AN: Wow! Reviews! Does the Happy Frodo Chicken Dance Now to reply to them…
Nessa Ar-Feiniel: Yes, pretty silly.
Nora D: Glad you thought it funny! Some teachers can be real idiots… Terrible place in what way?
Jilian baade: Yes, that's rather what Jayne was worried about. Here's an update for you!
Napolde of the Council: And for you too! Yep, I'm afraid the teacher is that dumb. :)
Kiri: Oh good! There were other people who noticed it.
Unsung Heroine: That's one of my favorite lines too. The Sons of Feanor do not discuss!
Viya: Glad you like it, here's some more
Anon: Well, I'll try my best.
The Grammar Nazi: Yes, extreme assumptions… It's supposed to be a sort of career day, and in the film they were about seven, so that's the age I'm working with.
Okami11: Thank you!
And now, on with the story…
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When the two mortal women had turned away, Maedhros turned and looked at his brothers. What a mess. Amrod and Amras were hovering in the background; Maglor was inspecting a couple of instruments on a shelf in the corner; Celegorm and Curufin were whispering between themselves, plotting, no doubt; and Caranthir… Caranthir had found a cage containing a small furry animal, and was staring at it with considerable interest.
Maedhros pointed at him and told the twins, "You two try to keep him under control, while I –"
"Why is it always us?" Amrod interrupted.
"Why can't you keep an eye on him for once?" continued Amras. Maedhros closed his eyes for a moment. He hated it when they finished each other's sentences.
He elected to answer Amras' question. "Because I'm the eldest."
"All the more reason!" said Amrod indignantly. He folded his arms and put on an expression that gave Maedhros a rather unpleasant flashback to their father at his most stubborn. He shook his head to banish the mental image.
"No, I'm the head of the family. Besides, I'm trying to deal with this mortal." He gestured towards the two mortals, who were having a whispered but urgent-sounding conversation.
"Well why can't –" Amras began.
Maedhros forestalled him. "Turko and Kurvo are almost as bad as he is… In fact, they're worse, just more subtle."
"Hey!" cried one of them, probably Celegorm.
"Sad but true, I'm afraid. I can't ask Káno, he's too easily distracted." As if to prove his point, Maglor was poking through a pile of sheet music and didn't even look up. "And that leaves you two, and me. And, as I say, I'm trying to deal with this mortal."
"And," added Curufin, "You're the youngest, and there's two of you." He rather pointedly turned his back on them. "Nelyo, could you just remind me what we're doing here?"
Maedhros took a rather deeper breath than was necessary. "Looking for the Silmarils," he said, in the calm and patient voice of someone who is sick of having to explain things.
"There can't be any Silmarils here!" cried Curufin, gesturing around at the painted walls, the rows of children, and the shelves filled with books or pot plants.
Maedhros had to admit that his younger brother had a point. He sighed heavily. "This looks like turning out like the utter palaver over that first one."
"Oh yes," said Curufin, "The one that the girl and the mortal managed to get." He turned and pointed an accusing finger. "It was all your fault, Turko."
Celegorm looked up in some surprise. "Why? What did I do?"
"Gave them your dog."
"I did not give them my dog, he switched sides without prior notice." Celegorm was scowling at the memory of that rather embarrassing incident.
"Stupid useless mutt, and he's got fleas!" snapped Curufin. Maedhros felt that he had every right to be bitter about it, as he had, after all, been the one being choked senseless while Huan stopped Celegorm from coming to his rescue.
"He has not got fleas!" cried Celegorm.
"Something had fleas, we all got bitten. Perhaps it was Telvo…"
"I didn't bite you…" said Amrod, looking rather confused.
"No, I mean you had fleas!"
"I caught them from his dog!"
"My dog does not have fleas!" said Celegorm, in a slow, dangerous voice, stressing every word. After a moment's consideration, he added, "Or he hadn't when I last saw him, who knows what sort of state he's in now, hanging around with that mortal and the Dark-elf's daughter."
"I liked her…" said Curufin, smiling slightly at the memory of Lúthien.
"You'd like anything in a dress," said Celegorm scornfully. "You'd like Orodreth if he put on a dress!"
"I would not!"
It was at that point, when Maedhros was just about to intervene and split up the squabbling brothers, that the first, and rather stupid, mortal decided to come and talk to them.
"Did you have therapy after you lost that hand?" she asked Maedhros, pointing to the stump of his right wrist.
For a moment, he searched for an answer, but as the question was incomprehensible and had taken him so by surprise, all he could muster was, "Pardon?"
