Disclaimer: All characters and constellations are the creation of JRR Tolkien and therefore do not belong to me.
Author's Notes: I realize now that I probably could have gotten away with rating this- at the most- PG, but I'll stick with the current rating since there is some violence in this chapter towards two people you might not expect (well one you might, the other probably not). Other notes are at the end.
Part Two
A silent scream echoes through the land. I feel it in my soul and I wonder. I wonder that I should never rest and that I should see and hear that for which others would call me mad.
They already think one of my brothers is mad.
But perhaps he is not. Perhaps he only hears what others cannot hear. He mocks our deafness in his own and laughs in silence at our silence.
I am not mad. The blade swings closer to me as I follow my feet down a path, a path that is strange without sun or moon light. Only strange starlight to tell me green from deepest blue.
My hand trails in the water. And there is silence all around. The silence is not the peaceful silence of the night, but the cascading silence of times forgotten. It is silence that bears the listener over the falls to the rocks below.
Water and wind are the strongest forces. Yet they are weakened to bending blades of grass in this.
Silence.
She does not follow where my footsteps lead. She does not follow in my dreams. Only her eyes may follow me. For my soul is shared by none.
She cannot dance my dance, yet she dances with me. And in the darkness of one another we both dance. She dances in darkness like ice to my touch and I in darkness like the deep of a flame.
The Valacirca marks me, eyes me as an archer would.
I remember. I remember her scent, softer spring, but now cold like winter. She did not cross the ice, yet her face marks her as one who did. She followed in my dance from Valinor, followed in my steps everywhere that I went as I followed my father.
My hand cups water from the lake and I lift it to my lips.
Does she wait for me? Does she miss me when I am gone? Her face hovers before my eyes, and her mouth moves to form words. I cannot hear them and I move closer to her, hoping to catch even one word of her voice.
But the silence grips my shoulders and pulls me back. It blinds me so I cannot see and gags me so I cannot speak. I recognize the hands on my shoulders, the cloth on my eyes and in my mouth as Maedhros' doing. He tells me to control my anger, to channel what I have, to beat him in the dark.
And beat him I do, in vengeful anger long held. Maglor restrained me under the trees that night as I clawed the cloth on my face gone and shouted words I would regret into my brother's face. Maedhros was knelt on the ground, one hand clutching the opposite arm. Anger welled up in me at seeing him injured and Maglor's grip became stronger until the blood was cut off from my hands.
I would have killed them both.
This time I am different. I do not fight; merely let the silence claim me. I do not scream, for I have allowed silence to reign. Nor do I hear, for the silence consumes all other sounds.
Again I am on my feet, following a path I know well but do not recognize. My memory tells me of a time when I wandered paths with her hand in my hand. The leaves of the trees decorated her face with shadow patterns, yet her eyes remained unclouded, undimmed.
A soft shadow plays in the doorway to our home. I see another shadow. My own. As I move toward her I push her to the ground, my anger is unknown to her. She does not understand. Again and again I hit her on the ground. Again and again I take small pieces of satisfaction that I may make one person bleed. Blood on her body, bruises on her face. My anger turns to passion and I wound her again.
But nothing changes.
I see her shadow in the door to our home, as a soft shadow danced silhouetted once in her home. She never danced again, save with my spirit to lead her. Nothing changes. Silence suffocates me once more. I feel my fea weaken under its power, weaken without emotion to the power of an emotionless force.
I see her there, a candle in her hand. Hope I have not known rises in my chest.
Yet still, silence crashes over me like waves. But with her there, only a few steps away, it is different silence.
I reach her in the doorway and smile at the way the flickering light plays over her skin. She neither smiles nor meets my eyes.
"An urgent message has arrived from your brother."
I do not hear her words, for I relish in the silence now. I hear only the music of her voice, that which blends with the deafening noise of nothingness. She should have been a singer.
In the strange light I feel her hand on my face. I hear her vow to follow me to Middle-Earth, when all the world told her to stay behind, to reject the madness of Feanor and his sons, to be wise. Her family named her a fool. In darkness we fled with my family and our followers. She stayed forever by my side, shining with all the light of the diminished two trees. A Silmaril upon her brow would leave no doubt that she was most beautiful.
Her voice is cool when it breaks the quiet again.
"You will march with your brothers on Doriath. For Dior Eluchil wears the Silmaril."
The silence overtakes me again. It bears me to my knees in agony. We are not one… We have never been one… We cannot be one…
We are not one.
The silence is oppressive. And the Valacirca waits menacingly above my head. It warns me, but of what?
End.
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Notes for canon-ness:
I fully admit to taking some liberties with canon in this. But here is what the story itself is based upon.
1) The Valacirca, or Sickle of the Valar, was set in the sky by Varda as a challenge to Melkor and a sign of doom- which is appropriate in this case. The Valacirca being a warning as well is my own interpretation stemming from this.
2) The setting of this is Ramdal, where Caranthir, with the remainder of his people, fled with Amrod and Amras after Thargelion was ravaged by orcs.
3) Evidence for Caranthir's wife is found in Volume 12 of the Histories, the Peoples of Middle-Earth, in Of Dwarves and Men here:
"…Others who were wedded were Maelor [Maglor], Caranthir."
I hope you have enjoyed this. Constructive criticism is very much welcome.
