Part 2

About an hour later...

Taking a deep breath, I approached the room. Fingon was standing outside the closed door wringing his hands. His eyes flicked over to me as I came up but they quickly returned to the ground as he began fiddling with his hair. I should have figured Findekáno would be here.

Without thinking I spoke. "Why are you so worried?"

He looked back at me with a measure of reproach. "Your brother," he said bluntly. "Has a piece of metal in his leg."

I studied my boots. Perhaps that had sounded rather harsh.

I said nothing and settled down on the bench beside the door. Tense silence followed, Findekáno obviously straining to hear what was going on behind the door where Nelyo's leg was being operated on.

I wished he would say something, anything just to break the suffocating silence. Then again what would he say after what had happened? 'Thank you for attacking Nelyo and hitting him in a fit of rage. Now we know the exact location of the plate in his leg from the great big bruise you gave him!' Wonderful Telkyo, wonderful!

Findekáno nearly jumped when the door cracked open, the healer's assistant slipping out and softly clicking it shut behind her. Fingon looked longingly at the door but gave his full attention to the young maid in front of him.

"Everything went well," she said in a low voice after a polite inclination of her head. Her brow was furrowed in distress, evidentially from what she had seen. It was very difficult to scar an elven body but Maitimo had many. "It was larger than we anticipated and had to open the skin a bit more than we would have liked but he will be... well."

Fingon nodded seriously, thanking the young healer then glancing over at me when she had disappeared down the corridor. He had guessed why she suddenly seemed skittish.

We walked into the room. A wide smile spread on Fingon's face. Maitimo turned his head to the side and blinked blearily, eyes glazed and his thickened russet curls sprawled over the pillow. The healer in the corner of the room finished washing his hands and brushed shoulders with Fingon before leaving.

"He refused the sleeping draught. Thought you might have wanted to know," he said in a low voice. His troubled eyes gave Maitimo a last glance before he too took leave of the room.

oOo

Nelyo's here! I had known he could not have been gone. I knew nothing could defeat him!

"Telkyo wait!"

Maglor was not even there.

I barged into the tent and was not prepared for what met my eyes.

"He's alive!" said Findekáno in a rush of breath.

Are you sure Findekáno?!

I looked over Maitimo and approached the bedside. Nononono. My hand hovered over the thick woolen covers. This isn't real this is a dream, just a dream...

He was so thin... so pale... But what bothered me most was his hand. Oh his beloved hand that enveloped mine when he taught me the art of swordsmanship, the use of throwing knives, and most importantly archery. The hand that clasped my shoulder on the eve of battle. The hand that represented his strength, glory, power.

It was gone.

The strong scent of blood hung in the air and I tore wild eyes away from Nelyo.

Shaking my head I ran out of the tent, Findekáno calling after me. I was only glad he hadn't been awake to see me run.

oOo

Nelyo's eyes met mine. They were wondering, questioning my presence. They drifted back to Findekáno who had fixed a saddened glare on him that had formed after the healer had revealed that Nelyo refused to be put to sleep. It puzzled me, really. Made me wonder if he was addicted to pain somehow.

Fingon was not straightforward. Not like me. He approached the bedside and sat down. Nelyo's eyes came back to me and stayed there. Doesn't he know it's embarrassing to stare so obviously?!

"How are you feeling Nelyo?" It was a pathetic attempt to break the tension but Fingon had always been one to dislike conflict. He was probably questioning himself whether it was a good idea for me to be in here with Nelyo at all, or at least that is what I perceived from his furtive glances.

"Better." His eyes did not stray from me and I fidgeted uncomfortably. He finally looked away. "Help me up, Findekáno, if you will."

When he was cushioned comfortably, I grimaced. He cannot even sit up himself, I thought with an ache. He did just have an operation, the other side chided.

"You were awake the whole time," I stated. Fingon's eyes snapped to me like I had said something wrong but I paid him no mind. I didn't need him to fence me in like a mother hen. Pain lanced through my heart. I vowed not to think of the word 'mother' anymore.

"Yes. Does that bother you?" Maitimo has his head tilted to the side as his left hand fiddled with the wrapping around his right. I grimaced again and didn't answer for a time.

"I wasn't the one being cut open," I said finally. "If you wish to feel more pain than is necessary, then I suppose that is up to you." My boots seemed very interesting today.

I could feel Fingon's disapproving gaze on me but I continued to ignore him.

"Experience taught me to fear unawareness more than pain," he said by way of explanation.

I suppose it did. I didn't know what to say to that.

Several beats passed and he cocked his head to the side. "Are you going to tell me why you're angry with me, or do you want me to guess?" My head snapped up to him. Straightforward, just like me. I didn't know whether I wanted to hug him or cry, but my expression remained cold and neutral as always.

"I'm not angry with you Nelyo."

"No, no, I suppose you're not," he said seriously. It was really rather strange considering I had just struck him with my blade earlier. The walk I had taken afterwards had helped me clear my mind. There weren't many trees in Dor Daedeloth, but the fresh air had helped filter the rage. At least, it appeared as rage to others. If conflicting emotions were visible, I would have looked like a hailstorm in that moment.

Maitimo's eyes became far away as he bowed his head to study his hands. Well; hand. "You are ashamed of me."

