"But at the last the might of Valinor came up out of the West, and the challenge of the trumpets of Eonwe filled the sky; and Beleriand was ablaze with the glory of their arms, for the host of the Valar were arrayed in forms young and fair and terrible, and the mountains rang beneath their feet."

Maglor

Maglor stood in front of the table with the scroll unfurled in his hands. Across from him, at an angle, sat Maedhros.

Maglor lowered the scroll. His face was pale.

Maedhros nodded. "Ships, just on the horizon. An entire legion of them. So wrote Celebrimbor from Lindon as soon as sailors spotted it. Which means that by now they've reached land."

"Another exodus to dwell in Arda?"

Maedhros shook his head. "I doubt it. Our uncle doesn't seem the type to rebel against the Valar."

"Perhaps the Teleri are instead, after hearing about Doriath and Sirion. They could have snapped and set out to seek revenge against the house of Feanor."

"No." Maedhros tapped his finger against his teeth. "A great host, Celebrimbor said, enough to dwarf the one with which we first set out with Feanor. And the Silmaril Elwing bore being lifted into the sky. There are powers at play here beyond what mere flesh and blood can achieve. This is the work of gods." His hand went to his belt, where his sword was sheathed. "Morgoth's doom has just landed on the shores."

Maglor felt a chill settle in his chest. "I know better now than to get tangled up in the fates of the Valar. Let them wage their war up in Angband. I'll stay right here."

"It's not that simple, Maglor."

Maglor set the scroll on the table with a hard snap. "I've made a life here, Maedhros. A good one, I think, cobbled together from whichever pieces were left over after my Kinslayings. I won't uproot us again."

"Do you remember the legends of the Valar's first war against Morgoth? An entire continent laid to waste. Rivers of fire. You think it won't affect you as long as you stay sequestered here at Losselire, with your songs and another man's children. Don't be obtuse, Maglor."

"What would you do instead?"

Maedhros stood up. "They'll base their operations in Lindon; I'm sure of it. I'll ride down and meet with Gil-Galad. I intend to offer him the swords of the house of Feanor."

Maglor choked. "After Doriath and Sirion? Gil-Galad will order you executed the moment you get within arrow's range of the walls."

Maedhros jutted out his chin, the way he used to back in Aman during arguments with Feanor. "This was Feanor's enemy. I won't stand by while everyone else fights." His expression softened. "I came here to tell you that, too. I'm departing next week."

Maglor felt the world slipping through his fingers like sand. "You've only just arrived."

"I'm sorry, Maglor. I'll take Earendil's sons with me to be delivered into the custody of Gil-Galad; he'll be able to locate their remaining kin in Lindon. For your part, I've sent letters to the Moriquendi in the Greenwood down south. You're to dwell with them, safely leagues away from Angband."

Maglor stared up at his brother. "You can't do this to me, Maedhros."

Maedhros placed his hand over Maglor's. "I've been thinking it over as soon as I got Celebrimbor's letter. This is what's best." He squeezed. "Trust me on this."

One of the blessings imparted upon the Eldar was their eternal youth. Maglor had never even thought about it until centuries later, when Men first wandered into Beleriand. The idea filled him with horror at first. The slow decay of time as your body gradually learned to betray you; dark hair fading with the years into bone white and once-supple skin crumpling up like an old, dried fruit. Maedhros, in contrast, looked almost the same as he had in the shining uncounted years of Maglor's youth. And he was here again, just as Maglor had pleaded for, and smiling.

"I can't."

Maedhros blinked. "Can't what?"

Maglor straightened up, heart pounding. "A lot of things, actually. I can't send Elros and Elrond away after they've just gotten used to one place, to live with strangers again. I can't banish myself alone to the wilds, unable to help or hear from the ones I love. And I can't let you ride out to your slaughter because you think that will atone for Sirion."

Maedhros let out a puff of air between his lips. Maglor could sense how much effort it was taking him not to roll his eyes. "You're being willfully blind."

"No, you are!" Maglor cringed inside at how juvenile that sounded. "You know what Gil-Gilad will be bound to do once you present yourself in Lindon. I won't support this longing for death, Maedhros, and how dare you lie to me and call it something else!"

Maglor flung Maedhros' hand off his own. He snatched his cloak again off the couch as he stomped to the door, fuming.

Maedhros gritted his teeth. "Maglor – "

Maglor didn't hear the rest of that sentence as he slammed the door shut. He strode down the hallway, away from Maedhros and all the strange swells of emotion that seemed to follow in his wake.

He kept his ears, however, perked for the sound of turning hinges.

At the end of the hallway before turning the corner he paused. Nothing.

Outside Maglor met Tamblin, jogging towards him, on the little dirt path to the stables. He looked agitated. Maglor bit the inside of his cheek. "Apologies; I was delayed. Here, let's get through the patrol before it gets dark."

Tamblin stopped. "Oh, that."

Maglor squinted. "Unless there's something else that's upsetting you. We can't both be miserable, you know. I think it's against the rules."

Tamblin straightened up. "The peredhil."

Maglor felt an unpleasant swooping sensation in his stomach. Tamblin was panting, he noticed.

Tamblin wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow. "No one can find them."