Disclaimer: Per usual, this amazing universe and the lovely characters that inhabit it are not mine.

Ch 15: Re-opening Old Wounds

Neylo, Findekáno, Tyelko and Curvo were in the middle of planning out a search mission to find Makalaurë when Turukáno entered the healer's tent like one of the Maiar of Mandos. He stood in the door silent, grim and dripping wet from the fridged sleet outside. The four Elves in the tent looked up in surprise as Turukáno rarely ever ventured into the healer's tent. Turukáno ignored their shock, focusing in on one person. He marched straight over to Nelyo and grabbed his cousin. One hand fisted in Nelyo's tunic, Turukáno pinned the other Elf against the tent's wall, his fierce blue eyes locked on Nelyo's tired grey ones. Matching the redhead in height, Turukáno was one of the few people who could pull off that move. To be fair though, Nelyo was far from his usually strength.

"Turukáno Ñolómo!" "Unhand him you fiend!" "Get your filthy hands off of him!" Came the indignant cries from Findekáno, Tyelko and Curvo respectively.

"I'll let him go when I have answers," Turukáno growled menacingly, though that effect was rather ruined by the water that tricked out of his soaked hair and down his face. There was a steady drip of water off of his tunic into the puddle had begun to collect under him. Curvo looked disgusted by his sopping wet state. Turukáno found he didn't care.

"Answers for what?" Nelyo asked uncertainly, trying and failing not to squirm. The position Turukáno was holding him in was uncomfortable for more than one reason.

"Makalaurë," Turukáno answered. Nelyo's face fell. Behind them, Findekáno gave a sharp intake of breath.

"What about him? Do you know where he is?"

"He's fine. I found him at the edge of camp. He's asleep in my tent now," Turukáno hadn't intended on telling Nelyo where Makalaurë was, only that he was safe, but the look on Nelyo's face was so distraught he couldn't withhold that information. Nelyo relaxed marginally in Turukáno's hold until Turukáno continued on.

"What I would like know is why on Arda you would drive him into thinking everyone would be better off if he was dead?"

The silence that followed was so still that Turukáno could hear his own heart pounding in his ears.

"What did you just say?" Tyelko's voice was dangerously low. A swift glance over Turukáno's shoulder showed that Tyelko's hand had strayed to his knife hilt as had Curvo's hand.

"You heard me Turko," Turukáno snorted using one of Tyelko's least favorite nicknames, "Some where Makalaurë got it in his head that you all are ashamed of him and that only way to fix everything is to end his own life."

"You said he was fine," Nelyo accused, his voice hoarse. His pale features were twisted in a look of deep betrayal.

"He is, physically speaking. Mentally, not so much," Turukáno shrugged, feeling somewhat stung by betrayal in Nelyo's face, "I think I've convinced him, for now at least, not to follow through with his plan, but I wouldn't be surprised if he changes his mind again."

"This is all my fault," Nelyo said, sagging so much that Turukáno's firm grip on the front of his tunic was the only thing keeping him upright.

"Not everything is your fault Nelyo," Tyelko groaned, tiredly rubbing his eyes, "So will you please stop saying that it is."

"No, this time Tyelko, it really is my fault. I got angry and said somethings I shouldn't have," Nelyo admitted, looking over Turukáno's shoulder at his younger siblings.

"Welcome to my world, now stop complaining. We have to figure out what to do now," Curvo snorted exasperatedly, though his face had an odd look of knowing pity on it.

"I should apologize-" Nelyo began.

"We all should apologize," Tyelko interrupted, "This falls on all of us, not just you."

Nelyo hesitated before nodding in assent. He knew supporting Makalaurë was going to be something he would not be able to do alone.

"Maybe you're right. I was a fool for trying to fix this alone. I wanted to atone for my mistakes, but I've just made it worse. I-"

"Yes, Nelyo, we get the point. You feel bad," Curvo huffed, "But don't forget, we feel guilty too. Turu, where's your tent?"

"Are you sure that's a wise idea?" Turukáno relinquished his hold on Nelyo's tunic and took a step back from the redhead. Nelyo straightened his clothes from where they had been pulled askew by his cousin's grip.

"No," Nelyo admitted, "But I don't know what else we can do besides let him know he's not alone."

Turukáno narrowed his eyes skeptically. Nelyo and Tyelko looked repentant enough, but Curvo just looked annoyed with the whole situation. Turukáno didn't want them going near Makalaurë if they were still frustrated with him. Before he could grill Curvo though, Findekáno caught his eye. His older brother made a subtle chopping motion with his hand and shook his head. He didn't want Turukáno going down that road. Turukáno shrugged and let the matter drop. If need be, he felt fairly confident that he could forcibly haul Curvo out of his tent.

"Fine, I'll take you to see him."

He left the tent without checking to see if they were following him. Outside, the sleet had turned to snow in the plunging temperature. Everything was now covered in a fresh white coat of crunchy snow. As they trudged to Turukáno's tent, Nelyo asked him a burning question.

"Why are you helping us? I though you hated us?" Nelyo's voice was loud in the still air. Turukáno grimaced at the question.

