A/N: Welcome to Part Two! Buckle up! 30 more chapters to go.
LadyForlong - Honestly the Bridge of Khazad-dum is such a liability LOL. I would be absolutely TERRIFIED.
Part Two | Chapter Twenty - Maedeth
T.A. 1973
Ten Years Later
Maedeth stood half in shadow under an archway, blocking out the cold winds of Fornost as well as the unfriendly glances of the occasional passing soldier. Alone she could think. In the citadel itself she was beset by matters of war unending. But here in the training yard there was only one thing that mattered.
Steel clashed. In a muddy training circle, Mírien grunted as she stepped back two steps, trying desperately to parry Prince Arveldir's strikes. Dawn's light bathed the still chilly spring morning. Maedeth wrapped her brown shall closer.
"Keep your arm up," Arveldir said. "There you go!"
Arveldir stood half a head taller than Mírien. Much had changed in the decade since Arvedui's coronation, not least the little ten year old prince who Queen Firiel had put to bed early that night.
Of all in Fornost, he scorned Rínior's house the least. Arveldir had grown up with Mírien, the same age and nearly as adventurous. When he had offered to train her, she had taken him up on the offer immediately.
"Now, watch your feet."
"How should I watch my feet and your blade?"
Maedeth almost smiled. It had taken months for her to approve of Mírien's decision to learn to defend herself. Somedays, Maedeth worried for the blood in her veins. But the orcs were coming for them, Rínior at their head, and Maedeth knew she would not be there to always protect her niece.
Another gust of cold air hit her under the stone alcove. Maedeth shivered. When would the warmth return? It seemed in the north that it had been cold forever. The flowers had yet to bloom, the butterflies remained in hiding.
"Head up! Head up!"
Mírien groaned. "I'm trying!"
Maedeth watched her niece's strikes harden. She moved faster, less accurately, angrier. Maedeth took a deep breath. She released her grip on her shawl and moved out from under the wall.
But a horn at the gate distracted them. Arveldir and Mírien stopped their spar, glancing left to where the sound of hooves on cobblestones grew louder and louder. Maedeth pulled her shawl closer again as she stood in the sunlight to see who returned.
The upper gates were hauled open. Three horsemen rode in. Prince Aranarth led them, his rich brown hair tangled with dirt and little twigs. Behind him came Elladan and Elrohir, nearly as disheveled. All their horses panted in the cold as stablehands retrieved their reins.
Dismounting, Aranarth glanced from Maedeth to Arveldir and Mírien. He frowned, and then gestured to his brother. "Take Mírien back up to the citadel. We'll be there shortly."
"Did you find him?" Mírien asked, pushing past Arveldir. "Please-"
But Maedeth cut her off before Aranarth could. "Mírien, do as the Prince asked."
"But I deserve to know!" Mírien insisted. "He's my father!"
"And he is my brother. But we all have our parts to play," Maedeth said. She placed a hand on Mírien's shoulder, feeling the light leather armor that Arveldir had commissioned for her. "Go. See to your mother. I'll come by later."
Mírien glowered. But she nodded, bowing to Aranarth. With Arveldir by her side, she walked up through the training grounds to the citadel. Maedeth watched them go. She didn't want to turn back around to ask what the three men found out in the wilds. They'd been gone for nearly a month. But she turned back.
"Any news?" she asked.
Elladan shook his head. "None."
"Except for death," Aranarth muttered. "Our lines suffer."
"But none speak of Rínior," Elladan said.
"He is out there." Elrohir glared back down the road through the gate. "And the longer he waits to show himself the worse it will go for Arthedain."
Aranarth agreed. "Just because none speak of him does not mean he is not raining destruction on our home. It just means he leaves none alive to tell us."
Maedeth closed her eyes and breathed in the freezing air around her. There was no point in resisting the cold here. It found her whether she wrapped herself in blankets atop dresses or if she hid under the covers of her bed in Fornost. Still, there was much to do. She could not pause in this moment of icy numbness.
"King Arvedui called a council tonight," she said. "He wants us all to attend, now that you have returned."
Elladan nodded. He stood beside her, offering some meager warmth. "Then let us go, and make ourselves presentable."
