The first part of this chapter is one of the first things I had for this story...and that was a long time ago. I'm not sure that I like it, but *shrugs*.
Some dialogue is taken pretty directly from the book.

"Hello, Grandfather." Someone called, approaching from a distance. "I was hoping we'd find you easily."

"Elrohir." Maedhros greeted. "I heard you rode with Aragorn."

"Yes, Elladan is around here somewhere." Elrohir said. "But we came to bring our brother his new sword and Arwen sent along their standard. I have something for you as well."

"Oh?" Maedhros looked at him curiously.

"Indeed." Elrohir said. "And a message from my father." He opened his bag and frowned into it. "The Noldor are restless. They want a leader. Atya refuses, so…" He pulled the object of his search forth. "To thee I offer the crown of the Noldor." Elrohir said, bowing and presenting the circlet. "The kingship and title are thine, if thou would have it. We ask thee to lead us; to war that we may have peace. As thou swore long ago on the shores of this earth, we ask that thou would lead thy people."

"You do not know what you ask." Maedhros breathed. Elrohir shook his head.

"I do know." He said. "And it is not I who ask, but my father and our people. A lord is enough in times of peace, but it is no longer peaceful. We are at war. We need our king."

"Elrond could have been king."

"But he is not."

"I gave up the title. For good reason, too."

"Would you give it up now if you had it?" Elrohir challenged. "If the House of Finwë had been absent, would you have led us?"

"If there had been no one else." Maedhros said.

"There is no one else!" Elrohir stepped closer. "Lothlorien will follow you, as Finrod pledged. The Gondolindrim will follow you, for Fingon's sake."

"And what of those whose people I slaughtered?" Maedhros hissed.

"Oh, you mean like my dad?" Elrohir demanded.

"Yes." Maedhros growled. "But the ones who think me an irredeemable monster!"

"Well, most have sailed." Elrohir admitted. "But the ones who remain in Imladris can see that you are the king we need."

"Why not Maglor?" Maedhros breathed. "Or another of my brothers?"

"They would never accept it while you were alive." Elrohir said. "And they do not want it anyways. I don't know them much, and neither does Atya, but he seemed sure of it." Maedhros stared at Elrohir for a long moment.

"You think I should do this?" He asked, shaking his head slowly.

"I do." Elrohir said. Maedhros swallowed hard.

"Very well." He murmured. "I accept the kingship."

"May the stars shine ever on your reign, my king." Elrohir said quietly.

Elrohir hadn't mentioned that, as king of the Noldor, Maedhros would be expected to take counsel with the other rulers. Aragorn, Gandalf, Éomer—the new king of Rohan, after Théoden had fallen in battle—and, because of course with Maedhros' luck, Denethor.

"I don't think I should be there." Maedhros protested as Gandalf scowled at him.

"You are the foremost tactician in the history of Middle-earth." Gandalf said. "By the stars, Maedhros, why not?"

"Denethor hates me." Maedhros said bluntly. "And he'll probably try to kill me. Then my brothers will get all upset and we'll have a huge mess on our hands."

"Denethor would not dare try such a thing. He may threaten it, but he will not act." Maedhros sighed.

"I'm not afraid of him."

"No, of course not." Gandalf didn't roll his eyes, but his annoyance was clear in his voice. "Maedhros. You must be there."

"If I must." Maedhros said finally. "But I take no responsibility for any problems it might cause."

"Of course you don't." Gandalf said wearily. "Of course you don't."

Maedhros had been right. Denethor was furious to see him there. He didn't say anything, but his dark eyes shimmered with anger and his mouth curled into a sneer.

"What of your brilliant plan now, Mithrandir?" Denethor scoffed as Gandalf paced. "What of your precious halfling, now that you've provoked Mordor to wrath?"

"Frodo has passed beyond my sight." Gandalf sighed, shaking his head. "The darkness is deepening."

"Sauron does not have the Ring." Aragorn said. "We would know if he did."

"We would." Maedhros said. "If we survived the news. He would've struck fast and hard after his defeat."

"It is only a matter of time. He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor our enemy is regrouping.

"Let him stay there! Let him rot!" Gimli scoffed. "Why should we care?"

"Because 10,000 Orcs now stand between Frodo and Orodruin." Maedhros said quietly. "Not even Celegorm could manage to pass unnoticed."

"I've sent him to his death." Gandalf murmured.

"No." Aragorn said sharply. "No. There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

"How?" Gimli asked. Maedhros looked at Aragorn.

"You want to march on Mordor?" He asked. Aragorn nodded.

"We draw out Sauron's armies, empty his lands. We gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate." Gimli choked on his pipe. Éomer sighed, shaking his head.

"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms."

"No." Maedhros agreed. "But we can give Frodo the chance he needs. If Þauron is focused on us, he will be blind to all else."

"A diversion." Legolas murmured.

"Certainty of death, small chance of success…what are we waiting for?" Gimli asked, forcing a laugh. Denethor scoffed.

"He will not fall for such a simple trap. He will not take the bait." Maedhros bared his teeth.

"Oh, I think he will."

"And I don't suppose you're volunteering to be the bait?" Denethor snarled. "You're brave enough when you have the advantage, but would you actually go against the Lord of Mordor? You would fight Sauron?" Maedhros' heart pounded in his chest. He wet his lips.

"Who better?" He asked. "He fears the return of the heir of Númenor but he also will fear me. I escaped him once. He will not allow me to do so again. If I march against him with the heraldry of Fëanáro and the Noldorin armies, the heraldry of the High King, he will come against me with all his might. Gorgoroth will be empty and Frodo can pass through unharmed. And I, alone of your allies, stand a chance of defeating him." It wasn't a good chance, but it was a chance that would bring Þauron running. "We must march on Mordor. And I will be at the head of your armies."