Disclaimer: Dammit, I own nothing!

Note: I did just get very brief review with regard to Elves not sleeping, hence this added note. I am well aware that Elves don't sleep the way mortals thought of sleep. However, the path of Elven dreams was more like a waking sleep, but it was a form of rest. Elves perhaps did not need to sleep per se, but they did need to take a form of rest. Tolkien did seem to contradict himself on this, although the two quotes below from the book would indicate that Elves' needs with regards to resting took a slightly different form.

Quote:

"and he could sleep, if sleep it could be called by Men, resting his mind in the strange paths of elvish dreams, even as he walked open-eyed ing the light of this world."

The Two Towers: The Riders of Rohan : page 31

Quote:

"Legolas already lay motionless, his fair hands folded upon his breast, his eyes un-closed, blending living night and deep dream, as is the way with Elves."

The Two Towers: The Riders of Rohan : page 49

Perhaps I should have been clearer, I have now adjusted the sentence to reflect the fact that I did state he had slipped on the path of Elven dreams which could be undertaken either while walking or lying down at rest. I hope this satisfies my 'critic'!

"Carrie : Wallis was right. The most important thing in life is your family. There are days you love them, and others you don't, but in the end they're the people you always come home to. Sometimes it's the family you're born into and sometimes it's the one you make for yourself."-- Sex and the City

Chapter 64 – We are family

The Residence of the General Officer Commanding 4 Division, Aldershot, present day

Maedhros wandered around the chintzy living room examining the family photographs in the gilt frames. For a few minutes Mugger frisked and gamboled at his ankles, but after a gentle admonition from the tall not-quite-human red-haired dog sitter, he went and lay down in his basket. However his adoring gaze followed the elf around as he looked at the photographs and then finally settled himself in the General's comfy high winged armchair that looked so completely at odds with the rest of the furniture the elf could only assume that it was a favourite piece of furniture.

Msedhros fiddled with the remote to the huge wide screen LCD TV in the corner of the room. He had only recently been introduced to the wondrous technical achievements of the Edain when Alun's son had painstakingly explained how to switch on the device and also work the cable's program system using the remote control. Maglor had only shown him how to switch on the kettle but refused to trust his brother with anything else.

The television blared into action with both light and sound almost immediately. Unfortunately it had been switched to an MTV music program and his elven hearing was assailed with the discordant sounds he had come to know in the past few days as 'modern music'. Not that to him it even vaguely resembled music. He knew music, it had notes, beautiful flowing golden sounds that rippled across the ears and which soothed or inspired. This cacophony was not music.

Maglor knew music, he even still played something he called a 'classical guitar' and he made some lovely sounds with Alun's piano which stood in the corner of the room and which Alun and his wife admitted, much to their embarrassment, nobody had ever learned to play. Maedhros decided that the guitar was much like a harp, although Maglor laughed and said that the only thing they had in common as far as the playing of them was concerned was the fact that they were both stringed instruments.

The appearance of two of the most beautiful men in the entire world had finally deprived Alun's usually vocal fifteen year old daughter of speech, something which the family were entirely grateful for. Every time she was required to interact with either of them she went bright red and on having to take a cup of tea into them in the living room she speechlessly and unceremoniously thrust a mug into the hand of each slightly startled elf and then flew out of the room slamming the door behind her.

The lad did a lot better in communication with them and both Elves gathered that he was the mainstay and support for his mother while Alun was unwell. There was no doubt in either Maedhros' or Maglor's mind that a fell shadow clung to the edges of this household, a shadow that was now only kept at bay by their presence.

Maedhros sighed and thought about family. Family were the people who, if you had nowhere else to go, had to take you in; but what of his family? Sundered and scattered, some, like Atar, in the Halls of Mandos never to be allowed to return until the end of Arda, his mother back with their Daeradar Mahtan and Daernaneth. His nephew Celebrimbor had also been released from the Halls as Mandos judged him to be more sinned against than sinning. He now resided in harmony with Elrond and his family in the Blessed Realm although he visited his grandmother and great-grandparents regularly which must have been a comfort for them.

They were the original dysfunctional family, a thought that made Maedhros give a brief chuckle. Maglor had laughingly commented that they put the D in Dysfunctional.

Maglor, of course, had never actually died or travelled back to atone for his sins. "He didn't even have the decency to fade like any self-respecting miscreant would." Maedhros had been told by Olorin that this was the general view of Elven society at this lapse of manners.

At the time Maedhros had glanced sharply at the Maia to see whether he concurred with it, but Olorin seemed to think it highly amusing as indeed it was. After all, Oropher's son and Galadriel's namby pamby Moriquendi husband were also both still here in Arda and neither of them had faded either nor the elven folk who had remained behind with them. Although Maglor maintained that the idea of the flamboyant golden son of Oropher actually managing to fade was quite ludicrous. Maedhros decided to reserve judgement on this until they all met up. He had never met Thranduil, who, like Elrond and Elros, had only been a stripling warrior during the War of Wrath.

