winterborn

Author: Az (Azmodan76@yahoo.co.uk)

Homepage: http://www.nad-no-ennas.net

11 - AN: I am aware that Maedhros is a dramaqueen, but hey! I am PMS.

Betaed by; Mel the princess of pervyness, who was bored like shite.

Rating: r

Disclaimer: none of these characters are mine, sad but true.

Summary: Maglor has a talk with Maeglin in the gardens.
- and the Fëanorian household gets some rather bad news.

Warnings: angsty issues for the weak of heart

Pairings: (over all) Amrod/Elured Maedhros/Fingon Maeglin/Maglor & Maeglin/Eöl implied

Chapter 11 - I am the end of all your dreams

-

Carrying the letter to Fingon, Maglor made his way through the stronghold, lost in his own thoughts. He had finished it all now, and just wanted to know if his brother had changed his mind and wanted to send something with the messenger anyway. He almost missed the little shape in the shadows, but a sudden move made him look twice. At first he wondered who it might be, but as he squinted he could make out Maeglin’s form. “Maeglin,” he whispered, stepping back as the raven-haired youth stepped out into the sparse daylight of the corridor.

“My lord,” Maeglin whispered, and bowed slightly.

The haunted look in the young elf’s eyes broke Maglor’s heart. He wondered what on earth could make the beautiful elf hide in the shadows like that; it seemed to Maglor that he was always looking over his shoulder.

“There is no need to be on your guard here, my friend,” Maglor said softly, hoping that the beautiful youth would relax a little.

“Forgive me, my lord,” Maeglin said, and smiled a crooked nervous smile. “I do not mean to offend you.”

“Oh, I am not offended in the slightest, young master Maeglin,” Maglor replied. He was not sure what to do with this youngster, and nor did he really care; all he knew was that he wanted to have him close. “Will you take a walk in the gardens with me?” he asked with a smile that made him resemble an over-eager host.

“But of course, my lord,” Maeglin said, pushing some hair behind his ear in a nervous move, but following the tall elf nonetheless.

“Let me show you my favourite spot,” Maglor said with an encouraging smile, folding his hands on the small of his back as they strode along. “I composed many a tune there,” he added.

“I see,” Maeglin answered, turning around, trying to take in the beauty of the strange garden inside this otherwise large and grey stronghold. “This…” He turned back to Maglor, and gestured out towards a vast rose garden. “Who founded this garden?”

Maglor smiled, feeling that finally they were actually talking, instead of him making suggestions and Maeglin being one big excuse for him. “My mother and I,” he answered.

“It’s the most beautiful vision I have ever seen,” Maeglin whispered as he followed Maglor to a bench, sitting down next to the king’s favourite brother. “They look just like what I imagined when my mother told stories from Gondolin.”

Maglor chuckled as Maeglin twisted and turned in his seat to see everything around him. “I too have heard the tales of Lord Turgon’s gardens, and I am afraid nothing I crafted can measure up to his paradise.”

“Oh but it can, my lord,” the raven-haired youth said. “This garden is breathtaking.” He turned to look at the tall lord next to him, smiling a big genuine smile. “Though I must admit I wish I had found what I set out to do - to see the city of Gondolin,” he blushed slightly, “not that I am not grateful that you took me in.”

Maglor laughed and patted the youth’s shoulder, willing himself not to run his fingertips over the silky black hair, quickly removing his hand again. “Young master Maeglin, it is only natural.” Smiling at the youth, he continued. “I trust you would tell me if you were lacking something to take up your time. I would not have you fade from boredom here in my brother’s halls.”

“Oh, I like it here a lot, my lord,” Maeglin said offering a nervous smile, silently wishing that Maglor would have let his hand linger on his shoulder. “I love the tranquillity here.”

“Tranquillity?” Maglor laughed so loudly and suddenly that he almost choked. “Most elves would not even have our name and that word in the same sentence!” His laughter stilled some, and he took a deep breath and wiped away his amused tears. “You are indeed a strange child, young master Maeglin.” Seeing the raven haired youth blush, ashamed of his apparent slip-up, Maglor quickly tried to save the situation. “What do you say to some weapons training, perhaps? You will have something to fill your days, and then no more mountain lions can get to you.” Tilting his head and looking intensely at the youth, he hoped that Maeglin would say yes. “Did your father teach you to wield a sword?”

“Yes” Maeglin whispered, barely audible, “I know how to defend myself...”
A strange silence came upon them both, and after some time, Maeglin whispered “but I can only get better, aye?” He looked up at Maglor and smiled awkwardly.

“Indeed,” Maglor nodded, happy that he finally had this time with Maeglin, and that he finally got something that resembled a conversation. He was about to say more when his attention was drawn to another elf that hurried towards them. Knitting his eyebrows in confusion, he noticed Maeglin turning to see what caught his eye.

“My lord Maglor,” the messenger said, bowing deeply, and then looking at Maeglin he bowed once more. “My lord,” he said, “forgive me for interrupting, but I could not find his majesty anywhere so I was told to bring this to you.” He handed Maglor a parcel.

The tall lord took the parcel, looking from the messenger to the parcel and frowning. “Thank you,” he said, dismissing the messenger and looking over at Maeglin, showing his confusion.

“What is amiss my lord? Will you I search for your brother?” he offered.

“That is most kind of you, but no. It is the nature of this parcel that puzzles me” he admitted, not offering any explanation as he turned the roll, looking at the brand. Yes, that was the mark of Fingon; his eyes had not played tricks on him. By Eru he hoped it was good news, but if it was personal, the messenger had not been told by Fingon to find him instead of Maedhros. So, with shaking fingers, he prised open the seal. “By the Valar, no!” he gasped, looking absolutely stupefied.

