As promised, here's chapter three! I do hope you enjoy. I apologize, beforehand, for any grammar mistakes. I'm bilingual and sometimes, I'll get the grammar mixed up. I hope you still understand what I was trying to say :) Anywho, onwards with the story! Basically, this entire chapter's about Maglor spending quality time with his siblings. The next chapter's kind of when this story will actually start.
~Duplicity~
A crack of lightning followed by a boisterous clap of thunder startled Maglor awake late in the night and the minstrel shot up in his bed. Eyes darting around the room, Maglor relaxed when he remembered that he was in his bedroom, in his home, in Valinor. It had been an entire two weeks since his return and Maglor found that he was settling in quite nicely. His brothers rarely left him alone, constantly asking him to do this, that, and the other with them and he'd happily obliged. Surprisingly enough, Curufinwë took time off from working in the forge to join Maglor and the others in doing simple things; such as exploring the fields surrounding their home, riding on trails through the forests, or just chatting in the family room.
Amusingly enough, the twins had roped the entire family in creating a celebratory dinner in order to commemorate the fact that they had Maglor back. It had been very entertaining. The brothers had worked hard, trying to follow the recipe's to everyone's favorite meals and desserts only to end up wrecking the entire kitchen. They learned, rather quickly, that neither of them were made to cook. Except for Maglor and Morifinwë. Tyelkormo and Nelyo excelled in making the desserts, and the twins were skilled in wreaking havoc about the large room. Curufinwë merely hovered over their shoulders and watched his brothers struggle. There had been much laughter shared among the brothers. There had been a few moments of panic too. Especially when Tyelkormo managed to set the stove on fire and scorched the simple batch of cookies he and Nelyo had worked extremely hard over. Ambarto, Maglor was reminded, was a very clumsy elfling. The poor thing had managed to fall off of the table and into a huge sack filled with flour, causing it to explode and cover the entire place, and the brothers, in a layer of flour.
When Pityo accidentally mistook everyone for ghosts, the brothers had had to chase the little elfling all throughout the entire house in an attempt to catch him and calm the frantic elfling, startling many of the maids and servants who worked in their home.
Maglor smiled widely when he remembered how Pityo had skidded into a dead end, took one glance at the mirror on the wall nearby, and spotted his own reflection in the glass. It had been highly entertaining and a most memorable moment.
Earlier that day...
Pityo frantically streaked down the main corridor of the large home, skidding around the maids and servants bustling about the area. Several of the Elves danced out of his way and watched, with bemused expressions, as the powdery Elfling bolted out of sight, shrieking incoherently. Shaking their heads, the Elves refocused on their tasks when five other Elves covered in white powder flew down the corridor after the runaway elfling, Maglor and Nelyo in the lead. Leaping to the side in order to avoid being hit, the maids and servants watched as the grown elves rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Ambarto pattered after them, slowly strolling down the hallway, clearly not in any rush to catch up with his brothers. Blinking, wondering what on earth the seven sons of Fëanaro were up to, the Elves returned to completing their work, deciding it was best just to leave it be. They didn't mind the chaos. Not at all. Everyone had been overjoyed by the fact that Makalaurë had been found. His return had sparked a renewal of life within the House of Fëanaro. There was laughter around every corner, trouble stirring in the most unexpected of places, and now, a celebration in the making! They didn't mind that their workload had grown since it meant that there would be a marvelous, and most memorable, feast they would put together for Makalaurë's return. It was always enjoyable when the Elves would gather together for a Feast. This Feast would be even better seeing as it would be the first they'd had in a decade. Word had already begun to spread.
Meanwhile, Maglor, Nelyo, and the others tried to track down little Pityo. It wasn't at all hard since all they had to do was follow the floury footprints marking the newly polished floor and listen to Pityo's frightened squeals as the Elfling sailed down another hallway in the hopes of escaping from them.
"Pityo!" Nelyo called, hoping the Elfling would hear and recognize his voice and stop running. Sadly, Pityo didn't. Instead, the Elfling picked up speed and whipped around another corner, only to find that there was a dead end.
"What in Eru's name is the matter with the Elfling?" Morifinwë exclaimed in exasperation. This chase had been going on for far too long. "Surely he would recognize his brothers!"
"Clearly not, or we wouldn't be running all over the place trying to catch him!" Curufinwë huffed, running side-by-side with Tyelkormo.
"I didn't ask you!" Morifinwë snapped at his brother.
"Would the two of you shut up?" Tyelkormo growled in annoyance, skidding around the corner after Makalaurë and Nelyo. Makalaurë and Nelyo slid to a stop when they saw that Pityo had reached the end of the corridor, the elfling staring in horror at the dead end before him. Panicked, Pityo mewled pitifully, desperately searching for an escape from the six ghosts coming after him.
"Pityo," Nelyo sighed in fond exasperation, shaking his head, puffs of white dust dancing in the air from the movement. Pityo whipped around, his eyes widening in horror upon seeing that these ghosts, who suspiciously resembled his brothers, had caught up to him. "Pityo, it is us, your brothers." Nelyo tried to explain to him, gesturing to Maglor and the others. Pityo didn't listen to him. He knew he couldn't trust ghosts.
"He must have a wild imagination..." Morifinwë commented under his breath. Maglor glanced back at him, raising an elegant eyebrow.
"He is but an elfling, Ca-Morifinwë." Maglor bit back a curse when he nearly slipped and called his brother Caranthir. He couldn't help it! Ever since going to Middle-Earth, he had called his brothers by their Sindarized names for so long... He would need to be careful when he spoke to them. "And," he added, pointedly looking at Morifinwë, "I believe I recall a certain someone with a rather active and...creative imagination when he was but an elfling."
Maglor could've sworn he'd caught Morifinwë flushing in embarrassment, but there was too much flour that it was difficult to tell. "I don't know who you're talking about, Makalaurë." The dark elf muttered, averting his gaze. Maglor smirked,
"Indeed? I will give you a clue. Let me see..." Maglor tapped his chin dramatically as he tried to think of what he could remember of Morifinwë's childhood. His brow furrowed when all he could come up with appeared in his mind like blurred images. Maglor's eyes widened when he realized he could hardly remember anything! It had happened too long ago the memories were fading away from his mind! "Erm..." He bit his lip worriedly. As if his thoughts were coming to his rescue, the word 'tree' appeared in his mind and Maglor smiled victoriously, barely holding back a bark of laughter. "Ah! I do remember an incident involving the tree in the courtyard and an elfling who believed-"
"Come now, Makalaurë," Morifinwë hastily cut Maglor off, "We have an elfling to catch."
'You're most welcome, Maglor!' Maglor nearly tripped over his feet at the haughty and sarcastic voice that echoed in his mind.
'Din?'