Maedhros mentally went over his last conversation with Lord Namo, just before the Lord of Mandos had told him that he was to be re-embodied and sent back to Arda. He had not been given a set of instructions or commands, the Valar merely asked him to meet with his brother once in Arda and assess the extent to which the shadow that they now had portent of was rising.

They had kept an eye on the troubled policeman, Alun Davies, and decided that there was indeed something left over which had locked onto the fact that Alun had spent time at Morgoth's fortress. Whether it was a remnant or something which was actually growing and spreading like a canker needed to be assessed. These days modern mortals were not enough in touch with the world on a basic level to understand that many of the evils therein might be caused from the actions of one being so many eons earlier. Mortal man did not have the strength to fight that which it could not take on physically and face to face. The Elves and Ainur however, did and could.

This indeed was why the Maia Eonwe had originally been sent, to offset this shadow by his light and presence, however all that had been altered and exacerbated by Morgoth's interference and another route had to be taken.

Maedhros changed the channel and watched strife and altercation on Sky News. He sighed as scenes of carnage in some far off land held court along with a recent stabbing of a child in London and the latest celebrity idiocy. What in the name of Eru did it matter how many children this Angelina Jolie, whoever she was, had? What really mattered were the millions of unwanted children who weren't given the chance to make something better of their lives.

Was all this violence, poverty and hunger the result of mortal man's inability to conduct their brief lives or was there some more evil and nefarious underlying meddling by some dark and ancient darkness?

Both Morgoth and Sauron had sown the seeds of darkness and discord deep within the very earth of Arda, neither the Eldar nor the Valar had any doubt that those seeds were nurtured and watered with the blood of Elves, Men and Dwarves, and indeed many other forms of life. They now lay dormant underneath the surface just awaiting sufficient encouragement to grow helped by the negativity and violence of an uncaring mortal society.

On one hand the achievements of man had been wondrous and considerable, on the other they had sacrificed what was left of their souls on the altar of insatiable wealth and technology. Society was slowly stagnating and throttling the life out of itself.

Hope was what they needed. And no sooner the word than the deed, here they were.

Maedhros laughed silently and helplessly until the tears ran down his cheeks and plopped onto his borrowed teeshirt at the ridiculous and terrifying notion of either he or his brother signifying hope to a mortal society on the brink of darkness and collapse. The Feanorian boys – the hope of the world – Arda had surely gone from the sublime to the ridiculous. From the wisest of the wise in Eldar society to the dregs of the Noldor Kinslayers. How absolutely priceless and ironic that it should come to this pretty pass.

The tears of laughter turned into tears of intense sorrow; sorrow for his baby brothers who he had held, played, fought and watched die, for his mother bewildered at what life and her wild lover and husband had wrought for her, for the tortured soul who had fathered them... and also for himself. A life not lived, a road never taken and a happiness not yet experienced. He had never taken a wife or known the joy of his own children and now here he was, a stranger in a strange land indeed.

The little dog sensed his strange fey mood and came over to paw at his leg and whine. Maedhros lifted the dog up on his knee. "Sorry little one. I did not mean to make you sad, what say you that we raid this cold storage cupboard of the General and his good wife and see what delights there are to eat. I have been very hungry since my release from Mandos, we don't get to eat there you see."

Mugger gave a short sharp bark and licked his face enthusiastically. He had no idea what a cold storage cupboard or Mandos was, but he did understand the word 'eat' and he was always up for a snack.

"I will take that as a yes." Maedhros fended off the ecstatic slobbering. He stood up and carried the dog into the kitchen where stood a huge double door refrigerator. He opened up one of the doors and grinned as he saw half a roast chicken, some cold sausages, some peaches, cheese and what looked like sliced roast venison in a clear packaging. There was also half a bottle of red wine. "A veritable feast my friend." He said to Mugger whose frantically revolving tail threatened to send him off into orbit.

ooOoo

After he and the dog had shared their feast they settled down in front of the television. Mugger curled up on Maedhros' lap and the elf didn't have the heart to tell him to go in his basket. In truth he needed the warmth of another living thing against him. The little animal's devotion warmed the depths of his frozen soul and filled him with hope that even he could find love and absolution.

How in the name of Eru had all this come to pass?

Maedhros stared blankly at the television screen, filled with movement, colour and humanity. It has ceased to have any kind of form, so sound and pictures were now just whorled together in a kaleidoscope of noise. He found his eyes were glued to the screen while his mind flew back in time. That damned oath, he could hear it even now ringing in his ears. They all swore, down to the last and youngest of them.

He had perfect recall of the day now, although much had been muted at his rebirth, as though he was trying to stare through cracked and clouded glass. His father tall, fair and wrathful, eyes glittering with bright fire and his usually long and lustrous dark hair springing around his head in eldritch witchlocks, fairly crackling with his anger, grief and desire for revenge. He raised his own sword aloft and his voice, always the voice of an orator, had rang out defying anyone there not to hear his words.

"Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean
Brood of Morgoth or bright Vala,
Elda or Maia or Aftercomer,
Man yet unborn upon Middle-earth,
Neither law, nor love, nor league of swords,
Dread nor danger, not Doom itself
Shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin,
Whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh,
Finding keepeth or afar casteth
A Silmaril. This swear we all...
Death we will deal him ere Day's ending,
Woe unto world's end! Our word hear thou,
Eru Allfather! To the everlasting
Darkness doom us if our deed faileth...
On the holy mountain hear in witness
and our vow remember,
Manwë and Varda!"

