Amras feels stretched, and though he won't admit to it, in pain. The Music of the world rages against him, at the wrongness that warps around him. It comes on suddenly. Curufin theorizes that having a living twin delayed the effect and that now that Amrod is dead, this protection is gone.

"Doesn't that mean it'll hit us sooner?" Celegorm asks.

The dead all look at each other and don't answer.

"Do you think we'll start to lose ourselves like the houseless spirits?" Amras asks quietly.

"Probably," Caranthir says.

Curufin smiles grimly. "At least we'll have the Oath."

They manage to hide it from the living for a short while because the retreat back to Amon Ereb keeps Maedhros busy and because desperately trying to keep three Peredhel from fading keeps Maglor busy. But since they're all taking shifts at Elurin's bedside, it doesn't take long for him to figure it out.

Maglor starts trying to bind them all tighter to the earth, to their living brothers, to anything but the Oath in a desperate attempt to help them.

It helps, but Amras is loathe to admit it because it is patently obvious to everyone that between trying to keep his dead brothers sane, his troops' morale up, and the Peredhel living, Maglor is wearing himself far too thin.

Yet none of this can be given up, so Maedhros, just as powerful if less talented with music, steps in to help as best he can.

It still isn't quite enough.

The first time Elurin wakes up from the haze, he hears Maglor singing, wonders briefly where his brother is, and goes back to sleep.

The second time he wakes up, he reaches for his brother's spirit, meets nothing, and he knows.

There are no word for the ache that hits. He wants nothing more than to fade back into the nothingness, but his mind has hit two other almost familiar spirits in his vain quest for his brother's, and he looks down to see two small elflings curled up asleep beside him.

They look a bit like him.

He looks up then and sees Maglor asleep in a chair beside him, and Maedhros quietly wrapping a blanket around his brother.

"Who set the fire?" he asks.

Maedhros flinches but turns to look him in the eyes. "I don't know."

Elurin believes him. He remembers wishing for the Feanorians to come and do exactly that and feels a bit sick. "Amrod?"

"Dead," Maedhros says flatly. "And Caranthir. They're still with us."

Of course. They were still here while Elured was gone.

Elurin is angry in a distant sort of way. He suspects that when the haze clears, it will be all consuming, so he tries to sort out now just who he's angry with, himself for failing, the lords of Sirion for locking them up, or the Feanorians for starting a fight that provoked the fire.

It is impossible not to blame himself, but it's not enough.

He doesn't know who's right about things. How much of everyone's actions are justified and how much is not. He's too tired and hurt to figure it out.

But he knows who came for him in the fire and who didn't, so he decides to be angry at Sirion.

He remembers his father's scream and his mother's still body, and he knows it might be the wrong choice, but his mind is still reaching into a void, and his parents aren't here to fill it while Maglor and Maedhros's minds shine like beacons inviting him in.

It is far easier just to blame Sirion.

"Elwing?" he asks after a moment. It occurs to him belatedly that if they have killed his sister, he should probably change his mind about who to blame, but it is hard to feel much for someone he barely remembers and who gave him up for dead.

Maedhros's expression tightens. "She jumped out of a tower window with the Silmaril." He pauses. "Ulmo turned her into a bird."

Elurin also believes this, mostly because while the Feanorians have hidden things from him before, they haven't outright lied, and while they might choose to start now, he has faith that Maedhros could make up a more plausible lie than this.

"Maglor found her sons," Maedhros continues when Elurin doesn't respond. "Elrond and Elros."

Elurin pulls them closer automatically. "Alright," he says wearily. "Alright."

It does not appear to be what Maedhros expects, but he doesn't know what else to say.

When he wakes again, the twins are awake and frightened.

He remembers those first days. He's glad they have each other like he had -

Well. It's good.

And he'll be there for them too, and Maglor, and the others once he's roped them into it.

"Are you really our uncle?" one blurts out.

That's easy enough. "Yes."

"Are they going to kill us?"

Also easy. "No. You're safe now, I promise. We're going to make sure of it."