I swallowed thickly, taken aback by the statement and the easy confidence in which he had spoken it. I let my cursed golden hair slide off my shoulders to hide my face, for I was unsure if I could remain neutral much longer.

Fingon listened silently in the corner, eyes downcast and hands clasped neatly in front of him like the perfect child he had always been. He really irked me sometimes. Suddenly I wished he wasn't in the room with us.

Shaking my head, I began to protest. "No, Nelyo. I—"

"Don't lie to me Telkyo!" he yelled suddenly, his hair bouncing around his broad shoulders as his head shot up to glare at me. I was so stunned that I had taken a step back. "I have been living a lie long enough. I will not bare a second more of this."

Fingon began to intervene. "Maitimo, maybe we should continue this later when you're—"

Both me and Nelyo turned a smoldering glare on him and he shrunk back to silence. I knew Nelyo hated being called that, and I hated being controlled, especially by Findekáno, and especially right now.

"Findekáno. Please leave." Maitimo said coldly.

Banishing his hurt expression, Findekáno pushed out of the room.

Maitimo's eyes came back to me. As suddenly as his outburst, the hardness in his eyes melted and they became haunted and sad. I quickly turned away. I could not face him like this. If I looked into his eyes too long I would see much more than I would want to know. He continued to stare beckoning, challenging me to dare and dream what was in his mind.

But then the hailstorm came rushing back. Maitimo was weak. Maitimo was a coward. Maitimo had broken the kingship— the pride of the House of Fëanor. He had broken my respect for him. He let down our father. That angered me beyond anything else. The hailstorm broke loose and nearly so did the floodgates of my eyes.

"Do you even care?" I spat scornfully. "When father died do you think he just expected to be forgotten; his Oath to fade away like it never happened?! Does the honor of our House mean nothing to you? The Maitimo I knew would never let Fëanor down. Wouldn't let our people down. Wouldn't let our family—us—down." Nelyo's eyes glazed over as if he was seeing nothing but I knew he could hear me. "When father died he left his legacy up to you. And you failed him. The moment you gave up that crown—"

"Telkyo." His voice was small and soft and made me freeze in my frenzied tracks. "I cannot lead these people. Have you seen me? Have you really taken a good look?" He spread his arms, gesturing to the hundreds of scars that littered his fair skin under the tunic for emphasis. "Who would want me as their king? Surely not the Noldor. Having me after someone like Fëanor..." The way he said our father's name left a question about Nelyo's true feelings for Fëanor. "Tell me Telkyo, if you cannot even bear me as a brother, how do you think a mighty and noble people such as the Noldor will bear me as a king?"

The question left me reeling. I hadn't—meant— I

I fumbled for a thought but my world had been flipped upside down. I felt the sudden urge to fall to my knees and beg him forgiveness. But I could not deny him. He was right.

He had been studying me grimly, watching my emotions play out like a map in my eyes.

"But t-he Oath..." I stammered, still stunned.

At this Nelyo squeezed his eyes closed and took a shuddering breath. "I do not want to be a monster, Telkyo. Not more than I already am." His eyes remained cast downwards as he traced several scars running up and down and across his arms. When he looked up again his eyes were glimmering with tears. Dark, hulking shapes wreathed in flickering red were reflected in his troubled eyes. They were filled with bone-deep regret. 'I am a murderer', they seemed to say.

I looked down. I felt as if the Oath had somehow atoned for that, but it didn't. The incident at Alqualondë had not left me unaffected; I simply refused to think of it. Fulfilling the Oath; that is what was important.

When he was finally able to compose himself, Nelyo's eyes were filled with a new light. A grim determination of sorts, though it seemed rather haunted.

"You are ashamed of me, Telkyo. Because I hate the Oath. I hate it with every part of me that isn't already reserved for Morgoth himself."

I smashed my fist into the wall, but it wasn't hard enough to break it. How could you Nelyo?! How could you...?! That was it. My breaking point.

"Goodbye Maitimo." I whirled on my heel to leave the room. His gentle tone made me freeze involuntarily, irking me even further.

"Try not to hate me forever Telkyo. Maybe, one day, you will find it in that heart of yours to love me again," stubborn tears threatened to brim and stream down my face. "Just remember this; I will never be the same."

I ran out of the room. I wanted to run and and run far, far away. I wanted to disappear forever. I wanted this encounter to be just one great, terrible nightmare—

I skidded to a stop in front of Fingon's stern face, his arms crossed and having no intention of letting me pass. I yanked on the reins of my temper to keep it in check, but it still fought for total control. He had obviously listened in on our conversation.

Fingon began to speak.

"Have you ever stopped to think? To maybe try and understand that he has a reason for all that? Have you ever stopped to consider...? He's not invincible Telkyo. Everyone has their limits. Can you not just be happy he managed to remain sane? Can you not rejoice in the fact your beloved brother is still yet alive? Have you ever thought of simply loving him for being your brother?"

I simply pushed past him and ran, hot tears beginning to fall rapidly. He's not coming back...

oOoOoOo

I hope y'all enjoyed my attempt to get into Celegorm's head. :P Feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading :)

If y'all enjoyed this, I suggest maybe taking a look at my two other stories that are shorter but rather similar to this one. "Complete" is a peek at Maedhros' perspective, and "You Live, But Are You Alive?" is in the perspective of an angsty Maglor. :) Thanks again!