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Rated for wounds.

Telkyo/Celegorm POV

Stale Revere

Dor Daedeloth— assuming a fortress was built there after Fingolfin's inspection of Angband— the spring after Maedhros's rescue...

I looked over across the rolling landscape below. Up here on the battlements the wild wind whipped through my hair. Vibrant greens and towering trees stood in solemn vigil about the clearing, and I deeply inhaled the fresh scent of pending rain. It was a perfect day, yet I found no joy in it like I usually did.

The clash of steel sounded in the courtyard below. Arms folded and disposition bitter, I turned to watch my brother spar with Fingon for the second time since he was able to walk around. He still limped rather heavily and could barely move his right arm without crying out in pain, but he was at least strong enough to wield a light sword.

I corrected myself. He never cried out in pain. Not my big brother. Not ever.

Scoffing, I flipped my hair out of my eyes and watched the two figures on the courtyard below. At least the old Nelyo wouldn't have cried out. The old Nelyo was strong, stronger than anyone I ever knew. He was courageous, a leader, undefeated. I looked down to the scrawny, hunched, and limping form of Nelyo now as he successfully—albeit weakly— parried away a simple thrust from Fingon. Fingon smiled broadly and gently patted his shoulder, obviously trying to pretend he didn't see Nelyo's shudder.

I hated it when he did that. Each time something flashed in his eyes. Something dark that reminded me of what had happened. What had reduced him to yelling from pain.

"Ai, gently, gently now," murmured Makalaurë to himself.

I stared at Maitimo's disfigured arm. This was not right this was all one horrible nightmare, he was still in there—

He screamed through gritted teeth. His eyes flashed with a something dark. A memory I'm guessing.

Makalaurë winced as he tried to be more careful in removing the bloody bandages from his mutilated arm.

This was wrong. So, so wrong. Maitimo never screamed. Not when he had snapped a leg after falling from the mountain trail we had been hunting on, not when he had been stabbed through the gut and still managed to kill off the rest of the orcish ambush party.

I knew he could take the pain. I had seen him through worse. Yet he still chose to yell.

"Why do you do that?" I asked, appalled. "You are no longer... there."

He looked at me with those deep grey eyes. Changed.

"Would you deny me a small comfort?"

I had been chilled to the very core. He willingly chose... I could not understand it. His pride was utterly dead.

This wasn't the Nelyo I knew. The big brother I always looked up to, imitated, followed. The big brother I dreamt of living up to one day. The Maitimo I knew could hold his own in an onslaught of evil beasts and defy the mightiest with one hand. Now all he had left was one hand.

This new Maitimo... I did not like him at all. Where was my big brother? My idol, my commander, my strength, my mentor? What have you done to him Morgoth? Where did you put him and how can I get him back? But it was vain. I knew he was gone forever. My heart wept. I needed him. Needed him to show me once again that it is possible; fulfilling our father's great destiny.

Maitimo was no longer someone to be looked up to. Not this Maitimo who struggled to hold a decent defense while he had previously been able to terrify legions with his skill and precision. Not this Maitimo who screamed through the night, or jerked at any sudden movement. Who trembled when the lights were put out, who— who gave up the kingship of his own people.

Anger washed through me at the very thought. I didn't mind so much Maitimo's disabilities; wounds would heal. But now Maitimo was changed. He was— I struggled for the correct word but did not find it—just different. Different in the way of character. He lacks his confidence, I thought bitterly as I scowled at the stupid sheepish smile on Nelyo's face at Fingon's praise.

I tried to understand him. I really did. I thought he knew everything. Now he really does, I thought darkly as Nelyo stumbled over his limp under a stronger swing from Fingon.

But to give up kingship? The very pride of the House of Fëanor? I was appalled to say the least; furious to describe it better. I had talked to Makalaurë. He had simply shaken his head with an irritating half smile. 'Temper, temper, Telkyo. And I thought Caranthir was the worst. Do not worry. Nelyo knows what's best.'

Coward is all I could think. Nelyo was a coward. I could not be proud of the fact that he had not given in to Morgoth. That he did not become a thrall like the Vala had wanted. That was expected. Nelyo was strong. He could overcome anything. Or so I had thought.

