The blood of Luthien
Maglor may die.
The truth is cruel and simple and this is all that Maedhros can focus on as he watches his brother's chest rise and fall in shallow breaths. There is little more he can do. There is no one he could pray to, for those who could plead mercy from the Valar are already dead and the words of Namo stand true. No one would hear him anyway. So he sits and wills his brother to live.
At some point Elros and Elrond slip into the tent and something in the way they try to sneak makes Maedhros turn towards them with a knife in his hand. He sees fear in their eyes, but there is no place for compassion in his burdened heart. They are the reason his brother is lying lifeless. Had they not tired to escape, had Maglor not gone to search for them, had the attack not happened while they were dispersed...
"If he dies..." the rest remains unspoken, because there is no need and because Maedhros is too tired to spit it out loud.
The children flee.
Maedhros keeps his watch.
But come morning nothing changes. Maglor does not wake and neither does he die. He lies lifeless and if not for the fresh blood soaking through the bandages here and there, he could be taken for dead. Maedhros keeps his watch, because suddenly his whole world diminished to this one elf, his only remaining kin on these shores. His people understand and they carry on with their duties. It's not like they can leave anyway, not with so grievously wounded among them. One way or the other, it's all about waiting.
The tent entrance flips again.
"Why are you here?" Maedhros wants to growl at the children, but he does not need their hysteria, so what comes out from his throat is but a hoarse whisper. "I don't want you anywhere near my brother."
"We don't want him dead," one of the boys declares. Maedhros doesn't bother looking up to see which one.
"It would make us as bad as you." The other adds.
Silence answers them. There is nothing Maedhros wishes to say. But this time, the twins don't leave.
"Can we help?"
No, Maedhros thinks. There is nothing the children can do. What Maglor needs is a healer. A healer who is perhaps too far away to reach them in time, though has Maedhros sent for him. They can only wait and hope. But... "Can you sing?"
"Sing?" Both boys look at him as if he has grown a second head. It is a refreshing change from the terror he usually sees in their eyes. They are intrigued and their curiosity seems to be winning over their fright of him.
"Yes." Decision made, Maedhros tears away from the wounded and kneels before the boys. He is no singer nor healer himself, but he knows enough. "Think of a song that makes you feel calm and secure. It can be any song, one that brings you some happy memories. Think of peaceful rest and of safety. And sing about it for him. Make him sleep peacefully and heal." It is a long shot, but if anything, it will keep the children occupied and it cannot hurt Maglor. Maedhros knows the twins can sing quite well, so perhaps their voices alone will bring his brother some rest.
Before he leaves, he appoints two of Maglor's men to stay in the tent. They are both wounded and unwell enough to be excluded from most of the chores, but they can rest there and keep an eye on the children.
It turns out there are more matters to settle than Maedhros thought and it takes him some time until he is free again. Somebody suggests he should join the others at the meal, but he has not had any reports on his brother's state and his legs carry him back to their tent. A part of him knows that should something happen, he would be notified at once, so perhaps no news is good news, but he needs to see for himself.
His alert grows the moment he steps inside and finds Maglor's scouts asleep in awkward poses, as if a spell has caught them. That alone makes him want to rise alarm. Yet there is no need. The Noldor are not harmed and the children are not gone. They too are sleeping, huddled on a cot that was Maedhros's, though it has not been used since the feral incident.
And Maglor... Maglor is resting, truly resting. Some of the colour returned on his cheeks and the fever must have broken. Maedhros kneels by his side and gently brushes the filthy, sweaty hair from his forehead. When he does that, Maglor stirs and opens his eyes. He's in pain and he's confused, but he is undeniably alive. The fever has gone down and it seems the worst is over.
"Why did you wake him?" Elrond objects behind him and Maedhros wants to laugh at being scolded by this child. "You told us to make him sleep!"
"I did," he nods and lifts his brother to help him drink the draught that should ease the pain. Lowering Maglor back, be turns and a genuine smile appears on his lips. "Strong is the blood of Luthien in you."
The two other wounded elves stir and realising they have fallen asleep, they look at their commander with terror and guilt written all over their faces. Maedhros motions them to ease back, for it is not their fault that he has underestimated the power these tiny children hold. And it was at his command that they used it.
The twins look at Maglor and they too see he seems better. They are awed and seem less afraid of the eldest son of Feanor, now that he smiles at them.
With some of the burden lifted from his heart, Maedhros motions the children to follow him for a meal long due.
Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think.