'The one and only.' Came the dramatic sigh. 'Surely you haven't forgotten about me already?" She continued on before he could say anything. "Anyway, I'm trying to restore your memories as best I can, but I don't know how much I can do...I don't want to overwhelm you with doing too much at a time." A snort of laughter cut Din off. 'Some of these memories...' She said in between giggles. 'I absolutely ADORE the twins!'
Maglor worried his lower lip. This was...odd. So...Din apparently could sift through his mind and search his memories? That did not make him uncomfortable at all.
'Oh, calm your horses, Maglor. I am restoring your memories, not searching through any of them.' Din corrected him. 'Well...I may have seen a couple...but those twins...' She admitted. Maglor refrained from rolling his eyes. This woman was the strangest he'd ever come across.
'Why thank-you!'
'That was not exactly a compliment.'
'I'll take it as one anyway!'
And Maglor was just going to let her continue with whatever she was doing...
His attention was immediately ensnared by Pityo's terror-filled shriek and he looked to see that the elfling had caught sight of the mirror hanging on the wall nearby. Pityo, Maglor gather, had curiously glanced at it, having spotted it in the corner of his eye, and saw a white figure staring back at him. A white figure that resembled him greatly.
"AH!" Pityo exclaimed, horrified, wildly flinging his arms about the air, watching in terror as the figure in the mirror did exactly the same thing.
Oh no... The little Elfling thought to himself, his heart sinking. That could only mean one thing.
"Dead!" He shrieked in disbelief, then slapped a hand over his heart, dramatically gasping as the elfling staggered back and dropped to the ground. Nelyo and his brothers winced as they watched Pityo slump onto the ground, and waited for him to get back up, but he never did. The elfling remained motionless on the ground, his arms splayed out to the sides and face turned away, much to his brothers' amusement.
"Pityo," Nelyo chuckled, approaching the elfling. It only took him three long strides to reach Pityo's side and as soon as he had, Nelyo leaned over the prone figure, his long red hair slipping over his shoulder and creating a curtain against the sunlight streaming through the window nearby. "What are you doing, little one?"
Pityo opened his eyes and stared up at Nelyo with a grieved expression. "Dying." He answered. Maglor laughed, materializing beside Nelyo.
"But, Pityo, you aren't dead."
Pityo frowned deeply. He wasn't dead? But then...why was he so...white? Weren't ghosts white? That's what the stories claimed...He watched as Morifinwë, Curufinwë, Tyelkormo, and his twin surrounded him, each leaning forward to stare down at him. There was amusement dancing in all six pairs of eyes watching him as he lay there. "No?" He asked Maglor.
"No, Pityo. You aren't dead, see?" Tyelkormo bent down and gently rubbed Pityo's tiny face with a ripped piece of fabric, wiping it clean of the flour. Pityo slowly sat up to check his reflection in the mirror. He was pleasantly surprised to find the white stuff was gone from his face and that he looked alive again.
"Not dead!" Pityo happily exclaimed, leaping up and clapping Nelyo's face with his small hands. Nelyo laughed and raised the elfling high up into the air, smiling broadly at the cheerful shrieks that earned him. Maglor chuckled and lifted Ambarto up into his arms when the elfling demanded to be picked up. After clearing Ambarto's face of the flour clinging to it, the twins decided to return the favor and did their best to wipe away the flour staining Maglor and Nelyo's faces. Morifinwë, Curufinwë, and Tyelkormo followed their example, doing their best to rid their faces of flour.
"Well, now that we have that settled," Nelyo said, his laughter dying down a bit as he settled Pityo on his hip,"Why don't we go and eat some cookies?"
"Yeah!" Came the enthusiastic response from the twins.
When Fëanaro had returned home from having gone to the marketplace, he arrived to find floury footprints marking the floors of his entire home, and, after tracing the newly-made set of footprints, entered the Dining Hall to find seven Elves covered from head-to-toe with flour munching on cookies at the the table, chatting animatedly among each other.
~Duplicity~
Maglor sighed and shook his head at the memory, plopping back down against his many pillows, a broad smile playing on his lips. Oh, it was great to be home. Well, mostly great.
His uneasiness around Fëanaro hadn't gone unnoticed by his family, and many of his brothers had inquired upon the matter. Luckily, Maglor was able to evade their inquiries, usually finding something else to distract them with or change the subject of the conversation. He knew his brothers could tell he was purposefully avoiding the subject, but they respectfully never brought the subject back up again.
He found, much to his surprise, that Fëanaro actually appeared hurt and thoroughly confused by Maglor shunning away from him. It made Maglor feel guilty about causing his Father pain. He had overheard Nelyo trying to comfort his Father one night, but Fëanaro refused to listen to his eldest's reassurances.
"There was not one day that passed that I did not plead with the Valar to return my son to me," He remembered Fëanaro tell his brother just last night, "To let him find his way back home, back to me." Fëanaro had sighed dismally then, his expression morphing into one of grief."Ten years...For ten agonizingly long years I mourned over the loss of my little songbird..."
"Atar," Nelyo had gently tried to interject, but Fëanaro had slammed a fist down against his desktop, causing the Elf to startle. Maglor had jumped too, not having expected it.
"And then, suddenly, my prayers are answered and I finally get him back...only to find that he wants nothing to do with me!" Maglor could've sworn he'd heard the proud Fëanaro's voice waver slightly. "Nothing, Nelyo! Anytime I am nearby, or I am in the same room he is in, and he notices me, he is immediately on guard. He hides himself from me- shies away when I come closer. I can tell he is uncomfortable in my presence, you can see it in his eyes, but...for the life of me, I cannot think of a reason why. Have I done something to him?" Fëanaro had turned pleading eyes to Nelyo, hoping his son may know the reason behind Maglor's nervousness around Fëanaro.
"Nay, Atar." Nelyo negated, firmly shaking his head. "I am afraid none of us know why Makalaurë is uncomfortable around you..."
"I do not understand..." There was an undercurrent of pain in the manner in which Fëanaro had spoken that sent a pang of guilt flashing through Maglor. He shouldn't be listening in on this conversation, but... "All I want is to have my little songbird..."
That was all Maglor could bear to listen to. He had swept away at once, quelling the urge to enter Fëanaro's study and ease his Father's pain. He was afraid his bitterness towards his Atar would cause him to snap and he may say things he would later regret. It had been difficult for Maglor to tolerate his Father's presence, but he had worked diligently on at least pretending to be at ease in his Father's presence. It apparently didn't work since Maglor would feel Nelyo's eyes burning into his back every time he would speak with Fëanaro. It also didn't help to see the pain Fëanaro was trying to hide behind his eyes as they conversed. He could tell Fëanaro was convinced that Maglor was rejecting him, and that wasn't what Maglor was doing at all!
