DISCLAIMER: Simply borrowing Tolkien's fantastic characters (Findekano and the Sons of Feanaro, as well as Morgoth). I'll return them, um, somewhat intact. Hopefully. Emotionally, mentally, and maybe physically scarred, but that can be fixed. There are no OCs involved.

A/N: Rated T for violence, angst, and just to be safe. You may also find (if you have watched Captain America/Marvel movies) that some of the lines may be familiar... Some of them are taken from Captain America: The Winter Soldier, which this was inspired by. It's also very important to know that Fingon braids his hair with gold.

Who's Who and What's What - Quenya to Sindarin (and English)

Morimahtar - a name meaning 'dark swordsman' (or black warrior, etc.)

Findekano/Fin - Fingon

Turukano - Turgon

Russandol/Nelyo/Nelyafinwe/Maitimo - Maedhros

Makalaure/Kano - Maglor

Telvo/Telufinwe - Amrod

Curufinwe Feanaro - Feanor

Ambarussa - Amrod and Amras

Pityo - Amras

hroa - body

hanor - brothers

mai - yes

aiya - hail/hello/greeting

END OF THE LINE :: Pt. I - 2

"Pityo, explain this." Russandol's voice was blazing with fury as he held up the gold string to his younger brother's face, almost first thing in the morning.

"I-I… I had no idea we had these," Pityo stammered.

"That's the point. We don't." He just managed to resist the urge to put Pityo in a headlock.

"Maybe it was caught in your clothing and came loose."

He shook his head. "I would've seen it."

"If you think Telvo and I did it as a joke, we did not! We would never do that!" Pityo raised his hands.

Russandol frowned, torn between belief and disbelief. "I want to believe you," he murmured, "but if you're right, then how did this get here?"

Pityo shrugged, still looking a bit shaken up.

Telufinwe entered the room dressed and armed for a hunt. "Good morning, hanor. Is Kano up yet?"

They heard a muffled 'mai!' from behind one of the doors. A few seconds after, Makalaure appeared. "Aiya. Going hunting, Ambarussa?"

Telvo and Pityo nodded. "Want to come?"

"Sure. But don't you have duties to attend to?"

They shrugged. "We're done. There isn't much to do around here."

"Did you send the message to Turukano?"

The twins nodded.

"What message?" Russandol asked, eyes narrowed.

Makalaure gulped, glancing at the twins and wondering if they should tell.

Russandol repeated the question. "What message?"

Taking a deep breath, Makalaure handed his older brother the scroll. Russandol managed to keep a straight face for the whole time, but inside there was a storm of thoughts, memories, and feelings he could barely contain. Turukano's words were so icy and accusing.

"I did not touch him," he said flatly.

"I thought so," Makalaure murmured, almost to himself. "Are you coming, Nelyo?"

Russandol shook his head, turning away.

"All right. See you later, then." Makalaure raised a hand in farewell, but Russandol didn't notice, or didn't care.

Morimahtar sat by the embers of a dying fire, staring into the darkness of the ashes. Suddenly, in his mind's eye he could see the dreadful eyes of the Dark Lord. His blood ran cold and his eyes widened.

What do you want of me?

No answer. Just searching, probing, looking around for… something. He felt so naked, so exposed before Moringotto. Morimahtar was driven out of his frozen state for a moment and he held his head in his hands.

What are you doing? What do you want of me?

"Hold still, my dark soldier," the voice said in his dark tongue, chuckling slightly.

Morimahtar couldn't help but shiver. The eyes… those terrible, piercing eyes were still there, glinting in the darkness of his mind. He clenched his teeth as sharp pain ripped through his head. He wanted to claw off the mask - a muzzle, more like - but he didn't have the strength to do it. It was so hard to breathe...

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

"Silence!" The voice rang in his ears. Then more pain. Darkness shrouded parts of his mind in a thick haze he could not pierce through with his thoughts.

STOP!

It all disappeared, and Morimahtar was left lying on the ground, breathing heavily and barely conscious. If anyone was watching at that moment, they would have seen that his eyes were black. Purely black.

But a minute later, he was pacing with only one thing in mind - kill the Silmaril chasers. After destroying any evidence of his presence there, he rejoined his troops and gave orders.

"Gimbulûk!" Find them all.

Russandol sighed, staring at the golden string in his hand. There were so many questions… So many questions that were begging to be answered. Heaving another sigh, he slid it into his pocket and walked out of the fortress. There was a dirt path that led away into a part of the fortress that he knew was guarded, but wasn't sure why. He still hadn't seen everything there was to be seen.

It wasn't long before Russandol reached the path's end - a small garden. He could see the figures of guards around the hedgerow that was the perimeter of the garden. In the center lay a pond with a stone bridge going over it. He eased the gate open and started along a paved path.

One interesting flower bush caught his eye. It was strikingly fire-like. Its petals were big, bright, and flashy. On one of the stems drooped a flower that seemed to be the same - only black.

Dead, Russandol thought. He did not notice the wooden sign with the inscription "Curufinwë Fëanáro", but the flowers made it clear.

He moved on, wondering what his father would have said if he had seen those flowers. The next group of flowers was less bright and more gentle. While the petals were white, the stem was a sort of reddish-brown, very copper-like. They were simple, but no less beautiful.

A curious collection… It seemed to Russandol that there was nothing that didn't puzzle him that day. The third group of flowers he came across were roses, but mahogany. His gaze fell on a sign half-covered in ivy that said "Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol". He raised his eyebrows.