"I do not wish to attend yet more war councils," Aranarth said. "The war is out there, on the front lines. Leaving Rínior's fate in the hands of the Powers is foolish."
"But what more can you do right now?" Maedeth said. She hadn't meant to snap, but they were focusing on one in a war of thousands. "Rínior is beyond our grasp. No one hates that more than I. And yet here we are. You have a duty to your kingdom, as I do. So go and get presentable."
For five hundred years she had served kings and princes in Arthedain. As she held Aranarth's gaze, she tried to impose all will, all knowledge she had gained in that time to make him see reason. And he did.
"Very well."
"You are the future of Arthedain, Aranarth." Maedeth frowned, leaning into Elladan for support. "You must act like it now."
For a moment, only the cold breeze through the training yard made any noise. It snapped the banner flags and rustled the hay near the weapons. But then Aranarth shot her a rueful smile.
"How many princes have you said that to before, I wonder?"
Maedeth tried to copy his smile. But it faltered. "Too many."
She watched him start up the road towards the citadel, followed by Elrohir. She turned to Elladan. He said nothing, but pulled her in for a small hug. He smelled of the wilds. She breathed it in.
"Come. I should clean myself up to if I'm to join this council," he said. "Though you look wonderful as ever."
"Don't flatter me," she said. But Maedeth smiled. "Come on. I do need to change as well. And I need to see to Tiniel."
"How is she?"
Maedeth didn't respond. She didn't even dare to look at Elladan's face as they followed Elrohir and Aranarth. Tiniel had been the same for the last decade. Lost. Sick.
"Fading," she finally whispered.
They reached the citadel of Fornost. Elladan parted with her to join his brother in their guest chambers, leaving Maedeth to her own devices. Empty halls greeted her.
The citadel had no guards. They couldn't afford them. The king had two only, and the princes two each as well. But the doors were unmanned, the passageways unguarded.
All their men fought in the war now.
Maedeth pushed open one of the heavy iron doors to the East Wing. She found a maidservant pacing the hall, muttering to herself.
"What's the matter?"
The girl looked up. "Nothing, my Lady! Well. Truth be told. The Lady Mírien is rather cross."
Maedeth closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She nodded, dismissing the girl. She had expected as much. Mírien needed lecturing as much as Aranarth. She opened the door.
The room looked a mess. A shattered goblet lay in pieces under a scratched up portrait of Rínior and Tiniel. Spilled wine gathered at its base. The sheets of Mírien's bed were bunched up. A steel sword lay unsheathed across a small wooden desk. In the center of it all, holding her face to cover her tears, stood Mírien in a simple black dress.
"Mírien," Maedeth said.
"Go away!"
Maedeth shut the door. She moved further into the room, her heart aching as she stared at the beautiful portrait still hung on the walls. It was the only painting of the Hero of the North that remained in tact in the citadel at Fornost.
"All that rage, all that hurt," Maedeth said, "Do not let it control you. You must control it, if you want to make a difference."
Mírien uncovered her face. She may have reached womanhood, but Mírien still looked like a child to Maedeth. Guilt and shame haunted her every steps. She had become a caregiver to her mother, a pariah to the nobility, and a fatherless daughter in a single night.
"Did they find him?" she asked, trying to steady her breathing.
Maedeth shook her head. "No. No signs of him anywhere." She began to pick up the shattered glass from the floor. "If they did find him, I would tell you. I promise."
She nodded. Mírien sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing her tears away. "How could he do this. How could he?"
The question that never went away. The question that had an answer none wanted to understand. But Maedeth understood it, even as she hated it. It broke her heart. Rínior had seen too much death, and felt a fire in his heart far beyond his station. Feanor haunted his footsteps.
"I have told you what I believe," Maedeth said. She placed the glass on the table and joined her niece. "Whether you believe me or not is up to you."
"He had everything here at home," Mírien said.
Maedeth nodded. "Indeed. And he loved you and your mother more than anything in all of Arda. But some may do terrible things for what they think is love."
They sat in silence in the still room. Neither moved, Mírien gripping Maedeth's hand for dear life. The warm fire that the serving girl had started continued to crackle. At last, Maedeth squeezed her hand and stood up.
"I will see to Tiniel before I get ready for Arvedui's council."
