Maedhros wasn't expecting the Fellowship to interact with him. He was a stranger to most of them, and a very intimidating one. To Legolas the Elf, at least, Maedhros was a figure from bloody ghost stories. If anyone approached him, he expected it to be Boromir or Aragorn, or perhaps the Dwarf Gimli. To Maedhros' surprise, it was one of the Hobbits who spoke to him first; the dark haired one with startling blue eyes and a serious face.
"I've heard about you." Frodo said to him, and Maedhros held back a sigh. What did I do this time?
"Many have." He said neutrally, folding his arms. "Did you wish to address something in particular?" Frodo furrowed his brow, pulling a small book from his pocket and flipping through the pages.
"My uncle told me many tales about the Elves of Valinor, but I've never really understood Finwë's family tree." What? Why would he want to know that? Maedhros was not usually the one approached about family history. That was Maglor's job.
"You and me both, kid." Maedhros scoffed. "What do you want to know?"
"I thought Elves didn't remarry."
"They don't. Unless they're Finwë." There might have been a little too much venom in his voice. Frodo recognized it, but continued his line of questioning.
"But…what if Míriel had come back?"
"My father had the same question. Regardless, the Valar decreed that Míriel Þerindë could not return while Finwë lived. And I believe she has not returned even after his death. Indis lives still." Maedhros' mouth twisted. He'd met Indis a few times. She'd been cordial enough, but she clearly had harbored anger against Fëanor—the reminder that she was second choice, second best—and therefore, against all his children.
"So…Finwë is Noldor. But Indis is Vanya?" Frodo was frowning, like he was trying to remember.
"Yes. She is of the Vanyar. It is only another reason my—Fëanor disliked her and her children."
"Right." Frodo said. "So Finarfin and Fingolfin are the children of Indis, while Fëanor was the son of Míriel."
"And Finarfin's children were Finrod, Angrod, Aegnor, and Galadriel." Maedhros said. "Fingolfin had Fingon, Turgon, Aredhel, and Argon. And Fëanor had the seven of us."
"Okay." Frodo said. "I thought so. But then…Elrond is your son? Or Eärendil's?" Maedhros nodded slowly.
"Maglor could tell you a better tale." He said. "But you have heard of Eärendil. He sailed to plead for the Valar's aid. And Elwing joined him with the Silmaril. At the time, they had two young children. Elrond and his brother, Elros. When we attacked Elwing's city, she fled but left her children. We took them." Maedhros hesitated. "Partly as hostages, but also because of roving Orc bands." He said carefully. "Eärendil and Elwing never returned to claim their children, and Elrond and his brother called us—Maglor and I—their fathers. It was in that battle." He said quietly. "That Amrod and Amras fell. We couldn't leave another pair of twins after I'd…" Killed them. After I let them die. "After they died."
"I'm sorry." Frodo said. Maedhros straightened.
"It's fine." He said. "They're back." Alive and well, if still scarred. Amrod's scarring had eased, at least, the red burns covering half his face fading to white and letting him smile more easily.
"Are you comfortable with my brothers and I joining you?" Maedhros asked, partially to change the subject. Frodo blinked.
"Of course." He said. "I mean…you're allies, right?"
"Yes." Maedhros said. Frodo nodded.
"Then I would be very glad for your help." He said. "Only Gandalf has really fought someone like this before, and I certainly haven't!" Maedhros smirked. That much was true. If the Maia had fought in the battles before the Elves woke, then Maedhros would not outmatch him. But in Arda as it was, Maedhros had gained much experience.
"Olórin—apologies, Gandalf—is quite skilled, but yes. I would agree that my brothers and I have skills that are useful."
Frodo gave him a weird look, but just changed the subject. The others spoke with him too after that. The young Hobbits seemed especially enthralled. Maglor got along with them well. Gimli spoke often with both Maedhros and Curufin. Aragorn interacted with them often and Boromir spoke to them with something like wonder. The Elf—Legolas, son of Thranduil—was the only one that still seemed wary of them. Gandalf too kept his distance. They set out from Rivendell and journeyed towards Caradhras. The Misty Mountains were cold and unpleasant, but Maedhros knew they were only the test before the real danger. Still, even in these mountains, the Hobbits struggled.
