Chapter XIX

The squirrel kept glancing unsurely, but finally curiosity and the willingness to get a nut were stronger than the fear of the elf. It sniffled Amras's patiently outstretched fingers and grabbed the food. The squirrel ran up the branch that was too thin to hold an elf and started eating, glancing from time to time at the motionless figure.

Amras sighed, watching the squirrel gnawing on the nut. He took the opportunity of the moment of silence in the woods, aware that he too was running away. His elder brothers showed their discontent in various ways, making the atmosphere impossible to bear. Maedhros was moody and irritated, also with his youngest brother, even though, or perhaps because Amras was the only one keeping him company. The suggestion was plain enough for the youngest to grasp it and disappear for some time.

At the sound of the hooves on the path Amras moved and the squirrel ran up the branch, frightened. Finally...

"Do you have an answer from uncle?" The redhead jumped in front of Maglor. Close, but not enough for his brother to reach him with his sword if he reacted nervously. He was right, because Maglor drew his sword first, then rolled his eyes on such behaviour.

"No, I didn't wait for it. Findekano will bring it," he replied without hiding his distaste.

"You took your time," said the youngest of the brothers with reproach. He whistled on his horse and Rimpalote came from between the trees, but before Amras mounted, Maglor jumped off his saddle, visibly intending to talk before going back home.

"I was not aware I was supposed to hurry," he retorted. "I was not aware I need to explain myself when I go hunting," he pointed at two pheasants by his saddle.

"And I thought you at least would not run away," attacked Amras. Maglor's passive distaste unnerved him more than Curufin slamming everything around. It would be better if Maglor spat out what bothered him. "At least you... but no, run away from home, all of you, Maitimo will not even notice," he snorted.

"Who's running away?" Maglor creased his eyebrows. There was a silent reminder hanging in the air that Amras was usually the one running away to calm down, too far for his brothers to be at ease.

"Tyelko has taken Huan before dawn and disappeared. Curvo must have slept in the forge, if he slept at all. I have no idea where Moryo is, but he's clearly not with you," listed Amras. "I thought you'd be back by noon. Or that you will have an answer at least."

"They will give us one in due time." Maglor laughed mirthlessly and looked at his youngest brother with bitterness. "Or was I supposed to wait to hear "I told you" from Turukano? And as we are speaking about running away, why are you not at home?"

"Maitimo has gone to Alcarino," Amras darkened. "He said he's not coming back till evening. And he wished not to accompany him." He still felt as if Maedhros had pushed him away when they were alone at home, aside from Celebrimbor who too had ran away to the lake, as Curufin had shut himself in the forge.

"So let him enjoy his freedom," snorted Maglor impatiently.

"You don't think so." Amras crossed his arms on his chest and stood on his brother's way as Maglor wanted to walk down the path. "I know you don't... Or no, I do not know. Your mouth seems to say one thing, your heart the other."

"Because my heart sees Maitimo as a king!" retorted the elder of the brothers. For a moment he looked as if he wanted to say or shout something, but he just growled. "I will not explain myself to you."

"You don't need to, to me," Amras shrugged. "But talk to Maitimo what burdens your heart. You did agree with him," he reminded Maglor and stepped away. He jumped on his saddle and rode towards the camp without looking back.

xxx

Fingolfin didn't make them wait long. Fingon came to his cousins after three days. He would have gone earlier, but his father did not want to reply in a hurry, suspecting that his promptness and lack of reflection would repulse the sons of Feanor. 'Repulse them more', Fingon thought mirthlessly as he dismounted and crossed his eyes with Curufin standing on the doorstep of his workshop. The smith nodded his greetings from afar and disappeared in the forge. He slammed the door so hard Fingon feared they would fall from the frame.

Celegorm went out of the stable, Amras followed. While the hunter showed similar distance to Curufin and carried on his tasks, the youngest son of Feanor came to greet him.

"Maitimo is waiting for you, come," he stated and led his guest to the dining room, as if he didn't know the way. Fingon was a bit surprised by this change, as he walked freely around the house the last time he was here, but Amras visibly felt obliged to accompany him.

Maedhros was sitting by the table, leaning over maps. At the sound of the doors opening he raised his head and looked at the newcomer intently.

"Ask the rest," he ordered shortly. Amras just nodded and left them.

Fingon took a closer look on his friend. Maedhros seemed distant, different, but more focused than depressed and Fingon sighed in relief. After Maglor's letter he expected many things and his sick cousin's breakdown was first on his list. 'No, no longer sick,' he corrected himself, because Maedhros, though still terribly thin and gaunt, was no longer the elf he had had to convince to leave his bed.