Mírien nodded but said nothing. The last glimpse she got of Mírien before the door closed was more tears on her pale face, staring up at the portrait of her mother and father.
Tiniel's room was nearby. Maedeth did not bother to knock, slowly opening it to find two serving women stoking a fire and preparing some tea. They nodded in deference at Maedeth's arrival.
"Hello Tiniel," Maedeth said. She forced a smile, coming around to sit with her brother's wife on the wooden couch in front of the fire.
"Maedeth. Is Rínior home yet?" she asked.
"No."
"Oh."
Maedeth closed her eyes. She hated seeing how pale Tiniel's face had become in the years past. Most color had drained from it until her grey eyes almost bulged against the palor. Her dark hair sat in a single, nondescript braid down her back. She wore black.
"He loves you," Maedeth said, looking back at her.
Tiniel nodded. "I know. And yet." She paused, staring into the fire again. "And yet."
"Can I get you anything?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Maedeth nodded. She looked above the fireplace, where an empty grey wall had once held a portrait of Tiniel and Rínior. Now it was empty, a small void in a fairly empty bedroom. There were no fineries here. Not anymore. The kingdom needed the money.
"I'll check in again later."
No response. Maedeth stood up, trying to shake the dread from her heart. That would do no one good. So they had no hope. Well then they would have to do without it.
She wore grey to the council. Not the black of mourning, but still also not the red of her once proud house. A simple clasp held her white cloak in place as she wandered the halls towards the war room
Only whispers filled the room. Most of the small council already sat in their chairs, chatting under their breaths with the person next to them. Tathreniel, head of the Healing House muttered with Anorion, head of Trade. Captain Hithren of the Northern Flank snorted a bemused laugh at something Captain Gilroch of the West Flank said. Only Malbeth the Seer and Aeglosdil the King Smith sat in silence.
Standing beside the table, Aranarth huddled with Elladan and Elrohir. They had all washed and changed, with the Prince now sporting clean black and silver clothing. Elladan and Elohir wore their Rivendell tunics.
Maedeth joined them. She ignored the glares shot to her by Anorion and Tathreniel. Instead, she tried to flash a small smile at Malbeth and Aeglosdil. The latter returned it.
"The sun is setting," Aranarth said. "Where is my father?"
"He will be here soon," Maedeth assured.
It did not take long for King Arvedui to call them to attention. He hurried in looking flustered, cheeks red and frown set. Maedeth took her seat beside Elladan and remained quiet.
"I have come to a decision."
Silence filled the room. Candles flickered all about them, compensating for the setting sun. Each member of the council looked upon the king with anticipation. Maedeth felt her heart beating loudly in her ears.
"We cannot win this war alone," he said. His voice broke for a moment, before he recovered. "We cannot. I have received word that Captain Mallenor has fallen in the East. The orcs continue to amass North of us. And somewhere, Rínior remains unchecked in his betrayal."
Maedeth felt so many eyes on her that she could not look up. Her arms felt like lead where they lay on her lap, unable to be moved. Doom approached. She could feel it. A hand took hold of her heart and dragged it into darkness.
"It is time to see if King Eärnil will stand true to his word."
Maedeth looked up. The King met her gaze. Amazed, she felt her mouth open and then close. A bit of light returned. A bit of hope. Only a fool's hope perhaps, but then, what did it matter? If they were to die anyways she wanted to die believing in something.
"You think Gondor will answer?" Hithren asked.
King Arvedui clenched his fists on the table. "We depend on it. Firiel will send a message along with the emissary as well. Let us hope they still hold love for the daughter of their former king. She who should have been queen!"
Maedeth shifted in her seat. King Arvedui had never forgiven the South Kingdom. And while she always heard his words, demanding satisfaction for a slight towards his wife for not being given the throne of Gondor as Numenor did of old, she knew his heart beat to a different drum. He had wanted the throne. Not for his wife, but for himself. And yet she knew he really believed he did it for her, she who had no desire for it.
"And who will go?" Aeglosdil asked.
"Maedeth."
As soon as the King had pronounced his wishes for a mission to Gondor, she'd known it was hers. But when all turned her way she wanted to shrink into the shadowed corners of the room. Doom had met her on her last journey south.