Sighing heavily, Maglor rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. Tomorrow, he and Nelyo would indulge in some hunting with Curufinwë, Morifinwë, and Tyelkormo, since Maglor had, and he quoted, 'completely ruined their last hunt.' They all knew the three brothers didn't mean those words at all. For almost the whole day, Maglor had spent his time with Ambarto and Pityo. This, of course, thrilled the twins. They had introduced Maglor to their ponies, telling him that Fëanaro had bought two of them for their begetting day, then showed Maglor their newly redecorated room. They had spent an hour on storytime, several hours outside playing whatever games the twins wanted to play, and then, they'd returned to the house and ate. After dinner, Maglor fulfilled his promise to the twins by tucking them in for the night and reading them a bedtime story. He'd never noticed his other siblings or Fëanaro listening in from the doorway as the twins laughed and squealed with delight when Maglor read the story they had wanted to hear.
Speaking of the twins...
Maglor frowned when he heard the sound of his door opening and the soft patter of feet scrambling to his bedside after a particularly loud crash of thunder. Turning his head, he watched as two red-heads popped over the edge of his mattress, wide green eyes staring at him in fear.
"Laurë?" Ambarto and Pityo chimed, voices wobbling. Maglor gave them an understanding smile and sat up, delicately lifting the two up onto his bed. The twins immediately sought protection in Maglor's arms, clinging to him and jerking when another crack of thunder filled the air.
"Sh, little ones. The storm cannot hurt you here." The minstrel soothed, running a comforting hand through their hair, marveling at how soft and silky each strand slipped through his fingers.
"Bad storm..." Pityo whimpered, snuggling closer to Maglor, his fingers digging into the fabric of his night shirt.
"Aye," Maglor agreed, glancing out the window just as another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, "Tis a rather fierce storm."
"We stay?" Ambarto timidly asked, nudging his head up to give Maglor his best puppy eyes. Maglor smirked in amusement, ruffling their tiny heads.
"If I say no?"
"We stay!" Ambarto and Pityo declared, latching onto him. Maglor scoffed at their antics.
"What? So I don't have a say in this?"
The twins thought over it for a second then firmly shook their heads. "No. We stay. Laurë keep storm away." They settled back down against Maglor, resting their heads on his shoulders as the minstrel wrapped his arms around them, remembering all of the times he'd done the same thing an infinite amount of times when the two were elflings.
How they had grown...
Maglor's lips curled downwards as he thought of the harsh life the twins grew up in. The two had been carefree as young elflings, then Fëanaro was exiled and the family left their home. After their twelve years of exile had come to an end, Fëanaro had created the Silmarils and that was when everything came crashing down. Ambarto and Pityo were so young then and unaccustomed to being shunned and rejected by the Noldor. It had disheartened them greatly when they were faced with such hatred and open dislike directed towards them because they were two of the sons of Fëanaro.
And then, they were forced to pick up their swords, learn how to wield them, and fight against their own kin.
Maglor remembered distinctly how distraught the twins had become after Fëanaro had ordered for the stolen ships of the Teleri were to be burned down and the first Kinslaying. Neither Pityo or Ambarto could be consoled. They were responsible of killing their kin, the blood of the Elves staining their hands, and there was nothing that could change that.
Well, back then, there was nothing that could change it, but now, Maglor was here to keep it from happening. He was sent back in time to prevent that future from coming into play again.
"Don't worry, little ones." Maglor whispered softly, holding the now-sleeping twins closer to him. "I will never allow you to experience such horror..." Determinedly, Maglor narrowed his eyes as he watched the storm outside. "It won't happen again...I will ensure it."
~Duplicity~
"Makalaurë!" A shout roused Maglor from his deep slumber and the Minstrel startled awake. Blearily blinking his eyes, Maglor looked to find Ambarto and Pityo peacefully sleeping beside him, their chests rising and falling steadily and their eyes glazed over.
"Makalaurë! Toron, are you still asleep?" Tyelkormo's voice sounded outside his bedroom door. The handle to the door was turned down as the archer opened the door and entered the room with Morifinwë close behind.
"Aye?" Maglor tiredly mumbled in reply, lazily turning his head to check the time. Was it truly time for them to get ready for the hunt?
It was still dark out, Maglor discovered and then the minstrel realized that it was still storming. "Are we truly going to hunt in this weather?" He inquired of his brothers, who shrugged.
"Why not? The storm isn't too terrible." Tyelkormo answered him, shifting on his feet. Maglor raised a hand to cover his mouth as he yawned, stretching his other arm high up into the air in an attempt to wake himself up. His mind was already sharp and aware, but his body was pleading to go back to sleep.
Even his bed was begging him not to leave it.
"Oh, very well." He sighed, carefully maneuvering Ambarto out of his way so he could slip out of bed. Ambarto stirred when Maglor lifted him up into his arms and stood, but did not wake. He remained in deep reverie as Maglor settled him back down onto the mattress beside his brother, watching with a soft smile as the twins -subconsciously recognizing the other's presence- reached out to grasp each other's hands and shifted closer to one another.
"Oh." Tyelkormo blinked, having peered over Maglor's shoulder to find the reason why the minstrel was taking so long. "So they came to you."
"Aye." Maglor nodded, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen in his face. "Why? Were you searching for them?"
"Not I." Tyelkormo shook his head. "Nelyo was. They usually go to him during stormy nights."
"I see."
"Yes." Tyelkormo then turned to the side and studied Maglor, tsking when he found that Maglor was still in his night clothes. "We'll give you fifteen minutes, Makalaurë."
"How very kind of you. Oh, and, Morifinwë?" Maglor called before his brothers could leave his room.
"What?" Morifinwë paused in the doorway and turned slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow in question. Tyelkormo stopped in front of him, leaning back in order to peer into the room.
"Would you mind returning my robe to me? I would very much like to wear it again." The minstrel casually asked, glimpsing over his shoulder to see Morifinwë's expression.
"Maybe." Morifinwë breezily replied, swiftly departing before Maglor could say anything.
"Morifinwë..!" Maglor huffed, striding over to his wardrobe and opening it. Quickly spotting his old hunting attire, Maglor tugged it out and exchanged it for his night clothes. Once he was done dressing, Maglor wandered over to his bathing chambers to fetch a brush. It took him a long moment, standing there, lost, in the doorway of the bathing chamber, to remember where exactly he kept everything.
Apparently, he went overtime in preparing himself for the hunt that Nelyo had come to fetch him.
"Makalaurë?" Came the quiet call from his bedroom door where Nelyo was leaning into the room in search for him.
Makalaurë dazedly shook his head and stepped out of the bathing chambers to see what his brother needed. "Nelyo?"
Taking in his brother's appearance and catching the lost look he wore, Nelyo stepped into the room, concerned, and made his way towards him. "Is everything alright?"