"Well… counseling?"
"Oh! There were a lot of councils: how to get our Silmarils back, how to eradicate the orcs…"
"I liked the orcs," said one of the children, a small boy. "The elves were sissy."
There was a short, shocked silence.
"Who's responsible for him?" cried the second mortal woman, pointing to the boy. One of the mortals came over to him. "Right, keep him quiet unless you want us all killed. As for you, if you think that they are sissy, you need help."
The first mortal addressed Maedhros again, apparently determined to continue this rather uncomfortable line of questioning.
"No, I mean did you sit and talk about how you felt about it and…" she faltered, then tried a different approach. "How did it happen, anyway?"
"My cousin cut it off," Maedhros told her, keeping his voice carefully flat as he tried not to remember it, and ignoring the furious noise made by one of his brothers.
"That wasn't very nice of him…"
"Oh no…" muttered the second mortal, starting to come over.
"Whatever did he do that for?" the first continued
Here came the memories. Maedhros was aware that his voice was strained, but he still forced the words out as calmly as he could. This mortal was clearly mentally deficient. She knew no better. He had to be patient with her, even about such a dreadful subject. "I asked him to shoot me. Instead, he cut off my hand."
"Why did you ask him to shoot you?"
Maedhros closed his eyes tight as images flashed behind them. He remembered the agonizing pain through his entire arm and side as he hung helplessly from the cliff face. He remembered hearing Fingon's voice among the rocks, joining in the song, seeing him approach. He remembered begging his old friend to kill him, just to stop the pain.
"If you, mortal, had been hanging by your wrist from a cliff for however many years, and I doubt that you would survive the experience, you would also beg the first friend to come near you to kill you," he hissed, keeping his eyes tight shut and trying to banish the memories that still haunted him, remaining as clear as if Fingon had only found him yesterday, though it was so long ago…
Suddenly, the tension was split by a discordant screeching noise. It was one that Maedhros and five of his brothers immediately recognized, and cursed. The sixth brother was the one making the noise; Maglor had clearly found a piece that suited him, and so had got out his newest instrument: a harmonica. Everyone turned to stare at him. He stopped playing rather guiltily.
"Is there a problem?"
Maedhros began to wish that his mother had done the same as his grandmother: have one son, then pass to the Halls of Mandos.
"Káno, considering the very large variety of instruments that you can play, and play well, why did you have to bring a harmonica, which you can't play… at all?"
"I can fit it in my pocket. You told me to find an instrument that's portable!"
"That was only after you tried taking your harp on the bus. We were getting enough trouble as it was, what with Moryo calling the driver a servant of Morgoth!"
That had been a decidedly humiliating incident. They had just been trying to get onto the bus, but Maglor had insisted on bringing his harp. They had just been trying to get it aboard, when the driver had looked from it to the crowded bus, and said, 'You can't bring that on here.' 'Why not?' Maedhros had asked. 'Too big. There isn't room.' It might have all been sorted out amicably, had Caranthir not drawn his sword and cried, 'Peace, servant of Morgoth!' resulting in them being thrown off the bus. In a steaming temper, Maedhros had told Caranthir that he was no longer his brother, just some idiot that his – Maedhros' – mother had brought home. He had then made the 'bring something portable' comment to Maglor.
Maedhros emerged from his reverie to become aware that Maglor was speaking. "Besides, I have to learn to play the harmonica."
"May one ask why?" asked Maedhros, considering the hours of torment that this new hobby had inflicted on them.
"Daeron can play the harmonica! That's why everyone says he's a better musician than me!"
Oh. It was this old rivalry. Maglor just couldn't get over this.
"Well, I'm sure that you're a very good musician," said the stupid mortal in soothing tones.
"I am!" cried Maglor "But everyone names me second to that Dark-elf minstrel!"
Clearly, this was not the response that she had been expecting. Maedhros hid a smile. Perhaps she had thought that Maglor needed his ego boosting? Wrong! He was, after all, a son of Feanor.
"Well, perhaps he's just good in a different way, and in your own way, you're better than he is."
Maglor was having none of it. "My point: he can play the harmonica!"
"Since when was the harmonica a musical instrument, anyway?" asked the more intelligent-seeming of the two. Maedhros had to agree with her.
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Feanorion nicknames:
Nelyo: Maedhros
Káno: Maglor
Turko: Celegorm
Kurvo: Curufin
Moryo: Caranthir
Pityo: Amras
Telvo: Amrod