He saw his fortress rise against the hills and was glad. It had taken them too long to recapture the pass of Aglon, him and his men. Their men, for it were mixed cohorts that he had led, consisting as much out of his brother's cavalry troops as of his own. And still, even if they had finally succeeded, it was not as if it was a real victory. The enemy was behind them as well as in the plains of Ard Galen, no, he corrected himself even in thought, Anfauglith, for the green land was no more.

There was not much more they could do now, at least they had an unbroken line of defense again from Hithrim to Ered Gorgoroth, to whatever end that may lead them, for beyond he would not go. He had nor the troops, nor the strength within himself to hold those lands. So he was riding back, leaving the pass in the hands of one of his trusted captains, as his younger brothers had fled and were apparently unable to return. Back to his keep he would go and hope that it would be enough, to hold an island of refuge to withstand the waves of the enemies' troops that were still flowing through the lands. Let his cousins clean up the mess around Doriath, where the sons of Feanor were not welcome, he harshly added in his mind, but at the same time he knew that victory would only come when they stood united, the enemy was too strong.

Messages had been sent ahead and doubtlessly Maglor would be awaiting their arrival. He did not look forward to meeting him, he knew his brother well enough to know that he would have loathed the task of holding the fortress for so long and would be in a foul mood. In the past centuries, Maglor had become a man of the plains, of the open skies and of long raids throughout the lands. He had almost led a nomadic existence when defending the gap, travelling from one of his cohorts to the next, being everywhere and nowhere. It had been his strength, his men would have walked through fire for the captain that graced them with his presence so often (and some had, he thought bitterly at the memory of the dragon). To his enemy he was untraceable, always slipping away from where he was expected to be.

Under any other circumstances, Maglor would have been the one he would have chosen to lead the troops towards the pass, to recapture what was lost. But the bard had still not fully recovered from his wounds, and there had been no other option than that he himself led the troops in the field, while leaving his brother behind to defend the fortress. In any case he thought that if anything would have happened to himself in this campaign, he would not have considered it too great a loss, a maimed, embittered man, who would mourn him? In many aspects he believed his brother was a better man than he ever had been, both as a strategist and morally. And at least he would have found peace in knowing that there was one left that had enough authority to rule in their younger siblings.

As he approached the castle, he found the bard waiting for him outside. Silently the black haired elf was sitting on his black stallion with only a small guard around him. "Fool," he muttered under his breath, "damned fool, why are you out here, what if I would have been a decoy of the enemy?" But then he looked closer and saw the tense expression on his brother's face and knew something was amiss.

As he directed his own brown fox next to Maglor's horse, they clasped hands. With one move of his hand Maglor sent away his guard and confirmed his suspicion that he had things to talk in private even before they entered the castle. So Maedhros too sent away his captains, telling them to bring the troops into the castle while he rode a little further with his brother.

"What is it, Maka, why this reception?"

"You have not heard it." It was not a question.

"Have not heard what Maka? What the hell is going on here?"

"Nolofinwë. He rode out to challenge the enemy," with a gesture of his head in the general direction of Thangorodrim Maglor did not leave much options open as to whom their uncle had challenged. "They fought in single combat and it is said that he was able to wound him before he was slain. The message said his body was carried by the Lord of the Eagles to wherever Turukano has hidden his city." His stormy gray eyes did not betray any feeling, but Maedhros did not need to see to know what this meant for all of them.

"Uncle Nolo gone, Finno…"

"Yes, he is King now Nelyo."

He tried to hide his confusion, his grief, "Why, why did he do something so foolish." It was only a whisper.

"I think even Findekano cannot answer that question, brother. He sent some personal messages to you too, aside from the official missive. I can only guess its contents, but I know what he has sent me. Harsh times are coming brother, and none of us know what they will bring. The men do not know yet that the High king has been slain, we need to think on how we breach the news to them."

