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Chapter Text

Fëanor had been gone for a week, now. Maedhros had persuaded him to bargain for Eärendil’s Silmaril, trying to exchange it for his children. It should have worked. But Maedhros had miscalculated, and Fëanor had returned empty-handed and furious.

Maglor shifted, clearly hating the news he’d brought. “Father wants you.” He said. “He’s already summoned Curvo.” Maedhros gave a slow nod.

“Have Raimë bring the twins to Nolofinwë.” He said quietly. “Go to Moryo and the Ambarussar. Keep them out of Father’s way.”

“Yes, Nelyo.” Maglor said. “I will wait for you.” He added, and hesitated. “Nelyo…”

“I need to go.” Maedhros said, and fled.

Fëanor was waiting for him. A cold fire burned in his eyes, and Curufin flinched from where Fëanor’s hand gripped his shoulder.

“Maitimo.” Fëanor growled. Maedhros bowed low.

“My lord. How went the negotiations?” He asked, knowing the answer already.

“They didn’t happen.” Fëanor snarled. “Because Eärendil fled. Despite your assurances, Maitimo.” He released Curufin and stalked forwards, stopping in front of Maedhros.

“I apologize. I did not think he would abandon his children.” Maedhros said, and swallowed hard. “I failed you.”

“You did.” Fëanor scoffed. He grabbed Maedhros’ chin, forcing him to look up. “I should have known better. I shouldn’t have expected anything else from you. But for once, your logic seemed sound. Don’t worry, dear Maitimo, some of the fault is mine. I should have known better than to listen to one word out of your lying mouth.” Fëanor released him abruptly. A strange mix of relief and loss led Maedhros to drop his head again. Fëanor’s hands had been warm. His face felt cold.

“What are you going to do about your failure?” Fëanor asked sharply.

“I will make it up to you however I can.” Maedhros said immediately.

“Even by killing one of them yourself?” Fëanor challenged. Maedhros’ stomach dropped. He couldn’t.

“Do you command it?” He asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“Eärendil must know we are serious.” Fëanor said, but shook his head. “No, Maitimo, do not look so horrified. I would never give you such an honor. Though perhaps Curufinwë…”

“What of Nolofinwë? Will this provoke his wrath?” Maedhros asked. Fëanor’s hand returned, gently.

“I thought you knew better than to question me, Maitimo.” Fëanor chided. Maedhros flinched.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

“I do not care about Nolofinwë.” Fëanor spat. “This will teach him not to toy with me.”

“Curufinwë is young. Would he—” Maedhros risked a glance behind Fëanor, where Curufin waited with wide eyes.

“Just because you are weak, Maitimo, does not mean that Curufinwë is.” Fëanor snarled. “He will complete his first Elven kill.” Maedhros bit his lip, wondering if he could risk questioning further.

“Atar—” He broke off as Fëanor pulled back.

“Maitimo!” He snapped. “Enough of your insolence!”

“I apologize.” Maedhros said, but it only earned him a blow.

“You do that too often.” Fëanor growled. “It never seems to change anything.” He gripped Maedhros’ chin, tilting his face up. “You were wrong about Eärendil. You cost me my Silmaril. You will have to answer for that.” He whirled, beckoning Curufin forward.

“Curufin, my son. You will not fail me, will you? I need you to kill one of those Peredhel creatures Maitimo brought here.”

“I-I have to kill him?” Curufin stammered. “But—” He glanced at Maedhros, a fleeting, frightened look. Fëanor noticed.

“Don’t look at Maitimo.” He said sharply. “This isn’t something you need a nursemaid for. Just take your sword and kill it.” Curufin flinched, and Fëanor softened his tone. “I understand that this is your first Elven kill.” He said. “It might seem like it will be hard, especially on something so young. But Peredhil are not like you and I, dear. They are part Man, part Elf. Just animals, at the best. They cannot survive long past adulthood, and they are tormented by horrible pain their whole lives. It would be a mercy, Curufinwë.” He ran his hand through Curufin’s hair. “It will be easy.” He said. Curufin shrunk, but didn’t dare pull away.

“I-I won’t kill him.” He said, glancing at Maedhros again. Fëanor turned his fiery gaze on Maedhros.

“It seems like you had more influence on them than I thought, Maitimo.” He said. “Perhaps you ruined them.” Maedhros took an involuntary step back, recognizing the fury in his father’s eyes. Fëanor grabbed the collar of Maedhros’ tunic, dragging him forward.

