Maglor

They gathered in the entryway: Maglor, Tamblin, Samniel, Marta, some of the other servants. Maglor ticked off the locations with his fingers. "The classroom?"

Someone shook their head.

"The kitchens. The stables. The grounds outside. Their rooms. My room. The rooms of my brothers, perhaps, if they managed to pick the locks."

There was a flash of red hair at the corner of his eye. Maedhros at the end of the hallway, stepping out from Maglor's study door and closing it behind him with a delicate click. He was evidently trying to linger unobtrusively, which was a difficult thing to do when you're seven feet tall.

Maglor swallowed. "Someone check the forge. All the little corners in there where a child could hide. And the armory, gods forbid."

Marta raised a slight hand.

Maglor nodded.

"If I may, sir," she began tremulously, "Perhaps they went into the forest? Young Lord Elros seemed frightened in the kitchens. He may have panicked and ran away."

Maglor stared. The woods of Beleriand. Bears and wolves were just the start of their worries. Orcs and evil Men and spiders lurked between the trees, and here up north was a biting cold that nipped at your skin as the sun slipped below the hills. Still deeper into the forest there was hunger, ancient and endlessly gnawing.

Maedhros' eyes bored into him.

"Tamblin?" he managed.

"Sir."

"Go into the forest. Take as many men as you need. See if you can find a trail."

Tamblin nodded and left.

"The rest of you, just … just keep looking."

The group dispersed.

As people filtered out of doorways and disappeared up flights of stairs, it left a widening circle around Maglor. Maedhros breached it, stepping slowly as if waiting for Maglor to take notice and object.

The look on his face was more deferential than Maglor had ever seen on his brother. Maglor grimaced and shifted his gaze to the floor.

"Your captain is an excellent tracker. And if needed, I can join the search myself."

Maglor straightened his shoulders. "That'd be … much appreciated."

"You don't need to act brave, Maglor. There's no one here but me." Maedhros nudged him with his elbow. "Let's check the carriage yard."

Maglor sagged as his feet broke into a brisk trot. "Thank you," he whispered.

Maedhros tactfully didn't say anything.

._.

The canvas tarpaulin threw up a cloud of dust when Maglor tore it away from the top of a cart. He coughed furiously.

Maedhros squatted down to peer at the underside. "Untouched for years, I see. Here, I'll check behind the plowshares."

"I'm still angry at you, you know," Maglor called out. "Just because this is more important doesn't mean you get to forget that."

"What for?"

Maglor bristled. "You mean, you don't even know what you did wrong?"

"No." Maedhros' voice echoed as he crawled among a cluster of empty barrels stored on their sides. His head popped into view again. "I mean there are so many options that I don't know to which you're referring. Have you forgotten the litany of my mistakes? I haven't." Maedhros clenched the rim of one barrel so hard his knuckles turned white. He avoided Maglor's eyes.

Maglor, half-hidden behind a pile of flour sacks, almost dropped the one in his hands. He looked down at Maedhros, which was in itself a bizarre feeling. "Do you want me to think up a list with which to castigate you? I won't do it."

Maedhros took a breath and began to comb through the mounds of straw piled up in the corner. "Then I will. Sirion, Doriath, the Nirnaeth, the Dagor Nuin Giliath, Losgar, Alqualonde, and Tirion. And all the times I failed to stand up to Feanor before that. Is it any wonder I thought you'd be better off without my influence?"

Maglor slowed to a stop midway through climbing up a ladder. "I … never thought about it like that. I'm not sure I want to now."

In the dim light of the courtyard, Maedhros' face looked almost gaunt. "Maybe you should. I even failed at leaving you alone, now." He smiled wanly. "I've missed you, Maglor."

Maglor's eyes suddenly burned.

Maedhros caught his expression.

Maglor coughed and looked away. "Dust." He clenched his hands against the rungs until he could trust himself to speak again. "You can't blame yourself for all of that," he whispered.

"Are you telling me you don't?"

Maglor swallowed. It was back again, the little coal smoking in his chest. He tried to push it down again like usual.

Maedhros was watching.

