Disclaimer: The realms of Arda, the characters who live there and the events that take place are not mine, I'm just having fun
Ch.5 The Storm Arrives
There had been no more beds in the infirmary, so Maedhros had carried Maglor up to his own room high in the keep while Erulissë was settled in the closest guest room. Maglor had completely loss consciousness. He now lay limply in Maedhros' own bed while the healers scrambled to bind his wounds and keep the inevitable infections at bay.
As much as he wished to wait by his brother's bedside, Maedhros was pulled away to help man the defenses as Morgoth's forces finally reached them. The first onslaught was Orcs, hoards of them. They broke on Himring like waves in an endless sea. The Orcs were quickly followed by dragon fire. The unforgiving flames drenched the fortress. Himring's walls, built of solid stone, withstood the attacks.
Soon Morgoth realized that no amount of brute force would be able to fell the fortress so his forces besieged the jagged peak. The Elves inside quickly discovered that Himring besieged was unpleasant. The frigid winds that buffeted the fortress were both a blessing and a curse. They drove away the worst of the smoke so that the inhabitants didn't die of suffocation. However, the cold air preserved the bodies of the fallen in gruesome detail, forcing the survivors to use a pry bar to remove the what was left of the corpses from the ice covered battlements. The air stank of burned flesh, sulfur and char, even inside the cramped buildings.
Seeing what Morgoth was throwing against them, Maedhros was mildly surprised that Maglor had withstood the attack as long as he had and made him wondered why his younger brother hadn't retreated sooner to avoid more casualties.
During the brutal beginnings of the siege, Maedhros came across another tale of ill new. Calmelda and Ithalion were nowhere to be found. Though Maedhros looked for them and questioned the survivors, no one had any news of his sister-in-law and his nephew. Rumors floated around that they had been consumed by the relentless flames, or carried off by Orcs, or that Maglor himself had left them behind because they were too slow. Maedhros felt disgusted by the latter idea. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Maglor would never have left the Gap without his wife and son which left only one grim option: Calmelda and Ithalion were dead.
It was nearly three days before Maedhros found the time to check on his niece and brother. His first stop was Erulissë's room on the floor below his own. The curtains were drawn, giving the room a somber look. Erulissë looked absolutely tiny in the guest bed that was made for a full grown Elf. Maedhros looked to the healer attending his niece with a questioning glance. The healer caught his glace and shook his head slowly in response to the unvoiced question.
"Her lungs are coated in ash. There is nothing we can do but make her comfortable until she passes," he solemnly told Maedhros. Meadhros sadly looked down at Erulissë's pale, but peaceful face remembering how lively she had been but a few months ago. He prayed to any of Valar that might still be listen and to Eru himself that by some miracle the little girl would live and he would not have to pass along news of her death to her father. After kissing the clammy brow, he left to check on Maglor.
Maglor's room wasn't much livelier, but it did have more commotion. Maglor was coughing harshly and thrashing about in the bed. Two healers were working in tandem to keep his twisting body still while a third healer was efficiently fashioning restraints out of soft cords and cloth.
"What in Arda are you doing?!" Maedhros growled at he swiftly strode to the bedside and snatched away the cords.
"Trying to keep him from injuring himself further," one of the exhausted healers snapped back, holding her hand out for the cords.
"By tying him down?" Maedhros was skeptical.
"A necessary evil. He will not cease his thrashing and all that movement is making his wounds worse," the healer explained crossly.
"Why not sedate him? Would that not be the better option?" Maedhros argued back.
"Normally, yes, and I wish we could, but his breathing is already compromised enough without putting a sedative in his system."
Maedhros bit his lip at this news and weighed his options before handing the cords back to the healers. They murmured their thanks before turning back to their work. While the healers finished restraining Maglor, Maedhros took a good look at his little brother.
What had remained of Maglor's once silky black locks had been shorn off, replaced by thick bandages that encompassed his head and the right side of his face. His chest and right arm were similarly bandaged. Most of the sweat-dampened bandages had been loosened by Maglor's frantic tossing and turning. Maedhros caught glimpses of blistered and melted flesh beneath. What little skin wasn't covered by bandages was reddened and irritated from the heat Maglor had endured. What worried Maedhros the most was how awful Maglor's breathing still sounded. Every inhale seemed shallower than the last and every exhale got caught in his chest, only to be ripped out by a wet cough. His chapped lips were tinged blue from his desperate struggle to get enough air.
Only once the healers had finished their tasks did Maedhros dare to inquire further.
"Will he be alright?" Maedhros almost couldn't bring himself to ask.
"I don't know," the healer didn't even try to sugar coat her words as she ran a hand through her hair, "He inhaled a lot of smoke and ash. Enough, that I worry for the state of his lungs, Elda though he be. He has deep burns mostly concentrated on his right side. They are clean for now, and with Eru's blessing they will stay that way. From what we can tell the fever is a residual effect of spending so much time in near those Valar-be-damned flames and not an infection. There also is the added concern of the spear wound. He lost a lot of blood from it and it's location will make healing... tricky, at best. He might recover, he might not; it is hard to say at this stage."
Maedhros rested his hand on Maglor's good shoulder while the healer was talking. The skin was unpleasantly warm. Beneath the weight of his hand, Maedhros could feel that Maglor was trembling. Maedhros frowned.
"Can't you at least give him something for the pain?" he asked once the healer was done talking.
"No, as the effect would be the same as a sedative," the healer responded morosely, "I truly am sorry."
She gave Maedhros a sad look before leaving the room to get more water. Maedhros felt guilt sweep over all other emotions as he looked at his comatose brother. This was all his fault. If only he had ridden out to help Maglor instead of hiding in his fortress, maybe then things would be different. Instead here he was with a dying niece and severely injured brother. Maedhros clenched his hand into a fist. Mogroth would pay. Maedhros would see to it, even if it was the last thing he did.
