DS al fine

A/N 1: For the 'Which Story Should I Write?' contest. If you like it, let me know.

Chapter One: Not What I Expected

Maedhros hadn't been sure what to expect from death. He'd assumed he'd either find Namo glaring down his nose at him, or that the 'everlasting darkness' would turn out to be an end to his existence. He'd been hoping for the latter, in all honesty.

Instead, there was light, and lots of it. Nothing but light. Then a still, small, voice that didn't need to be loud to have his entire attention.

"Maedhros Russandol," it said.

"Yes, my Lord?" said Maedhros. It was probably Lord Namo or another Vala, and being polite couldn't hurt.

"Nay, child, I am not one of your Valar. I am Eru. You are in the Timeless Halls," Eru said.

"Oh," said Maedhros, feeling very small. Why was this happening to him, of all people? After everything he'd done. Eru was surely furious with him, if he cared about him at all.

"Do you regret taking the Oath of Feanor, and your actions in its pursuit?" asked Eru.

"Yes," said Maedhros quietly. The whole business had been hopeless from the start, and had brought his family nothing but ruin. Even the Silmarils had rejected them in the end.

"Then you have a choice. You can cease to exist, as you were hoping when I brought you here. You can report to Namo. Or, you can go back and do things differently this time round."

"I don't understand," said Maedhros. "How is that possible? Once part of the music has been played, surely it cannot be played again. Beyond that, I have always been told our fates are set out in the music before we are ever born."

"You are familiar with the musical term DS al fine?" asked Eru.

"I have Maglor as a brother," snapped Maedhros. "It means go back to the sign, and from then to the end."

"Exactly," said Eru. "The music has a potential repeat with second ending here. What would you do differently, if you could?"

"Not swear that – the Oath," said Maedhros. "Not rely on Caranthir's judgement of Ulfang and his sons. Not kill any elf over the Silmarils. Not trust Father to go back for Fingon and Fingolfin, or to behave rationally after he loses Grandfather and the Silmarils. Not attempt to treat with Morgoth to retrieve a Silmaril, then get my people killed, and myself captured for use as a hostage. Try to talk Maglor and Amrod at least out of taking the Oath."

"Do you want to do this, then?" asked Eru.

Maedhros hesitated. Would he be strong enough to resist his father's madness on that terrible night? Could he endure all that grief and pain over again? The darkness seemed to beckon. It would be easier. But when had he ever refused to undertake a task because it was hard? This was his mess to right, if he could.

"Why are you offering me this?"

"Because I am not fully in agreement with the Valar's actions – though that does NOT mean I support yours, or Feanor's, let alone Melkor's. Know this: I never held you to your oath. I would rather you had broken it, than allowed yourself to become a mass murderer in an attempt to fulfill an oath you should never have sworn." Eru let that sink in for a few moments.

If Maedhros could have wept, he would. It had really been so easy? All he'd needed was trust? "Why didn't you tell me?" he screamed. "I wanted to stop, but I was too damn scared I'd doom my entire family to eternal darkness if I gave up on that bloody oath! Maglor nearly did stop. Why didn't someone tell me?"

"Maglor tried to tell you. You knew in your heart that he was right. You let your fears drive you into evil and madness, until you slew yourself in despair."

Maedhros floated silent in the light. He had no defense.

"I am also doing this because I love you, and all my children. I know you regret your actions that harmed so many, yourself not least among them. I do not like to see any child of mine destroy himself."

"How can you love me? I've become a monster as bad as the orcs."

"I love you, and I always will."

"I don't understand."

"You do not have to. Only know that it is so. Will you go, and undo the evil you have done?"

"I will go, my Lord," said Maedhros. "And I will try with all I am to make things better this time."

"Just do your best," said Eru, "and my blessings will go with you."

"Thank you," Maedhros whispered.

Chapter Two: From the Repeat, Taking the Second Ending

Maedhros came to awareness slowly, blinking bleary eyes open to see his room in Formenos, in the gentle silver twilight of Telperien. Tears pricked his eyes. His head hurt, and he felt strange. He raised a hand to his head, wondering what had happened.

"Oh, thank Eru, you're awake," said Maglor's voice.

