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: Hello. Thanks to those who read and etc.! HEADCANONS INVOLVED: 1) Maitimo does not like to be called Maitimo (meaning 'well-shaped one') after Thangorodrim because he lost his hand and all those post-Thango changes. 2) I only use this headcanon occasionally, but sometimes it is convenient to have. Findekano and Maitimo have such a strong and unique bond that they have this sort of 'mind connection' where they can 'speak' to each other. So... yeah. I won't use it as much as I do in some roleplays but I'll probably end up using it a few times.
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
Russandol/Nelyo/Nelyafinwe/Maitimo - Maedhros
Makalaure/Kano - Maglor
Telvo/Telufinwe - Amrod
Ambarussa - Amrod and Amras
Pityo/Pityafinwe - Amras
Tyelkormo/Turko - Celegorm
Carnistir - Caranthir
Curufinwe/Curvo - Curufin
mai - yes
aiya - hail/hello/greeting
TO THE BITTER END :: Pt. II - 1 [32 YEARS LATER]
Morimahtar opened his eyes, taking everything in - stone bench, stone walls, stone floor. High, arched ceiling. Broken iron chains. Alone. Black braziers. Fire.
Metal arm.
Metal arm.
He frowned, flexing it and moving it around. He hadn't seen it before. How did it get there? Who did this? He was still looking at it when the door opened.
"You have been summoned by the Master," said a harsh voice.
Morimahtar stood up. "Take me to him."
As they walked through the seemingly countless halls, Morimahtar was completely oblivious to the screams and moans of captives and the merciless cracks of whips. As he entered the throne room, two beams of bright light crashed into his vision. Morimahtar froze, stunned for a moment. He was jolted back by little sparks of pain in his head. After pausing for a moment to regain his self-control, he came forward and knelt before Morgoth.
"You summoned me, lord?"
"Yes… I have a mission for you."
Maitimo looked up as his brother came into the tent.
"They are here," Makalaure said.
"We are all here, then?"
He nodded. "Shall we gather here or outside?"
"In here. More privacy."
"All right." There was a soft swish as the tent flap returned to its original position.
Maitimo sighed. Soon after the Nirnaeth and the confusing series of events he didn't want to remember, the fortress had been attacked and had become too dangerous to stay in. Now he, Makalaure, and the twins wandered about with no solid roofs over their heads, fighting as they went to gain a place to stay each night.
"Aiya, Nelyo," Curufinwe said as he entered the tent.
Tyelkormo raised an eyebrow, the start of a smirk on his lips. "You really think there's enough space in here for seven brothers?"
The twins exchanged an uneasy glance.
"What other space do you think we have?" Maitimo exclaimed.
"There is outside, you know. Fresh air, more space-"
"The chance of attacks and eavesdroppers! Think, Turko."
Tyelkormo leapt to his feet, eyes narrowed. He was about to say something, but Makalaure stepped in between them.
"All right, all right. That's enough."
Tyelkormo hesitated. Curufinwe put a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Just do it."
Once all the brothers were seated, Maitimo spoke.
"Who heard of the rumours first?" he said in a low voice.
Carnistir spoke up. "I did. I was trading with some Moriquendi not too long ago when I heard one of them say, "A Silmaril of Feanor burns again in the woods of Doriath." Those were his exact words. That evening, I sent the message to you, Nelyo. Tyelkormo, Luthien has been dead for two years now, if what I have heard is true. You would not restrain us - and the Oath - now, would you?"
Tyelkormo had a faraway look in his eyes. He shook his head.
"So what is our course of action?" Pityafinwe asked.
Curufinwe's answer came quickly. "We cannot lose time. Already we have wasted two years-"
"We did not! We did not always know where the jewel was," Telvo protested.
Curvo shot his youngest brother a glare. "I say we ride for Doriath and attack with no hesitation. We've already lost time as it is, and we will have the element of surprise."
"No!" Maitimo slammed his fist down on the desk. "I do not want Alqualonde to happen all over again if it is unnecessary." We have enough spilt blood on our hands as it is.
"But the only other option is to send a message of our claim on the Silmaril, and with that comes less chance of us regaining it!"
"And more chance of regret, more chance of unnecessary spilt blood. Perhaps-"
Curvo snorted. "Regret? Are you really weak enough for that, Nelyo?"
"Regret is not weakness," Makalaure said quietly. "Having the audacity to do something you will later regret is weakness."
"We are not attacking Doriath. That is final," Maitimo said firmly. "However, we will send a message. Now before you all protest, I would like to remind you that I am the head of this house."
"What if Dior does not answer?" Telvo asked.
Maitimo did not meet his eyes. "Then…"
"Then we attack." There was a hint of a flame in Tyelkormo's eyes.
Maitimo felt a punch in the face that was enough to make his nose bleed. His attacker's fist was stained with blood. Half-blinded by sharp pain, he aimed a punch at his attacker's face. He missed and hit the mask instead. The attacker staggered backwards, tearing the mask off his face.
"Findekano?" Maitimo heard himself say.
"Who in Arda is Findekano?"
And then he laughed, but the laugh was Morgoth's laugh. Slowly, Findekano morphed into Morgoth and Maitimo screamed.
"FIN… NO!"
It all vanished into white flame.
Maitimo sat up with a jerk, breathing heavily. His blanket and undergarments were damp with sweat. His breaths turned from heavy to shaky as he covered his face with his hands.
But it was already gone for three decades… I did not need to remember this.
He could still remember that voice, that voice that he remembered singing in his darkest moments. The voice that he had remembered so well for encouraging him for when he felt like giving up. The voice that had never ceased to tell him the truth. And the last time he had heard that same voice, it had spoken Morgoth's tongue. It had sounded so... warped. So dark. So different. He could barely understand anything that had happened. Findekano was dead. He had seen it, heard of it... Felt it in his heart and his mind - especially his mind as their unique mind connection had been torn and severed. But what...? Why? What had happened was not a dream. He knew it by the strings of gold he still kept. He had felt it when Findekano punched him in the face. Was it Findekano? But who else could it be?
STOP!
For once he wished that Findekano had just died. All Maitimo wanted right now was to forget. Forget about that strange string of events and remember that Findekano had died. That Findekano had died in the Nirnaeth and nothing more. That was it. That was the end of it. A tear slipped down onto Maitimo's cheek.
When he finally regained his composure, Maitimo changed into a fresh tunic and trousers and went out into the early autumn morning. The sun was on the verge of rising.
Tyelkormo got up from the log where he had been sitting and approached his oldest brother. "Four days ago, you promised a delay of three more sunrises and now that is over. Today will be the fourth. A Feanorion keep his word, does he not?"
Maitimo sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "Tyelkormo-"
"Maitimo, listen -"
"Don't you dare call me that!"
"Listen to me, Nelyo! It's been a year since we sent the message and you know as well as I do that we have no other option now. Face it, the Oath has been awakened. We have to do something about it or those blasted Doriathrim will start believing that we are cowards! That the Silmaril is rightfully theirs!"
"Nelyo, Turko is right, but… there has to be another way." Maitimo noticed that Makalaure was standing next to him.
"All the other ways will not work," Maitimo admitted. "We leave before the midday meal. Get the others ready."
Tyelkormo left before he had finished the sentence. As Makalaure hesitantly left, Maitimo was left wondering if what he had done was the start of a disaster.
0o0o0o0o0o0
To Be Continued...