"I'm helping you because I feel like I need to. Don't get me wrong. I still hate your guts for stranding us in Aman and I still hold you responsible for my wife's death. That being said, I don't want to see our family ripped apart any more. If Makalaurë dies, I have a feeling that you'll follow Nelyo. Then I'll have to deal with my brother's misplaced self-condemnation and if that wasn't bad enough, I'll also have to deal with that idiot-" Turukáno jerked his thumb towards Tyelko who was trailing behind them enjoying the snow way too much like an overgrown puppy "-being king. All in all something I'd rather avoid. So I'm helping you get out of one crisis to avert, in my opinion, a bigger crisis."

The scene inside Turukáno's tent not changed much since he had left. Arakáno was still on guard right next to the bed, sitting stiffly in the chair that Turukáno had seated him in. He nodded to Turukáno as they entered. Makalaurë was still asleep, though it was clear to all that his rest was no longer peaceful. He was twitching and breathing hard. Before anyone could do anything, he awoke with a start. Makalaurë's eyes darted around as he looked clearly disoriented. Unable to recognize his surroundings, he reactively reached for a weapon and snatched a knife off of Arakáno's belt. They watched in disbelief as he held it threateningly not against them, but against his own neck. The turn of events startled the other Elves. The Fëanorions had only somewhat believed Turukáno when he talked about Makalaurë's intents.

"Maka?" Curvo was the first one to find his voice again. Makalaurë's eyes darted to Curvo's face, but he didn't relax.

"Maka?" Curvo tried again, "Can you put the knife down?"

Makalaurë shook his head, forgetting about the sharp blade he was holding under his chin. He winced as it drew a little blood. The sight of crimson, however small the amount, set off a new wave of panic.

"No? Ok…" Curvo raised his hands placatingly, "How about we just talk then?"

Makalaurë didn't move, but Curvo took that as a good sign.

"I mean, I guess I'll talk. Do you want to write?"

Another head shake and more blood was drawn.

"Alright. You don't have to write anything, but please listen because there's something I need to say," Curvo took a deep breath, contemplating his next words, "I'm sorry, Makalaurë. I've been a horrible brother. I haven't wanted to be around you because I didn't want to get my hopes up that you would make it."

Nelyo elbowed him sharply in the side as a downcast look that came over Makalaurë's face. Curvo hurried on.

"Which was awful of me. I should have been here for you. I didn't mean to push you away. I though I was making it easier on myself, but I see that was never the case. I just... I didn't … I don't … I don't want to loose you a second time…"

While Curvo had been talking, Tyelko inched closer to his brother. Spooked by the subtle movement, Makalaurë bared his teeth and pressed the knife harder against his throat. There was now a steady trickle of blood leaking down the blade and onto his hand. Tyelko froze.

"Woah, woah, woah! Wait!" Curvo waived his hands to get Makalaurë's attention back on him, "You don't want to do that. Tyelko is going to come back over here, aren't you?"

A concerned looking Tyelko grumbled, but did as Curvo commanded. Makalaurë watched them warily. The knife wasn't lowered, but it wasn't pressed any deeper. Curvo took that as a win.

"You know you're safe here, right? You're here with your family and we'll protect you. Morgoth can't hurt you here. You can finally start healing."

Makalaurë frowned at these comments. He closed his eyes in concentration. The other Elves felt a poke in their minds, encouraging them to open up which they did. It was rare that Makalaurë used Ósanwë, even when he was younger back in Aman. The force of his message came as a surprise as his response entered their minds. They all received a overwhelming onslaught of emotions, so overwhelming that it drove Arakáno to his knees and left Neylo clutching at Findekáno for support.

Shame. Pain, both white hot knives and a dull throbbing. Embarrassment. Blame. Worthless. Condemnation. Guilt. Haunted. Fear. Humiliation. Condescending pity. Rejection. Give up. Helpless. In the way. Weak. Unwanted. Failure. Inconvenience. Useless. Ashamed.

Broken.

Then as quickly as it was forced into their minds, the feelings disappeared as Makalaurë withdrew. The whole experience left them reeling in shock and horror while Makalaurë blinked back tears.

"I'm sorry," Curvo whispered, looking very unsettled, "I had no idea."

Makalaurë looked somewhat ashamed of what he had just done. He dropped his eyes to the floor as the knife drifted slowly down fr his neck to his lap. Seeing an opportunity, Tyelko lunged forward and snatched the blade from Makalaurë's bloody hand. Makalaurë didn't realize what was happening at first. By the time he made grab for the knife, Tyelko had taken it out of reach. Makalaurë tried again, but he threw himself off balance. He teetered for a moment on the edge of the bed before he fell forward. Nelyo caught him before he crashed to the floor.

Nelyo held his breath for a moment. Makalaurë tensed before he slowly melted in his brother's arms, sobbing violently. Nelyo was not expecting that reaction. He tighten his grip on Makalaurë. His tunic slowly grew wet from both tears and blood.

"Hey, shhhh. You're going to be ok, Laurë," Nelyo crooned, rocking his brother slightly, "You're going to be ok."

Quenyan names:

Nelyo/Nelyafinwë/Maitimo/Russandol = Maedhros

Makalaurë/Laurë/Kano/Kanafinwë = Maglor

Tyelko/Tyelkormo/Turkafinwë = Celegorm

Carnister/Moryo/Morifinwë = Caranthir

Curvo = Curufin

Pityo/Pitafinwë = Amras

Nolofinwë = Fingolfin

Findekáno = Fingon

Turukáno = Turgon

Arakáno = Argon

Ñolómo = Wise voice [my own mother-name for Turgon]