Disclaimer: I do not own anything that you recognize

Ch 14: Confrontation

The bitter wind nipped at Turukáno's hands and ears as he hurried back to his own tent. The weather had been fine this morning when he had rode out to inspect the outer defenses, but the temperature had dropped as a storm blew in. He could think of nothing but his warm tent, out of the chill wind. He approached the outskirts of the camp nearest the lake. It looked deserted, the inhabitants seeking shelter from the impending weather.

So Turukáno wasn't expecting to spy a solitary figure standing out in the gloom. The lone figure stood on the beach facing Lake Mithrim and swayed slightly with every gust. As he drew near, Turukáno was surprised to see that it was Makalaurë. Last he had heard, Makalaurë was barely strong enough to leave his bed, let alone make it to the outskirts of camp. His first instinct was to leave his cousin standing there, the sons of Fëanor had caused him enough grief for a life time and it would be easy enough to ignore the pitiful silhouette, but that didn't feel right, so he grudgingly changed directions. For all that he disliked his cousins, Turukáno couldn't help but feel pity for Makalaurë. No one deserved to go through what had happened to him, even a kinslayer and traitor.

Turukáno approached Makalaurë and cleared his throat. The Elf in question jumped before blinking blearily up at Turukáno in surprised. Turukáno could see exhaustion, fear and pain written on his face. The shorter Elf swayed slightly as he waited to see what Turukáno wanted.

"What are you doing this far from the healer's tent?" Turukáno asked, raising his voice to be heard above the gale. Makalaurë shook his head, skittishly backing away from his tall cousin as best he could. The wind shifted directions yet again and Turukáno shivered as it cut through his heavy cloak. It was then that Turukáno noticed that Makalaurë was barefoot at the edge of the freezing water and was clad only in trousers and a thin under tunic. He also noted with worry that Makalaurë was shaking like a leaf.

"Hey, let's go to my tent, yeah? It's close and it'll be warm," Turukáno offered after a moment of weighing the consequences. As much as he suppressed it, his fatherly instincts were running at full throttle around his helpless cousin. Makalaurë looked like he was going to refuse, but he didn't protest as Turukáno took his arm and steered him back into the camp.

Turukáno's tent was large. The plus side of having a child, Turukáno mused, was that everyone gave you the best of everything. They entered the tent and the relief of being out of the wind was instantaneous. Itarillë had been reading, but she looked up in shock as her father came in accompanied by a stumbling Makalaurë. After sending his daughter out to Irissë's tent, Turukáno set about getting Makalaurë warmed up.

In the lamp light, Turukáno could see just how gaunt Makalaurë still was. He could also see the scars that wrapped around his cousin's body. Keeping his face impassive, Turukáno draped a thick blanket around Makalaurë's boney shoulders. Makalaurë gave him a grateful look as he pull it tightly around his cold body. Turukáno then wordlessly nudged Makalaurë into a seated position on his bed. Based off of the rumors circulating around, Turukáno had fully expected Makalaurë to flip out whenever he was touched. However, the panic never came. Makalaurë flinched and his breathing sped up, yes, but he allowed himself to be lightly touched without loosing his mind.

Makalaurë pulled out a small journal. Turukáno got the general idea of what he was going to do and offered him some writing utensils. Makalaurë hunched over the paper for quiet some time, quill moving slowly. When he had finished he turned the small book towards Turukáno. The handwriting was shaky, but legible.

'Thank you. It seems I owe your family my life and then some.'

Turukáno shrugged as he passed the journal back, rather embarrassed with the whole situation. He had felt nothing but anger towards the sons of Fëanor for years, but now that he was with them, he found it hard to keep it up. He could see that they were hurting too.

"Don't mention it," he finally said.

'I'm sorry, I never wanted to be a burden or a problem to your family or mine.' The pen scratched as it moved haltingly across the paper. Despite the grim words, a smile tugged at Turukáno's lips. This was typical Makalaurë: self-deprecating and anxious about his place in the family. Whatever had happened to him hadn't completely destroyed him.

