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He woke with a violent, thrashing start. Something was holding him down, restraining him, and he --

"Hush! Maitimo -- Russandol! Hush! Focus on your breathing and the sound of my voice! There, like that."

His breaths were still coming in jagged gasps, though his heart was beginning to slow in its wild gallop.

The voice which had spoken to him was familiar. Someone he had known a long time ago. So long ago...

(Golden hair. Or was it silver? His father had coveted that hair.)

He turned his head and forced his eyes to focus.

Young, impetuous Artanis. Though... it had been many a year since she'd come of age, hadn't it? Not so young anymore.

She was grasping his left hand firmly, mouth set in a grim line. "How are you feeling?"

He croaked a noncommittal response.

She gave him a look that clearly said that she did not believe his (almost definitely fake) ambivalence before freeing one of her hands from his tight grasp and reaching for his bedside table. She retrieved a glass of water, which she offered to him.

"You will have to sit up first."

His did, though not without effort.

Sitting up gave him a better view of his sick room. It was empty save the two of them.

"Where's..." He trailed off as he couldn't choose whom to ask after. Where were all his brothers? Findekano? Even Huan?

"It's just me and Findarato tonight. He would still be here, but Angarato and Aikanaro ran into a problem with some of our followers and requested his help. He should be back soon. Before dawn, at least."

Dawn.

He still wasn't used to the concept. The smoke and clouds over Thangorodrim had been so thick, he hadn't really actively known about the sun and moon until after his rescue.

Artanis released his hand and gently wrapped his fingers around a cold, metal cup. He carefully rose it to his lips and took a sip.

She continued, "There's a lot of tension between our two camps. What little reintegrating of our peoples that has happened has been... fraught. Many of our family members are out mediating disputes and such. Others are out hunting or scouting or taking their rest while they can."

He took another sip. Focused on the sensation of coolness running down his throat and spreading through his chest.

"How did they compel you to agree to watch over me?" Why aren't you out helping them? Everyone knows how much you enjoy leading. Why are you here instead?

She eyed him a moment longer. "You've been having dreams. Nightmares. Even your reverie is not restful. Makalaurë asked me to help."

He waited when she paused.

"His reasoning was that few among our people -- less than few -- know how to deal with... troubling visions." She pursed her lips.

He caught her meaning immediately. "He thinks Arafinwean tricks will help?"

"He thinks it is worth a try. Frankly, I agree."

Artanis and a son of Feanaro agreeing on something. Would wonders never cease?

"Findekano made me promise not to start or participate in any arguments before he let me in here. He guards you like Uncle guards -- guarded -- his hordes of jewels"

He winced.

"Sorry."

He shook off her apology. "It's fine."

He took one last, final sip of water before handing it back to Artanis. She placed it back on the bedside table.

"Honestly, I'm still reeling from the news that he's dead." She spoke in a hushed tone, almost to herself.

He knew the feeling.

"He just seemed so... invincible. Larger than life. Even if he... wasn't my favorite uncle. Half the reason I came was to put a stop whatever foolishness he had planned. But now that he's gone..."

He listened patiently, the way he used to when she was still a child held in arms and would come up to him to babble about the boats her mother had or a snake she'd found behind a rock in Finwe's garden.

It was something familiar, and almost calming for its familiarity alone.

She sighed. "I really should have learned from Grandfather's death and all that came afterward that none of us are infallible. And now I feel... set adrift, almost."

He hummed to show he was still listening.

She turned her sharp eyes onto him. "I'm glad you are still with us, Maitimo."

He wasn't sure he felt the same way. Certainly things would be easier if he'd just followed his father into Mandos instead of lingering here.

"Really?" His voice was dry. "That's not what I thought you would say. Not after Alaqualondë." Especially not after Losgar.

Artanis did not flinch. "Both of us fought at Alqualondë."

"On separate sides."

"True enough. However, I hold that our reasons were the same -- namely, the defense of ourselves and our kin." Here, she hesitated, "After hearing several different accounts of... what happened... I would even go so far as to guess that you weren't even there when the fighting started, were you?"

He grunted. "You don't know that."

"Perhaps not. I know you, though. You've known me my whole life, and that goes both ways. I've known you a long time, Cousin. It's not in your nature to resort to violence, not when a diplomatic solution can be attained. Besides that, no one reports seeing you participating in the fighting until it was already well under way."

