"They swore an oath which none shall break, and none should take … vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World Vala, Demon, Elf or Man as yet unborn, or any creature, great or small, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should hold or take or keep a Silmaril from their possession.

Thus spoke Maedhros and Maglor and Celegorm, Curufin and Caranthir, Amrod and Amras, princes of the Noldor; and many quailed to hear the dread words. For so sworn, good or evil, an oath may not be broken, and it shall pursue oathkeeper and oathbreaker to the world's end."

Maedhros

Close to the coast like this, the air shimmered with humidity.

In the distance, Amras watched the tops of the helmets of Earendil's soldiers, gathered behind the palisade that shielded Sirion. Maedhros watched Amras.

"You look worried, little brother."

Amras shot him a look that was pure Brother. "I'm seven hundred years old."

"And I'm seven hundred and ninety. Interesting how it always works out like that."

Amras grunted and turned his head back to peer at Sirion. The silence between Maedhros and his youngest brother, which had initially felt familiar to Maedhros, slowly crystallized into something sharper. Maedhros watched a company of his soldiers trundle a battering ram, seated atop several rolling logs, over the scrub brown grass.

"You swore the same oath we all did," reminded Maedhros.

Amras stayed frozen in place. The disorganized clamor of the rest of the camp assembling for battle was morphing into a unified rumble that shook the turf beneath the brothers.

Maedhros glanced behind them, down the hill. He leaned towards Amras to mutter. "I know you have misgivings. Be truthful with me. If I told you right now that you could leave this battle, take your men, and go back home to Beleriand, could you?"

Amras opened his mouth to speak, but the words died at his lips. Even as the air reverberated with the groan of siege weaponry being towed towards the town, his gaze remained fixed on Sirion.

Maedhros felt the pull too, like a weight in his chest. The Silmarils, shimmering with more light than the moon, before the moon had ever lit the sky. Hundreds of years spent locked out of reach in the pits of Angband, and now, tantalizingly, one just across the plain. He glanced again at the slim wooden stakes that stood between him and Elwing's prize, and then quickly back to Amras.

Maedhros nodded in recognition. "You can't leave, can you? Hundreds of years, and you still feel it."

Amras hung his head in shame. "You know what these people have been through. Havoc in the streets of Gondolin. What our forces wreaked in Doriath. And now we're to serve them even more death?"

"Do you have the strength to let them be? Elwing can have the Silmaril. We've asked, but it seems very important to her. Let's go back to Beleriand, you and I, and bequeath it to her descendants in perpetuity."

"These endless Kinslayings, Maedhros."

"Then finish things," Maedhros snapped. In this heat, the words seemed to catch in his throat. "If we try to leave and go home today, or worse, battle but do it badly like we did at Doriath, that Silmaril will slip out of our possession, again. And in thirty years we'll be back, again. Which of your brothers do you think will fall in this next assault? Amrod? Maglor?" His head had started to ache now, from the sunlight and the humidity here at the Havens.

As if summoned by his words, Maglor emerged from the line of cavalry at the base of the hill and rode up to him and Amras, trailed by Amrod and a cluster of lesser lords. As Maglor got closer his eyes danced questioningly between Maedhros and Amras' faces. Maedhros gave an imperceptible head shake.

"Ready to ride out, my lord," Maglor said aloud.

Maedhros strapped a helmet over his hair with one hand in a practiced movement and addressed his officers. "Doriath was a failure. We were overconfident, and as a result lives were lost on both sides with nothing to show for it." He met each elf's gaze. "This will not happen today. Put a cordon around Sirion. No one – listen to me – no one leaves that town until we find Feanor's Silmaril." He ignored the trickle of sweat that slid down his brow. "Do what needs to be done today, and let this all be over."

In addition to the real one about to commence, a silent battle was evidently waging in Amras' head. The word burst from his mouth. "Maedhros – "

"'Sir'."

Amras turned to look for the source of the interruption.

Maglor, so short next to Maedhros' towering height, spoke again. "You will address your lord as 'Sir'."

Amras deflated in his saddle.

In the midst of the rhythmic stamp of the Feanorian soldiers marching closer to them on their way to Sirion, the little circle of lords remained silent. Amrod had his eyes trained fixedly on the ground as if seagrass was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.

Maedhros straightened up as he commanded his men again. "Find Elwing. If she's sequestered herself in some cranny of Sirion, someone will know of it. Be firm, and don't underestimate Thingol's people." His jaw tightened. "Bring this day to an end sooner rather than later." And with that he waved them off. Amrod shot his brothers a reassuring smile as he left.

Maglor gently grabbed his arm as Maedhros started to ride across the plain as well. Maedhros stopped, as did Amras when he noticed.

Maglor said, "A new report. One soldier thinks he saw Elwing escape already. Just before dawn, a lone elf on horseback. Is there truth to it, do you think? She could be seeking help from the Grey Havens."

In the distance, Maedhros watched a volley of arrows descend from the walls of Sirion and pepper the turf in front of the Feanorian forces.

"No," Maedhros decided. "Elwing wouldn't have left her boys behind in a battle."

"Should we send someone after that elf nonetheless? One of the other lords, perhaps, and a few soldiers."

Maedhros thought about Celegorm's servants, and Dior's sons alone in the deep woods of Doriath.

"No. I'll take a retinue, see if it's more than rumor. I want you in Sirion to keep things in order."

Maglor nodded.

"I should be back shortly. In the meantime, search every house in Sirion. Every house, do you hear me?"

Maglor nodded again and trotted off to join the rest of the army. Maedhros was left alone once more with Amras. Maedhros laid a hand on his shoulder, equal parts conciliatory and meaningfully firm. "Both of us inherited our father's stubbornness," he conceded. "Just remember we're all on the same side here."

As he rode to the coast and looked back to see his youngest brother on that breezeless hilltop, Maedhros hoped he was right.