Maglor's arrival dragged him back from his thoughts. The singer greeted him with distance and went through the room. He stood aside, away from Maedhros, with his arms tightly crossed on his chest. His whole demeanour emanated with reluctance, as if he was forced to come here. Maglor was not capable of standing motionless, his fingers drumming quick tact against his shoulder; his robe rustled softly under his fingertips.

"What about Curufinwe and Tyelkormo?" Asked Maedhros as Amras came back to the dining room.

"They won't come," replied the younger redhead and he sat by the edge of the table, moving the maps as not to wrinkle the edges. "Tyelko saddled the horses and went with Curvo to see how the crops are going," he quoted, mimicking Celegorm's impatient tone.

"Very well," said Maedhros and looked expectantly at their guest. "So?"

"My father is willing to accept your offer," replied Fingon shortly.

Maglor snorted and shook his head in disbelief.

"Forgive me, cousin," he apologised, though his tone suggested otherwise. "That was rather obvious. The question is, how and when."

Maedhros sighed unnoticeably, but Fingon decided not to go deeper in the conflicts between the sons of Feanor.

"What are your conditions?" he asked instead, looking from one cousin to another. "What do you demand in return, Nelyafinwe?"

"Alliance." Replied Maedhros without hesitation. 'We have an enemy and a war to win."

"That's for sure," nodded Fingon, trying to see through his friend. "This is our war. But..." he hesitated, glanced at Maglor still standing away with his arms crossed. "I have to admit you surprised my father. We expected everything but this when you came, Kanafinwe. I came..."

"To make sure this is not some kind of mockery?" Maglor finished for him. He went to the table and poured the wine. He gave one goblet to Maedhros, the other to his cousin.

Fingon thanked him and took a sip, trying to understand Maglor. Maedhros was calm and self‑assured, but his younger brother was a mystery. He treated him like a stranger, not his cousin he had renewed contacts with. Sharp words and mockery he did not try to hide contradicted the minor gestures of hospitality. This only confirmed his father's suspicions that there were conflicts between the sons of Feanor. The question was, how much those inner problems would shadow their politics.

"Would you like to have a walk?" suggested Fingon, but Maedhros dismissed his suggestion to talk in private.

"We will talk in here," he said firmly. "All of us, if you wish to stay," he said to his brothers, though he was looking only at Maglor; Amras did not interrupt, just watched them.

"And the rest? Shall I wait for them as well?"

"No. They knew I would be waiting for an answer. If they prefer to hear it from me, that's their decision." Maedhros shrugged. "My brothers will not oppose my decisions," he stated powerfully and Fingon winced. So much for diplomacy.

"But they are not glad," he commented, deciding that boldness would be a better option. "Though it was you who wrote the letter, wasn't it, Kano?"

"He wrote what I told him to," replied Maedhros instead of Maglor, who seemed unable to answer. "All of my brothers were present, so they know what Nolofinwe got."

Nolofinwe. Said casually, without hesitation. This too told Fingon a lot; as much as Maedhros wished to have peace between the two encampments, some things were not going to be accepted. Fingolfin's changed name was one of them, because Fingon was not foolish enough to think that his friend had not heard the name Fingolfin had taken after Finwe's death. Fingon said nothing; Maedhros too was his father's son, even if he was more careful.

"Tell me, how am I supposed to be glad?" asked Maglor suddenly. "I think we can be honest, Findekano." He came closer and stood before his cousin. "How can I be sure that your father will not want more? That he will not make Maitimo kneel?"

Fingon froze, surprised, and even Maedhros seemed not to have expected such boldness from his brother, but he recovered first.

"It is not about our uncle, it's about the Noldor," he reminded Maglor. "And if Nolofinwe's host want to see the son of Feanaro on his knees to accept our remorse, they will get him," he shrugged.

"Nelyo!" exclaimed Amras, reminding them he was still there, shaken by his brother's indifference.

"I have knelt before the Enemy so many times that one more will not make a difference," explained Maedhros in an emotionless voice, but he must have realised how his words might have sounded, for he corrected himself. "Especially if this time it will be an ally, not enemy."

"Nelyo, no one will dare to expect this from you," said Maglor carefully, just like Amras shaken by his brother's reaction.

"I know," Maedhros interrupted him. "Then I will do it freely, just this once. No, don't think I have ever knelt willingly before Moringotto," he snorted grimly and Amras at his side shivered with disgust. "But it's not like you have any choice when the Enemy makes you."

Silence fell, as neither the sons of Feanor nor Fingon knew how to react. Maedhros exhaled deeply and continued more calmly.

"You will tell uncle, Findekano, that I will come and give up the crown in full ceremony as soon as I'm strong enough to do so," he claimed before Maglor had a chance to interrupt. "Don't look at me like that, Kano, I will not be harmed," he said softly to his brother. "This is not Nolofinwe we need to convince to work with us," he repeated. "And we do not need just Nolofinwe."

