He watched with growing alarm as Maedhros breathing labored, and dark blood began to course down the corners of his mouth. Maglor called to him, demanding him to come back. He grasped his brother's hand, trying to stay the flickering fea.

"Come back, Maitimo, it is not your time yet, come back, your brothers need your, the Noldor needs you. Come back Nelyafinwe Maitimo, would you abandon us?"

He shouted his name, but it was as if Maedhros was already somewhere else. The bright eyes closed. Dimly amidst the panicked confusion, he heard an apology, and then all was dreadfully still.

For the first time, Maglor's voice failed him for despite his pleas his brother did not stay. The hand turned cold, and he did not stir. Gone. Sons of Feanor, each beside a threshold of life were as statues inside the tent. A flicker of a figure passed the corners of Maglor's stinging eye. Something fell to the ground and shattered.

His brother is dead. His brother is dead. Murdered. Coming out of his shock and realizing all this as dour reality Maglor's sight blurred and he wept on Maedhros chest, feeling the useless tears sliding down his cheeks. They say beauty makes one cry, his voice made people cry because it was beautiful, but he had never cried before, because he always knew that there were hopes, that perfection was never achieved, that somehow, some way, all has not ended yet, there was his voice, and as Elda, he would never have to fear for it. But the body of Maedhros seemed to mock him, the melancholy beauty of his face will never be alive again despite all the promises to the Firstborn, it had been cut short, prematurely ended…Maglor took a sword and headed out to find Fingon.

The stones beneath his boots crackled with each step but his sensitive ears pounded and he heard nothing. Musician and artist he was, but he was also Feanorion and brother of the murdered Maedhros.

Someone else was there before him. Caranthir's dirk was imbedded in Fingon's shoulder. Eyes wide with pain, Fingon braced himself as the weapon pursued a perfect arc in the air, aiming to cleave him in two. So close now, this infinitesimal moment in time his last…

Metal met metal. Caranthir glared at who dared to stop him, and almost jumped when he saw Maglor's face, red splattered and grimy with tears.

Maglor's melodious voice floated with regret, "He is mine to kill brother, I wanted to free him, allow me the opportunity to right my wrong, I have seen the error of my ways, and bitterly have we paid for it."

Reluctantly, Caranthir stepped back. Something in Maglor's tone and movement prompted a natural instinct in him to obey. He had never seen Maglor thus, never before had Maglor resembled Feanor so much. A terrible strength shone from him. The eerie glint in his eye had both frightened and reassured him. He will be no traitor.

Twice now, he had escaped seemingly imminent death, but he does not care anymore. The rope continued to tear into his skin, and knowing Maedhros was dead, he should die, too. If not for him, all would have been different. Watching them claiming the right to execute him, Fingon laughed loudly, the sound ringing tightly in the nervous air, for he was possessed with the madness of one filled with grief and doom.

Caranthir's presence and yet amidst threats and intimidations, he found that there was no accustomed reaction of great sadness, rather, it was as if he was suddenly emptied…and he had already left his hroa in order to meet the one he had inadvertently…

Fingon recognized the blade an inch in front of his face, glowing in a delicate blue; it was Maitimo's. Maglor is going to kill him with Maedhro's sword! Ironically fitting, he thought, I practiced with that sword many a long years till Aqualonde.

"False friend," Maglor hissed unbecomingly, the sound inimitably tragic, "His cold body lies in yonder tent, dead for the arrow wound dealt by you, Findekano! Cousin! Best-friend! My own foolishness blinded me, no longer." Maglor said, the sharp edge coming closer, "Though he died in agony, I shall give you a worthy death for the friendship you bore me in Aman faraway. What do you say murderer?"

"It would be an honor to die under the sword of one I respect." He replied. This is it, Fingon thought, soon dear friend, soon we shall meet again in Mandos. He closed his eyes; he would spare the Feanorions any indignity of having to close his eyes after he was dead.

Once more, the end.

"Stay Canafinwe." Feanor's voice echoed within his ears. Fingon's eyes shot open. Him? Here? Now?

