over.

"Why?" Maglor asked. "Why would you do this? Create this bond with her?" Maedhros said nothing, only looked away to the floor. "It changes nothing, Maitimo – the oath is still there, it will always be there and now you have tied her to our fate."

"It is not about the oath."

"What then?"

"I do not know."

"Loneliness?"

"Maca-"

"She is second born, she will die."

"Enough."

"You are placing a bandage over a wound that cannot heal."

"Enough Macalaurë."

"She is not Káno."

"ENOUGH!" Maedhros's voice boomed through the hall and silence fell. He looked to the floor unable to face his brother's eyes. "I know she is not, I know but . . . I need this Macalaurë. I need her. Never did I think I would be able to feel this again. Never did I think myself worthy . . ." Maglor watched his brother in silence and waited for him to continue.

"I have only ever done what was expected of me. For our father, for my brothers, for our people, for the Valar, for bloody Eru himself!" Maedhros stopped suddenly and fell back against the wall and looked pleadingly at his brother. "Please," he begged, "just . . . she has filled the emptiness inside me. I would . . . But now . . ." Maedhros dropped his head, the list of failures that was his life playing out again and again in his mind. Maglor looked at his brother, struck by what he saw. He was a boy again, made desperate from his self-perceived failures and their father's disappointment. Maglor walked over to his brother and took his face in his hands. He pulled Maedhros's head back up, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

"But now what," he asked.

"But now I know I am not worthy. I took something I do not deserve."

"Oh Nelyo," he said using the name he had not said since they were children. "Do you love her?"

Maedhros looked at him with such misery that Maglor feared for his brother's sanity.

"Yes," he whispered desolately, "and now I fear I must turn away from her forever."

Quenya

Mára aurë – good morn/happy morn, good morning

Aiya – hail (in greeting)

Titta osellë – little/tiny sister

Hantanyel – thank you

Namárië – fare well/be well