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Ch 7: Findekáno's Story, Part 2

Findekáno gulped as he looked up into the eagle's noble face. He had often seen the majestic birds venturing to or from Taniquetil back in Aman. He now realize they were much bigger than he though. The lordly bird watched him like he was a scrawny rabbit. It then turned its head away and bent its neck down to the ground. Findekáno stood there, watching as the bird was frozen in the bizarre position. The eagle looked like it was waiting for something, but what Findekáno didn't know. The eagle finally straightened up and turned its unforgiving stare at Findekáno once more. Before Findekáno could react, the large beak darted out and snatched him up. He hung there for a moment before he was tossed into the air. Findekáno was later loath to admit it but he scream in fear. To his surprise, he landed not in the eagle's maw as he though he would, but on the creature's back.

Findekáno lay there panting with adrenaline, waiting for the bird to realize it had over tossed its prey. The eagle merely shook itself slightly before taking off into the air. Findekáno clung to the feathers as they sailed up into the sky. The eagle swooped back to the cliff face, settling on a tiny ledge. Findekáno looked over in surprise. The precarious perch placed him right next Makalaurë. Once he was sure that eagle wasn't going to move for the time being, Findekáno scrambled over to his cousin's body and shuddered.

Up close, Makalaurë looked even worse than Findekáno feared. Findekáno saw that his right shoulder was forced out of joint from bearing all of his weight. His dark hair was matted and cut short. He was covered in dirt, bruises, cuts, burns as well as blood both fresh and dried. The remains of his tattered trousers, if that is what one could call them any more, hung loosely off of his hips and offered him little modesty. Findekáno could count all of the ribs in his emaciated chest. As he drew near, he noticed a strange whistling, gurgling noise. It took Findekáno a moment to figure out where it was coming from. A nasty gash ran down the front of Makalaurë's throat. With every inhale and exhale, the skin shifted as air escaped through the cut. Slits of grey eyes watched him exhaustedly. Findekáno realized in horror, Makalaurë hardly had the strength to open his eyes; he was fading fast. Findekáno knew he had to work quickly if Makalaurë was to survive.

"Hold on, Maka. I'll get you free, then we can go see your brothers. They miss you, you know. Nelyo cut his hair, but not nearly as short as yours," Findekáno babbled as he set about trying to freeing his cousin from the iron cuff and chain that fastened him to the cliff. As gently as he could, he braced Makalaurë's body against the cliff to make it easier to reach the restraints on the right arm. Makalaurë's face twisted in pain at the pressure, but he offered no protest. Findekáno inspected the cruel device holding his cousin. The cuff and chain were made out of a sort of black iron he had never seen before. The cuff was fastened tight enough around Makalaurë's right wrist that the skin beneath it was torn raw. The chain was designed in such a way that Makalaurë's body swung whenever the wind blew, leaving bloody streaks where his back rubbed against the rock face.

Findekáno started with the locking mechanism on the manacle. He had never been good at picking locks, despite Nelyo's tutelage on breaking into annoying brother's rooms. The lock remanded stubbornly shut no matter what he did. Makalaurë watched him for a little while before his eyes lost their focus and nearly fluttered closed. His breathing was labored and shallow. It rang hauntingly in Findekáno's ears as he moved on to the point that chain was fastened to the cliff. Findekáno worked for a long time, but he only succeeded in making his fingers bleed and dulling one of his knives as he gouged at the immovable rock face. The longer he was around it, the more he noticed that the chain reeked dark magic. There was no power in Arda that would be able to break it, loose it or pull it from the cliff face. Heart sinking, Findekáno knew what he had to do. Morgoth really was cruel.

"Forgive me Maka. I'm sorry," Findekáno felt tears streaming down his face. He grabbed out his long hunting knife. It was a beautiful blade that Turukáno had gifted him years ago. He always kept it sharp. Now he hoped it was sharp enough to do what he needed without causing too much pain. Grasping the knife, Findekáno closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Upon opening them again, he saw that Makalaurë's eyes re-focused enough to watch his cousin in a daze, not really comprehending what Findekáno was going to do.

Gritting his teeth, Findekáno brought his knife down with as much force as he could muster. His stroke was stopped as the blade hit bone. A soundless cry forced its way through Makakalurë's chapped lips as he mercifully lost consciousness. Despite mentally preparing himself, Findekáno's stomach roiled at the sight of so much slick crimson blood quickly coating his hands and he nearly lost his nerve to continue. Swallowing back his bile, Findekáno finished severing Makalaurë's hand off. He was taken somewhat by surprise when Makalaurë's dead weight, free from the cliff face, toppled onto him. Only his Elven reflexes stopped his cousin from plummeting to the ground below far below. The great eagle, sensing the extra weight on his back, took off into the sky.

While they flew, Findekáno wrapped his cloak around Makalaurë's injured limb, fastening it in place tightly with his belt and making a crude tourniquet in an attempt to stem the blood. He then took his mostly empty water skin and attempted to drip a little water into his cousin's mouth. He got some in, but the dark-haired Elf choked on it causing diluted blood to run out of his mouth and the gash on his neck as he coughed. Makalaurë continued to hack and gasp for breath for quiet some time. For the rest of the adrenaline inducing flight, Findekáno found he could do nothing but monitor Makaluarë's fading pulse and pray that his cousin would survive the journey.

By the time they landed just outside Nolofinwëan camp, the cloak wrapped around Makalaurë's arm was soaked with blood. Findekáno was mildly surprised there was any blood left in Makalaurë's body. Thanking Manwë's noble servant, he hoisted his cousin in his arms and rushed the camp hoping no one would stop him before he got to the healers.

Quenyan names:

Nelyo/Nelyafinwë/Maitimo/Russandol = Maedhros

Makalaurë/Laurë/Kano/Kanafinwë = Maglor

Turukáno/Turu = Turgon

Findekáno/Finno = Fingon

Finderáto = Finrod

Nolofinwë = Fingolfin