The next morning, Maedhros was feeling much better. Ambarto was asleep, his head pillowed on the back of his chair. Maedhros smiled at the sight as he got out of bed to use the toilet and have a wash. Moving quietly about his morning tasks, he caught sight of his own face in the mirror.
Good grief he looked young without the scars and pain lines. His eyes, on the other hand, didn't. He wondered how long it would be before someone realized that there was more than a concussion different about him. That someone would probably be Makalaure: he was too perceptive for his own good when he bothered to pay attention.
Maedhros had better think of an explanation fast: for that, the nightmares, and most of all the knowledge of a future that hopefully wouldn't happen quite the same way this time. How long until the festival? Was it today, tomorrow? He couldn't remember, but either way he had precious little time before events would spiral beyond anyone's control. He must convince the others to send word to the Valar, and to leave Formenos and scatter, and he had to have a reason for him to know what he did.
The obvious explanation was visions of the future, but he'd never had those. Finrod yes, Galadriel yes, Feanaro yes, even Fingon and little Elrond on occasion, but he'd never had more than blurred dreams and the odd hunch.
A really intense vision cascade that caused him to fall down and hit his head was still probably the best explanation. Maedhros snorted. Having over 500 years of your life shoved into your head at once counted as really intense if anything ever did.
Ambarto stirred, his thumb moving closer to his mouth. Maedhros smiled. His brother really did look like a child right now. Maedhros was tempted to sneak down the hall and retrieve Ambarto's old stuffed horse to tuck in with him. The boy would be mortified. Maedhros froze. This brother would be dead in a matter of months unless he managed to change things. Not if I can help it. The fire will not have this youngest and most innocent of my brothers.
He swallowed, and left his brother to sleep. He headed down the stairs towards the enticing smell of breakfast. He hadn't eaten anything since he'd arrived in this time.
"Hello Nelyo," said Finwe as Maedhros entered the room. "You're looking much better than you did yesterday."
"I'm feeling much better, grandfather." said Maedhros. Then he felt the blood drain from his face. Finwe would die tonight, his head caved in by Morgoth's mace.
"On second thought, you don't look that much better. Sit down before you fall down," said Finwe, taking Maedhros' arm and pushing him into a chair. "What is the matter?"
"I… can we maybe keep our festival away from Formenos?" asked Maedhros.
"Why?" asked Finwe.
Maedhros took all his courage and plunged in. "Because I saw Melkor and a monstrous spider attack Formenos tonight. When I fell and hit my head. I'm fairly sure it was a vision."
Finwe's eyebrows rose. "That's sudden. Have you ever had visions before?"
"Not clear ones," said Maedhros. "But I seem to have gotten hit with an entire cascade yesterday."
"No," said Finwe. "That's not the way the Sight develops. It happens slowly, starting with simple hunches, moving into fuzzy dream-visions, and then clear ones. Vision cascades are very rare, and they only happen to powerful Seers who've been having clear visions for centuries. I ought to know. Indis, Earwen, and your father and I have visions, and none of us has ever had that happen."
"Artanis has."
"Has she? But you prove my point. She's been having clear visions since she was a child."
Then I guess Elrond was being abnormal again, that time Maglor found him sitting on the floor, surrounded by spilled flour, and babbling about a winged ship fighting flying dragons. Wonderful. "It is, nevertheless, what happened. Could something have been blocking them?" said Maedhros.
"I doubt it, child. Still…" Finwe frowned, looking away towards the north. "I also have a bad feeling about tonight." He nodded suddenly, turning back to look at Maedhros. "I'll make sure no one leaves Formenos, and that the walls are guarded."
"No!" cried Maedhros. "They're coming here, and the walls won't be able to stop them! We have to get away from here, and scatter so Melkor can't find you. You and the silmarils are his target, but he thinks you're here, so this is where he's going to go. If you aren't here, and he's got a hundred different elf-trails to follow, he won't find you. We can hide the silmarils in three different places. That way, even if he finds one, he won't get all of them."
"I'm no coward, to run and hide in the woods when we've got good thick walls and strong arms to stop him. And what will Feanaro say when he finds out we've let Melkor wreck his fortress, and steal most of his creations? For that matter, do you have the key to the treasure chamber?
"No," said Maedhros in dawning horror. "You don't either?"
Finwe nodded.
"What about Curufinwe?" demanded Maedhros.
"I think my son took it with him."
"Namo's bloody Dooms." snarled Maedhros, his hands absently curling into fists. He hadn't even taken any Oath and STILL the silmarils were messing up his options!
Finwe gawked at him. "There's no need for sacrilege. What if he takes offense?"
Maedhros took a deep breath, and forced himself to relax. "Sorry Grandfather, Lord Namo." said Maedhros. Though really, if anyone had reason to know Namo's expletively-unmentionable Dooms inside and out, it was him. "I'll speak to Curufinwe, and see if he can get into the treasure chamber."
"We will stay here." said Finwe. "We must send the Valar for help, though. Tyelkormo's pigeons can take the message."
"They can't fly high enough to reach Manwe on Taniquetil, but they might reach some of the revellers on the slopes," said Maedhros. "That's a good idea, and we'll do it, but we need to assume it will not get to Manwe in time. We still need to leave this place." Maedhros suddenly realized they'd attracted quite the audience. "Curvo, can you get into Father's treasure chamber?"
"I don't have the key"- Curvo began, but Finwe spoke over him.
