Surrogate Jewels - Chapter Five
Maedhros




I was wrong. It is you, my brother, who does not see. You see not the Light, or rather, you do not know that you see it. You desire these children, just as do I... yet you know not why, and I do. I see, and I understand. You see, and know not at what you look. 'Tis strange... watching you fuss and suffer, try and fail, with such determination, such devotion... and to think you know not even why. Absurd. Intolerable.

I wish to tell you, to enlighten you. But you would not understand. Indeed, you would rather not know, I wager. You would rather believe yourself attracted to the Peredhil's youthful innocence, you would rather think yourself acting out of kindness and good will than obsession and lust.

You are bound now to those children, as surely and unconditionally as all of Feanor's sons are bound to the Silmarils themselves. I think it is your pledge to care for Earendil's sons which is occupying your sanity until we again have a chance to reclaim father's precious jewels. And I?

I maintain my sanity by watching you, and assuring myself that someday those miserable brats will return your love, or at least have the decency to respond to your affection. You try so hard for them, brother... so very hard. At the expense of your own happiness, you spend yourself tirelessly for theirs. All for naught, as they will not be pleased.

I cannot bear it, sometimes, seeing you with them. They who do not respect you, they who do not appreciate you, they who do not obey you... And I so wish I could make them. If for nothing else than to see you smile, to hear you laugh, to know that you received any amount of reward or gratification... If I could make them give it to you, I would. And you would never even have to know...

No! What am I thinking? I cannot make them. As Maglor has already demonstrated, they cannot be made to behave in any certain way. Or... perhaps my brother is simply being too lenient. Maybe he is giving them options. I might have more success. I could at least try. Nothing to harm by simply speaking with them about... some things.

It was a long journey returning from Sirion, and I think Maglor is still tired, though it was some time ago that we arrived home at last. But his energy is sapped by those children, and at this rate he will never recover. They are running him ragged, as he waits on them hand and foot. Nay, not that they request his services... but he tires, regardless. Always, he is trying. I must help him, or I must... stop him.

"Your brother, my Lord?" The sentry confirms unnecessarily, never one to pass up using extra words.

I simply nod.

"Yes, he rode out with the border guards late last night. Did no one tell you?"

"They did not." I frown deeply. "Maglor had a plan of this beforehand?"

"Nay, Lord Maedhros... As I understand there was something brought up about discrepancies in the line of defense along the easternmost-"

I hold up my hand, effectively hushing the always over-talkative sentry. "That is quite enough, thank you. Would it be sufficient to say that Maglor will not return for some time yet?"

The sentry eyes me, ever so cautiously curious. "Well, yes, my Lord. I would say most definitely so."

I smile without thinking, and hope no suspicion will arise from it. "Very good. Thank you."

I leave him with his ponders and make my way to the prisoners' quarters... actually, the only 'prisoners' we presently keep are the Peredhil, and their bedroom is quite near to Maglor's own. So it is not any dungeon or special wing that I travel to, but rather to a chamber equally as ornate as any other. And nearer to my brother than even I sleep.

"Peredhil," I announce upon entering.

They spin from the mirror where they were playing, making faces and matching each other's expression. Now that they see me, standing alone in the doorway and effectively blocking any escape route, their faces do indeed match- in fear.

They do not answer my greeting, and that annoys me dearly. "Hello, children," I say pointedly, expecting for sure that they will grasp my meaning. But still, they speak not one word of recognition. I grunt under my breath. "You two have no right to behave rudely," I grate, "not towards me or any of those who serve under me, and certainly not towards Maglor."

They glance at each other, close to panicking from the looks of them, though still remaining silent.

"Well? Have you no explanation? You cannot even say 'hello'?" Nothing. I feel an involuntary grimace take control of my face. "Answer me when I speak to you, sons of Earendil. I will not abide this blatant disregard for common courtesy."

One looks nervously behind me, searching for what, I know not. "Where is Maglor?" the other one asks, with a trace of defiance that vexes me more than if he had said nothing at all.

"He is away," I answer tonelessly. "And he will not return for some time."

The silent one seems to quiver, as if I confirmed with my words some unnamed dread he held, and the one who spoke speaks no more. I move into the room, closing the door behind me. The Peredhil huddle a bit closer together as I approach, and they freeze in place as I search for which words I care to use.

"You know," I begin, "my brother is quite fond of you both." I cannot tell if they purposefully shake their heads, or if they are merely shaking all over. "And I, of course, am terribly fond of my brother." Yes, they most definitely are shaking in general.

I stop a moment to examine the quilt on their bed, which looks oddly familiar... Ah, yes. It used to be in Maglor's room. His favorite blanket, because it reminds him of one our mother made years ago... He gave the Peredhil his favorite blanket. Is it because they remind him of her? Of when our parents and we seven children were a complete family still? Or of the family Maglor might have had of his own? Surely he does not see these children as his own sons... That would be ridiculous! My teeth grind of their own accord at the thought.