Maeglin had risked scooting closer, resting his hand on Maglor’s shoulder. The strange look the elf lord gave him when he finally noticed confused him. “My lord, is all well?” he whispered.

“Oh… oh yes,” Maglor mumbled, smiling to the youth, but even Maeglin noticed that the smile only reached Maglor’s mouth, and never his eyes. “We are going for a little journey. Your uncle will also be there.”

“Really?” Maeglin exclaimed, most of all wanting to throw his arms around the other elf’s neck, but for now just squeezing his shoulder. “But that is wonderful!”

“Yes, it is,” Maglor said, taking Maeglin’s other hand absentmindedly. “Excuse me young master Maeglin, I must see my brother” he mumbled. “We shall see each other at supper.”

“Oh, but of course,” Maeglin answered, feeling thoroughly confused. If it was good news, then why did it upset Maglor so?

“I really enjoyed spending time with you; let us do so again,” Maglor said, letting go of the beautiful youth’s hand and slipping from the bench before leaving the little rose garden and Maeglin behind.

Looking after the tall lord, the young Maeglin smiled to himself. Was it his imagination, or had Maglor held his hand for longer than necessary? And why did this prospect make his heart beat faster? But as there was nothing more he could do, he decided to set out and see as much of the garden as possible.
_______________

Running to where he knew he would find Maedhros, Maglor clutched the parcel tight. But upon reaching the stables, he saw that his brother was not there, and on asking a stable boy, he found that the king had just left for his study. Maglor ran all the way there; a part of him wept for his brother, and the other part was furious with him. And so not even bothering to knock he barged into the high king’s office. “Maedhros!” he exclaimed.

Maedhros looked up from the letter he was writing, and saw his younger brother looking rather dishevelled. “What is amiss?” he asked.

“This!” Maglor spat tossing the parcel on the table in front of his brother. “Is this really what you wanted?”

Maedhros picked up the parcel and looked it over, paling as he did so, not saying a single word; he just looked up at Maglor. A thousand thoughts ran through his head… Marriage! Fingon was getting married… he should be furious since his cousin had promised him eternal love, but Maglor was right, he had tossed that away hadn’t he? Feeling a stab in his chest, he closed his eyes and rested back in his chair. Memories from a time when they had shared a tent, lying naked in the thick bearskins, just trailing fingers and tongues over each other’s bodies, as though they were mapping them for all eternity. Little had he known then that it would be just that, just an old bittersweet memory. Fingon had really moved on; there was no longer room for him in his heart. This realization was harder to accept than he had thought. Composing himself he whispered, “It is as could be expected…”

“Expected? Expected?” Maglor yelled, “What are you thinking, Maitimo?”

“Don’t…” Maedhros offered weakly.

“Don’t what?” Maglor raged, “Don’t tell you that you were a fool? That you were the one in the wrong? And that now you pay the price with your heart-blood?”

“Stop it!” Maedhros suddenly barked. “You are wrong, toron*, it is not so!”

“Maitimo, my sweet brother… why do you lie, your heart so cold and scorned?” Maglor whispered, leaning in over the desk to look his brother directly in the eye.

“Silence!” Maedhros yelled as he stood up with an angry move. Walking over to the window he took a deep breath while unfastening the first clasps of his robe, uncovering a chain with a ring. Curling his hands around it, he closed his eyes, trying to will his tears away, angered that his hands were shaking; his lips trembled, feeling as if his heart was torn in half. Never had he expected Fingon - his beloved, his heart – to give up on him. With a whimper he pulled the chain, ripping the skin of his neck. He turned to his brother and tossed the ring and the chain on the floor. “Write our cousin that this house shall be present at his wedding, sharing his joyous festivities,” he croaked, pointing at the ring. “And when you do, send this back to its rightful owner.” When Maglor didn’t move or say anything, Maedhros cried “Pick it up, damn you!” giving in to his tears with an annoyed hiss.

Maglor couldn’t remember having ever seen his brother like this, not even when he had returned from his imprisonment. “Maitimo…” he whispered, giving his elder brother a pleading look.

“PICK IT UP!” Maedhros yelled, taking a nearby figurine of a prancing horse and tossing it at Maglor with deadly accuracy, hitting him in his chest.

Standing there stunned for a second, the dark-haired elf took a minute to compose himself until he felt he could breathe again, before picking up the silver ring and chain from the floor. Without a word Maglor just bit his lip and shook his head, silently refusing to do his brother’s bidding.

“It is no longer mine. This is Fingon’s wife’s, in Fingon’s house,” Maedhros whispered. “He wore my ring, my token of my affection, a promise that I would never betray him. But these vows once made apparently no longer mean anything to him, and thus he can have my ring, and give it to whomever he fancies. I do not want it, nor his cheap words or his hollow promises,” Maedhros said, leaning against the wall, feeling as if his legs could not carry him anymore.

Maglor took a step forth towards his brother. “I understand you miss him, and that you feel betrayed, brother,” he said softly.

Maedhros shook his head. “Send the twins. They need to get out some, and who knows, a party might do them good.”

Maglor nodded. “Yes, they need some happiness, but I am not sure this is the right occasion - they will sense your tension.”

“Just tell him we will be represented,” Maedhros sighed.

“I will,” Maglor said, looking up at his silently crying brother, picking up the original parcel and clutching the ring in his other hand. “Don’t worry; I shall take care of this.”

“Thank you,” Maedhros said, looking up at Maglor. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” he whispered.

“Be at war with the world, I guess,” Maglor said and risked a smile.

-tbc-
_____________

* brother/toron[-rni],onóro
(From http://home.netcom.com/~heensle/lang/elvish/elvish.html - quenya dictionary)