Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death
Chapter: 34
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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Maedhros' night started annoying; he was trying to finish some paperwork, but Maglor was bothering him to go to bed. Stubborness kept him awake, meaning the paperwork was progressing about half as fast as it would without a brother distracting him.
So when the easternmost elves of Ard-Galen sought sanctuary behind the Leaguer, he was awake.
His blood ran cold when the two messengers told him what had happened in the West.
"We'll need the cavalry." Maglor whispered as they withdrew to plan. "Nothing of infantry will be able to cross the distance at any kind of speed to make a difference."
Maedhros had to agree, as they would have to get across around Dorthonion over Ard-Galen or dip all the way south around the Girdle of Melian. It would take them days on foot, even with a forced march if on foot.
"Gather your cavalry." He ordered the second son of Fëanor. "I'll send word to the others to reinforce the gap with their forces..."
Maglor rushed off, eyes screaming the same thing he was feeling. Their cousins were safe, but their uncle... Maedhros swept down a different corridor, mentally already putting the letters together he was going to send to their brothers.
"My Lord!" It was as he was writing the third and last letter that his steward knocked in the door. "You are needed in the Great Hall."
"What for?" He kept writing as he asked it, hurry making his script nearly illegible.
Just like the line through his spidery Tengwar at the next statement. "His Lordship Elmo of Doriath has come bearing word of his brother Elu Thingol, King of Doriath."
Maedhros jerked to look up. "Lead the way." This had to be the first time any word had come from Doriath that had not passed through the children of Ëarwen, and then it was Elmo!?
He was greeted by the silver-haired prince of Doriath, wearing the light armour of the Doriathrim Marchwardens.
"Your Highness, my apologies, I was unaware you were intending to visit Himring." He bowed, sweeping his cloak aside. "Be welcome in my keep." The question as to what had driven him here burned on his tongue.
"It was a recent development." Elmo stood among a small contingent of guards, crossing his arms. "Have you had word of what happened in the East?"
"In Tol Sirion, yes." He inclined his head.
"My brother sends word to the Sons of Fëanor..." The prince of Doriath drew himself up, silver hair cascading down his back. "He intends to aid our law-nephew, sending the Marchwardens as can be spared... I am to inform the Fëanorians that just this once, they and their forces may pass the Girdle for the short way to Tol Siriion, rather than the long way across Ard-galen, assuming they intend to aid their uncle."
"Pardon...?" Wait... what?
"My brother intends to prioritize his kin over his hate, Lord Maedhros." Elmo's eyes narrowed. "I am to lead your forces through the woods if you take him up on that offer."
His view narrowed to a point. "Yes. Yes, we will take him up on that offer." He swallowed a few times, before he could speak again. "We must first gather our forces however..."
"He has voiced no time-limit, barring the obvious." That, he could imagine.
"Then please, rest a while until we can move." He ordered some rooms to be offered to the delegation, then briefly bowed to return to the missives he had to send. Maglor would be gathering the forces they'd have to take, hopefully one of the Ambarussa would take Himring once the letter reached them. Celegorm would rush after them, no doubt, while Caranthir could not easily leave Thargelion on such short notice.
They'd have to hope that Morgoth would not launch an attack in the East, because they would be understrength depending on how much they could gather at such short notice.