"Maitimo, I appreciate your concern," Finwe gave his eldest grandson a stern look. "But I am in charge here, and you have a head injury. That means you are going to eat your breakfast and go rest while I deal with this." Maedhros blinked at him in surprise. It had been a long time indeed since he'd deferred to anyone else, and he'd clean forgotten he wasn't in charge. The trouble was, Finwe's plan was likely to get them all killed.
"Melkor is going to break the gates and kill you," said Maedhros.
"Not if I have anything to say about it, child," said Finwe. "Now eat."
"When the treelight goes dark at mingling tonight, remember what I have said," said Maedhros.
"Eat and be silent, or must I spoon-feed you like a babe in arms?" said Finwe, putting two slices of bread on his plate, and glaring at his grandson.
Maedhros glowered, but bent his head and picked out some butter and jam to put on it. Finwe watched until he took the first bite.
Finwe turned to the others: "Tyelkormo, how many pigeons do you have that are able to reach the slopes of Taniquetil?"
"Two, but I can send a couple more that might be able to find it if I explain very, very, clearly, and tell them to look for Nolofinwe's banner."
"Send all four of them. The message is for Manwe: we have had a vision of Melkor attacking Formenos during the festival. We will defend ourselves if attacked, but could use help, and this offers an opportunity for them to trap Melkor." Finwe gestured to the door. "Now go." Tyelkormo went.
Finwe turned to the others. "The rest of you, to breakfast. We'll organize the defense afterwards."
The rest of the family sat down and began to eat, most of them shooting sidelong glances at Finwe and Maedhros from time to time.
Maedhros picked at his breakfast, finding himself now feeling queasy and not very hungry. He also had a pounding headache again. At least he'd managed to get a message sent off, if nothing else. But with the Darkness on the way, he wondered if the birds would find Taniquetil at all. He might yet convince the others to abandon the fort and scatter once the treelight went out.
Was there any other way to protect his family, and their people here? Traps to stop Morgoth and Ungoliant… he'd never actually seen the spider, but the tracks she'd left suggested she could probably reach the top of the curtain wall from the ground. The gate had probably been a tight squeeze for her to get through. What if they barricaded it with everything they could find, not just the iron bars? Arrgh, his head felt like it had an iron bar wrapped round it that was being slowly tightened.
Wouldn't the spider just climb over the wall, taking Melkor with her – assuming the Vala didn't just abandon physical form or shift it temporarily to something that could fly? How tall was the curtain wall? And providing too thorough a barricade would trap the defenders inside with Melkor and Ungoliant when Melkor and Ungoliant did get inside.
Pitfall trap… it would take too long to dig one big enough for Ungoliant, although if Melkor trod in one it could give him a bad day. It would likely make him angry and fail to keep him out. There wasn't a handy mountain slope right beneath the castle the way there was at Himring for a deadfall trap, and a paved road did not lend itself to hidden stakes or caltrops. He was pretty certain Curufinwe hadn't invented the latter yet, either.
What about using the buildings next to the road and the curtain wall itself over the gate as improvised cliffs to drop objects off of? Not just a few rocks, but maybe a large hammock filled with rocks that could be dropped at the swing of a sword in the dark? They would have to set that up now, and he wasn't really in a fit state to do it. He needed Curufinwe and Tyelkormo, which meant he had to catch Curufinwe just as he was leaving the room.
"What is it?" asked Curufinwe irritably. "I'm busy."
"How would you and Tyelko like to build a trap over the gate for Moringotto and his giant spider friend?"
Curufinwe hesitated. "Grandfather's given me a raft of things to organize already," he said, before his curiosity got the better of him. "What kind of trap did you have in mind?"
"It is much like an altered deadfall trap, using a heavy canvas and rope sling to hold rocks, bricks, and any other heavy objects we have available," said Maedhros. "A single swing of a sword will bring the whole thing down on their heads, and should do more damage than dropping individual rocks." And be more likely to actually happen under the effects of the Unlight.
Curufinwe rubbed his mouth, frowning. "It is an interesting idea, certainly. And a nasty one." He gave his brother a disturbed glance, then smirked. "Tell me more." He commanded.
Maedhros obliged, his mouth twitching. Then he obeyed his grandfather and went to rest. But he was going to do so out in the treelight in the gardens, and not in his bedroom. No sense in forgoing the last treelight the world would ever see outside a silmaril.
Makalaure gave him an odd look as he settled his pillow and cloak more comfortably on the grass. "Tyelko's normally the one who wants to live outdoors. Wouldn't you be more comfortable in bed?"
"I like it here," said Maedhros, and closed his eyes. The treelight might be precious and about to be lost forever, but it wasn't helping his headache any.
Makalaure leaned back against the tree as he fletched arrows. He wasn't sure how much use they'd be against a Vala, if Maitimo was right. Scattering in all directions might well be a better option than trying to fight, at least when it came to keeping them all alive. But they could hardly leave the silmarils unguarded. Father would never forgive them if Melkor stole his greatest creations on their watch, and they didn't even try to defend them. And the Valar would come. They wouldn't have to hold out long.
If Maitimo was right. His brother had been decidedly strange ever since he'd woken from his mishap the previous day. Carnistir said he'd been having nightmares last night. Perhaps this was all this was, and nothing at all would happen tonight.
A/N: Quenya Names
Canafinwe Makalaure = Maglor
Morifinwe Carnistir = Caranthir
Nelyafinwe Maitimo Russandol = Maedhros
Turkafinwe Tyelkormo = Celegorm
Curufinwe Feanaro = Feanor
Curufinwe Atarinke = Curufin
Pityafinwe Ambarto/Umbarto = Amrod
Telufinwe Ambarussa = Amras
Tyelpinquar = Celebrimbor
Artanis Nerwen = Galadriel