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2020-10-02
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Apart

Summary:

Maedhros considers his options and no one argues with the results.

Notes:

Written for WhumpTober Challenge: 02. In the Hands of an Enemy & 03. My way or the highway. It was incredibly fun to write and I wondered why it is not used more often.

Warnings: Canonical Character Death, only with more kinslaying.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Pain burns through Maedhros. There is a broken arrow buried in his shoulder. He grinds his teeth and bears the pain. The blood flowing over his armour barely registers his mind.

He has only eyes for his brothers and his friend.

Above him the sun is shiny and round, suspended in a grey sky. The scene is nightmare-ish. A battlefield filled with corpses and dying people. Only the scenario in front of him he is unable to comprehend. Even in his fever dreams while he screamed for his father and his grandmother to welcome him in the Halls of Mandos he couldn't have imagined a sword at Curufin's neck.

Held by Finrod.

The King of Nargothrond is pale and thin. His garb is fit for a King, but the grey tan and the rasp in his voice can not fool Maedhros' keen eye.

"Don't do this to yourself, Findaráto," Maedhros says.

He rolls his shoulder, ignoring the pain as best as he can. Thankfully it's the damaged one, his sword arm is fully functional. His weapons are drawn but he remains relaxed. One wrong move could get Curvo killed.

Finrod appears frantic and lost despite his kingly appearance. He might not actually want to murder his cousin but in his frenzy, he could slit Curufin's throat on accident.

Orodreth, on the other hand, who has a firm grip on Celegorm looks like he's just waiting for the command of his uncle.

"I am not doing anything," Finrod spats. He is sweating and his hand trembles. "I have done enough."

With his eyes firmly pinning his cousin down, he only sees the subtle twitch as Curufin angles his next away from the sharp edge of the sword. He doesn't appear to have been harmed but Maedhros knows his pride would suffer if he died because of an unsteady hand.

Maedhros knows Curufin well enough to guess that he is envious of Celegorm right now. The death grip Orodreth has on him might be uncomfortable, but when the Arafinwion is going to take action it will happen on purpose.

What worries Maedhros is that Orodreth is clearly following the commands of someone who is no longer right in their mind.

Imprisonment affects anyone differently. Maedhros does not and will not blame Finrod for his actions. He is a man pushed beyond his boundaries and while his clothes may hide it, the expression in his face tells Maedhros that he is facing a beast.

Or a person who has been treated like one forced to kill for food and survival.

"Put the sword down, Ingoldo," Maedhros tries again. He speaks like a patient father to a tired toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

To their credit, neither Curufin nor Celegorm speak. They could be rag dolls for all the movements they make. Only a keen eye and a quick glance at the beginning confirmed that they are unharmed.

"Will you tell me to calm down, next?" Finrod laughs. "No, I will not. Question my motives as you like, Nelyafinwë, I will require an answer from you."

"You are asking to me to judge my brothers for their wrongdoings," Maedhros repeats and considers the impossible task he has been given. "But we could stand here all day and argue. I concede it will not bring back the people you have lost."

Finrod's eyes tell him that Beren and Luthien had not been mere friends to him.

It had not been an oath spoken to a long-dead man that drove the King of Nargothrond to venture out and challenge Sauron.

Love drives them all to do foolish things but Maedhros is allowed to condemn his cousin for the foolish action of wishing to steal a Silmaril from Morgoth crown. A mistake that Beren and Luthien paid for with their lives. Beren died in the dungeons of Minas Tirith, wasting away at Finrod's side and Luthien as she attempted to free them.

Powerful as she might have been, she was a sheltered princess who had never been seen true battle.

Sauron had torn her apart like a goblin kills a sparrow for his breakfast.

"Finrod...," Maedhros sighs, attempting to salvage the situation one last time.

"Pick one!" Finrod finally screams. "They need to be punished for their action and I want you to tell me which brother you love more."

"I love them both," the Fëanorian calmly says.

It is the only explanation Maedhros has. He cannot even feel anger at Finrod, too sympathetic with the cruelties his cousin suffered. The person in front of him, the twisted and broken thing that used to be his kind, smiling cousin, is nothing more than a dressed-up puppet on strings.

"Pick one or both of them will die!" Finrod yells. His sword is so far away from Curufin's neck that his brother could easily free himself.

But Celegorm's life is still in Orodreth's hands.

"Okay," Maedhros sighs deeply, afraid that Finrod's agitated state or Orodreth' hateful eyes will take the decision away from him. "I shall pick the one who dies."

The dumbfounded expression in Finrod's face yields that the Arafinwion never expected to get so far. Even Orodreth appears to be shocked who calculated he would have to take action for his uncle remained a gentle soul despite the anguish he had gone through.

"Tell me." Finrod whispers, almost eager. "Tell me who you have chosen."

He looks down at Curufin and throws a glance towards Celegorm. Neither of the Fëanorians whom they forced onto their knees bat an eyelash.

"It's you," Maedhros says as he looks Finrod directly in the eyes.

There is a moment of silence before an arrow hits the King of Nargothrond who twitches and falls to the ground. Distracted by the sudden turn of events, Orodreth jumps forwards to help his uncle and doesn't notice the second arrow.

He, too, is dead the moment he hits the ground. Blood sprays all over Celegorm. An arrow pierced the artery, sticking out on the other side of Orodreth's neck.

For the first time today, Maedhros' expression changes from calm to pained. His shoulder screams in pain but he quickly strides across the field and helps Curufin on his feet.

"Are you alright?" He asks, softly and brushes his thumb his the gash Celegorm has on his cheek. His pale hair is dirty and now full of Orodreth's blood.

Maedhros hasn't seen either of his brothers since before the Dagor Bragollach. When Himlad burned and his little brothers disappeared in a wall of smoke and flames.

"We are fine." Curufin is a little unsteady on his feet. Instead, he demands, "Where is my son?"

Maedhros points behind him where the air simmers and Maglor's spell falls to reveal the rest of the family. The mist clears and the twins appear with bows on their back, looking like they will never yield the secret who aimed that first arrow at their cousin.

Finrod lays dead to their feet on an abandoned field in East Beleriand and Maedhros cannot bring himself to care.

Maglor hums and heals his bleeding shoulder. Celebrimbor embraces his father while Ambarussa keeps watch for the inevitable guards Orodreth must have brought with them. That they aren't here already means that Caranthir is keeping them busy.

"I feel sorry for him," Celegorm says, his gaze cast downwards where Finrod has fallen.

Up close Maedhros notices that Finrod's coat and armour are far too big for him. He is even thinner than anticipated. The wrists are barely strong enough to hold a sword.

"He knew that he was walking to his death," Maedhros tries to reassure his brother and wraps an arm around him. "That's what he wanted. If there is anyone you should feel sorry for, it's Orodreth. He was the only one who didn't know how this day would end."

"Yeah," Celegorm shrugs. "Still not the way I hoped it would go."

Maedhros nods as allows Celegorm to cry into his shoulder. He cannot spill tears nor apologize for people threatening his family. Though, he is the one who knows best what Finrod must have gone through. It has to be enough that Tyelko will mourn the two lives that were lost today.

In the same manner, he is confident that Finrod won't mind his end.

Over the years, Maedhros has lost sleep over many things. Tonight he will rest content in the embrace of his brother's arms.

For an incredibly petty and vindictive moment, he considers leaving the corpses of his relatives for the crows to find. Finrod is, finally, too dead to care.

Then he picks his cousin up and carries him home.



Notes:

Sorry, Finrod. But I love Maedhros as a cold-hearted bastard who loves his family more than anything else.