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Ch 12: Progress

Makalaurë had been awake for nearly two weeks, when a brilliant idea struck Finderáto. After gathering the required supplies, he made his way to the healer's tent. Makalaurë sat propped up on pillows. Despite the healer's attentive care, he was still incredibly frail. Moryo sat protectively between his brother and any visitors. Under their watchful gazes, Finderáto approached the bed and set up what he had brought with him. The small tray was first. Paper, a jar of ink and a sturdy quill completed the set up.

"I figured that you could write if you needed to tell us something," Finderáto explained to his confused cousins as he offered the tray to Makalaurë. Makalaurë hesitated before indicating to Finderáto that he accepted. Finderáto gingerly placed it in Makalaurë's lap. Makalaurë went straight for the quill. He was hampered by the splint he still wore. It took him several tries before he could grip it without dropping it. Makalaurë then bent over the small tray for several minutes. His left hand was shaky and uncoordinated. More than once the quill shifted in his clumsy grasp sending ink across the paper. By the time Makalaurë finish there were two words written on the paper:

'Thank you.'

The letters were wobbly and hard to read. The ink was blotted in placed where the quill had been dropped and smeared in other places where Makalaurë's left hand had dragged across the wet ink while he was writing. The simple words combined with Makalaurë's genuinely pleased face made Findekáno's heart swell. Even Moryo seemed cheered by Makalaurë's excitement, though he tried to hide it behind his watchful mask.

"You're welcome," Finderáto replied with an embarrassed shrug.

Makalaurë seemed relieved to finally have a way of communication. It was obvious to all that holding the pen made his hand cramp up, but it was worth it if he needed to say something. They quickly discovered that he was fine with answering simple questions, but if he was asked about his time as Morgoth's prisoner or how he was feeling, he would shut down and refused to write for the next day or so.

The newly aquired communication was accompanied by an antsier Makalaurë. He fidgeted a bit and would often look towards to the door. After a few days of this behavior, Nelyo's curiosity won out.

"What is it?" he asked. There was quiet scratching as the quill moved slowly across the paper.

'Out.' The writing was accompanied by a gesture towards the door.

"Out? Do you want me to leave?" Nelyo was confused. Up until now, Makalaurë had not wanted to be left alone. Makalaurë rolled his eyes before shaking his head.

"Outside? You want to go outside?" Nelyo clarified. Makalaurë nodded, giving his brother a pleading look. He needed to see the sky and feel the sun on his skin. The tent was starting to feel claustrophobic. Nelyo looked at him thoughtfully before having a murmured conversation with one of the healers. The healer nodded before scurrying off to find some clothes for Makalaurë. It was at that point that Makalaurë noticed he was only wearing a pair of trousers. The healer scurried back with a deep green tunic and cloak. Based off the color and size, Nelyo guessed they were probably borrowed from Aikanáro.

Makalaurë stiffened and chewed on his lip in anxiety as the healer un-bound his right arm and removed the brace. After giving Makalaurë a chance to adjust, the healer gently manipulated the damaged limb through the garment's sleeve. She then carefully replaced the brace on his shoulder and eased the arm into a sling. The healer went to fasten the tunic up, but Makalaurë waved her off. He was embarrassed about being dressed like an Elfling. The healer caught his eye and nodded in understanding before wandering off. Makalaurë fiddled with the buttons as he tried to salvage what little dignity remained.

Makalaurë's mouth was pressed into a thin line. Nelyo watched for a few more minutes as his brother attempted to fasten his tunic with his remaining hand. He finally gave up with a frustrated gesture, letting the neckline flop open, exposing the bandages and scars underneath.

"Do you want me to do that, Laurë?" Nelyo asked. Makalaurë's face flushed with embarrassment, but he gave a short nod. Nelyo fastened the tunic. He tried to ignore the wooden brace and sling that immobilized what remained of Makalaurë's right arm, but he found his eyes were drawn there anyway. Makalaurë noticed where his gaze was drawn to and the flush on his cheeks deepened. He donned a cloak with his brother's help and shrugged it around so it hung in front of his mangled right arm, hiding it from view.

Nelyo took a step back to observe his brother. In the high collared tunic and cloak, Makalaurë looked more like a normal, hale Elf. That is as long as one avoided looking at his face. It was still gaunt from years of captivity and his eyes were haunted, often not observing the waking world in front of him. Makalaurë's steps were slow and halting as he made his way to the tent's flap. More than once he nearly lost his balance. Nelyo hovered near by ready to catch his brother if the need arose.

Makalaurë blinked rapidly as they stepped out of the tent. Nelyo realized it was the first time since his rescue that his younger brother had been outside. The chill of winter had fully descended. Despite the fact that it was nearly noon and the sun was shining brightly, the air was brisk and cold. Nelyo relished the feeling of the sun on his face, not minding the cool air.

Makalaurë looked to be enjoying the change in scenery, but his still healing body felt the cold more keenly. He was shivering violently by the time they walked a few hundred feet to the tent Nelyo was staying in. He all but collapsed on Nelyo's low bed, trembling with fatigue and blowing on his hand to return warmth to his fingers

"How are you doing Laurë?" Nelyo lightly rested a hand on Makalaurë's shoulder before he caught himself. The younger Elf flinched at the contact before ducking his head in shame at the involuntary action. As hard as he tried, he couldn't stop himself from jumping anytime someone touched him, especially if the touch was unexpected. Nelyo seemed to guess his thought.

"It's fine. You be alright. Just give it time," he reassured. Makalaurë gave him a look of unconvinced resignation, though a glimmer hope flickered in his face for a second. They remained in Nelyo's tent for a little while longer before heading back to the healer's tent.

The short trip had worn Makalaurë out; he fell into his own bed exhaustedly as soon as they arrived. His eyes glazed over and his breathing evened out before Nelyo could even ask if he wanted to take off his cloak and boots. Nelyo checked his brother's forehead. He was pleased to find that his brother's temperature was normal, if not slightly cool from their jaunt outside. Satisfied that Makalaurë was resting peacefully, Nelyo settled down on a low chair. A soft smile played with his lips as he watch the younger Elf sleep. The flap swished quietly, haling the arrival of Finderáto. The golden haired Elf nearly had a heart attack as he noticed that his older cousin was smiling. It had been so long since he had seen that expression on the redhead's face.

"What's got you so excited?" Finderáto raised an eyebrow.

"He walked all the way to my tent and back," Nelyo nodded towards his sleeping brother. It was then that Finderáto noticed that Makalaurë was sleeping with his eyes open, resting in natural, Elven sleep. Finderáto's other eyebrow shot up. It seemed today was a day of firsts for Makalaurë. He was finally making progress in the right direction.

Quenyan names:

Nelyo/Nelyafinwë/Maitimo/Russandol = Maedhros

Makaluarë/Kano/Kanafinwë = Maglor

Tyelko/Teylkormo/Turkafinwë = Celegorm

Carnister/Moryo/Morifinwë = Caranthir

Curvo = Curufin

Pityo/Pitafinwë = Amras

Finderáto = Finrod

Aikanáro = Aegnor