She was right, technically. That didn't make the face that he was a kinslayer excusable, though.

"Fine, then." She would believe what she wanted. She was a kinslayer herself. "What about Losgar? What about the Grinding Ice?"

"Makalaurë claims that you did not participate in the ship burning."

He said nothing in response to this. He merely sat back and stared up at the ceiling.

Yes, he had not burned the boats. No, he had not done enough to stop it. Those were the facts. There was nothing more to tell.

"It is not within the nature of the Fëanárioni to lie, and I did not sense such from him. Still, I would hear your side of things, sometime. Perhaps later."

Perhaps.

He would prefer never to revisit that horrid day ever again.

"In short, I do not blame you for either the Kinslaying at Alqualondë, the destruction of my mother's people's heritage at Losgar, nor for the Crossing of the Helcaraxë. You make a good King, I think. Better than Uncle Fëanáro, at the least." Artanis' voice had grown soft. "But you will not be keeping the position, will you?"

This made him turn to face her once more. "Where did you hear that?"

"In my visions." She held his gaze. "Have you spoken with Nolofinwë, yet?"

"No."

She was quiet a moment. "I'm sorry for bringing it up, then. I wasn't sure."

He wasn't going to hold it against her. Or at least, he would try not to. She frequently forgot (or perhaps "forgot") to keep her visions to herself. It shouldn't come as a surprise that she was still Artanis, even after their long separation and more recent reunion.

The silence this time stretches on. He found himself content to let it sit.

Artanis suddenly grabbed his hand again, catching his attention. "The things both of us have been through to get here... it's amazing that we're still alive. Do you think this is how the original Noldor felt when they finally made it to Aman after the Great Journey? In a way, it feels that we've come full circle. From suffering to peace to suffering... and hopefully to more peace, after this."

He had to think about that. "Perhaps, though the story of our people is far from over."

He was not gifted in Foresight, but this much, at least, he could feel in his very fëa.

"Yes..." She trailed off, her eyes going unfocused. "It will take a very long time. We both have parts to play to see it happen." She snapped out of her haze. "I'm not going to be staying here."

Did she just have some grand vision about that?

"In my sickroom?"

"At Lake Mithrim, with the rest of our people. Makalaurë is still acting as regent. He and Uncle have been in council recently and have come to the decision to send a delegation to Doriath and its King. And since rumor suggests that their 'King Elu Thingol' is actually Elwë, we thought sending his kin to him might be the wisest course of action. I will be a leading ambassador on the expedition, along with my brothers. We will be doing our part to reach for the promised joy and freedom of these lands."

Ah. That made sense, then.

Artanis was the youngest of their generation, yet she was by some to be the wisest. This was indeed true, at least insofar as he could tell, and she knew it too, which made her perhaps less wise than she could be. (One tended to make disastrous choices when putting pride before practical knowledge. Something he'd picked up from experience.) She would be as good an ambassador as the Noldor could offer.

"After I travel on, I don't expect I shall be seeing you again for a long time, unless there is some great need."

"Don't sound so disappointed." He managed a half smile at her.

She flushed. "Well, it's just that..."

She resolutely focussed on his one remaining hand, still caught between her fingers.

He waited.

"I suppose you're not that bad." She grumbled. "If I had to choose a favorite Feanarion, that is."

As prickly as Carnistir, this one was.

He gave her another small smile and her hands a squeeze.

"Good to know. I will do my best not to misuse that information."

She rolled her eyes.

The door to the room opened just then.

Findarato entered. He looked between Artanis and Maitimo, eyes catching and lingering on their clasped hands.

Finally, he smiled. "It's good to see you awake, even at this hour -- you've been sleeping rather a lot lately. I hope you two didn't try to rip out each other's throats at any point."

That last comment seemed to be directed specifically at Artanis.

Artanis did not look even the slightest bit abashed. Self-confident as always. "Maitimo and I get along just fine."

"Glad to hear it." Findarato took a seat on his other side. "Are you feeling up to learn a few tricks for dealing with visions while you're awake?"

Maitimo made himself sit up again. "As I'll ever be."

(This was one of the last times he ever spoke with Artanis.)

--

Thank you for reading my disaster. I don't know where it came from, but I needed to write it down so it would stop rattling around in my head. The only editing was a read-through by me, so there will probably be errors of all kinds that I missed. I apologize for those and ask you to please forgive me.

Title is sort of taken from Aftermath by Crown the Empire.