"When am I to leave?" she asked.
"As soon as supplies can be gathered."
"Yes, my lord."
A barely concealed, incredulous laugh came from her left. Maedeth didn't dignify it with a look. But Arvedui stood up from his chair in anger.
"Do you have something you wish to say, Gilroch?"
The silver haired, older captain just glared at the table. "Nay, lord."
"Maedeth had no part in the betrayal of her brother. She has served this Kingdom faithfully far longer than any of you," Aranarth snapped. "Show her the respect she deserves."
"And yet she secured no aid from the dwarves or the elves, beyond that of Rivendell, and they already aid us," he said, gesturing to the sons of Elrond at the table. "She failed!"
Aranarth rolled his eyes. "And I failed to secure much beyond promises from the elves of the Havens. Do you wish to call me a failure?"
"Of course not."
"Then I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself."
King Arvedui settled back in his chair as his son finished reprimanding the captain. He gave him a small smile and a half nod.
"Speaking, unfortunately, of failure," Aranarth continued, reining in his anger, "we could find no hint or trace of Rínior. I would like to go back out and continue our search."
"No," said King Arvedui. "You are my son and heir. You have searched long enough. Rínior's fate is now out of your hands."
Elrohir shifted in his seat. "And yet leaving him unchecked is dangerous. He is cunning, and single minded. Now that he has set his sights on ending this war for the Enemy, he will push agenda ever forward."
"You speak truly," said King Arvedui. "And though you are a guest here, you do not swear fealty to me. If you wish to accept the risk and find him, you have my leave and gratitude."
Elrohir nodded. "I shall go into the Ettenmoors and north into Angmar, to see what news I can gather."
"And if you find him?" Arvedui asked.
Elrohir didn't answer right away. He glanced from the king, to Maedeth, to the table. Then he nodded. "He will be dealt with."
Maedeth sank in her seat. She saw the way the betrayal ate at Elrohir every time he returned to Fornost. Ten years had not lessened his desire for justice. He rode with the Dunedain soldiers as often as he could, with Aranarth or with Elladan, searching for his friend. His one-time friend. And though Maedeth knew that Rínior posed disastrous danger to Arthedain, he was her brother. She wanted him to come home.
"Lord Elladan?" the King asked.
Elladan nodded. "A good plan. My brother will be faster on his own, less at risk of detection." He glanced left at Maedeth. "I shall accompany Lady Maedeth on her journey, if she would have me. The wilds are no safer now than they were ten years ago."
Maedeth nodded, squeezing his hand under the table. It was warm, calloused from years of warfare but still gentle. "I would appreciate the protection."
"Then it is settled. If there are no further concerns?"
None answered.
"Good. Dismissed."
The room began to empty. Soon only three remained: the sons of Elrond and Maedeth. They had still not stood from the table. Maedeth dug down desperately to find the strength, the will to move. But she could not.
"Maedeth?" Elrohir asked.
She glanced at him as he stood from the table and came around to her other side. "Go, Elrohir. Find him."
"I'm sorry."
"So am I."
A few tears pricked at his eyes he reached in and gave her a hug. She could smell the scent of flowers of Rivendell on him. She remembered the days when her brother would train with him in the garden, two swordsmen honing their craft. Now Elrohir would have to prove himself the better, or he would not return.
Elladan stood and embraced his brother. They shared no words, only a deep look. After a few moments, Elrohir bowed and fled the room, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Maedeth still stood from the table and moved to the window.
The sun had fallen beneath the horizon. Burning torches illuminated as much of the courtyard below as necessary. She stood in silence watching until at last, as she expected, she saw Elrohir rush out to find his horse.
She turned away. Elladan stood beside her. She leaned against him using him to support the weight that threatened to crush her. She was so tired. Exhausted. Drained and grieving. When would summer show her face? It seemed the cold spring would go on forever without life.
"I do not have words," Elladan said. "I am not a master at speechcraft as you are. But I am here. And I promise, I will always be here."
She wept. Maedeth turned from the cold room to Elladan's warm chest, pressing her face to smother herself in his kindness. Sobs wracked her body as he held her up, held her close. The world tumbled down around her. A decade of despair tried to freeze her. But in his arms, she could allow herself to feel.