'Would've been better if I died. I'm useless now. Just getting in the way. I might as well complete what Morgoth started.' Turukáno had to read those words twice. He looked at his cousin, but Makalaurë refused to meet his eyes as he guiltily fiddled with the quill.

"You don't mean that, do you?" Turukáno asked softly, dreading the answer.

'Yes.'

The simple word was damning. Turukáno felt his heart drop.

"But why?"

'Not worth the fuss. Better for everyone if I was gone.'

"Makalaurë, why in the name of everything good would you think that?"

'In case you haven't noticed, I'm an invalid. I can't even dress myself properly. I can't do the one think that used to bring me joy. I can see that everyone thinks I'm weak and their right. I broke under Morgoth and now I want to take the coward's way out.'

"Makalaurë, no one thinks you are weak and I doubt very much that most of us would have lasted as long as you did under torture." Turukáno was uncomfortable. He wasn't very good with the whole emotions thing. That was Findekáno's and Irissë's area.

'You don't understand. What he did to me... I'm broken.'

"You are not broken," Turukáno protested vehemently. A bitter smile crept onto Makalaurë's face.

'You're the first to think so.'

"Not your brothers?"

'No, they can only see the scars and who I used to be. They look so disappointed when I'm around, and rightly so. I failed them.'

"You think you failed them?!" Makalaurë flinched a little at Turukáno's sharp tone before he shrugged. Turukáno snorted in disbelief.

"Exactly what part of what happened to you resulted from your failure?"

'All of it. I didn't overcome Morgoth's army and got my men killed. I got myself captured and then I gave into Morgoth's torture. And look at me now, I can't even get a night's rest without nightmares that replay everything. Tell me how none of this is my fault.'

Turukáno struggle to keep his face emotionless.

"Kanafinwë Makalaurë, you listen to me good!" Turukáno channeled his inner parent, unleashing a stern tone he normally reserved for Itarillë when she misbehaved, "None of what happened to you was your fault, those were all circumstances beyond your control. If your brothers appear disappointed it is because they are disappointed in themselves, not you."

Makalaurë's shoulders dropped. Turukáno softened his voice slightly.

"Maka, your brothers missed you dearly. You didn't see them while you were gone. It was like part of their fëa had been ripped away. Nelyo, especially, was a shell of himself, but now that you've returned, he's taken an interest in living again. If you take your life, it will destroy them beyond repair. I wouldn't be surprised if Pityo, at least, would follow you. Probably Nelyo too, if I'm being honest."

Makalaurë's face crumpled into a look of horror. He shook his head in denial.

"Listen, all I'm saying is give this a chance. I know it's not perfect; hell, it's far from even being workable. But your brother's, at least, deserve a chance. Don't make them suffer any more," Turukáno felt awful guilting Makalaurë like that, but he couldn't think of any other way to get through to the minstrel. Makalaurë didn't respond. Turukáno watched as tears streamed down Makalaurë's face.

Slowly, the tears stopped as Makalaurë, physically and mentally worn out, drifted to sleep on Turukáno's bed. Seeing that Makalaurë was asleep, Turukáno sent for Arakáno. When his brother appeared a short while later, Turukáno briefly explained what had happened and set Arakáno as guard over their sleeping cousin. Then with a frown plastered upon his face, Turukáno stepped out into the storm, ready to beat some sense into his cousins.

Quenyan names:

Nelyo/Nelyafinwë/Maitimo/Russandol = Maedhros

Makaluarë/Kano/Kanafinwë = Maglor

Tyelko/Teylkormo/Turkafinwë = Celegorm

Carnister/Moryo/Morifinwë = Caranthir

Curvo = Curufin

Pityo/Pitafinwë = Amras

Turukáno = Turgon

Itarillë = Idril