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.

30. Book 2 - Amon Ereb

Maedhros

Amon Ereb was always cold. Frost from the night before had made the stone walkway slick under his feet, so Maedhros stepped slowly. Now that winter was approaching, it would only get chillier. Maedhros drew his cloak closer around him and peered over the parapet onto the plain below.

"Letter for you, my lord."

Maedhros raised his eyebrows. Braenor, huddled so tightly in his winter clothes that he looked more like a pile of fur with eyeballs, waggled the scroll at Maedhros with his one exposed limb.

"You're a creature of the indoors, Braenor. What are you doing out here on the ramparts? Surely you didn't think you had to brave the elements solely on my behalf."

As Braenor came closer, Maedhros saw the sigil stamped on the wax.

"I thought it might be important," Braenor explained.

Maedhros tried to ignore the tremor in his fingers as he broke the seal and scanned Maglor's familiar handwriting.

Braenor tried to stamp his feet quietly. A brisk breeze came in off the plain and ruffled the parchment in Maedhros' hand.

Out of the corner of his eye, Maedhros saw Braenor look around. The little patrol that methodically made their way around the ramparts throughout the day was several towers down, out of earshot. Braenor cleared his throat. "Everything well? If it's not too bold of me."

Maedhros smiled, but his eyes stayed the same. "Yes. It's been a long time since my brothers were little. Even Celebrimbor has been on his own for ages. Half-elven notwithstanding, I'm sure Maglor will adjust."

Braenor looked cheerful. "Oh, good. I can transcribe a response for you this evening, if you like. In the warm."

Maedhros brought the letter down. "Let's not pester him over-much. Another day, Braenor."

"Oh."

The old weight in Maedhros' chest was back. His palm felt slick as he pressed Maglor's words back into Braenor's hands. Maedhros shrugged with calculated indifference. "My brother has been doing just fine without my interference. There's no need for me to meddle with that."

Braenor nodded.

"Besides, I must do my rounds. You can never be too careful. And after that I need to speak with the stonemasons. And I'll start out on patrol tomorrow, with the scouts." Maedhros forced a smile. "So much to do. It hardly leaves one time to think, does it?"

"Er – yes."

Maedhros waved to dismiss him and marched away over the stones, walking fast.