"Would it kill you," I hear myself say, "to show my brother the barest indication of affinity?" They are now holding on to each other, and it angers me that they would harbor such distrust when I have done nothing to earn it, yet they will display no gratitude after all the generosity Maglor has shown. Whence does their fear of me come? No, no, none of that- I need not concern myself with me; this is about Maglor, who tries so hard, who gives so much.

"He has donated to you your own room," my thoughts bleed into words, "and he has gifted you with many toy-things... he lets you play at any time and nap by your whim or not at all, and you have privacy and personal attendants and-" I notice tears gather in their eyes... pending rain in the looming storm...
"You have everything," I state. "You are treated like princes. And all he wants, all he needs, is a simple thanks, a little esteem. Why will you not reward him such?"

I step forward, "Do you not see that you hurt him so?" One begins to cry silently, the other still keeping his tears in check. "Answer me, Peredhil. Do you not even care?" A thought comes to me, that they do not actually know of Maglor's efforts, or the harm their indifference does him... But no, I push the thought away. They deserve more credit than that. They must know. They must be doing this on purpose to spite Maglor and me both. They must.

I pick the uncrying child up, lifting him from his underarms until he is face to face with me. "Why are you doing this to us? What pleasure do you take from my brother's woe, and from the rift you are driving between us?" I feel a weak tugging on the rim of my boot and ignore it. The child I hold has now begun to cry as his brother had before him.

His tears, I ignore as well. I only have eyes and ears for what I want to see and hear. "Speak, child." I shake the one in my grasp, and he seems to twist backwards as if in pain. I must wonder if falling on his head would be somehow preferable to simply being in my close proximity.

Now there is a faint, albeit perpetual, tapping going on. I glance down to see the other child pounding away at my shin, no doubt trying with all his might to crack the bone. I suppress a laugh and shake my head, setting the writhing babe I hold on the bed. His feisty brother, I heft and toss down beside him.

They get their knees under them and haste to the opposite end of the mattress, watching me warily. I sit down, my back to them, defeated. Defeated by a couple of Half-mortal whelps, who have done nothing but hold their little tongues to thwart me so.

"Sons of Earendil..." I sigh heavily, "your life here can be as pleasant, or as unpleasant, as you make it." I feel the blanket on which I sit pull taut under me as they clutch the cover tight in fists of anticipation.

"I do not want to see anyone suffer with pain of any sort." I twist at the waist to look at them, slowly bringing up the stump of my right wrist for them to see closely. One winces, but the other looks more concerned than appalled. "I am no stranger to agony, and there are many different kinds of it... some severe and imminent, and some dull and ghostly." I turn away again, confident that I have their undivided attention.

"My brother does not deserve any more punishment from the likes of you than he already delivers upon himself. And I have enough grief in my heart without watching him despair in his fruitless efforts to appease you."

I stand, and walk to the door, stopping before opening it. "When he comes here tonight, thank him warmly for all the kindness he has shown to you." I think for a moment; an image of my brother smiling fuels my next words. "Then tell him-- nay, assure him, that you love him."

Turning halfway, I give them a stern glance. "And someday very soon, I had best be convinced that you mean it."

With that I leave quickly, unwilling to see the abhorrence no doubt manifest on their faces.

My 'talk' somehow became a bit... distorted, I realize. I wish now that I had not acted so, but perhaps... perhaps it will be worth it in the end.


***


My chest is tight with grief that is not mine, though mayhap it ought to be. Unable to sleep, I rise from the restlessness of my bed to dispel the burdensome anxiety that plagues me. Eventually, my midnight trek brings me to Maglor's quarters, where I find him sitting in front of a fiercely burning fire, singing mournfully with his eyes closed, as tears occasionally find their way down his cheeks.

I only knew I would find him here in his study, like this, because such instincts are the bond of brothers. The room is a hue of crimson, illuminated only by the flaming hearth, all outside light denied by the window curtains drawn shut. It is a melancholy Maglor indeed, who would shun the starlight so, instead confining himself to this gloomy interior- and alone, no less. But I know my brother well; I know he would welcome company under any circumstance, despite his mood.

I have heard this particular song Maglor sings many times before. He wrote it to commemorate simple sadness, and it does the job well. Coming to sit on the floor, nestled by my brother's feet on his left side, I finish the song with him; as always keeping my voice well lower than his, as it has never been and will never be as accomplished as Maglor's. I only consider my voice worthy of singing with his at all because it serves as pristine example of how glorious Maglor really does sound. We linger together on the last note, I enjoying my brother's sound, and he -I like to think- enjoying my company.

He nods appreciatively in acknowledgement to me, and wipes his tear-streaked face with one hand. The other, he sets palm-up on the armrest of his chair, and I reach across my body to place my left hand in his.

"Thank you," he whispers.

I grunt. "Aye, 'tis a fine song... would that I could do it and its author justice."

Maglor shakes his head, eyes still closed, and smiles in a way that looks more like a wince to me. "Nay, you do. You do."

