Sons of Feanor

by Son of Serinde

"I was young, and the world had not yet lost its luster. I saw my father and all my brothers take the oath, and so did I, one after another. It felt so simple. And for that I have been hundreds of years far from home, and I will never see my mother again. Do not swear such oaths rashly as I did." Book 1: The Kinslaying at Sirion. Book 2: A Brief Respite. Book 3: The War of Wrath.

4. Book 1 - Elwing's Prize

Maglor

The index finger on Maedhros' left hand jabbed at the table as he spoke, to emphasize his point. "The four of us must be the first to enter Earendil's house. Especially you, Maglor. I don't want another repeat of what Celegorm's men committed in Doriath." Maedhros looked grim.

Despite the stuffiness of the tent Maglor felt a chill. Oh yes, Elured and Elurin. Maedhros had spent two weeks searching for Dior's young sons in the woods of Doriath. Maglor remembered Maedhros coming back after dark each night, hands empty and dread hanging from his features. Maglor tried not to look at Celegorm's chair– the chair formerly occupied by Celegorm.

Amras tilted his head. "Do you really think Elwing will be hiding in such an obvious place?"

Maedhros shrugged. "I made sure we put a perimeter around Sirion as soon as we arrived. I wouldn't expect her to be able to slip past it, not with two young children in tow. Earendil's house will be the first place the four of us will search."

There was a pause. Amrod bit his lip. "You said 'first place' … "

Maedhros nodded. "The other houses, too. All of them. The men can take care of that while we make our way to Earendil's."

Amras looked wary. "This is a town, Maedhros, not an army on some battlefield."

Maglor could hear the agitation in Maedhros' voice. "We said that at Doriath, and the Silmaril slipped away from us on Elwing's neck. All of us suffered loss in Thingol's kingdom but here we are again, about to do the same thing. Thingol's people, too, however many of them survived to settle here. Believe me, the best thing for Elwing and her people is for us to find our father's jewel and let them never hear from us again."

In the silence Maglor imagined he could almost make out the words hovering on each of his living brothers' lips. Maedhros' attention quickly shifted to Maglor as the second-oldest son of Feanor carefully leaned forward in his seat.

"How will we know that Elwing hasn't simply taken her sons and left the Silmaril behind?"

As Maedhros looked incredulous, Maglor elaborated. "A jewel is a small thing. I'm sure there are any number of little crevices in Sirion where Elwing could nestle the Silmaril away and come back for it years later when our watch has died down."

Maedhros spoke like one who had known firsthand the inexorable pull of Feanor's jewels. "Where Elwing is, there we will find the Silmaril." The words fell into place like stone slabs, and Maglor could feel the truth of them in his bones.