Maglor's movements were deliberate as he reached the top of the ladder and poked at the spaces in the rafters. "Keeping us together after Feanor died would have been a difficult job for anyone. I couldn't do it."

"And as it turns out, neither could I. I failed, Maglor; that's what I've been trying to tell you. You're not listening to me."

Maglor snapped. He jumped down from the last few rungs on the ladder, stumbling as he hit the ground. "You're not listening to me, either. Why do you always have to be right?" His boots churned up blades of straw as he strode out into the sunlight.

There was another cart out here with horses already yoked in preparation for the road. The soldier holding the reins twisted her waist around in alarm at the sight of Lord Maglor jogging furiously towards her.

Maglor rapped the tarpaulin. "What's this, then?"

She froze. "Bags of beans and flour, my lord. For the watchtowers." Her eyes flickered to Maedhros chasing after Maglor, his lips pressed into a thin slash. "I heard about the search for the little lords, sir. I'll just, ah … I'll just come back later." She hopped off the seat and sped away.

Maglor clenched the sheet in his hands, then stopped and whirled back to face his brother. "It's as if there's some counsel that I wasn't a part of, and then someone tells me the ruling afterwards, but there's no counsel; it's just you. Every time. You decide what needs to be done, and then expect the rest of us to fall in line behind you. Even with this. I don't want to blame you for everything wrong that's happened to our brothers after Feanor, but here you come telling me how I'm supposed to feel. And now that you've decided I should hate you, I feel foolish for even trying to disagree. You are just like Feanor sometimes."

Maglor heard the soft gasp behind him before he flung the oil canvas to the side. Elros and Elrond blinked in the late afternoon light.

Maglor's arms slowly lowered to his sides. "I was afraid you two had run away into the forest."

Elros wrinkled his nose even as he clasped Elrond close. "You said there were wolves out among the trees. I'm not completely stupid. We were going to stow away in here when it rides out."

"Marginally safer, I'll admit." Maglor eased himself into the cart bed. He spoke gently. "What brought this on, Elros?"

Elros' eyes widened. For a moment Maglor wondered if he'd said something wrong, but Elros was no longer looking at him. Maglor swiveled around. Behind his shoulder, Maedhros stood frozen, staring at Maglor. His brother looked pale.

Elros reached down to grasp the butterknife tucked into his belt. After an hour spent hiding under the canvas, his voice sounded harsh when he spoke. "What's he doing here? Has he come to take us away?"

Maglor felt a warm pressure on his hand. He turned to see Maedhros clutching it. "Do you really think that, Maglor? About me and Feanor?" The boys lay just an arm's reach away, but Maedhros seemingly had eyes only for his little brother.

Maglor gaped. "You mean you never noticed it?" Elros was still waiting. Maglor turned back to him. "No," he said firmly. "Not today nor on any other. He's simply come to visit, brother and brother."

Maedhros' gaze swung to Elros, who flinched.

Elrond gasped as Elros stood up in the cart bed. Elevated above the floor like this, his face was almost on a level with Maedhros. His voice trembled, but only a little bit. "You killed my mother."

Elrond tugged on his sleeve. Elros didn't look away. Elrond looked pale as he clambered upright to reach Elros' ear on tiptoe. Maglor heard an urgent whisper emanating from Elrond's cupped hand.

Elros nodded. "And he frightened us," he repeated. "And hurt my wrist, yes."

Elrond's eyes were glassy as he, too, stared transfixed at Maedhros.

Maglor didn't really know what response to give to that, but Maedhros always knew what to say. He looked back at him.

With a start, Maglor noticed how slim Maedhros looked under his winter furs.

Maedhros's eyes moved from side to side, taking in every detail of Elwing's sons. Elros, to his credit, held his gaze, though Maglor noticed how white his knuckles were on each hand clutching tight. His left to Elrond, the other to the butterknife stolen away from goodness knew where. Elros was shaking slightly.

Maedhros spoke. "I've hurt you two, very deeply. You and countless others." His eyes flitted imperceptibly to Maglor.

Elros' breathing was starting to speed up. So, too, did the shivers that traveled from his shoulders down to his clenched right hand.