Maglor paused, barely, "Russandol is dead." He said without looking back at his father, the blade still pushing into Fingon's vulnerable neck, "Your eldest son died."

"I know, Pityafinwe told me. Unfortunately this is not the murderer," Feanor said, ignoring the questioning glances, his voice dangerously calm. He quickly approached the post and laid a hand on Maglor's straining ones, pushing them down.

Fingon's throat bled in a thin line as the blade tip coursed and finally left.

Feanor was standing so close that he felt the heated breath. "Nelyafinwe Maitimo is in the Halls of Mandos. I know you, Findekano, I have often watched you with my son. You could not have missed as you claimed, you value your friend too dearly to kill his father. You are trying to protect someone. Who? Is it your brother? Is it your father? Who killed your friend Findekano? Who murdered my son? Tell me and you shall live. Else, you die in his place."

Is the Spirit of Fire crying? Father and brother, you owe me. Fingon closed his eyes again, wanting to cry himself yet could not, "Kill me if you will." He said coolly, unwilling to meet anyone's gaze. I deserve it for letting it happen. Am I not the murderer?

He felt a wrenching pain on his shoulder, yet for the fourth time, the expected escape did not come. He opened his eyes and felt someone staunching the wound. Feanor was but three paces away from him, still within a sword's reach. A part of him hoped that all would end, but he was still glad to find himself alive.

"He is our hostage and prisoner." Feanor declared to the curious gathering crowd, anger in their faces, his gaze burning with anger and a deep sorrow, "Send a message to his father, tell him," His voice choked, "Tell him that if the murderer of my son is not brought to me before three day's dawn, his son dies."

"Turkafinwe, go find Pityafinwe, the rest of you, gather our host."

~~~

Nerdanel saw Amras, weaponless, and running wildly, tripping, then running again, bounding like a frightened animal with his unbound red hair streaming behind.

Something was happening, she came unhindered, surely already far within the parameters of Feanor's camp. She hurried toward her son as Amras swerved and stopped in front of her, and then in a sudden movement, embraced her tightly within his arms. He did not speak.

"Where's your father?" She asked breathlessly, noting his dirty and scratched face, the furrowed brow, and the pursed and almost petulant lips.

"Killing Findekano." He replied, breaking into a wry smile, "Everyone is going to kill him now, but not I, there are far more important matters."

Nerdanel froze and freed herself, staring in shock into the distance. No..surely, surely not yet, not so foolish.…The forest was quiet other than the occasional call of birds, so she thought deeply, puzzling the pieces together until a hideous sound startled her.

Amras sat on the ground, screaming, laughing noisily as his hands pulled at the underbrush, startling a warren's nest, "Where is he? I know he must be here somewhere, or is it the river? He always hides inside the rivers. Then he disappears when I break the surface." He murmured then shouted, "Come out already, Telperion is waning, we'll be late again and father will scold us. Come out already, Ambarto, I lose, you win, we'll get Russandol in trouble again. Come out! Umbarto!"

Horrified, Nerdanel pulled at his arms, "Ambarussa, what are you doing? Get up! Take me to your father!" But he heeded her not, instead, he started throwing leaves and twigs at her, "Not yet, I still need to find Ambarto.I think he got lost again and I need to find him. It hurts every time he's too far, and now it hurts terribly mother." His eyes cleared, "Mother, whence do you come? Tell me Ambarto is still in Aman, father didn't bring him, I know you asked him not to. Why didn't he come with you? It hurts, I'm sure it hurts him too."

"Where is he? What happened?" She demanded, terror filling her as she drew her son close, feeling his whole body tremble violently.

"Smoke, so much smoke like the forges, we never liked the forges, we preferred following Tyelkormo inside the forests. There was so much smoke; we were choking. Fire, bright fire, at first, warm, then it burned. He betrayed us. And it hurts mother, everyday, the pain never stops and he doesn't care!"

"Sh..sh…quiet now.." Nerdanel tried to comfort her grown son, petting the familiar red hair.

"They are all dead," He wailed into her shoulder, "Dead!"

A biting darkness settled in her heart. "Who's dead, child? Who?" Feanaro, what have you done?

-Furius