Sorry, this week's chapter is super short. Adulting sucks big time.
Disclaimer: This is Tolkien's world and characters, I do not own them in any capacity. :(
Ch. 3 Too late
Maedhros was at loss about what to do. Ever since 'the incident', as he had termed that fateful day several weeks ago, his brother's had been frustratingly unmanageable.
Maglor refusing to respond to any of his messages, sending Maedhros' messengers back without ever even reading the letters. Caranthir was sulkily ignoring his oldest brothers while the twins had disappeared into their beloved forests avoiding everyone all together. When he 'remembered' to send them, Curufin's responses were surly and short tempered, never answering Maedhros' questions. Celegorm had tried to respond to Maedhros out of guilt and fear of his older brother's wrath, but Curufin always got his hands on the letters, redacting all personal information.
Maedhros' bit his lip in frustration as he crumpled up Celegorm's latest useless report. Curufin had taken the liberty of redacting it so much that the only information legible was the fact that they had good stores for the winter, a clear attempt to get Maedhros to leave them alone. Maedhros had contemplated reaching out their uncle High King Fingolfin to help him, but he had a distinct feel that involving anyone else would make the situation worse. The best thing to do for now was to let all of his brothers simmer in their self-pity. They would see reason eventually Maedhros hoped. Meanwhile, they all were sitting ducks without their former cooperation. Maedhros feared that this would the time that Morgoth would strike.
Three months to the day that the rest of the Fëanorions had stormed out of Himring, a great cloud of smoke crept down from the north. The foul vapors of Angband were nothing new to the area. It was almost as if it was Morgoth's way of reminding everyone of the threat on their doorstep. This smoke, however, was unusually thick and dark. It muffled all noise leaving one feeling suffocated and disorientated. The dark mists made Maedhros uneasy. He posted extra sentries and ordered civilians to begin carrying weapons. His edginess spread to everyone in Himring. Tempers ran high as they all waited for something to happen, though what they were waiting for, they didn't know.
Their first inkling that something well and truly wrong was when an exhausted rider approached Himring from the east. Maedhros was on the battlement performing a defense check when the rider was spotted. The Elves on the battlements peered through the gloom, trying to identify the horseman or anything about him. The rider was hit by a stray gleam of light. From that little bit of light, Maedhros could see that the rider's tunic was blue. Maedhros frown.
From the east and wearing blue, the rider could only have come from Maglor, but Maglor and his people didn't venture this far, especially not after Maglor's recent humiliation. They stayed isolated in their fortresses and towns. Maedhros squinted again. The rider, closer now, most definitely was wearing the pale blue and dark grey of Maglor. He shouted to the gate guards to let the Elf pass. The weary horse stumbled through Himring's imposing gates and came to a stop in the courtyard. The Maglor's soldier slid out of the saddle, nearly falling over when his knees locked up. Two of Maedhros' own soldiers rushed forward to support him, taking his arms over their shoulders.
It was then with dread that Maedhros noticed the large patch of blood on the rider's side. Before he could ask any questions, the Lord of Himring realized the horseman was trying to talk.
"The Gap...The Gap has f-fallen," the wounded Elf gasped out in a raspy voice, his legs buckling despite the support from the other Elves, "D-dragon fire and Orcs... couldn't hold them off...M-my lord told us to retreat to Himring ... I came... I came... I came ahead to warn you..."
With his message delivered, the rider lost consciousness, leaving the lord of Himring frozen in shock and horror.