"Not really." Maglor admitted, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I can't...I can't remember where anything is, apparently."
A look of understanding crossed Nelyo's features and the red-head clasped his shoulder, turning Maglor around and leading him to the mirror in the bathroom. "Sit," The Elf ordered as he pushed Maglor to seat himself in the chair and searched for a brush and a few hair ties. It didn't take too long for him to locate the items and neatly place them on the top of the marble countertop.
Maglor, realizing what Nelyo was going to do, twisted in his seat to look up at him, ready to object, but quietened when Nelyo threw him a look. "Allow me, Toron." Maglor relented, recognizing the look of nostalgia dancing in his brother's eyes. Settling back down, Maglor focused on the feel of the brush carding through his hair, remembering the times in Himring, after Glaurung had destroyed his home, when he would brush and braid Nelyo's- then known as Maedhros- hair. Those were on the days Maedhros wasn't moping around or frightening Elrond and Elros...
"Makalaurë?"
"Hm?" Maglor hummed, Nelyo's voice returning him back to the present. He glanced in the mirror to find Nelyo curiously looking down at him as he tied off one of the long braids he'd woven.
"What are you thinking about?"
"What am I thinking about?"
"You had that look again." Nelyo explained to Maglor.
"What look?" Maglor asked, tipping his chair back in order to better see his brother. Valar, Nelyo was tall...
"The look you get when...I believe you're thinking of your time away from us."
"I have a look?" Maglor bit his lip at this, raising deep blue eyes in question. Nelyo nodded.
"Sometimes, it is a pained one, and sometimes, it is either grief, fear, or wistful...Other times, it is just...a far away look. We can tell when you aren't among us when you wear that look."
"Oh."
Well then...
"What do you think of, Toron? Why will you not tell us anything?" Nelyo asked, hoping Maglor might be able to tell him something. He'd been wanting to know where his brother had been for the last decade and, perhaps, what he'd been doing. But, anytime anyone tried to broach upon the subject, Maglor would shimmy away and vaguely answer any of their questions.
Studying his brother, Maglor could tell that Nelyo was confused, hurt, and worried. "Do we not have your trust?" Nelyo hesitantly asked. He'd seen the way Maglor looked to Fëanaro and talked with him... Whenever Fëanaro was near, Maglor would tense up or keep to himself.
Maglor nearly leaped out of his chair at his brother's question, shocked that Nelyo would think he didn't trust his brothers. "You do have my trust!" He immediately assured Nelyo. "It is just...I..." He trailed off, staring into the distance, searching for the words he could use to explain the compromising situation he'd been placed in. Nothing came to mind, and with a defeated sigh, Maglor shook his head. "I can't explain it. I can't..." He shot an apologetic look up at Nelyo just as the red-head had finished another braid.
Nelyo's blue eyes dimmed with sadness. "I feel that I've lost you, Toron. You've changed..." His hands, holding another section of Maglor's hair, paused in mid-air as Nelyo stared at it.
Maglor felt a pang of grief surge through him at his brother's words. It was true. He had changed, and Nelyo wouldn't be able to understand just by how much.
"We used to be close...Ammë and Atar would always go mad with everything we'd do..." Nelyo released a short chuckle, though it was without emotion, reminding Maglor briefly of when Nelyo had become Maedhros. "Ammë is still convinced we were responsible for corrupting Tyelkormo, Curufinwë, and Morifinwë."
Maglor laughed shortly, remembering, vividly, how Nerdanel had lectured him and Nelyo for teaching Tyelkormo, Curufinwë, and Morifinwë how to misbehave. His laughter died down as he said, "They were already corrupted to begin with."
Nelyo let out a bark of laughter, nodding his head in agreement. "Indeed, they were. She refuses to see it, however."
The two brothers conversed a little more as Nelyo manipulated Maglor's hair into doing what he wanted it to. Maglor basked in the peacefulness of the atmosphere and his brother's presence. He'd always felt safer when he was near Nelyo, even when Nelyo became Maedhros. He remembered times when he was but an elfling and would run to Nelyo if anything was wrong or he needed comfort. Nelyo had always welcomed him, never turning him away.
How I wish I were an Elfling again...Maglor thought to himself.
"Was it so terrible?" Nelyo's voice pulled Maglor back to the present, once again, and the dark-haired elf shot his brother a questioning glance.
"What do you mean?"
"Those years you were away from us..." Nelyo told him, fixing a portion of Maglor's hair. He stopped what he was doing long enough to meet Maglor's gaze, apprehension brewing in the elder Elf's eyes. "Was it so terrible that you cannot bring yourself to speak of it?"
The light of the Eldar gracing Maglor's being dimmed considerably, the minstrel's face suddenly devoid of any emotion. Nelyo could've sworn the atmosphere had suddenly grown cold, chilling him to the bone.
It was disconcerting for Nelyo to see the blank stare his brother was wearing and the haunted expression in his once-bright eyes.
"Makalaurë?" Nelyo cautiously ventured, regretting having asked his brother such a question.
Maglor's eyes drifted shut. "You cannot even begin to comprehend the pain and agony I bore during those abysmal years, Nelyo..." He lowly said to his brother. "The atrocities that I faced...the gruesome and abhorrent deeds I committed...I beg of you, Toron...Allow me to remain silent...I cannot bring myself to speak or even think of everything...There was so much misery...anguish...and heartbreak..."
Nelyo didn't even realize his hands were shaking as his brother spoke, the Elf disturbed by the words Maglor had spoken. He was struck dumb by the intense feelings and emotions he could sense warring within his younger brother and longed to take them away from him- to take all of the pain, anguish, and grief upon himself and batter away whatever fears clutched at the minstrel's heart. But he couldn't...
Bowing his head, Nelyo pursed his lips tightly together, his red hair slipping over his shoulders to hide his face from Maglor's view.
Maglor, who'd been preoccupied by his memories of his past, snapped his attention back to Nelyo in concern. His brother was trembling...It felt wrong to Maglor, to see Nelyo like this. Why was he... Maglor's eyes widened as he pushed himself out of his chair to face Nelyo.
"Nelyo? What ails you?"
Nelyo bitterly laughed. It was a mocking and disbelieving laugh, Maglor realized, and the minstrel felt his concern growing.
"What ails me, you ask." The red-head repeated, staring at Maglor but not seeing him. "What ails me..." Turning away, Nelyo seemed to dazedly walk out of the bathing chamber into the room, his feet leading him out of the bedroom into the corridor.
"Nelyo..?" Maglor blinked, staring at the spot Nelyo had just been standing but a moment ago, then gave chase. "Nelyo!" He quickened his pace when, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a flash of red disappearing around the corner at the end of the grand hallway. What in Arda's name was wrong with Nelyo? Was it something Maglor had said? Surely...Oh...
