Disclaimer: Per usual, I do not own these characters or this amazing world
Ch 9: Guilt
"-and we've trying to keep him alive ever since."
By the time Findekáno had finished his story, Nelyo had gone as still as a statue. Nelyo had always wondered if Makaluarë had survived. He had selfishly wanted his younger brother to be alive after all those years, but looking at Makalaurë's mutilated body, Nelyo wished things had been different. The young Elf deserved a different fate. Tears stung Nelyo's eyes.
"This is all my fault," Nelyo finally choked out.
"No, it's not you fault Nelyo. You did what you thought was best, not just for him, but all of you," Findekáno sighed, he had hoped to avoid this conversation. Being the oldest of Finwë's grandchildren, Nelyo often blamed himself for his sibling's and cousin's shortcomings or anything unfortunate that happened to them regardless of whether he was involved. It was a trait he had never grown out of, though it had faded a bit with age.
"But I left him. He really was alive and I didn't even attempt to rescue him. I left him to be tormented. How is this not my fault?" Nelyo gestured helplessly at Makalaurë's broken body.
"Did you know he was alive?" Findekáno asked after a moment of silence in which the only thing to be heard was Makalaurë's strained breathing and rustle of fabric as Finderáto shifted uncomfortably in the background. Nelyo tore his eyes off of the sickbed to meet his cousin's gaze.
"No…well, Morgoth said he had been taken alive, but that was over thirty years ago. We haven't heard any word since…"
"Then there was no way you could've known."
"But we never attempted to rescue him. He's going to hate me for that."
"If you had gone after him, it would have cost you at least one of your other brothers, probably more than one. And there was no guarantee that you could've even rescued him alive or that Morgoth was even telling the truth."
"I suppose…" Nelyo slowly admitted, his face impassive. He looked back at the skeleton of his brother and tenderly brushed some of the dull, sweat-soaked hair out of the drawn face bellow him. Findekáno could see that he wasn't fully convinced, but let the mater drop. Nelyo would see reason eventually, he always did.
Not wanting to burden his uncle or cause any more strain between the camps, Nelyo asked Nolofinwë if he minded that Makalaurë was in their camp or if he wanted the Fëanorion moved across the lake. The head healer had over heard and quickly quashed the debate, warning them that moving Makalaurë now would finish off the fragile Elf. So Makalaurë stayed. Despite Turukáno's vehement protests against him being there, Nelyo insisted on sitting with his brother and helping the healers when he could. Makalaurë's body seemed determined to fail. Infection after infection ravaged his body, at times leaving the Elf barely able to even breathe.
Nelyo lost track of the time he had been over in the Nolofinwëon camp. His life had become a meaningless cycle of caring for his ailing brother until either he collapsed from exhaustion or he was physically dragged away and forced to rest. Upon waking a few hours later, the cycle would repeat itself. He was thankful that the healer's tent was in a quiet part of camp. Few souls ventured to near it due to the stomach churning smell of bitter herbs and blood that always lingered there. So the day that raised voices startled Nelyo from his stupor was quite eventful.
The loud voices grew nearer and Nelyo was almost convinced he recognized them. The tent flap swished open and Moryo stormed in followed by an apologetic looking Finderáto.
"Nelyo! There you are! You've been hiding over here for well over …" Moryo's reprimand trailed off into silence. Nelyo looked his younger brother over. Moryo looked like someone had just dumped ice cold water down the back of his tunic. The shocked horror on his face made him look years younger.
"Maitimo? Is that…where did…. How?"
"Findekáno found him and brought him back," Nelyo said softly, trying to spare Moryo some of the more gruesome details. Moryo's eyes narrowed slightly, catching Nelyo's omission of all details.
"Nelyo, what happened?" Moryo's voice was dangerously low. Nelyo told him reluctantly about Makalaurë's rescue and their brother's current state.
"And we left him?" Moryo rasped.
"No, we didn't leaved him; I left him," Nelyo correct his younger brother, stroking Makalaurë's fevered cheek. He wished he could smooth out the lines of pain etched deep into Makalauarë's gaunt face.
"Don't take too much credit, Nelyo," Moryo shook his head, "we could've gone after him without your approval. I know more than once Tyelko and Curvo almost did. The only thing that stopped them was Pityo threating to follow them."