“Maitimo.” He growled.

“Sorry.” Maedhros said, looking away.

“What if I just get rid of you?” Fëanor mused. “Perhaps then I could salvage them.

“Y-you’re going to kill me?” Maedhros breathed. Fëanor had never actually threatened that before.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Maitimo.” Fëanor scoffed. “I still have use for you. You still have to clean up after us. Curufin, are you prepared?” Curufin shrunk back, shaking his head.

“I-I can’t—”

“You are soft.” Fëanor sighed. “That is Maitimo’s fault.” He shook Maedhros and then released him. “I will teach you better. Go wait outside. I will come help you after I deal with Maitimo.” Curufin obeyed. As the doors shut behind him, Fëanor whirled on Maedhros.

“Give me your hand.” Fëanor ordered. Maedhros complied, letting out a slow breath and willing his anxiety away. Fëanor grabbed his wrist and pulled him forwards. Towards the fireplace. Maedhros froze. Fëanor sighed.

“Don’t make me force you, Maitimo.” He scolded. Maedhros bit his lip. Please don’t.

“I-I only have one hand.” He pleaded.

“And I only had one chance to get the Silmaril, but you ruined that.” Fëanor spat. “This is merciful.”

“Please.” Maedhros whispered, still resisting. “Atar, please.”

“I’m giving you one more chance to do this the easy way, Maitimo.” Fëanor said coldly. Maedhros couldn’t move. He didn’t dare pull away, but couldn’t step forwards either. Fëanor tightened his grip, nails digging in, and jerked Maedhros forward. Maedhros landed on his knees on the hearth, hair swaying dangerously close to the flames.

“Atya, please!” He begged. “Please, don’t—” His fingers were inches from the flames now. He struggled backwards, fisting his hand as he pulled against Fëanor’s unrelenting grasp.

“Maitimo!” Fëanor snarled. The doors slammed open, but Maedhros couldn’t look. His attention was fixed on the flames licking hungrily towards his hand and the bruises forming around his wrist. Fëanor’s grip slackened.

“Findekáno.” He spat. Maedhros snatched his hand back as Fëanor let go. Relief welled in his chest. Fingon.

“I expected a warmer welcome, Prince Fëanáro.” Fingon said. Maedhros looked back at him. Fingon’s eyes blazed hot, the glare fixed on Fëanor.

“What an…unexpected surprise, Findekáno.” Fëanor said.

“My father sends his greetings, and a letter.” Fingon said. “But first I wish to speak with Nelyafinwë.” Fëanor frowned.

“Oh. Yes, take him if you wish.” He said. “Please be quick. I have a busy schedule.”

“Of course.” Fingon said. “Come, Nelyafinwë.” Maedhros stood and went to Fingon, skirting Fëanor warily. Fëanor watched him, frowning. Fingon pushed open the doors and followed Maedhros out of the hall.

Chapter Text

Fingon shut the door to Maedhros’ room solidly behind them. He turned to Maedhros, a grim look in his eye.

“How’s your hand?” He asked quietly. Maedhros shrugged, looking away.

“It’s fine. It’s hardly even burnt.” He said.

“Okay.” Fingon said slowly. Maedhros held out his hand.

“Really, I’m fine.” He repeated. Fingon looked it over carefully, then nodded.

“I found two children in the woods.” He said. “Our favorite hunter was with them.”

“Oh.” Maedhros said.

“You, uh…gonna explain that?” Fingon asked.

“Fëanor was going to kill them. The twins.” Maedhros said. “I—I tried to persuade him not to. It didn’t work; I couldn’t do anything else. Are they okay?”

“Yeah.” Fingon said. “I sent them with a message to my father. How’d you end up with more twins?”

“They were…left in the woods. They are Eärendil’s children. I thought he would trade the Silmaril for them, but…I was wrong.” He looked away.

“That’s why Fëanor is angry.” Fingon murmured. “Nelyo…”

“I…I promised that Eärendil would give it up. He thinks…” Maedhros shook his head. “I ruined his one chance to get that Silmaril…so…” He motioned vaguely with his hand. “I tried, Finno. I did.”

“I know.” Fingon said, meeting Maedhros’ gaze. “And they’re safe now.”

“I almost failed.” Maedhros murmured. “Curvo’s…Curvo’s gonna be in trouble.”