Maedhros leaned towards him. "If I said the words 'I'm sorry', would that do anything to make things right?"

Elros took in a gasping breath and shook his head in a jerking movement.

"I don't think so, either. Perhaps that's why I never heard Feanor do it."

"I'm not afraid of you," Elros burst out.

Maedhros pursed his lips.

Elros stood paralyzed by Maedhros' unflinching gaze as he had that day on the outskirts of Sirion, grey eyes staring upwards.

Maedhros' lone hand drifted in the air as he spoke. "I know what you want to do, and why. Those you loved most are gone to you forever, and it's because of me. The truth of it has settled like winter in your chest." He stepped closer. Some unknown emotion, unfamiliar on Maedhros' face, glimmered in his eyes. "Nothing I do, or you, will bring them back." His left hand closed softly around Elros' hand with the knife. "Especially not that."

Maglor expected Elros to hiss and jerk away. Instead his breaths, which had been short and erratic, slowed to something calmer. The trembling in his shoulders died down.

Maedhros, gently, squeezed.

A moment of understanding, inscrutable to Maglor, seemed to pass between Elwing's oldest son and Feanor's. Elros sagged to his knees.

Maedhros tucked the butterknife safely into his belt even as Elrond scrambled to prop up his older brother. "I think Elwing's sons would feel more at ease if I left. I'll start the ride back to Amon Ereb before it gets dark."

"Oh." Maglor paused in the middle of reaching towards Elros. "Stay for dinner at least," he blurted. Gods above, what if he says "yes"? He's going to say "yes" and then we'll have to make awkward polite conversation for the next two hours.

Maedhros shook his head. "I doubt my pack has been moved up to the main house yet; it should still be in the stables. I'll stop by Losselire again next week when I ride down to grab … " Maglor shifted his weight to sit closer to Elros and Elrond, almost imperceptibly. Maedhros noticed. " … to say goodbye," he finished instead.

Maglor nodded stiffly.

"Goodbye, Maglor." Maedhros turned on his heel and strode away towards the house.

Maglor watched the afternoon sunlight glint off the back of his brother's cloak. Say something. You wanted him back for so long. He's clearly not well. You hurt him earlier with your words and should apologize.

This may be the last time you see Maedhros before he's gone.

Instead Maglor watched the wide soot-blackened door swing open and shut.

He groaned and finally allowed himself to flop down onto his back in the cart bed. He glanced sidelong at Elros and Elrond. "That was enough excitement for one afternoon, I think. I had duties to attend to. We'll take a stroll instead, all together."

Elros, exhausted, nodded weakly.

Maglor tilted his head. "Elrond?"

Elrond didn't answer. Rather, he sat on the cart bed, arms coiled around his knees. His body seemed to curl inwards, like a flower encountering the spring frost. He didn't look at Maglor.

Maglor sat up on his elbows. "Come here."

Instead Elrond ducked his face lower where Maglor couldn't see. He heard a whimper.

Maglor watched him. "If you would like," he said quietly. "Quite a lot has happened, and I'm finding it rather upsetting. Would you comfort me, if you can?"

For a minute Elrond didn't move. Then, slowly, his arms dropped down from his face. Elrond scooted forward delicately on his rear and nestled his face in Maglor's shirt.

Maglor wrapped his arms around Elrond. Below his chin, he heard a sniff.

A muffled voice issued from the dark velvet. "Samniel told me today that you used to sing."

"'Used to'?" Had it really been so long since Doriath?

"'Before the troubles', she said. Could I hear a little, tonight?"

Maglor leaned back against the wooden boards of the cart. Elros sat nearby. He looked pale, but managed a brave smile at Maglor.

He scratched Elrond's head and closed his eyes. Maedhros, thinner than he had been in centuries, the ever-present bags under his eyes. His bearing straight and just as tall as ever, but brittle now, like dead reeds still standing after the pond dried up for the last time. The way Maglor's lips had pressed together resolutely as he watched Maedhros walk away.

Maglor blinked and watched abstract shapes forming in the clouds overhead. He opened his mouth again. "Yes, you may have a song tonight. As many as you like."

._

Author's note:

Reviews appreciated!