Disclaimer: I do not own Tolkien's lovely world or make any money off of it...
Ch. 6 Findekáno's Story, Part 1
Some weeks earlier...
"The King will see you now," The sentry gave a low bow.
"Finally! It's taken him long enough, that high-and-mighty, pigheaded, Oath-swearing, ungrateful Noldor," Nolofinwë grumbled. Findekáno had to agree with his father. They had been waiting for quiet some time and Findekáno found that the longer they stood around waiting, the more nasty things he though of to say to his uncle. The guard ushered them into the rough building and through several doors. When they finally arrived in a sort of official looking office, they stopped short in surprise. The figure seated inside was not Fëanor. Findekáno found that he was looking at his cousin Nelyo instead. The redhead looked aged and tired, lines were etched deep into his face around the frown that graced his features. Next to him, Moryo was gathering up some loose parchment off of a low table.
"Nelyo? But….I thought…..Where is…?" Nolofinwë trailed off, his anger at his brother fading into confusion at seeing his oldest nephew on the throne. Nelyo didn't seem the least bit surprised at their confusion.
"My father is dead," Nelyo's voice was oddly devoid of any emotion, "He died by wounds from an ambush by the servants of Morgoth."
"Oh…" was all Nolofinwë could say for quiet some time.
"We are sorry for your loss," Findekáno added awkwardly. Nelyo nodded his head in acknowledgment.
"What do you need?" Nelyo asked flatly after they had been standing around silently for an awkward amount of time.
"An apology, to start," Nolofinwë demanded, the shock of his half-brother's death making his voice gruff, "and an explanation as to why you abandoned us in Aman."
"I apologize then on behalf of my people. A madness gripped my father and he would not be reasoned with."
"That's all you have to say? Your family forced me to lead my people across the Helcaraxë and you try to sooth the hurts with paltry words. You really are your father's son. Have you nothing to give in recompense for what we suffered? A third of my people perished!"
"I apologize again, but you will get no pity from me. You were not they only one to have suffered. I lost my father and two of my brothers," Nelyo snapped, before drawing a hand across his face, "I'm sorry, Uncle, I shouldn't have snapped."
"Two of your brothers?" Findekáno asked, hesitantly. The Helcaraxë had been a living nightmare, but he was starting to wonder if that had been the easier road. At least his father and siblings were still alive.
"Ambarto and Makalaurë," Nelyo looked down at his hands. Findekáno could see that they were shaking. Whatever had occurred had affected Nelyo deeply.
"What happened to them?" The question was out before Findekáno thought better of it.
"Ambarto was burned to death by accident at Losgar," Nelyo mumbled, giving bare minimum details. He clenched his hands in an effort to stop them from shaking. It didn't make a difference.
"And Makalaurë?"
Nelyo didn't answer the question, his gaze full of pain and far away. Moryo looked at Nelyo for a moment before answering Findekáno's question.
"He was…. ambushed by Morgoth nearly thirty years ago. We don't know what fate befell him, but most likely he is… dead," Moryo's voice broke on the last word. The silence stretched on for an awkward amount of time.
"Nelyo?" Moryo shook his brother's shoulder slightly. The redhead didn't react, still lost in his memories.
"Leave us," Moryo snapped, turning to Nolofinwë and Findekáno.
"As my liege wishes," Nolofinwë mockingly bowed before they left the room. They made their way back to their camp. As soon as they arrived they were waylaid by Turukáno and Finderáto.
"What did Fëanor say? You were gone for quiet some time," Finderáto asked. Nolofinwë told him in no short order what had occurred.
"I kill them those heartless sons of Orcs," Turukáno snarled.
"Turukáno! Participating in one kinslaying was far too much, I will not have you participating in a second one," Nolofinwë reprimanded.
Nolofinwëans had moved across the lake, but tensions did not ease. Almost all contact between the two camps ceased after Arantis and Artaresto almost came to blows with Tyelko and Curvo. Findekáno was tired of the fighting. He started roaming in the planes around their camp, going gradually farther and farther afield. Nolofinwë grumbled to him about it, but did nothing to stop him.
Tempers ran high amongst Findekáno's siblings as well. Turukáno want to seize the throne from Nelyo, claiming their cousin was mentally unfit to rule. Arakáno, ever Turukáno's shadow, agreed with their tall brother. Iressë, on the other hand, swung wildly back and forth; one day hating the Fëanorions, the next day wholeheartedly supporting them. Findekáno tried not to get caught up in their spats, but when pressed he supported his cousins. Turukáno frequently gave him a difficult time for his opinion.
After one particularly vicious fight with Turukáno, Findekáno took a store of supplies and set off into the wilderness. After three full weeks of aimless wondering, Findekáno found himself at the base of Thangorodrim. It was nowhere like Findekáno had ever been before. Evil seemed to permeate the very air, choking the life out of anything good. The Fortress looked deserted in the midmorning sun.
As he stood there looking at Morgoth's layer, something swaying in the wind caught Findekáno's eye. He peered at the cliff face above him. There, high above his head, hung a body. Findekáno squinted. He couldn't make out the face, but the shape of the body was beyond a shadow of a doubt Elven. There was only one Elf that Findekáno knew was unaccounted for: Makalaurë.
"MAKA? MAKA?" Findekáno yelled up. Though the body above him gave no indication of hearing him, Findekáno knew it had to be his cousin. Findekáno could see that Makalaurë's chest was barely rising and falling. He hung limply from his right wrist while his body was buffeted in the wind swirling around the peak. Findekáno paced the bottom of the cliff looking for a way up, but the cliff face was smooth and offered no handholds or crevasses.
After an hour of fruitless searching, Findekáno sunk down on a rock. He felt warm from the sun despite the brisk wind that chapped his lips and hands. He could only imagine was the exposure was doing to Makalaurë. He surveyed the cliff from where he sat. Findekáno didn't want to abandon his cousin, but there was no way up. He fingered his bow, one of the many weapons he had brought with him. Makalaurë was already so close to death, maybe it would be better to free his fëa from his torment. He nearly threw his bow down in disgust. What would he have said when he got back?
So I went on a stroll to the enemy stronghold and I found our missing cousin. I couldn't free him, so I killed him.
Indecision tore him. As he sat there a shadow fell across him. His head jerked up. Towering above him was one of Manwë's great eagles.
Quenyan names:
Nelyo/Nelyafinwë/Maitimo/Russandol = Maedhros
Makalaurë/Laurë/Kano/Kanafinwë = Maglor
Tyelko/Tyelkormo/Trukafinwë = Celegorm
Moryo/Morifinwë/Carnistir = Caranthir
Curvo/Curufinwë = Curufin
Pityo/Pitafinwë = Amras
Turukáno/Turu = Turgon
Findekáno/Finno = Fingon
Finderáto = Finrod
Nolofinwë = Fingolfin
Irissë = Aredhel
Arantis = Galadriel
Arakáno = Argon
Artaresto = Orodreth