Maglor cringed as he thought over the tense conversation he and Nelyo had just had. Grimacing, Maglor hastened after his brother, mentally berating himself and cursing Nelyo for his over-protectiveness and the ridiculously high expectations his stubborn brother had for himself. "Nelyo!" Maglor growled in frustration when he rounded another corner only to catch another glimpse of red vanishing around the next one. "Toron!" He turned around the same corner he knew Nelyo had and crashed into the back of said Elf. "Aiya!" Maglor recoiled back in pain, his hand flying up to cover his nose.
"Makalaurë?"
"By the Valar, Nelyo!" Maglor hisses through clenched teeth, rubbing the bridge of his nose in the hopes of lessening the pain. Why in Varda's name was Nelyo wearing light armor underneath his tunic? Surely he wasn't expecting to be attacked whilst out hunting? "Honestly, you have got to be the most im-" Maglor's voice died out when a hand tipped his chin up and he looked to find that it was not Nelyo he'd collided into but Fëanaro instead. "Atar..."
"Makalaurë." Fëanaro returned, releasing his son's chin and taking a step back when he remembered how uneasy his little Songbird was around him. Awkwardly, the two stood there, in the middle of the corridor leading to the Courtyard, neither knowing what to say to the other.
Maglor was the one to speak up first, "Not down at the Forge?" He inquired of his Father. Fëanaro's piercing blue orbs flickered up towards him in faint surprise but also relief that his son was speaking with him.
"Nay. I have spent much of my time there...I've decided to remain home for a little." The tall Elf answered. Maglor raised an eyebrow in amazement. Fëanaro had purposefully chosen to avoid the Forge in order to remain home? What was this?
"I see." Maglor slowly nodded, spotting Tyelko peering through the grand doors leading to the Courtyard in search of him. The golden-elf raked his eyes down the corridor to see Maglor at the far end with another Elf. He was about to call out to him, order him to hurry up when he realized who it was Maglor was with.
'Oh!' Maglor saw Tyelko mouth, the archer turning his head to look over his shoulder at someone. Moryo, Curvo, and Nelyo most likely. 'He's with Atto!'
Three more heads peered around the door to see if what Tyelko had said was true. Maglor ignored them for the moment, refusing to acknowledge the pleasantly surprised expression Curvo and his brothers were casting his way. Just because he was actually speaking with Fëanaro did not mean that he was mending their relationship as Father and Son. He still held much anger towards the Elf.
"What do you plan to do today, then?" Maglor asked his Father. "Nan-Ammë-" Maglor quickly corrected, cursing himself for slipping into Sindarin. "Is still not home and Curvo, the others, and I plan on hunting. Amrod and Amras are still sleeping in my room."
Fëanaro frowned, looking down at Maglor in confusion.
"Atar?"
"Who are Amrod and Amras?" Fëanaro questioned, the names unfamiliar to him.
Oh.
Whoops.
'Keep going on like this and you'll end up selling yourself out.' Din's voice whispered in Maglor's mind.
'Indeed.' Maglor muttered in agreement. 'It is rather difficult. I have not spoken Quenya in many a year and I have not called my siblings their father-name in centuries...'
'Understandable, but still, you must be careful of what you say.' Din kindly told him. 'Elf-boy right there is already starting to suspect you.'
'I can tell.' Maglor thought, mostly to himself, eyeing Fëanaro discretely.
'Don't worry about your Quenya issue...I'm working on that right now, as well as restoring your memories. I'll warn you ahead of time, some of them will return as dreams, and it might get a tiny bit confusing...'
'I will keep that in mind.'
Din suddenly giggled and Maglor mentally gave her what he thought to be the equivalent of a raised eyebrow, silently inquiring as to what she was laughing about now.
'You do realize he's still waiting for you to answer his question, right?' Din asked him, and Maglor started. His Father was giving him an expectant, and slightly worried, look, waiting patiently for Maglor's answer. Maglor managed not to flush in embarrassment when he also found his brothers flashing one another concerned glances. 'You've been standing there, staring into space, for a while now.'
Maglor subtly winced. "I meant Ambarto and Pityo." He finally said, the words tumbling from his lips as if he were a child hastily explaining to his parents why he had misbehaved in the hopes of not getting in trouble.
Fëanaro dipped his chin in acknowledgement of this statement, dubiously watching Maglor. "May I ask who Amrod and Amras are?"
"They..." Maglor began, noticing his brothers shifting closer, also curious to know the answer. "They were elflings that I knew."
"Knew?" Fëanaro pointedly repeated.
Maglor lowered his gaze, valiantly fighting against the grief welling up inside of him. "They passed many years ago."
'You know you can save them, Maglor.' Din's voice returned to him. 'You can save your family from their fates. Don't allow the past to drag you down. You have a newer, and brighter future to look forward to!'
'If I succeed in my task.' Maglor reminded the woman. He received the equivalent of a shrug in return.
'I'm certain you will.'
'You are?'
'I did tell you you weren't alone in this quest of yours. Help is on the way. In fact,' The woman enunciated the word 'fact,' 'Help will be arriving quite soon.'
'Who?'
'That, you will have to find for yourself. They will not reveal themselves, so you will have to keep your eyes open and look for the signs.'
'Look for the signs?'
He received nothing in response. Well, that was helpful.
"Forgive me, Makalaurë," Maglor barely heard Fëanaro say, and the minstrel switched his attention back to the Elf standing in front of him. Fëanaro looked rather startled from Maglor's statement, and guilty that he had brought up the subject of Amrod and Amras's deaths. "I did not mean to remind you of..."
"All is well, Atar." Maglor assured the Elf, "You couldn't have known."
Fëanaro parted his lips to speak then closed his mouth. Maglor's Father tensely nodded, clearly feeling guilty. "Well...I was told by Moryo that you will be joining them on their hunt." He said, trying to lighten the awkwardness between he and his son.
"Yes, we were about to leave." Maglor answered, tugging on one of his sleeves. "I believe they have been waiting for me for quite some time now."
"Is that so?" Fëanaro moved out of his son's way and gestured for Maglor to hurry along. "I apologize for keeping you. Enjoy your hunt."
"I will."
~Duplicity~
Maglor trailed after his three brothers as they pranced further into the woods, excited to go hunting. He, on the other hand, did not share their enthusiasm. Sure he was thrilled to spend time with his brothers and he was glad to see them happy, but... did they honestly have to hunt in such terrible weather?
First of all, it was raining.
Not that Maglor minded the rain. It was the fact that he knew another ferocious storm was on the way.
Second, it was muddy. The rain was soaking the ground so much that it was now soggy and wet. The mud swallowed Maglor's feet everytime he took a step.
Third, it was a dark and dreary morning, which affected the minstrel greatly. He made sure to hide his dark mood well, so as to not worry his brothers, but it was difficult.
