Merry Christmas to everyone!
Chapter XX
Fingon didn't stay long and when he left, Maglor stayed with Maedhros and he seemed at ease. Seeing that the singer took his harp and didn't look like he was going to run away, Amras decided he could leave the camp without feeling guilty. He intended to ride to the nearby fields to find his brothers and convince them to stop being childish and come back home. But as soon as he took Rimpalote from the stable, he knew he had to change his plans.
Caranthir rode quickly on the yard; his horse was tired. He was leaning forward, his usually flushed face was pale, almost grey.
"Moryo!" Amras left his own horse, as soon as he noticed an arrow in his brother's arm, and got to him in a few long steps.
"We have company," hissed Caranthir through gritted teeth and accepted help to dismount. "Ouch!" He hissed and clutched his arm, for he moved it too much.
"You'll tell me later. Come." Amras placed his arm around his brother and led him home, careful not to touch the wound. "Tyelpe, fetch Alcarino!" He called to his nephew standing on the doorstep of the forge. The boy just nodded and ran to the healer; someone else took care of the horses left on the yard.
Caranthir went a bit unsteadily to the kitchen and sat heavily on a bench. Amras glanced to see if he wasn't about to fall, then worked by the kitchen to make a fire.
"How far have you ridden?" he asked, giving his brother some wine. "Are you wounded elsewhere, or is it just your arm?"
The wounded shook his head and emptied his goblet with a few sips, then pressed it to his forehead.
"Three hours at least, perhaps a bit longer," he replied tiredly. "They surprised me at the hills, we'll need to send a patrol to check that place." Then he raised his head and growled irritated. "Could. You. Take. It. Out?"
"I'd rather not. Alcarino will be here in a moment, he will know how to do that delicately," the redhead backed off. He did not want to move the arrow, as it was stuck enough that Caranthir had not removed it himself. "Just hold on a moment longer."
"You know how. For goodness sake, you are a hunter!"
"A dead animal doesn't mind how I pluck out the arrow, unless I need its fur," retorted the youngest son of Feanor, silently glad that Caranthir was up to arguing with him; it wasn't so bad after all.
Alcarino came with Celebrimbor at his heels, who ran away from the kitchen as soon as he made sure he was no longer needed. He bumped on Maglor in the doors, who came in abruptly.
"What's going on, Alcarino? Mai... Moryo!"
"Yes, I am glad to see you too," growled Caranthir. "Now, can one of you remove that thing?" he repeated, offended.
"In a moment, Morifinwe," replied the healer calmly, placing his tools on the table. "Believe me, you don't want me to take it out just like that."
"You are not going to drug me!" hissed Caranthir. "No way!"
"As you wish." Alcarino just shrugged and tossed a small box to Amras. "Brew it."
In the meantime, Maglor leaned over his brother and looked him in the eyes, then touched his forehead. Caranthir glared at him grimly, as if he wished to chew off his fingers, but he accepted his help to undress. The singer looked like he wasn't sure if he should be worried or irritated; he said nothing.
"Drink it," ordered Alcarino and handed a mug to the wounded. "It's just some soothing herbs."
Caranthir glanced at the long tools Alcarino prepared and he paled, then looked longingly at Amras, as if he still wanted his brother to remove the arrow.
"You will help me, Telvo," said Alcarino, having seen Caranthir's gaze. "You'll hold your brother."
"I do not need to be held!" objected the wounded, but he was still glancing unsurely at the tools Alcarino was about to use to remove the hooked arrow head.
"It's Pityo, Alcarino," Amras corrected the healer with his eyes on the floor.
"Finally," sighed Alcarino quietly and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Hold him, please."
The remark of the youngest son of Feanor worked better than any earlier attempts to silence the wounded. Caranthir quieted, surprised what had happened during his absence. Maglor seemed ready to scold his brother for recklessness, but the healer stopped it by asking him to help as well.
xxx
"What is this commotion?" asked Maedhros, when Maglor passed him hurriedly in the doors, carrying a fresh shirt tossed over his shoulder. He stopped at the doorstep and examined the kitchen with his keen eyes. "Moryo? What happened?" He noticed at once his brother's grim expression and his thickly bandaged arm.
"He got an orc arrow," explained Maglor, helping the wounded to dress.
Maedhros tensed and bit his lip in anger.
"Show me," he demanded, walking slowly towards the bench Caranthir was sitting on.
"Alcarino has already taken care of it," remarked Maglor, surprised, but his elder brother just rolled his eyes in irritation.