"So that's why," he murmured to himself.

As he came across the other six for his brothers, he found himself nodding slightly. They are very fitting… After Telufinwë's, the path led to the bridge crossing the pond. As Russandol stepped onto the bridge, he hummed a tune. Unconsciously, the words followed.

"If all the paths lead into darkness,
Bright then it may be…" His voice faltered as he realized what he had been singing. Unbidden came the memories of a song carried by the almost still air. Two desperate voices barely clinging to hope.

"I will not walk alone," came a muffled, slightly wavering voice with the undertone of a harsh accent. Something in Russandol stirred. Was that…?

"For won't you stand beside me?" Russandol joined the voice on the last line, turning to find its source. But it had vanished as quickly as it had come. Yet - he took a closer look at the trees above and found a glint of gold.

Russandol's brothers still hadn't returned by mid-afternoon. Russandol made for the stables, asking the guards if they had seen anyone, just anyone, on the grounds but they answered no. Fingering the two gold strings in his pocket, Russandol wondered what was going on. Perhaps Turukano had been playing a trick on them. But he wouldn't do such a thing… would he?

Russandol shoved the thought away as he mounted his horse. He had to find his brothers. They hadn't gone away quietly, that was for sure. He was able to track them, and eventually he came to a camp. Just then, something landed on him from above, pinning him to the ground. He realized it was someone when he tried to fight back.

The sound of unsheathing steel galvanised him into action. Russandol managed to get out from under his attacker. He managed to draw his own dagger and faced his attacker - a half-masked figure whose dark long hair was braided with gold.

Eyes widening, Russandol's breath caught in his throat. Who are you?

His attacker's brow furrowed and a split second afterwards a dagger flashed through the air. He managed to block it with his dagger. The attacker had surprising speed and strength for a servant of Morgoth.

The daggers crossed the space between the two fighters again and again with surprising speed. Eventually, Russandol knock the dagger out of his opponent's hand. He was answered with a punch in the face. With a thump, his dagger fell to the ground. Russandol's fist connected with his foe's jawline. It made a dent in the mask. As the attacker tore the mask off his face, both warriors staggered backwards.

"Findekáno?"

That angry, determined expression did not change.

"Who in Arda is Findekano?" he answered in Black Speech.

Breathing heavily, Russandol stared back at this… this person, who looked so much like Findekano, but who was everything Findekano was not - Russandol's enemy, almost emotionless, set on killing, a servant of Morgoth.

How can this be? What has Morgoth done to you?

Russandol still hadn't moved when his brothers rushed in on horseback, fighting a group of about twenty orcs. It wasn't long before the foul beasts lay dead on the ground. Makalaure's voice pierced through his brother's thoughts. "Are you all right?"

Russandol turned his thousand yard stare from the empty space around him and onto Makalaure, whose tunic was stained with black blood and ripped in a few places.

"Let's get you home."

Russandol let Makalaure pull him onto his horse, unable to speak. He was silent all the way back to the fortress.

Findekano? The name uttered by the strange one-handed Silmaril chaser echoed in Morimahtar's head. Even when he had arrived at Angband, he still could not forget that voice, that face, that name. There was a tiny, forgotten piece of him that stirred at the sound of that name. And something else… something strange had happened when he had heard that song. Why did he even sing back? He'd ruined everything.

Everything.

He bowed his head, careful not to look into Moringotto's eyes as he knelt on one knee before the Dark Lord.

"Mission report."

Morimahtar couldn't bring himself to speak.

"Mission report now."

His command was met with silence. A sickening smack resounded through the whole throne room. Morimahtar held his cheek in his hand, breathing heavily. All was silent for a while, yet the room seemed filled with Morgoth's unspoken fury.

"The elf on the bridge…" Morimahtar managed. "Who was he?"

"You've seen him on scouting missions."

Morimahtar's brow furrowed. There was something he couldn't put his finger on. Flashes of green, gold, silver, blue and red whirled in his mind, an enigma of colours that couldn't be deciphered. Voices came and went with the colours, each saying something in a language that was alive, fluid, crisp and clean. Sometimes they came with laughter. Music. But he could not understand. They were so foreign, so strangely foreign, but at the same time he felt like it belonged. He felt like it was true.

"I knew him." He looked away. Moringotto's eyes started to appear in his mind, and the voice was there too, feeding him lies. Morimahtar didn't care to listen. All those things… He did not need to hear them. He did not want to hear them.

"But I knew him..."

Without warning, his arms were yanked back and forced into hell-wrought iron bands no one could escape from. He was pushed down onto the ground roughly and a moment later, his ankles were encased as well. Morimahtar didn't bother to struggle. He'd faced this many times before. Even if he didn't remember it, he felt it.

Do what you want with me...

As something foul-smelling went over his mouth, he tried to hold onto those strange, vibrant colours, those voices he could barely understand. Reality was indistinguishable from mere thoughts and faded memories that almost weren't there.

Dark stone. Rough voices. Colours. Orcs. Grass. Voices. Iron bars. Moringotto's searching eyes. Darkness. Light.

Morimahtar was thrust into a small metal-walled chamber he couldn't stand up in. Instinctively, he curled up into a ball in a corner as the door slammed shut. He couldn't see where the door stopped and ended. It was endless dark black metal all around.

And then the eyes and the voice appeared once again, and with them came the pain, searing pain that made him scream and shake and made him feel like his skull was being cut open.

Just like that, the colours and the voices were gone.

END OF PART ONE

0o0o0o0o0o0

To Be Continued...