Everything he was doing, everything about this day included, reminded Maglor terribly of his time in Middle-Earth.
Those had been dark days...
"Makalaurë?"
"Hm?" Looking over, Maglor found that Curvo had fallen back in order to walk alongside him. The second-to-youngest Fëanorion was worrying his lower lip as he glanced over his shoulder at Nelyo, who was slowly walking behind all of them. "What is it, Curvo?"
"D'you know what's wrong with Nelyo? He's been upset all morning." Curvo asked, looking up at the minstrel in the hopes that Maglor may know the answer.
"I'm afraid that would've been my fault " Maglor admitted, and Curvo raised his head in surprise.
"You?"
"That's what I said, was it not?" Maglor brushed aback the stray hairs that had fallen into his face and warmly smiled down at Curvo. "Don't worry about Nelyo, Curvo. Give him a few hours and he will return to himself." He promised his younger brother.
"If you say so." Curvo said, kicking at a stray rock lying in the grass. "D'you know Daerada Finwë and Nolofinwë are coming to visit?"
"Truly?"
"Aye. That means Findekano, Turukano, and Írissë will be coming as well." Curvo dismally told Maglor. Maglor tilted his head in curiousity, wondering why Curvo looked so downtrodden by this.
"What is wrong, Curvo?"
Curvo kicked at another rock. "That means Tyelko and Nelyo won't have time for me and Moryo will hide himself for their entire visit, and...well...yeah." He shrugged.
Maglor blinked. If he'd heard correctly, Curvo had just hinted to Maglor that he was going to be lonely and wanted company. He wanted someone to be with.
Curvo happened to catch sight of the smile growing on the musician's lips and immediately snapped, "What're you smiling at?!"
The smile only grew.
"Quit smiling, Makalaurë!" Curvo hissed, embarrassed.
"Are you afraid of being lonely, Curvo?" Maglor playfully asked.
Curvo fiercely shook his head, his cheeks flushing as he automatically went to deny that claim.
"No! What gave you that absurd idea?! Me, afraid of being lonely, ha!" Curvo tsked and looked away from Maglor, much to the minstrel's amusement. "You're imagining things!"
"Oh, dear, little brother-mine," Maglor sang, skipping ahead of Curvo. "What thou wish for shall be thine!" He chuckled when Curvo lunged at him in an attempt to silence him.
"Sh-shut up, Makalaurë!" The Elf stuttered, trying and failing to catch Maglor. He didn't notice Moryo and Tyelko had stopped just ahead of them in order to watch as he vainly tried to catch Maglor, who effortlessly danced out of his way. Even Nelyo was watching them with an entertained smile.
"Thy fear is misplaced," Maglor continued, fighting the urge to laugh as Curvo stumbled and nearly toppled over his own feet when the minstrel had grabbed hold of his wrist and spun him around, "Whilst thou be dismayed," He gracefully spun out of Curvo's way once again when the Elf leaped at him, his black hair dancing in the air. By now, their three other brothers were snickering at Curvo.
"Toron!" Curvo shouted, skidding around and leaping at Maglor. Sadly, Maglor was unable to evade him and was tackled to the ground by his younger brother. "I may have missed your music, but that doesn't mean you can go on ahead and compose these stupid songs when you feel like it!" The Elf grunted when Maglor fought back and the two wrestled with one another, uncaring of the laughter their other brothers were sharing.
"I don't know, Curvo," Maglor said in response, flipping the Elf over onto his back and pinning him into place, "I have several wonderful songs I've composed these past few years...And many of them have to do with your wild adventures as a-" He gave a pained grunt when Curvo, intent on escaping, managed to trap the musician in a headlock. "Don't appreciate everyone learning of your fascination with pon-"
"Hush up!"
Maglor jerked his chin down against his chest, causing Curvo's arm to loosen, gripped the back of his brother's knee and placed his other hand beneath Curvo's chin and flipped him back. Once Curvo painfully hit the ground, Maglor spun on his knee, out of his reach and elegantly stood.
"Do you have any idea how many have tried that trick on me?" Maglor rhetorically asked his brother, leaning over his prone form and smirking. "With only one strike, I would have you incapacitated."
"Really?" Curvo dazedly asked, blinking several times in order to get rid of the stars dotting his vision. "What about Nelyo? Think you could defeat him?"
"Hm..." Maglor looked over to Nelyo, who was watching him with an odd expression. One Maglor knew he didn't like. "I would prove quite challenging for our valiant elder brother."
"I'd love to see you duel him, but Makalaurë, you've made one fatal mistake."
"What do you mean?" Maglor was about to turn and see what Curvo meant when he suddenly felt himself flying through the air and crashing into the grass next to Curvo.
Coughing from having the wind knocked out of him, he slowly turned his head to look at Curvo. Maglor found that the Elf was smirking down at him with an arrogant smirk on his features. "Never take your eyes off of your opponent, brother-dear!"
A small, lethal grin spread across Maglor's lips as he eyed his brother from behind his hair and sat up. Curvo slowly started to back away, warily watching his brother. "That you should never underestimate your opponent."
"Uh-oh," Moryo smirked, "You'd better run, Curvo."
Curvo made to bolt away but Maglor was quicker, lunging at the younger Elf with surprising speed and playfully tackling him again. Curvo yelped as he was easily subdued, fighting with all his strength in order to escape Maglor. Maglor decided to have mercy on the struggling Elf and loosened his hold, allowing Curvo to slip out and make a run for it.
Maglor laughed and chased after him.
"By the Valar!" Curvo exclaimed, looking back to find Maglor hot on his heels. The minstrel was as fast as lightning! It was frightening! Was this how all animals that know they are being hunted feel?
"Still as slow as I remember!" Maglor taunted, grinning wildly as he made to grab Curvo. Curvo, in a desperate attempt to flee from him, twisted in order to avoid being caught.
"No-?!" Curvo, in the middle of his turn, slipped in the mud when he right foot tripped over his lieft; and with a small cry, the Elf, flailing his arms in a frantic attempt to catch his balance, tumbled backwards.
Maglor, to his horror, discovered that there was a steep hill behind Curvo and, without a thought, recklessly dove forward to rescue his brother. "Curvo!" He shouted, his hand darting out to catch one of Curvo's flailing arms. Instead of grabbing Curvo, as was Maglor's initial purpose, Curvo caught hold of Maglor's wrist and pulled.
Uttering identical cries, both Maglor and Curvo started the rough, but quick, trip down the hillside, violently tumbling over the rocks decorating the hill.
"Valar!" Tyelko exclaimed as he, Moryo, and Nelyo raced to the top of the hillside. There, they watched as their two brothers went crashing down into the river below.