One night, as they huddled together against the lashing rain, Maglor Sang a barrier against the storm. They couldn't risk a fire for fear of wolves, but Maglor warmed the air as well.
"Elf magic." Samwise whispered, wonder in his eyes. Maglor gave a small grin.
"Yes." He said. "I said you would see it, did I not?" Maglor had quickly become friends with the Hobbits, especially Samwise. Though he hadn't made the promise in Maedhros' hearing, Maedhros wasn't surprised by it.
"I didn't know it could be so useful." Peregrin said. "Or I should have asked you to do it sooner. It is very cold and wet here." Maedhros smiled at the indignant Hobbit. Maglor hummed.
"Yes." He said after a minute. "It is useful, but it is also a lot of work. And my Voice has a signature that any could read, if they looked. But there are few now who would recognize the Song of Makalaurë Kanafinwë, Maglor the Bard." Legolas, who had been watching them with distrust ever since the Council of Elrond, moved closer.
"You are risking our lives?" He asked. He frowned at them, folding his arms tightly over his chest.
"No." Maglor said slowly. "My magic, as the Hobbits call it, is subtle and swift. It does not tarry long. Unless Þauron or Curumo—Saruman, I believe you call him—walked this very spot, no more than three days hence, we will not be seen. In other places, this would be riskier." He paused. "Besides, we could all use with some cheering. We are nearly to Hollin, to Eregion of old. The Hobbits are tired and we will need to make haste over that realm."
"If I thought this was risky, Legolas, I would have said so." Gandalf said. "You may ease your distrust of the Fëanorions. If you can trust them on anything, it is their hatred of Dark Lords." Maedhros scowled. The accusations were pointless. Þauron and Morgoth tortured me in the depths of Angband, princeling. They're the reason my father is dead; the reason Fingon is dead. Why would I aid them now?
"I will see Þauron destroyed." Maedhros swore. "I would see him undone by the very creation of his hands, for which he slew, through torment, my nephew Tyelperinquar, Celebrimbor in your tongue, maker of the Three Elven Rings. And if the agony suffered by my nephew, or the sorrow of my brother, is not enough for you, son of Thranduil, consider this. For thirty years at Þauron's hands I suffered. He chained me upon high Thangorodrim, of which you have heard, and left me there to die, if I could. He killed Fingon, my best friend and my king! Your distrust is unfounded, and more, utterly foolish."
"Nelyo." Maglor murmured, as he often did when Maedhros ranted against people's stupidity. "It's not wholly—"
"When have we sided with Morgoth or his servants?" Maedhros demanded.
"You are accusing us of great evil." Curufin agreed, silver eyes dark with anger. Legolas paused.
"I meant no offense." He said carefully. "For you are not well-known in my kingdom, but the tales I have heard are bloody and dark."
"That is true." Maedhros said, because that summed up everything he'd done very neatly. "But we have never served Þauron, and you can trust us not to serve him now. Even if I would commit such treachery, he would never accept me, not after I escaped him and named him such."
"You named him?" Legolas' eyes widened. "You are the reason he is called Sauron?"
"I thought Sauron was his name." Peregrin said.
"Mairon, he was called in Valinor. It means Admirable One." Maglor said. "Maedhros cursed him, saying 'admired ye shall never be—nay! Abhorred ye are; most vile of creatures. Þauron, I name you, and as such ye shall ever after be known'." Frodo looked up from his notebook, eyes wide.
"So names change with your people?" He asked, leaning forwards.
"It was hardly so poetic." Maedhros said. "I could hardly string two sentences together at the time."
"No, but that's how it goes in song, so that's how I'm telling it." Maglor said.
"Why must Elves make things so complicated?" Peregrin moaned.