Fanfiction Oneshots Entry Eleven: Some Conversation
Posted January 17th, 2016 by Gracithe1andonly
in wardly searching
Maglor approached Maedhros with a sleeping, tearstained child in each arm. Maedhros’s voice, harsh and raspy as ever, cracked through the air.
“What are you doing?” he asked, a Quenya accent permeating the Sindarin words.
“They shall come with us,” Maglor lifted his chin, daring Maedhros to try and prevent him.
Maedhros bowed his head. “This is folly. Let them follow their kin to the island.”
“There are no more boats here,” Maglor pointed out. “I doubt Lord Ulmo will give the gift of flight thrice in one day.”
Maedhros flinched, the deeds of that afternoon coming back to him. He remembered chasing Elwing, hot rage at his heels, to and over the cliff. He remembered the relief followed quickly by frustration as he saw her nearly unbelievable transformation into a seagull and flight over the ocean, jewel blazing on her chest.
Wearily, he looked at the children. Twins, he thought with an ironic twist of the soul.
“They’re not Ambarussa,” he warned Maglor.
“No,” Maglor said in surprise. Maedhros realized that the Ambarussa had not occurred to him till now and inwardly kicked himself as an all-too-familiar bitterness descended over Maglor’s eyes. “And it is not today we lost him. It is not today we lost both of them.”
Maedhros closed his eyes, knowing what was coming as Maglor continued. “I set them on fire.”
The redheaded Noldo sighed. “It seems these things fly into your mind all at once.”
“One reminds me of another,” Maglor said crisply. “And neither are they Elured and Elurin.”
Maedhros held his brother’s gaze blankly, hiding the despair and resignation that was washing over him, and the self-loathing that was his constant companion these days. Maglor met his eyes fearlessly, yet still unable to make his eyes quite so blank. Maedhros could read his desperation and his foolish hope founded in these two young half-elves.
Maedhros sighed, digressing. “They are your problem,” he rasped, “and I will not have any part in this.”
“I would not expect you to,” Maglor replied, his grey eyes alight with something like triumph.
“Why are you glad?” Maglor asked one night, the night before they were expected at the rendezvous with the representative of the King. The night before Elros and Elrond, the sons of a star, would leave them.
Maedhros turned. “I am not glad,” he rasped, “Not that they are leaving.”
“But you are lighter than I.”
Maedhros inhaled the scent of the spring wind and his brother’s breath, and couldn’t help a crooked grin as he saw Elros and Elrond, sleeping close by in their own bedroll. He foretold that he would end up with a sleeping youth on his chest in the morning.
“It is but this,” he told his brother. “For once in a very long while, I am not walking in a fog. For once in a very long while, I see clear as glass. For once in a very long while, brother, I know that I am doing the right thing.”
Maglor turned around, and the blankets turned with him. Maedhros sat up and pointedly yet playfully took his own back. Maglor chuckled and rolled his eyes before laying back down comfortably. He sobered; “How long will this last?”
Maedhros sighed. “Likely not long.”
Maglor turned to him, despair creeping back into his eyes. Maedhros wrapped his arm around his younger brother, whispering into his ear; “I am, however, greatly enjoying it.”
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