“No he’s not.” Fingon said. “Nárucal.” Maedhros looked up at the name. “You’re not responsible for this. You’re practically a kid, Nelyo.”

“That’s not an excuse.” Maedhros said. “I’m a kinslayer.” He spat the word. Fingon shook his head.

“You weren’t even at Aqualondë.”

“I’ve killed Elves before. When Father attacked Doriath. I was there when Tyelko killed Dior, and I killed people later too.”

“When you were forced to.” Fingon growled. “I’m not dumb, Maedhros, I know the stories aren’t true.”

“I’ve heard the tales.” Maedhros scoffed bitterly, motioning to his face. Fingon scowled. “I’m not pretty, not anymore.” Maedhros added.

“They should not insult you because you endured years of torture.” Fingon snarled. Maedhros winced.

“I know.” He said quietly. He hesitated. “When will you leave?” He asked quietly. Fingon’s gaze darted from Maedhros’ hand to his face.

“I will not let him hurt you.” He said sharply. Maedhros folded his arms.

“And I am not letting you start a war over me! It’s not worth it.” He said, repeating their old argument.

“I got Atar to summon the seven of you to court.” Fingon said. Maedhros froze.

“You—you did?” He shook his head, not daring to hope. “Fin, that wouldn’t work. It couldn’t. Father would ignore—”

“Fëanor won’t ignore a royal summons. He cares too much about his reputation to do that. Besides, he’s not going to risk a war when he thinks that you’ll come back.”

“He won’t let us go.” Maedhros said.

“I am not leaving you here.” Fingon growled. Maedhros flinched.

“It’s not worth it—”

“Yes, you are!” Fingon snapped. “I am not leaving you to get your hand burned off!” Maedhros shuddered.

“I-I don’t think he’d go that far.” Maedhros breathed.

“Are you sure?” Fingon whispered. “You were resisting.”

“I-I don’t know.” Maedhros admitted. Fingon sighed.

“I have a letter from my father specifically ordering all seven of you to court. At least let me try.”

“Okay.” Maedhros relented. “But…don’t risk your life for me again.”

“You think he’d kill me?” Fingon asked.

“No.” Maedhros said carefully. “But he’s quite angry now and not thinking clearly.”

“I will be careful.” Fingon promised.

They headed back, anxiety curling in Maedhros’ stomach. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and followed Fingon. Fingon looked completely confident as he pushed open the doors and strode into the hall.

“Back so soon, Findekáno?” Fëanor asked. “Did Maitimo do something?” He was half-smirking, standing just in front of the roaring fire.

“You said you were busy, so I will make this quick.” Fingon said. “My father wants all of your sons to come to our court. He requires them for his next attack on Morgoth.”

“What use could Nolofinwë have of my sons?” Fëanor asked. Fingon tilted his head.

“Much use. I do wonder what people might think if you refused to send them. My father might consider it a sign of disloyalty.”

“I wonder, prince, if your misplaced affection for Maitimo is making you twist your father’s orders.” Fëanor said sharply. He glanced at Maedhros dismissively. “Surely Nolofinwë wouldn’t want all of them.”

“I am not lying.” Fingon snarled. “Here is the letter.” He held it out, and Fëanor took it. His face twisted as he read the letter. Maedhros forced himself not to shrink back. Fingon was here. Fëanor couldn’t hurt him when Fingon was here.

“Very well. You may take them.” He said. “Maitimo, come here.” Maedhros hesitated, but approached. Fingon gave him a wary look. Fëanor stepped very close to Maedhros.

“I don’t know where the Peredhil went, Maitimo, but if I find out you had something to do with it…you won’t be worrying about a little burn.”

“U-understood.”

“You will do whatever the king wants, Maitimo. You do not disappoint me.”

“Yes sir.” Maedhros murmured.

“Come on, Nelyo.” Fingon said, faking impatience. Maedhros moved to step back, but Fëanor grabbed his collar. Maedhros froze.

“If you mess up, Nolofinwë will not hesitate to punish you.” Fëanor said quietly. “You will not resist or make any foolish deals. You are loyal to me.”

“Yes, Atar.” Maedhros said.

“Good boy.” Fëanor said. He pushed Maedhros back. “Begone, son of Nolofinwë, and take your prizes with you.”

“Let’s go, Nelyo.” Fingon said. