Caranthir: (shouts.) Dior! (Dior comes awake with a start, and freezes as he sees the swords above him.)
Dior: (quietly, he does not sound surpried.) The sons of Fëanor.
Caranthir: For the last time, you half-Elven fool, will you give us the Silmaril? (Dior, as Caranthir is only staring at his face, starts to reach for his sword, which is lying a little R of him. In one swift motion he grabs it and brings it around, slicing through Curufin's calves. Curufin, who is the farthest of the three from the audience, screams and falls to his knees. Celegorm and Caranthir yell and stab down, but Dior rolls into them, knocking them down and making them lose their swords. At the same time he brings his sword up and slices Curufin in the side. Curufin screams again and falls over onto his other side. Swiftly following that, Dior grabs Celegorm's sword and rams it into Celegorm's stomach. Celegorm gasps and dies. Dior finally slices Caranthir's throat. Panting, he uses his sword to pull himself up. The lights come on now. From of SL, Maedhros calls.)
Maedhros: Celegorm? Caranthir? Where are you? (He sounds angry.) I nearly had the Silmaril, but that little Elf Elwing got away with it and some other Elves. (He enters SL and stops dead in his tracks. His mouth opens in disbelief and he stares at Dior, then his brothers' bodies, then back at Dior. Dior meets his stare evenly, not afraid. Maedhros starts talking in a deceptively quiet voice.) You are Dior.
Dior: (acknowledges this with a small half-bow.) Which one of them are you?
Maedhros: I am Maedhros. Those you have slain... are... were... (his voice sounds less steady now.) Celegorm, Caranthir, and Curufin. (His breathing is beginning to come faster and more heavily.)
Dior: Oh? I have heard that you do not care for those three much.
Maedhros: (starts quietly, but rises as he speaks to an angry yell.) You have murdered my blood kin; my brothers. Draw your sword, Dior! (he leaps at Dior with a yell. Before Dior can bring up his sword, Maedhros is upon him, knocking Dior's sword aside, pushing him back, and placing a foot on Dior's stomach. At last, Dior begins to look frightened. Maedhros says one last thing.) I swore an Oath long ago. To let no one, be he Vala, be he Elf, (at "Elf", he steps harder on Dior.) or be he Dwarf, bar me from fulfilling this Oath. (He stabs down through Dior's chest. Dior twitches and dies. Maedhros shoves harder on the sword one more time, then slumps tiredly, using the sword for support. Maedhros kneels down then, and pulls out the sword.) C... Celegorm? Caranthir? Curufin? I... I... I'm sorry I came too late. (He breaks down and, pulling his legs up close to him, puts his face on his arms and starts to cry silently. Then, from behind him.)
Curufin: (weakly.) Maedhros. (Maedhros lifts his head and hurries over to sit by Curufin's head. He carefully raises Curufin to talk to him.)
Maedhros: (disbelievingly.) Curufin? You're... you're alive! How... can... is there anything I can do for you?
Curufin: (smiles waveringly.) You can help me no more than you can help our father.
Maedhros: No... no, do not say that.
Curufin: You never were willing to give up, Maedhros. Now, before I die, I would like to know one thing.
Maedhros: Yes?
Curufin: Is it true what Dior said?
Maedhros: What did he say?
Curufin: That you do not care for us three.
Maedhros: I love all my brothers, Curufin.
Curufin: Good. (He dies, with a last, shuddering breath.)
Maedhros: May you go swiftly to the halls of Mandos, Curufin son of Fëanor. (He eases Curufin down, stands up and walks over to Dior. He gives the body a last, satisfied kick, and the lights go out. When they come back on, Maedhros and Maglor walk on stage from SL. Maedhros is staring straight ahead, as if stunned.) Tell me again what I have done.
Maglor: You've tried your hardest to fulfill-
Maedhros: (cuts him off angrily.) No, not that! I've killed my brothers, that's what. I told Dior he did it, but it is all because of me that they are gone.
Maglor: No, Maedhros. Not all because of you. You went along with it, true, but going was their decision, not yours.
Maedhros: Stop trying to tell me otherwise, Maglor! I know what I've done and I will take the blame. (There is a pause.) You know, Maglor, I really am a Noldo. (He sighs.) The Noldor, meaning the Wise. However, they refer to the knowledge they have gained, not their sound judgement. (He gives a small, wry laugh.) Isn't that funny. I've never thought of it that way before. But that is me. I don't think, I act, and... (he shakes his head.) then I regret it later. Our brothers, Maglor. They're dead, and I could have prevented it. Act and regret. I would like to change, but I cannot. (His voice takes on a tone of ironic surety.) And it will happen again. (He sighs again, but instead of comforting, Maglor comes next to him and slaps him. Maedhros reels backwards, hand to his face, staring at Maglor furiously.)
Maglor: Come out of it! (Maedhros starts for him, hand balling into a fist, but Maglor grabs his wrist before he can strike.) You're babbling, Maedhros! Celegorm, Caranthir, and Curifin would not want you to spend the rest of your life mourning them. And you aren't different than how you are; you're not like... me, or anybody else, so accept it. I like you with your hot temper, so go back to it, and I don't care if you hate me forever for making you do so. I will not hesitate to beat you back to it, but it's your choice. I am going to make you mad whether you like it or not. (He lets go of Maedhros' wrist. Maedhros pauses, then shoves Maglor hard.)
Maedhros: That was for the crack you gave me. But you are right. They would not like me to mourn. (Maglor smiles.) So now, I shall try to find where Elwing took that Silmaril. (He exits SL. Maglor shakes his head.)
Maglor: I think it would be best if I do not tell him that I know where it is. Elwing and her husband, Eärendil, have taken it to a place by the sea where they hope to be safe from us. I hope, for their sake, that they will be. (From offstage, Maedhros suddenly shouts.)
Maedhros: Really? So that's where they are. Thank you Silenor. (He enters SL.) Maglor, do you know what Silenor just told me? (He is grinning widely.)
Maglor: (sighs.) I know. (Maedhros nods and exits SL. Maglor says angrily.) The next time I see Silenor I will throttle him! (He exits SR. The lights go out. A large white sheet is spread across the stage, held up to block the U half of the stage. The lights on the U half go on. A cry comes from off SL.)
Maedhros: Eärendil! Elwing! We have come for the Silmaril! (Shadowy figures from behind the sheet rush on stage from SL. More come on from SR. A battle, seen as moving shadows, is joined. After a moment, Eärendil and Elwing come out from behind the sheet and hurry off stage into the audience SR.)
Eärendil: Hurry, Elwing! Those sons of Fëanor are fighting like madmen! We must not wait.
Elwing: But Eärendil, what about our sons? We can't just leave them! (Eärendil pauses and sighs.)
Eärendil: I fear we must. If we are to escape with our lives we have to leave now. But we can come back for them. Do you have the Silmaril? (Elwing nods.) Good. My ship is down in the bay. Hurry! (They circle around the stage, back up SL, and exit SL. Maedhros comes around the curtain SR.)
Maedhros: Where are they? (He sighs in frustration.) They've gotten away with the Silmaril! Again! (He yells across to SL) Eärendil! Give it to me! (Quieting.) Please. (The battle dies down, and the sheet is taken off. Many Elves lie dead. Maglor comes to stand next to Maedhros. He is limping slightly.)
Maglor: I take it that they have it.
Maedhros: (Heavily.) Yes. He sailed away on a ship. He can go to Valinor and die now, for all I care. (He sighs again.) So, who was lost this time?
Maglor: (Cautiously.) Uh....
Maedhros: Well? Speak.
Maglor: A... Amrod and Amros.
Maedhros: (whirls around and grips Maglor's wrist; Maglor flinches.) No! Not them! Anyone but them! (calms himself, but barely.) Where are they? Take me to them! (Maglor leads Maedhros to where Amrod and Amros lie. Maedhros drops to his knees beside them.) Amrod! (He shakes his brother.) Amras! This cannot be!
Maglor: (tries to console his brother; he kneels down next to him.) It cannot be undone, Maedhros. And it is not your fault.
Maedhros: (sighs.) It is only us now, Maglor. The last of the sons of Fëanor. Fëanor's house has fallen.
Maglor: No. No, it has not.
Maedhros: I do not think I shall ever let myself love again. All those I have loved have died, because of me. (He looks at Maglor.) You should leave me, Maglor. Get as far away from me as you can.
Maglor: Brother, I stay with you.
Maedhros: I think I have just changed much, Maglor. You are sure you wish to stay? (Maglor nods. Maedhros smiles.) I think I will be glad to have you around, Maglor. (The lights go out. When they come back on, Maedhros and Maglor are standing on stage. A small pile of cushions is a bit left of UC, and a chair is CL, behind Maedhros, who has his sheathed sword in hand. Maglor is standing in front of Maedhros, facing him, approx. LR.)
Maedhros: (dejectedly) We had the Silmaril in our grasp, Maglor. In our very hands! And we lost the battle, letting that dark-spawned man get away with the Silmaril. (tosses sword angrily onto pile of cushions and flops limply into the chair.) The Oath drives me, Maglor. I wish to stop it but I cannot. (sighs.) Do we at least have some prisoners from this hopeless battle?
Maglor: Indeed we do, brother. Two. They are the very sons of Eärendil.
Maedhros: (sits bolt upright in his chair.) His sons? That is good. Bring them to me. Now!
Maglor: (Turns to SR) Guards! Bring Elrond and Elros to me. (Two Guards enter, herding before them Elrond and Elros, and has them bow to Maedhros.)
Maedhros: (shocked) They are but boys! (glares at Maglor, who shrugs. Maedhros shakes his head and continues, more softly.) So you are the sons of that filthy, thieving man. Elrond and Elros. Tell me! Where has your father gone with the jewel?
Elrond: I ...
Maedhros: You would not know. You are only children. (Murmers
to himself) Only children... (squats down in front of the two children.) You are alone in the world now. (Elrond and Elros nod sullenly. Maedhros sounds sad now.) By my own hand... (pauses.) I am
sorry. I have done you a great wrong, and I wish I could undo it. I did not mean it to come to this. (Stands up.) I wish your
father had just given me the Silmaril. (Sits down in the chair dispiritedly.) Go now. You are no longer prisoners. Guards, give them rooms. Nice rooms. (They turn to go.)
Maglor: Um... Maedhros...?
Maedhros: Guards, wait. Maglor? (looks at his brother questioningly.)
Maglor: (speaking quietly to Maedhros.) It was my hand that wrought this misfortune on them, and I would make amends. As their parents have sailed across the ocean, mayhaps to Valinor, I would like to raise Elrond and Elros.
Maedhros: I wish to make amends as well. You may, as long as they consent. (He turns to Elrond and Elros, speaking kindly though tentatively.) Um...my brother Maglor has requested to raise you like his own. Would you wish this?
Elros: (defiantly.) No. I will not be raised by my kins' murderer. (He turns to leave.)
Elrond: But... (he touches his brother on his shoulder.) Elros, wouldn't it be better to have him as a father, rather than no one? I don't want to be alone...
Elros: (considers. Then grudgingly...) Oh, all right. Because my brother asks me to, we accept your offer, Maglor.
Maedhros: (relieved, he smiles.) Good, then. (He sobers quickly.) I would that you had no reason to accept this offer. (He gets up from the chair and crosses to Elrond and Elros. He places a gentle hand on Elrond's shoulder, but Elrond shrugs it off. Maedhros looks slightly affronted, but continues gently.) Do not be afraid of what Maglor will be like. (Gives a small, rueful, sad smile.) He is a better Elf than I. (Looks away, down at the floor.) I must be alone. (Exits quickly SR, Guards follow.)
Maglor: (walks over to Elrond and Elros.) I can see that you are two noble Elves, though young. (drops on his knees in front of them. Elros and Elrond look a bit surprised. ) I am so sorry for what happened, though I am as guilty as Maedhros, and my apology can do little. Please forgive me, though I will never forgive myself. I listened to Maedhros far too readily.
Elros: (surprised) It was all Maedhros' idea? (looks vengeful.) When I see him again, I will make him beg for mercy before he dies. Such a villainous thing he did, and--
Maglor: I fear you do not fully understand him; I doubt even he himself does. Maedhros is troubled, and deeply so. He is normally wiser than this, but the Oath he, and admittedly, I, swore drives him onward to disaster. He wishes to forget his Oath, but he, like any sane being, fears the Everlasting Dark, for that is what we swore by. Remember too, his torment by the Dark Lord. Surely you saw he has only his left hand. He hates Morgoth the more for that, so wants the Silmarils from him, in revenge. He lusts for the Silmarils, and, having the quick tongue that he does, persuaded me to help him to finally lay hands on one.
Elrond: What does this have to do with anything?
Maglor: What I am trying to say is this: I believe that he has sincerely repented for what harm he has caused you.
Elros: (skeptically.) Oh? It did not appear that way to me.
Maglor: But I believe it is so. Maedhros often finds it hard to apologize, or to admit he is wrong, but if he does, he always means it.
Elrond: You have great love for your brother, Maglor, though I cannot see why. I forgive you, though the harm is done.
Maglor: And Maedhros?
Elrond: Him, I cannot forgive. Not yet. But we shall see.
Maglor: Let us go now. (He rises and leads the boys off SL. The lights go out, the props are removed, and the lights come back on. Iluvatar enters SR.)