And hear them, they did. All seven sons sprang to their father's side and raised their own swords, firelight from the torches glancing from one to the other and flickering across the faces of those who, willingly or unwillingly, bore witness, for the light of the Trees had been devoured and apart from Varda's starlight, darkness reigned across Aman. They repeated the oath even as Feanor spoke.

Maglor had hesitated only briefly before joining them, but even then Maedhros had detected doubt. He could see that Maglor, ever a more deliberate, thoughtful sort of personality compared to his rash siblings, wished to consider the ramifications of the death of his Grandfather, the Trees and the theft of the Silmarils before jumping into anything.

He laughed again, softly this time, but strangely enough without bitterness. The mortals of this age had a saying; 'you jumped from the frying pan into the fire' when they wished to indicate that someone had gone from a bad situation into one that was much worse. That day, they had all jumped straight into the heart of the volcano with one accord and their doom was set from that moment.

Oh he could see now where it had led them. Death for all but Maglor, and even he had endured a kind of living death living forever youthful, but bowed down with black and ancient memories among those who grow old and die in the wink of an Elven eye. He cast his mind back and tried to dredge up a memory of himself actually preparing to jump into one of the fiery chasms that opened up in what remained of Beleriand with the destruction of Morgoth and his stronghold with that accursed gem trying to burn a hole through his hand. In fact he hadn't so much thrown it in and jumped after it as realising that he couldn't throw it in without throwing himself in afterwards.

At that stage it just seemed like a moot point. The pain from the gem had all but destroyed the only hand he had left, all was lost and living with no hands and the knowledge of all that he had done was just unconscionable. A moment of despair and then a moment of complete clarity in which he realised in a split second that this was meant to be his end, his cross to bear and his burden to carry for all time. The Simaril wanted to go back to the earth from whence it had originally sprang so he granted its wish and let himself fall with it still stuck to his hand.

As he did so he heard a voice in his head, from whence it came he had no idea. It was a voice filled with tenderness and mercy, but also great sternness and, even stranger, approval.

"As it was ordained, so shall it be."

At first he thought it was Mandos having a final say, but then as his fea arose from the cinders that had been his earthly body Maedhros heard the summons of the Lord of Mandos and was stunned. Surely, given his sins and wrongdoings his fea only deserved to wander as a houseless spirit around the regions of Middle Earth he had haunted in life? Yet even as he thought that he found himself following the summons.

He finally faced the dread Lord of the Halls of Waiting, the Doomsman of the Valar and was astounded to hear Namo say: "Are ye not a child of Eru, son of Feanor?"

Maedhros remembered feeling shame and could say nothing. He did not even have an incarnate head to nod. Namo beckoned to him and although he was not aware of moving he suddenly found his fea standing beside the Vala. He was even more confused when Namo smiled gently at him, even though his eyes remained stern, like a father about to chastise a child.

"Are ye of the Eruhini child?"

"Yes my lord." It had seemed pointless not to answer.

"It is said that the fea answers the summons of Mandos when it still considers itself innocent. Yet, son of Feanor, thee are not innocent of your crimes are thee? But still thou camest."

There was no censure in the comment. All around Maedhros could now sense other fear and the brightness that surely had to be the Maiar servants of the Lord of Mandos.

"Yes my lord."

"Dost thou know why thou answered the summons, even with the burden of all ye have done clinging to thy fea?"

Maedhros raised his eyes to the Vala. He saw judgement, sorrow, pity and forgiveness in those dark eyes. "No my Lord." He whispered finally.

"Wouldst thou say that thy last act was one of sacrifice?"

Now Maedhros was confused. Sacrifice? Had it been that or just a desire to rid himself of the pain of the oath, the horror of what he had become? Yet at the very end he had fully realised that without the sacrifice of both the gem and himself, it would never end. He would be driven and driven onwards and ever would there be those who desired the Silmaril. He felt a tear slid down his cheek and wondered at it. How could he weep when he did not have a body?

"Yes my Lord...but... "

"Then my child, thy healing started there. Thy cry for release reached one whose ears are ever listening and thee didst his bidding without a second thought for thyself. Come child..." The Lord of Mandos stepped aside and Maedhros saw that they were outside a building with massive, dark, burnished doors. The door opened of its own volition it seemed and Maedhros looked at Namo who nodded. "Enter and be healed, child of Feanor and Nerdanel."

Deep in memory, a small sob escaped Maedhros and he shuddered. The little dog in his lap looked up anxiously, but then the elf relaxed and slipped down the path of Elven dreams. Mugger sighed deeply and settled down. The television played to itself in the corner and the firelight flickered. For the first time in a long time the eldest child of Feanor slept properly and deeply in the way of their kind.

The Lord of Mandos watched quietly and smiled to himself. For forgiveness to begin, one first had to forgive oneself. Maedhros had already started on that path.

ooOoo

Eruhini – Children of Eru