I will try to post next week, but I will be out of town most of the weekend, so I apologize beforehand.
Disclaimer: This is Tolkien's world. I do not own any parts that you recognize...
Ch. 9 To loose what you value most
The brothers avoided each other, not a terribly difficult task despite Himring's cramped living space. Maglor remained mostly shut in his rooms and Meadhros had many duties to preform as lord of the garrison. If by some chance, the brothers passed in the hallway, neither acknowledged the other. The only time they tolerated the other's presence was in gatherings like the mess hall. Maedhros would glared daggers at Maglor while Maglor would half-heartedly pick at the food in front of him. Each was resolute in their resolve to give the other the cold shoulder.
It wasn't until a week later when Maedhros caught Maglor changing clothes after being accidently doused with water that his heart softened a bit. Maglor had been returning to his room after the evening meal when a well meaning soldier cleaning out the infirmary tossed a bucket full of water out the window, soaking the musican in the process. Maglor had waived off the poor Elf's apologies and limped off to his room to change his clothes. Maedhros heard the commotion and gone after his brother. The last thing they needed right now was for Maglor to catch cold.
Maedhros found his brother in his quarters, struggling to pull off his thick winter tunic while balance with his crutch. Maedhros paused in the half-opened door way, unsure if his offer to help would be accepted. Maglor didn't noticed him. He finally managed, though not before nearly falling flat on his face.
As he groped for a dry tunic, his undertunic suck to his body, revealing to Maedhros a very startling fact. Maglor was wasting away. It was hard to tell under the baggy winter robes, but now, stripped of his outer garments, it was easy to see that Maglor had lost a lot of weight. He looked far from healthy.
After Maglor nearly lost his balance for the third time, Mahedros pushed into the room.
"Let me help you," Maedhros more demanded than offered. Maglor jumped in surprised, nearly loosing his balance yet again.
"I don't want your help," the musician hissed, turning his back to his brother. His still shortly cropped hair revealed the shiny burns that snaked up the back of his neck to curl up around his right ear, cheek and eye. Maedhros felt sick looking at them.
"You may not want it, but you do need it," Maedhros sighed, making a grab for the tunic.
"No I don't," Maglor sullenly insisted, pulling away. Maedhros saw that there was no changing his brother's mind.
"Fine. If you change your mind, you know where to find me." Maedhros forced himself to turn his back on his brother. Maglor did not call after him. In fact it was several days before Maedhros saw his brother again.
It had been nearly two months since the siege of Himring began. Winter had tightened its unforgiving grip. Spring was still several months away at best and already the stores were dangerously depleted. Maedhros grimly realized that if things didn't change soon, the inhabitance of Himring would starve before the winter was over. After talking with advisors, Maedhros decided on the only logically, but risky course of action: He would ride south and attempt to find supplies that could be bartered or traded for.
The day they were set to leave was somber. Everyone knew that this was a last desperate measure. If it failed, Himring was doomed. It was early in the morning, or at least it should've been. The sky had lightened, but the sun itself was still hidden behind clouds of ash. As he waited for his men to finish saddling their mounts, Maglor forced himself to rise and see them off. He stood near Maedhros, but far enough away that on first glance Maglor was merely an other spectator watching the troops.
It was awkward as neither was reconciled with the other.
"You're leaving with them?" there was a hint of worry in Maglor's tone as he licked his lips nervously.
"Yes." Maedhros didn't elaborate. Maglor knew as well as anyone else in Himring that stores were low.
"I... Will you...Please...Don't get your guards killed..." Maglor trailed off, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Maedhros, choosing instead to look towards the battered gates. Maedhros felt miffed. He was leaving on a potentially harrowing journey to barter to more supplies and this was what he got as a farewell.
"I see how it is. Fine! While I'm gone see if you can get off your sorry ass and help around, but stay out of Erestor's way," Maedhros snapped bitterly.
"Yessir," Maglor mumbled, ears turning scarlet and drooping slightly at the tip. Without another word he left Maedhros and returned to the keep.
Maedhros and his company left and rode south. All around them were the signs of Morgoth's destruction. The land was charred black and they frequently ran into roving bands of Orcs. It wasn't until they reached the Dwarf road in East Beleriand that the signs of carnage began to lessen. It was also here that the force from Himring came across a squadron of soldiers bearing the device of the Ambarussar.
There was much joy at the reunion. The new Elves assured Maedhros that all was well this far south. They also told him that during the chaos, Caranthir and his people had fled their lands. Upon joining up with the Ambarussar and their people, they all retreated to the fortress of Amon Ereb. That, they told Maedhros, was were they still remained and from there they continued to defend what land they could. Maedhros felt a great weight lift off his heart at the news that more of his younger brothers were safe and out of harm's way.
Maedhros and his company stayed for a few days, gathering what supplies they could and arranging for more to be sent north as quickly as possible. The Ambarussar's people tried to convince Maedhros to continue south to see his brothers, but he graciously declined. Himring badly needed whatever stores they had. After wishing each other safe journeys, each forced turned back to their respective homes.
Maedhros' ride back to Himring was uneventful to say the least, which was a relief. Even still Maedhros felt his heart grow light as Himring came into view. He couldn't wait to tell Maglor about the wonderful news that he had learned while in the south. A sour frown stole onto his face as he though of their parting words. He silently curse Eru for giving him six brothers. There were so many to watch out for and someone was always unhappy. That though lingered on the fore front of his mind as the gates creaked open.
Erestor greeted the returning Elves. Despite the good news and supplies brought from the south, he seemed agitated. Maedhros finally made his way over to his senechal.
"Erestor," Maedhros clasped his arm. Erestor returned the gesture.
"It good that you returned as quickly as you did. Maybe you can talk some sense into your idiotic brother." Erestor gripped Maedhros' elbow, leading him off towards the keep. It was a very informal and intimate gesture, but Maedhros was too wrapped up in what Erestor had said to care.
"My brother?" Maedhros frowned, "What's wrong with Maglor?"
"He's unstable. He doesn't sleep, he doesn't eat, his wounds aren't healing; he's not recovering. You have to talk with him. He's fading and I fear he may attempt something more drastic again," Erestor's clipped tone had an edge of worry.
"More drastic?" Maedhros furrowed his brow. He didn't like where this conversation was going.
"He's already tried to throw himself off of the battlement. Something about 'penance for the damned'," Erestor told him grimly. Maedhros felt his heart stop. Before he could ask about the incident a loud voice call:
"My lord, come quickly please!"
From the set of Erestor's jaw, Maedhros didn't need to guess what, or rather who, the commotion was about. Without a second though, he darted off.