They do. It's harder than it once was. Beleriand grows more dangerous by the year, and the dead are falling more quickly to the strain as the darkness grows. Elurin, seeing the struggle without being told, starts trying to help, but it's harder with Elured gone. Elrond and Elros try to help too, and Elrond in particular has a gift for the healing songs.

It's not enough, but it's all they can do.

Elurin is not sure how much Elwing knew about them being locked up. After this many nights of his nephews having nightmares and asking him when she's coming back, he is not inclined to be generous.

It is so easy to be angry these days, and Elwing is a safe target. His nephews pick up on it, which might be unfortunate, but Elros is quick to adopt Elurin's views on most things these days, and Elrond, although more willing to try to puzzle out her side of things, isn't willing to pick a fight over it.

Maglor's mouth purses unhappily when he realizes it. "She was brave," he tells them that night as he helps the twins prepare for bed.

"She left us," Elros says flatly.

"She didn't want to."

"Then why didn't she give up that stupid stone?"

Maglor looks to Elurin for help. Elurin shrugs unhelpfully.

Maglor corners him about it later, and Elurin is less restrained then. "She had a chance to avert all this," he says furiously. "If she had ransomed us like you offered, none of this would have happened."

The pain in Maglor's eyes grows. "She is not the first person to refuse to ransom a sibling from an untrustworthy enemy," he reminds Elurin.

"You are not Morgoth," he retorts, but he doesn't bring it up again.

When Earendil's star appears in the sky, not even Maglor can find much room for joy.

"How will we reach it now?" Amrod asks desperately.

Amras says nothing. It's one of his bad days, and what's visible of him writhes in silent agony.

Curufin stares up at it like if he tries hard enough, the light will turn into their father, falling from the skies to tell them what to do. Celegorm's fists are clenched uselessly at his sides.

Caranthir's eyes flick once to the children, but he says nothing. Even if Earendil were willing to ransom them, they have no way to send a message.

If they were alone, Maedhros would look defeated. As it is, he merely says, "The Oath must be fulfilled," and turns away.

Maglor wants to suggest giving it up, but there are five reasons that's impossible right beside him, and he can't bear the thought of their father trapped in there any more than the others can.

"That's our father?" Elrond asks in a small voice.

Maglor turns to him, glad of the distraction. "It appears so. Perhaps he can see you from up there."

Elros perks up immediately, and Maglor is glad of it. "Do you think maybe he can hear us too?"

Maglor thinks it doubtful, but they are still so young. He manages to smile. "I think it can't hurt for you to try to speak to him if you wish it." It is ridiculous and wrong for this suggestion to hurt. The children are not his, were never his, and he has no right at all to feel as he does.

Elros cups his hands over his mouth and shouts, "If you love us at all, get down here with that stupid shiny rock, so Uncle Amras will stop hurting so much!"

Maglor blinks.

Elurin looks around at the suddenly very quiet woods. "Perhaps a little less volume next time," he suggests.

Later, Maglor will try again. "I know we didn't do a good job telling you of Doriath."

"I don't care about Doriath."

This is at least partially a lie and Maglor knows it. "I would like to avoid making the same mistake with Elrond and Elros. It can do them no good to hear nothing but ill of their parents."

Elurin stops sharpening his sword for a moment. "You're probably right," he agrees. "Alright. If you want to tell them pretty bedtime stories about why their mother's a bird and their father's a star, I'll keep my mouth shut."

Maglor dearly hopes that Elwing is not still a bird and Earendil is only carrying the star, but the Valar are strange, and he is suddenly a bit worried that they might not realize why elves could find those forms objectionable. He pushes that disconcerting thought away in favor of another one.

"This argument feels somewhat backwards." Surely it should not be the wicked kinslayer who argues for singing of his victims' merits.

"Your dead brothers tend to have more life in them than your living one," Elurin points out. "Elrond and Elros call the lot of us 'uncle' and their parents by their given names. Backwards is how this family runs."

Maglor is not quite sure that five ghosts, two kinslayers, and three people that are technically hostages make up a unit quite so straightforward and wholesome as a family, but it gives him hope to hear it all the same.