Maglor was the first to be greeted by the freezing cold waters of the river. He had only just sat up when Curvo fell on top of him, forcing Maglor back underneath the surface of the waters.
Sputtering and coughing, Maglor broke through the surface, gasping for air with Curvo spitting out the water he'd swallowed.
"Ugh, this is all your fault, Makalaurë." Curvo accused, dropping his head down against Maglor's shoulder in a tired manner. "Now I'm all wet." He complained, raising a hand and slapping it against the water. Droplets of water sprayed Maglor in the face and the minstrel blinked in order to clear his eyes and look down at the smaller Elf.
"My fault?" Maglor scoffed, gathering his hair together and dropping it over his shoulder. "How is this my fault?"
"You antagonized me."
"Pft. You are easily antagonized, brother-mine."
Curvo blinked several times, eyes reflecting great confusion as he lifted his head up to study Maglor intently. "You're different." The Elf bluntly stated as Maglor started to wring out his hair. The Makalaurë he knew wouldn't have said anything in retort to any of Curvo, or the others, comments. He would have only given them the smile Makalaurë was famous for and shrug.
Maglor squeezed some more water out of his long hair and raised an eyebrow at Curvo's statement.
"Different? You aren't the first to say so." Maglor told him, briefly looking up at Nelyo, who was making his way down the hill towards them, Moryo and Tyelko in tow.
Curvo said nothing, frowning deeply as he analyzed Maglor. His brother was an enigma. He always had been, but he was even more so now. He was more outgoing than Curvo remembered. More daring, stronger, watchful and his mind was sharp. Maglor seemed to know almost everything. By Varda, he was even knowledgeable in herb lore. Curvo remembered when they had visited the Healing Halls to visit a few Elflings who'd gotten injured while playing outside. They were short on Healers, since that day happened to be the day the Head Healer and most of her staff went down to the market to buy more herbs. Makalaurë had offered to help and without waiting for the Healer's consent, started brewing pain-medicine for the elflings.
By Varda, he was skilled in battle-planning, hunting, tracking, and knew a lot about forging.
Though... Curvo bit his lower lip at the last thought. Forging. For some reason, Makalaurë refused to have anything to do with the forge. He wouldn't even walk into the forgery. He would give Moryo and Tyelko advice every once in a while when they had difficulty in forging, and when he visited, he would watch them from the outside, a pained and far-away look in his eyes.
That was another thing Curvo had noticed. His brother's eyes.
They used to be filled with love, understanding, and kindness, but now...they were dark with grief and wariness. They were also as sharp as steel with determination brewing in them. They were aged with wisdom. Sometimes, Curvo would catch Makalaurë whenever the Elf was alone and watch as the minstrel allowed his cheerful and bright facade fall away. Makalaurë, to Curvo, looked worn down and tired all the time. It worried him.
What had happened to Makalaurë those last ten years? What had he been put through? Why did he refuse to talk about it?
"-Reckless, the both of you!"
"What?" Maglor and Curvo glanced up to see Nelyo and their two other brothers had finally reached them. Tyelko, the one who had been addressing him, rolled his eyes.
"Nevermind." He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as Nelyo carefully clambered down the soggy riverbank and stretch out a hand for Curve to take.
"Come along, now, Curvo." Nelyo said, gripping Curvo's hand when Curvo grabbed it. He tugged the Ellon up and maintained his grip as Curvo carefully maneuvered his feet so he wouldn.t fall back. "There you are." Nelyo gently smiled at his brother once Curvo was up and out of the riverbank. Turning back around, Nelyo found that Maglor had raised himself up out of the water and watched as the minstrel whipped his head back and forth, trying to get rid of most of the water in it.
"Makalaurë!" Nelyo exclaimed as droplets of water sprinkled his face. Maglor innocently smiled.
"Ye-" he cut off, sharply turning his head in the direction of the woods, frowning in concentration.
"What is it?" Moryo questioned, his hand subconsciously teaching for his blade.
"There are riders approaching." Maglor had just barely finished speaking when Nelyo, Moryo, Curvo, and Tyelko heard the sound of hoofprints galloping their way.
"How..?" Tyelko breathed, amazed Maglor could've heard the riders coming from so far away. His other brothers also shared his amazement, staring at Maglor. Yes, they were Elves and possessed sharp hearing, but there was no way possible for them to have heard the horses from such a distance.
Maglor paid them no attention, still listening to the approaching riders.
"Five are coming this way." he informed them, watching the tree-line of the forest, waiting for the riders to appear.
"Then it must be Andatar and the others." Nelyo said.
Maglor broke his gaze away from the forest to Nelyo. "Andatar..." He softly repeated and Nelyo watched, with growing suspicion, as that 'look' returned to Maglor's eyes. He was unable to call Maglor out on it when a warm voice called out to him,
"Nelyo!"
"Andatar." Nelyo greeted, turning to grace Finwë with a broad smile. It had been three years since Finwë had last visited and now, he would be in for a pleasant surprise.
Finwë still looked as majestic and as powerful as Maglor remembered. Fëanaro and Nolofinwë strongly resembled him with their long, black hair, piercing blue eyes, and sharp, but smooth, features.
Finwë analysed every one of his grandsons, noting the brighter aura that enveloped them. They looked to have cheered up tremendously since last he'd seen them.
"Moryo, Tyelko, and Curvo as well." He addressed the three, curiously eyeing the soaked Curvo standing between Tyelko and Moryo. "Out hunting again?"
"That we are." Nelyo dipped his chin in response, watching as Nolofinwë rode up beside his father and stopped, the Elf examining the four. "But, Andatar, you have missed one of us."
Confusion flitted across Finwë and Nolofinwë's kind expressions as they looked over the four again. Nolofinwë even counted lowly, stopping once he reached Moryo.
Nelyo smothered the urge to smirk when Findekano and Turukano's heads peered over Finwë and Nolofinwë's shoulders, also searching for whoever Finwë had missed.
"What do you mean, Nelyo?" Finwë asked, redirecting his attention to his eldest grandson.
"Why, this-" Nelyo reached over Tyelko and Curvo, his fingers grasping hold of the soft fabric he knew to be Makalaurë's tunic and pulled him forward, "-is what I mean, Andatar."
Maglor stumbled to Nelyo's side, having been knocked off balance and turned, marginally widened eyes up to look at Finwë.
Finwë, his dear Andatar...the first of the entire family to fall.
'Signs, Maglor! Look for the signs!' Din's voice suddenly sounded in his mind, and Maglor's brow furrowed. So, someone who was meant to help him was among Finwë's small group? Or...Was it possibly Finwë himself?
Maglor's eyes flicked over to his uncle. Nolofinwë, perhaps? Or, he looked over his Andatar and Uncle's shoulders to see Turukano and Findekano seated side by side on their steeds, eyeing him in return. Irissë's was riding behind Turukano and Maglor watched as Irissë discreetly peered around Turukano to see who everyone was staring at.