"Very well, Nelyo." Maglor humbled and nodded in agreement. "But you are telling this Curufinwe once he's back," he added mockingly, but he relaxed a bit and sat by the table, showing his cousin a place next to him.

"What drove you, Maitimo?" asked Fingon more freely, because the atmosphere was no longer so thick.

"Aside from the obvious reason? I have a couple more," replied Maedhros and explained what he had learned from his Noldor. Fingon found accurate the argument about the families divided by the lake and Feanor's deeds; in their settlement too there were elves missing their relatives and willing to reunite with the rest.

"And we need to start with our family, right," Fingon summed up when his friend finished. "I think there is one more thing that may give you some favour, as an ally if not as a king," he suggested.

"Yes?"

"Kano said that the burning of the ships was your father's idea." Fingon chose his words carefully, aware that he had to watch himself. Defaming Feanor in front of his sons was not the best idea. "He said you did not partake, that you opposed Feanaro," he glanced at his cousin, waiting for confirmation.

"Those who followed father then, died soon after along him," Maedhros nodded grimly. "And Kano spoke truth, I was not present in the camp. I don't know if I would have achieved anything, even if I had come back in time. But perhaps I would have been able to check where Ambarussa were..." he admitted quietly.

Amras closed his eyes and clenched his fingers on the edge of the table. He leaned his head, letting his hair hide his face.

"That too is something I can mention," suggested Fingon delicately. "That you had losses too."

"You may," agreed Maedhros, then leaned and touched his youngest brother's cheek; Amras jerked. "Forgive us for drawing this up, Ambarussa, but Findekano is right."

"I asked you," hissed Amras, escaping his brother's hand. "I asked you, Nelyo, no to call me like that. This was not only my name. Can you respect it?"

"Why?" retorted Maedhros instantly, staring at his brother. "Why should I not use the name our mother gave both of you, when you yourself are using the name of your dead twin, Pityo?"

Amras froze, still leaning back, and Fingon wished he was far away; he was not supposed to witness this.

"You knew?" asked the youngest son of Feanor, glancing with his empty eyes from one brother to the other. "Kano?"

"Of course."

"From the very beginning," confirmed Maedhros. "If you wished so, we let you, but then... I don't know what happened, but I see no one brought this matter..."

"We did not talk about in," admitted Maglor. "We got used... That is thy I told you that Pityo died," he said to Fingon. "There was no right place for explanations."

"You will have to decide." Maedhros spoke softly. "Or you may not be able to change it later. You cannot use both names. You have to decide what Findekano is going to tell in his camp," he urged his brother.

"I know..." Amras exhaled deeply, his eyes glued to the table. "Telvo..." he said barely audibly.

"Ambarussa..."

"Telvo died on the ship." The youngest son of Feanor repeated louder and raised his head. "Ambarussa too, Maitimo," he stressed. "Do not call me that. Just Amras. Or... Pityo..." he added hesitantly, as if the name sounded unfamiliar.

"Very well." Maedhros nodded and Fingon decided it was the time to stop examining maps he had been studying during their conversation. "It was an accident, Findekano. None of us intended this, our father too. He would never, ever do such a thing on purpose," he stressed and there was a hint of warning in his grey eyes. 'Accuse Feanor and I will not be able to rein my brothers.'

"Of course. We will talk, we will pass those news to our elves," nodded Fingon. "I will ask Findarato for help, though I doubt there will be any difficulties. News travel fast," he smiled.

"Especially gossip," Maglor snorted more cheerily. "We too will have to announce your plans, Maitimo."

"In a few days," confirmed Maedhros. "But it will take some time till I come. It is quite a distance," he pointed at the lake on the map.

"Over a dozen of miles. By the way, those maps are fantastic," said Fingon with admiration, running his fingers on the paper. "Turukano would give a lot to have such."

"This is Amras's work," Maedhros praised his brother with a hint of pride. "We still miss some terrains over the mountains, but the area nearby is well known."

"Tell Turukano he may come and copy them if he wishes," offered Amras, content with his cousin's praise. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, but then he went serious and turned towards his brother. "Do you need anything from me?" he asked boldly.

"I told you I will not force any of you to accompany us," replied Maedhros impatiently. "If you don't wish to stay, you don't need to."

"If Moryo comes, I will send him to you," said Amras and rose from the table.

Fingon followed him to the doors with his gaze and he could not shake off the feeling that Maedhros had pushed him too much with the matter of his name and that the youngest son of Feanor needed some time alone. Soon though Maedhros turned his attention to important matters they needed to go through and Fingon forgot about Amras.

Deciding which of the twins died and which survived was a bit confusing when I've been reading HoME, so I decided to play a it with this.