"Show me the arrow." Maedhros took the broken arrow from the table and examined closely the end. Finally he nodded, content, and sat next to his brother, tossing the arrow back. "Alright, it seems not be poisoned."
"How can you know that?" Caranthir showed some interest and reached subconsciously with his wounded hand take a closer look on the arrow head. He moaned and muffled a curse.
The eldest son of Feanor took the remains of the arrow and explained the differences in arrow heads. Maglor leaned over his brothers to see it too; in the meantime, Amras brought the almost complete map of the nearest terrains.
Caranthir, who was a co-author of the maps and explored the lands together with Amras, barely glanced at the sheet.
"Here," he pointed the right place with his knife. "Those creatures must be getting more familiar with the sun, if they have come so close."
"There were many caves in there. "Amras pointed out. "Enough spacious to hid quite a big party during the day."
"Oh, do you remember that canyon where we met a young fox once?" asked Caranthir; Amras nodded. "The passage is hard there, the ground must have slid, so you need to watch for the hooves. Though now I think of it, I wonder if those rocks slid, or if someone helped them."
"We'll check it," said Maglor shortly. "Would you lead the way, Amras? Go get ready."
"You are going too?" Maedhros sounded surprised.
"Mmm." Maglor nodded absent-mindedly, grabbing a piece of cake. "I need to take a look and I don't know those hills too well. Would you send a word to Tyelko? Wonderful. Don't expect us to come back today, Maitimo." He busied himself around the table and took two canteens. Only at the doors did he turn to his brothers. "Are you going to be alright? If something's wrong, Moryo, go to Alcarino."
"Kano," said Maedhros warningly, seeing that Caranthir was about to explode. "We'll be fine. You'd better watch over Amras," he added with a hint of amusement.
"Always." Maglor laughed softly and left.
"You are a considerably less irritating brother," Caranthir summed up once they were left alone. Only now did he lean against the wall and stared grimly at the table.
"That's nice to hear," Maedhros snorted, but then he took a closer look on his brother and noticed visible signs of discomfort. "But jokes aside, how is your arm?"
"What do you think?" growled Caranthir irritated and clutched his arm tighter as not to move it. "It hurts," he complained a bit childishly.
"I know."
"I thought it would be better once Alcarino removed the arrow," admitted the younger of the brothers; now that they were alone, he seemed more grim. "Perhaps it was better to leave it there..."
"You know it was not," remarked Maedhros sensibly. "Can you move your fingers? Are they not getting numb?"
"I can." Caranthir moved his fingers ostensibly. "And nothing is numb," he winced.
The eldest son of Feanor fought an urge to move closer and put an arm around his brother. Unlike Maglor or the twins, Caranthir was never much into displaying fondness, and he had already endured enough fussing. As for Maedhros, who recently tended to dismiss any questions about his wellbeing, a situation when the roles reversed was almost strange. But it seemed his brother didn't mind.
"That's good, you probably managed o avoid being poisoned." Maedhros smiled encouragingly to his brother. "Is it the first time you got shot?"
"Yeah... After we lost you, Makalaure was overprotective. He especially tried to keep Amras out of any danger, probably worrying that he might have done something stupid, and he asked me to watch him. You know how Tyelko and Curvo always watch each other's back.
"And who watched over Makalaure?"
"What do you think?" Caranthir glanced at his brother. "We all did, in our own ways. But it was Amras who scared us all. He was one of the elves on which Alcarino learned how to deal with the Enemy's poisons."
"Oh?"
"He told us nothing until he got sick. Fortunately it was nothing serious, but he was pale, sick and furious for the next few days." The wounded shrugged and hissed. "Ouh!"
"Come, I think I may have something for that arm," suggested Maedhros and he rose, pushing himself up before Caranthir managed to offer him help. He went slowly to his room, certain his brother would follow.
He could prepare Alcarino's medicaments with his eyes closed, and he learned the ingredients by heart. He put some soothing mixture, but after glancing at grim Caranthir he added some sleeping draught.
"This is yours, I guess," Maedhros smiled and took from the wardrobe the red sash Caranthir had once left him.
"Mmm."
Together they managed to make a sling from the sash and Maedhros sent his brother back to the kitchen to get some boiling water, and he sat in his armchair. Caranthir came back soon with the hot mug. He smelled the contents and winced with disgust.
"Enjoy," muttered Maedhros. "Come here, sit on the bed," he offered, seeing that his brother was heading towards the table.
Caranthir glanced gloomily at him, but he sat obediently on the bed.
"This is your revenge for giving you this disgusting thing," he said grimly and took a sip.