Maedhros understood now why Maglor had chosen to tell him the news here. While their loyalty to the eldest surviving member of the house of Finwë had been something that had been obvious, now that the son had inherited kingship, the situation demanded some caution. How they reacted would determine their troops' – and perhaps even their brothers' – behavior towards Fingon. They would need to make absolutely sure that there was no doubt on their loyalty or the unity that they had so carefully wrought would be shattered once more. For himself, Maedhros knew he would never want the crown again, surely not to the expense of one that was closer to him than many of his siblings, and he was fairly sure Maglor thought the same. But then they had both carried the burden for a while, Maglor much longer than he had, and they both knew well what it meant to take that responsibility once more. And he knew why Fingon had written to Maglor then, strange as it might seem, for the two never had been particularly close. Still his brother had joined him on many a visit to Fingon's household, especially after the birth of his friend's son and there was experience to be shared there, of being entrusted with a role upon the unexpected death of one's father in the absence of one's brother - for though Turgon was younger than Fingon, Maedhros knew that the elder had always found the younger more fit to rule and felt himself more of a soldier than a king.

"You know that I will pledge my allegiance to him, Maglor. And so will you I think. Yes, we will need to consider this, let's see how we go ahead and get it over with as soon as we can. We need to make sure that we stay united if we ever want to drive the dark one back to where he came from. How long since this has happened?"

"I will swear my fealty, you know you should not even doubt that, and I agree with you, let's get this over with. The messages arrived about a week ago, it has been a month at most since Fingolfin fell, but soon rumors will start to reach us. You should be the one who tells the men, Maedhros, but you do not find me entirely unprepared. I have drafted some words to tell them, and some messages to our brothers, I just need you to check them and the emissaries can leave even today."

Even after all these years Maedhros was still surprised by the respect his brother showed him, though the bard would have been well capable of managing these affairs alone, still he had waited for him to approve, to make sure that the authority over their family remained firmly in his hands. "Let's go in then, and get started." Together they moved their horses towards the gate, passing by the lines of Maedhros' troops that were entering the castle. Inspecting the damage to the fortifications, he added "Did you suffer any attacks lately?"

Maglor shrugged, "Yes, raiding bands of orcs mostly, sometimes more coordinated attacks on the castle came, but nothing we could not handle. We have lost some forty men and one of my captains, but all in all we managed." He had not looked at Maedhros when speaking but rather observed the entering cohorts with a frown. "I see that you suffered more losses than I did. Still, I will need to go out soon, we need to forage now that you and them are back."

And his brother knew that indeed, he would have to let Maglor get out of the castle now and then, even if he hoped to keep him closer now that they had both ended up residing in the same place for the first time in centuries. It would be nice to have some company for a change. "Who was the captain you lost?" he remembered to ask before they rode through the gate, he did not like the casual way in which Maglor had talked about the dead.

The name the bard curtly mentioned in response made him cringe, as it had been one of the veterans that had been with them from the days of Formenos and he realised that with this fatality, the last of his brother's old personal guard had fallen. He had to try talk to him, tonight perhaps, when the missives had been sent and hopefully they would have a quiet moment to themselves.

By the time the troops had entered, the speech had been delivered – impeccably prepared by Maglor as always, and the messages had been sent, evening had fallen and indeed Maedhros found himself sitting by the fire together with the bard.

"Will you play for me, Maka? Sing perhaps? It has been so awfully quiet here."

Maglor did not react for a while, but stared into the flames. When at last he did reply he said "I don't know how to anymore, Nelyo, what would I play. A love song?" Bitterly he laughed.

"Yes, a love song brother, the one you started to write down that night when they brought you in wounded. I want to hear it properly now, the one for which the pen and ink were so urgently required."

As the bard's eyes flashed up to his brother, Maedhros could see the well-hidden pain inside. But he knew Maglor better than any other, and risked to push further. "You will sing, Maka, even if it is only to let me hear your grief, which I know is there. And after we will talk, there are things you need to tell me, even if you don't want to. Given the current situation there are things I need to understand."

Slowly his brother nodded and without accompaniment, softly started singing and when Maedhros closed his eyes, he could almost pretend they were back at his brother's house in Valinor.