One of his cousins, perchance? He could see nothing different about them...
'Keep looking.'
It was Finwë's startled and disbelieving gasp that broke Maglor from his thoughts and the minstrel looked up in time to see his Grandfather dismounting and slowly approaching him.
"Makalaurë?"
"Andatar..." Maglor weakly smiled as Finwë extended a hand and grazed his fingers against Maglor's shoulder, as if testing to see if he were dreaming or not.
"I cannot believe it..." Finwë murmured, staring long and hard at the Ellong before him, eyes scanning over Maglor's features.
Maglor couldn't take it anymore. He lunged forward and embraced his Grandfather tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he remembered how much he had missed Finwë.
Finwë, uncaring that Maglor's was drenched in water, wrapped his arms around the minstrel, pressing Maglor's head against his shoulder as the Elf confirmed to himself that his missing grandchild had been found.
"Makalaurë, little Makalaurë...Thank the Valar!"
"Andatar." Makalaurë's vision blurred and the minstrel hastily blinked his eyes clear, refusing to cry.
Finwë was the one to break the embrace as he pulled away and clasped both Maglor's shoulders, gazing down at his grandson with overwhelming joy and relief. He, too, had suffered greatly when he learned of Makalaurë's disappearance. He had grieved for many days and nothing anyone could do could help ease the pain he felt. Finwë loved all of his grandchildren immensely, and losing one of them, to him, was like losing a child of his own.
"When?" Finwë suddenly asked, looking to Nelyo briefly.
"Two weeks ago."
Finwë glanced up sharply, frowning severely. "And I was told nothing? For two weeks?"
"Father did send an invitation for the upcoming Feast." Nelyo helplessly shrugged, giving his Grandfather a crooked smile.
Realization dawned over Finwë catching the subtle hint behind Nelyo's words, and the tall Ellon shook his head. "No wonder...I didn't understand Fëanaro's reasoning for abruptly putting together a Feast after a decade of silence. His missive said nothing but that I was expected to come in two weeks time. I certainly hope he does not mind that I came early."
Finwë then released Maglor from his hold and the minstrel turned to face Nolofinwë. Nolofinwë didn't seem to know what to say or do at the moment, his indecision evident to Maglor.
"I..." Nolofinwë began, but trailed off, uncertain as to where he stood with his nephew. He wasn't particularly close to Fëanaro- no, the entire world would've come to an end if Fëanaro ever considered him his brother- and the only fairly good relationship he had was with Nelyo, seeing as the red-head and his eldest son were close.
When Makalaurë was but an elfling and an adolescent, he and Nolofinwë had spent some time getting to know each other. Nolofinwë had cherished those times he'd been able to teach Makalaurë some things or answer the elfling's questions, knowing they would probably be the only times he ever would. Makalaurë had been a quiet but curious child, and he had been friendly with Nolofinwë- Makalaurë having been the one to actually initiate their first, small, conversation. But, that had been decades ago. He had no way of knowing if Makalaurë's opinion of him was the same as, or influenced by, his Father.
He settled for simply giving Makalaurë a gentle and relieved smile. "I am relieved to find that you are we-?!" Nolofinwë was startled when Maglor abruptly stepped forward and hugged him tightly.
"Uncle." Maglor breathed, refusing to acknowledge the pain and heartbreak he felt. Nolofinwë had suffered so much...And yet, he still followed them, willingly.
He, too, Maglor remembered, feeling a spark of fierce anger coiling within him, had fallen because of the accursed Silmarils.
A little stunned, Nolofinwë could do nothing but awkwardly raise his arms and return the unexpected, but not unwelcome, embrace.
Finwë raised both eyebrows at this, having not expected Maglor to enthusiastically embrace his Uncle, who Finwë sadly knew Fëanaro cared little for. Fëanaro's other children never really did care to get to know their Uncle, other than Nelyo. Makalaurë had always kept to himself but now...
Looking around, he noted, with faint amusement, the looks of bewilderment Curvo, Moryo, and Tyelko gave one another, the surprise reflected in Nelyo's eyes, and Nolofinwë's children's astonishment.
Maglor, recollecting himself, inhaled deeply and stepped back, staring up at his Uncle with a wobbly grin. "Forgive me..." he looked at his Uncle's riding tunic and bit his lip. "Now you are wet..."
"Tis fine." Nolofinwë reassured him.
Findekano and Turukano greeted Makalaurë next, followed by Irissë.
"I'm so glad you're back!" Irissë ecstatically told him, before flushing and hiding her face in Turukano's tunic, embarrassed by her outburst. Maglor laughed, remembering how outgoing and bright Irissë had been as an elfling and adolescent. Irissë was never afraid to speak her mind, something Maglor grew to admire about his young cousin, and she had grown to become a strong and courageous young Elleth...
She, too, had suffered much.
"Irissë, it is wonderful to see you again." He said to her. Irissë slowly turned her and peeked one eye open to look at him.
"Really?"
"Yes."
A happy smile spread across her lips as her eyes twinkled. Abruptly, the young Elleth jumped up and tugged her brother's arm. "Hey, Turukano! Can I get down? I want to walk with Makalaurë!"
Turukano discretely met Maglor's gaze, inquisitively. Maglor nodded to him, silently telling Turukano that he wouldn't mind having Irissë stuck to his side on their journey to Fëanaro's home.
"I do not see why not." Turukano said, carefully lifting the adolescent up and setting her down on the ground next to Maglor.
And so, Maglor was accompanied by Irissë as he and their families journeyed to Fëanaro's home. The Elleth never once stopped talking, always telling Maglor one thing or another. Maglor didn't mind at all, much to Nolofinwë, Findekano, and Turukano's relief. In the awkward moments where Maglor would meet their eyes- every time one of them would glance back to see if Maglor was becoming tired of Irissë's constant talking- the minstrel struggled not to smirk or chuckle in amusement.
Anytime Irissë spoke, Maglor listened intently to see if she was, perhaps, one of the others Din had spoken about, but he didn't see any 'signs' that she was.
This, he found, was not going to be easy. How was he going to find out who was supposed to help him? He was going to need their help, he knew. There was no way Maglor would be able to carry out this task alone.
Time was of essence. Who knew how long until Fëanaro would begin crafting the Silmarils?
~Duplicity~
Okie dokie...I hope this chapter wasn't bad. If it was, I promise, the next few chapters will be more interesting! Now that we've got all of the characters that'll be involved in this story, I can get started on the actual story!
Next chapter- Maglor searches for those meant to help him, helps prepare for the upcoming Feast, and Nerdanel's homecoming.
Thanks for the reviews and PMs! They've been of great help to me.
-Juliette Morbu