Morgoth had reduced my brother to several things. A handicap? Yes, the endurance of the body could not be helped. But a coward? Never never never. Not in my darkest dreams. But here it was before my very eyes. No crown graced his russet head. I could no longer find his pride either. So I lost mine in him. He had lost it at the very moment he had bowed to Uncle Nolofinwë and pledged the people to him. My chest burned at the very thought and I angrily bared my teeth.

Nelyo collapsed under another one of Fingon's strikes. Fingon quickly rushed over and helped him up carefully, like one wrong jostle would shatter him entirely.

I shook my head vigorously and pulled at my hair. No no no no this was all wrong! Nelyo was strong he could fight! He— he—

He is not the same, interrupted a dark voice.

I glared back down at the weakling on the courtyard below. I had a very sudden and violent urge to test him.

This is all a dream. He can fight he has not broken he is better he is—

I stormed down the battlement stairs. The real Maitimo was hiding in there somewhere I knew— I wanted— I needed to see. He was my confidence. I do not know what how I would live without it. If he could not do this, Maitimo, the unbreakable, how more so could I? I feared failing my father beyond anything else.

I confronted him, blade bared. "Fight me."

Fingon's protest was cut off by Neylo's slow nod as he lifted the sword.

He began to circle me warily. My heart sank. The usual spark of mischief was gone. There was no longer the proud tilt to his head that scoffed at my dreams of one day being able to live up to him. He didn't handle the blade as if he had already won; everything I loved.

He administered that shy smile and I struck first, lashing out in just the way he had taught me, way back; in a different world. I pivoted gracefully and brought the blade back around after he parried the first. I could almost feel his hand covering mine that was closed about the hilt of a sword. His hot breath on my neck as he murmured advice and his graceful movements as he demonstrated a technique flawlessly.

Faster and faster I struck. Come on Maitimo, I know your in there, come out, come out!

He backpedaled, throwing up his sword to keep himself intact. I slashed to the right, then the left, right left right left right—Come out Maitimo!

"Telkyo! Telkyo stop!"

His eyes were wide with panic now. Fingon's frenzied shouts were lost on deaf ears. My heart beat faster. It could not be true, Maitimo was not gone— Tears collected in my eyes.

I pivoted sharply on my heel and smashed the flat of my blade on his thigh, right above the knee in a move he had long ago used on me to win a match. The blade made a disturbingly odd sound as it bounced violently off his leg, the impact tearing the weapon out of my hand. He collapsed with a cry from Fingon.

Nononono. Perspiration drenched my forehead. I have never won like that. He is gone he is g—

Nelyo cut through his breeches around the area I had hit him. A dark purple blotch had already marked the skin, except the spot was unusually... geometrical.

Nelyo looked up at me, teeth bared in a grotesque grin. The shimmer of triumphant mischief suddenly appeared but it was dark and made me shiver. Suddenly the shy smile appealed to me more to this. It was then I realized, he hadn't cried out. The flash of memory didn't make him shudder.

"Findekano would you be so kind to fetch the healer? It seems Telkyo has found a piece of metal in my leg that we had overlooked and I would like to have it out immediately."

His eyes were trained on mine. The grey depths were harsh and swam with chaos but concealed a cleverness that could just as easily be classified as madness. I was thoroughly disturbed, but could not tear my eyes away from his. They bored inside me and perceived what I could not say.

He finally looked down and gently prodded the nearly black bruise on his thigh. I felt a strong compulsion to say something, but didn't. When he finally looked up, he spoke:

"Forgive me, Telkyo," he said simply. "You must wait for his return. He may be broken but I will not let him die. Do not give up on me just yet."

He rose to his feet and limped away.

I swallowed thickly and raked a hand through my hair. I knew who 'he' was. 'He' was the old Nelyo.

'He may be broken but I will not let him die.'

'Do not give up on me just yet.'

I turned and ran. Come back...

oOoOoOo

Hear me out. Celegorm is not cruel or insane. He simply really looked up to Nelyo and to see him so weak really terrified him.

Thanks for RandR! It is much appreciated.