Moryo went back to the Fëanorion camp to tell their brothers that Nelyo was in fact alive and with a severely injured Makalaurë. The next day, the healer's tent was flooded with visitors. It went as well as could be expected. Upon seeing Makalaurë, Pityo broke down in tears, latching onto Nelyo's tunic like an Elfling and sobbing uncontrollably into his brother's shoulder. Whether it was from relief or remorse was hard to tell. Tyelko had been forced to leave his sword behind upon entering their uncle's camp. He stood fingering the spot on his belt where it normally hung, jaw clenching, lips pressed into a thin line as he watch Makalaurë breathe. His ridged posture remined Nelyo of a tightly wrapped coil about to spring loose. Moryo had been the most prepared after his visit the day before, though he still looked sickened by the whole scene. He had been thoughtful enough to bring Nelyo a few changes of clothes. Curvo refused approach the sick bed. He stood uncomfortably by the door, arms wrapped tightly around himself, eyes distant. Turukáno and Angaráto stood guard while the Fëanorions were there, distrustfully watching their every move. No word was said while the brothers were together. No words were needed. Guilt and self-blame lay heavy in the air. They left after a little while, leaving Nelyo and Findekáno in peace to continue their vigil.
After that, Pityo became a regular in the Nolofinwëon camp. The rest of their brothers would visit, but they never stayed long, though Nelyo decided that was probably for the best. Hostility still ran high between the two camps, and Nelyo didn't want something else to worry about. During this time, very little changed about Makalaurë's condition, save for he began dreaming.
As time went on, Makalaurë's dreams became more frequent and violent. Nelyo could always tell when Makalaurë was firmly in the grip of one of his fevered nightmares. His breathing sped up and his eyes moved frantically underneath their lids as tears leaked out. The stricken Elf would twitch every now and again, his body too weak to allow him to struggle much more than that. There was no way to wake the Elf up and there were few placed one could touch him without causing him more pain. This left Makalaurë at the mercy of his tormented mind. Because of his inability to offer comfort, Nelyo found he was often loath to be with his brother when one struck. The oldest Fëanorion often excused himself from the tent when Makalaurë suffered through a dream, unable to watch his brother suffer any more.
One time, however, it was unavoidable. Nelyo was alone in the tent when a particularly violent nightmare struck. Nelyo was drawn out of his thoughts as Makalaurë's breathing quickly changed to a harsh, shallow rhythm. Nelyo didn't want to leave his brother alone while he was finding someone else to sit in his place, but he didn't want to sit there and watch helplessly as Makalaurë suffered. He hesitated, unsure of what to do.
Tears flowed out from the tightly closed eyes and Makalaurë's lips moved frantically, though no sound came forth. Nelyo made up his mind. He gently placed one hand on Makalaurë's tense shoulder and one hand on Makalaurë's forehead as he'd seen the healers do in an effort to calm the panicked Elf. Makalaurë flinched slightly at the touch. It wasn't enough to calm him; his chest was heaving frantically as he fought his mental demons. Nelyo had no doubt that under different circumstances, he would be screaming. Nelyo leaned down and whispered into his brother's ear, hoping to guide him out of the dark prison he was trapped in and offer his some semblance of safety. Nelyo's back was cramping up long before Makalaurë slowly calmed down, leaning more into his brother's touch as his breathing evened out.
When Finderáto and Pityo came to take their turn to watch Makalaurë later that night. Nelyo was still crouched over Makalaurë. His voice had given out, so he simply rested their foreheads together and had actually fallen asleep in that position. Finderáto and Pityo had quiet the time pulling the tall Elf off and over to an unoccupied cot in the corner. For the first time since Makalaurë had been rescued, Nelyo slept deeply for more than an hour.
Slowly, too slowly for Nelyo's liking, the wounds marring Makalaurë's body began to heal and his fever abated. Despite the healing that had occurred, Makalaurë remained comatose, much to everyone's dismay.
"He'll wake when his body is strong enough," the healers assured those waiting in the tent every time they changed his bandages. But every day that passed without Makalaurë regaining conciseness, the less optimistic the healers were.
To help his cousin cope with the stress, Finderáto kindly dropped off a few books to give Nelyo something else to focus on. The books weren't all that interesting and he had read most of them, but they distracted Nelyo, so he didn't complain. One night, Nelyo was finishing up a book on architectural principals that Finderáto had nicked from Turukáno when he heard a sharp intake of breath. Looking up, Nelyo had expected to find a visitor, but the sight that greeted him was quiet different. Nelyo nearly dropped his book in shock as half-lidded grey eyes stared back at him from the sickbed.
Quenyan name:
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
Angaráto = Angrod