Maedhros turned his head to look at his younger brother, the only one who had remained with him to the end. Maglor looked so young and innocent. No sorrow past the edge of bearing darkened his eyes. Makalaure. He wasn't Maglor yet. And perhaps, Makalaure never would be. Assuming Maedhros didn't manage to wreck this chance, too.

"I'd better tell Healer Carniel. We've all been worried stiff about you."

"What happened?" croaked Maedhros.

"That's what we'd like to know. Curufinwe found you lying on the floor in the library five hours ago. You've been unconscious ever since."

"It's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?" asked Carniel, standing in the doorway.

Maedhros blinked at her. "I'm fine," he said slowly, coughing a little, and pushing himself up on one arm. The world swam.

"Don't lie to the healer, you silly fool," said Makalaure, poking him. "Your eyes are out of focus, and you can't even sit up properly."

Maedhros glared at his brother, but gave it up as a bad job when his elbow gave out, and he landed flat on the bed again. His right arm… he had two hands! He lifted his hands and stared at his right in shock. Two hands. Gingerly, he touched his right with his left. It was really there.

He looked up to find his brother and the healer staring at him like he'd grown an extra head. No, just a decidedly not-extra hand. He'd probably lost all his scars, too, and was back to being Maitimo, the well-formed-one, again. He closed his eyes, unable to take it all in.

"Stay with us, child," said Carniel.

Maedhros opened his eyes, and glared at her, child indeed. He'd bet she'd never killed anyone in her life. "How many fingers am I holding up?" she demanded.

"Two," said Maedhros. He wasn't that badly hurt. He'd been hurt far worse more than once, and he had the usual interrogation down pat.

"What is your name?"

"Maed-timo," he said, realizing that he'd better pay attention, or he could mess up royally.

"Ok. What is the date?"

Maedhros had no idea, beyond 'after Father got exiled, but before the Trees died'. He started to shake his head, then stopped, wincing. Maybe he'd better play up this injury, rather than playing it down. Better let them think him concussed than mad. He squeezed his eyes shut, and let his head rest against the pillow.

"You've a headache, I take it?"

Maedhros said nothing, letting his body relax, and the voices recede a little.

"I don't like how he keeps blurring in and out," said Carniel. "I wish Master Tatnis was here. This could be more than a simple concussion. Did he tell you how he came to fall?"

"He asked what happened, so I'm pretty sure he doesn't know."

"Has he ever had any unexplained falls, fits, or losses of consciousness before?"

"Not that I know of, although I heard that he got pretty clumsy when he was growing fastest." said Makalaure. "It's too bad that Father isn't here to ask. You could try asking Grandfather Finwe."

Father is gone, we're already at Formenos... that means the Trees haven't got much longer to live. Can I prevent that? How? When am I, exactly? Not having people think I'm mad be hanged, I need to know! Makalaure took Maedhros' right hand and squeezed it gently.

Maedhros opened his eyes. "How long has Father been gone?" he asked.

"You don't remember," said Makalaure.

"No," said Maedhros.

"He's been gone for five days," said Makalaure.

"Oh." No way to catch up with him, or to easily send the Valar a message, then.

"What's the last thing you remember?" asked Carniel.

Maedhros was silent a moment, trying to remember back the required centuries. "Manwe's messenger coming to summon Father to the Festival?"

"That was months ago!" yelped Makalaure in dismay.

Maedhros winced at the high pitch his brother had hit, and closed his eyes again.

"Some memory loss is common with a concussion like this," said Carniel. "It should improve in the days ahead."

"Will he be all right?" asked Makalaure.

"Provided this is no worse than it seems. Someone should stay with him at all times, and we need to wake him at intervals of at least every half hour. There is nothing wrong with his skull, but we need to make sure he's merely asleep rather than unconscious. He's probably going to be sleeping a lot over the next few days."

A/N 2: Yes, this is a 'go back in time to before the Darkening to attempt to fix things' story that stars a son of Feanor whose name begins with M. Beyond that, it shouldn't be too much like Kenobi Skywalkers' Duplicity. That's a good story, by the way. I hope they continue it.

A/N: Feanare, thank you for pointing out my mis-spelling Makalaure as Maccalaure. I have now fixed it.