I feel that his hand in mine is barely shaking, and I surmise it is from suppressed sobs. I wish to say something to bring his attention away from whatever sorrows it lingers upon, and decide to converse on what I feel would make Maglor happiest, for all that it fills me only with ire.
"You ought to teach the Peredhil to sing. As the distant sons of Melian, they should make apt pupils of the art." At my suggestion Maglor chokes on his breath and releases my hand, supporting his head with it instead as he weeps openly.

And I cringe, my skin fevered with anger and guilt. If there is one thing I cannot bear above all other things, is it seeing my sibling grieve. Heavens, especially when it is my own words that bring the tears!
"Speak to me," I say, and Maglor knows from experience that it is not a question.

"They hate me!" he blurts, and shakes his head in bewilderment. "Tonight I went to them after my return, and I brought sweetbread and new toys, and they refused to eat or play, touching neither plate nor toy. And they said, 'we will never love you, even if you force us to say so'. But I only- they... why?"

He bangs his fist down atop the armrest, and I scarcely snatch back my own hand in time to save it from being pummeled.

"Why would they say such a thing?" He puts his head back in his hand, and rasps, "Ai, Maedhros, I do not understand. Ever have I been kind to them, and patient, and gentle. And for my part I- I sincerely like them..." a tinge of shame colored his last words, but he frowns deeply when he continues, "Yet they simply despise me!"

I had been biting my tongue the whole while as he spoke, and now must wonder if it will work quite as well ever again. He asked me, clear and precise, why the Peredhil spoke to him so. It is because of me, because of the things I said to them earlier- but Maglor cannot know that! It was an accident, after all; I never meant for our 'talk' to fall apart the way it did. I was only trying to help. And some good can come of this still; I simply must be tactful about it.

"Maglor, perhaps you are going about this the wrong way." He wipes his tears again and looks at me. "I think... they do not want what you want, and if you would put some distance between yourself and the Peredhil for a time, you would see that."

"What do you mean?" He bristles a little, but I can see that he also considers my words.

So I continue, just as mildly, "I too thought they would soften a bit after Sirion, but recently I have perceived that it is not to be so." I want to tell him that his method of being kind to Earendil's sons will never work, since I even failed to intimidate them into behaving graciously. But my brother will never hear that from me. And if he hears it from them, it might be the last tale they tell.

Maglor seems to slump now, that is, more than he had already, and he sighs wearily. "It may be that you are right, Maedhros. Though I admit, my heart does not wish to believe it is as you say."

I stand, coming behind Maglor in his chair, and place my hand on his shoulder. "And therein lies the problem, I think. Not in your intentions, but in your very heart. For it is too heavily laden with the burden of grief, and not enough enlightened with the joy you crave." I give a firm squeeze. "Find some contentment, Maglor, even if it takes you longer than it ought. But search only in places where it might be found, otherwise you would be spent just as well not looking at all."

His head drops so suddenly that I see it bounce on his chest. "I wish we had them, Maedhros," he whispers, desperately. "So dearly do I wish we had them... and then all of this might feel worth it. If we only had father's Silmarils!"

My stomach clenches in failure and shame, and my head drops as well. "I know," I answer. "Someday, Maglor. Someday." It is an empty promise, but I cannot help myself. I would say anything to make him feel even a little better... And besides, what is one more hollow, possibly insatiable, vow made on my part? I cannot be cursed twice.

"I must take care of them," he says suddenly. "I cannot give them up for lost, not yet. I knew this road would be treacherous ere I set foot upon it- now is not the time to abandon this quest! Besides, if I meant to forsake them, 'twould have been better to have left them at Sirion, to await eventual discovery there."

My mouth goes dry. Does he realize that he talks in the same tone whether he speaks of the Silmarils or the Peredhil? I suppose there is little difference regardless... Each is coveted, and both are seemingly unattainable.

"See them cared for, brother, if you must... but do it from afar." He stiffens slightly. I lean down closer. "The farther you are from them, at least emotionally, the less they can hurt you."

"I doubt it," he counters without hesitation.

"Try it and find out," I plead.

He laughs, softly. "When it hurts too much, I believe I will, lest I despair for my failure."

"Thank you." I straighten. "I cannot bear to see you pained." Had I intended to admit such, I most probably would have worded it more subtly. But it is too late now, for so many things.

Maglor laughs again, irony twisting his sad tone. "Perhaps it is we who should be more distant, in this case."

I would sooner smother the Peredhil in their sleep and do battle with Morgoth himself for the Silmarils he keeps. Putting such thoughts aside, I force myself to smile, hoping it will carry to my voice. "I speak of lessening your suffering, and all you can think of is lessening the advice you receive." I sigh, "An elder brother's work is never done."

Maglor leans his head against my hand for a moment, and when he removes it I pat his shoulder before taking my hand away. "I leave you to your thoughts, brother." Walking towards the door, I add before leaving, "Please, remember what I said." And I know that he will: such instincts are the bond of brothers.


***continued***