"This disgusting thing works quite well," replied Maedhros calmly. "Drink."
His brother snorted, but he obediently emptied the mug and ostensibly showed Maedhros the bottom. He put it away on the drawer and clutched his arm.
"You'd better lie down," suggested the eldest son of Feanor, watching his brother as he was trying to find a more comfortable position. "Come on."
"What for? I don't want to sleep."
"You will, soon." Maedhros smiled. "Remove your shoes and lie down, or I will have to do it later once you've fallen asleep."
"You put something in there!" realised Caranthir. "Nelyo! You were supposed to be less irritating!"
"I could have asked Alcarino to come here and prepare something for you, but if he didn't give you anything, he must have assumed we could manage." Maedhros shrugged. "Lie down."
"Oh, you awful, devious..." muttered Caranthir, but he leaned forward to remove his shoes with some effort, still murmuring curses. His movements were getting softer and softer, but despite Maedhros's fears he did not fall from the bed. He leaned against the pillows as soon as he sat up again.
"This damn thing is strong... What did you give me?"
"No worries, you won't get a hangover from that," promised Maedhros, watching with amusement as his younger brother was trying to fight the sleepiness.
"Kano's going to murder me..." muttered Caranthir.
"Shhhh, no one is going to murder anyone," his elder brother hushed him. "Sleep. If I need anything, I will ask Tyelpe," he promised. He didn't mention the fact that to get anything from his nephew, he would have to go to the forge. Celebrimbor was using the opportunity of having all the workshop just for himself during his father's absence and Maedhros was not going to spoil his fun unless it was necessary.
Caranthir fell asleep a moment later. The eldest son of Feanor sat more comfortably in his armchair and took from the table sheets of paper tightly covered with Maglor's handwriting. The brothers had decided some time ago that learning the language of Middle-Earth elves was a good idea to pass the time, and Maedhros had eagerly taken this opportunity; it seemed right to learn the language properly, with correct spelling and accent. Right now too he focused on the foreign words, paying attention how the Noldor adapted his father's signs to the language of Moriquendi. He glanced from at his brother time to time, checking if no redness appeared on his cheeks, suggesting that something was amiss.
The nervous atmosphere of the last few days and the conversation with Fingon had worn Maedhros more that he thought. He must have fallen asleep in the armchair, for he woke at the sound of the doors being opened. He raised his head vigilantly and checked if his brother was still sleeping.
"It's just me" said Alcarino, as he quietly came in. "I just wanted to check if everything is alright, but I see it is."
Maedhros nodded uncertainly and glanced at Caranthir guiltily. He was supposed to watch over him and yet he had fallen asleep while reading. His younger brother was sleeping soundly and did not move even when the healer touched his forehead and checked the blood circulation in the wounded arm.
"I gave him what you were giving me for sleep," said Maedhros. "It worked momentarily. Too quickly," he admitted anxiously.
"A smaller dose would have been enough for Morifinwe," explained Alcarino. "I increased dosage for you, because it wasn't working. But it's alright, nothing will happen even if he sleeps till morning," he reassured Maedhros.
Alcarino must have realised that they were alone, because he brought Maedhros some dinner before leaving. He wanted to go to Celebrimbor, but the eldest son of Feanor stopped him; there was no need.
Maedhros was alone. Dusk fell outside and only one crystal lamp was shining in the room. Feanor's firstborn kept watching his brother, until he could not resist the urge and he sat on the bed to check if everything was alright. Caranthir was sleeping peacefully; he was safe. Maedhros was suddenly struck by realization how easily his younger brother could not be home, safe. His heart froze at the thought that the orcs could not only have wounded Caranthir, but also captured him, hurt and defenceless, and, having realised who they had caught, could have dragged him to the darkness of Angband.
The room seemed cold. Maedhros glanced at the open window and understood why his brothers tended to shut the curtains closely. He too had the need to protect his wounded, sleeping brother, even if they were in the middle of the settlement, surrounded by hundreds of Noldor. Suddenly he felt helpless and lonely. If only one of his brothers was home...
They did not come back. Maedhros realised that the day was long gone and neither Celegorm and Curufin nor Maglor and Amras returned. He thought that perhaps the attack on Caranthir was a deliberate action to lure the sons of Feanor out of their camp. That would explain why the orcs did not chase the elf to kill him or play with him in a cruel way. If Maglor fell into a trap...
Maedhros sat a moment longer by his brother, but anxiety would not let him rest. Torn between the duty to watch the wounded and the urge to act, finally he straightened the blanket covering Caranthir and left to look for his nephew.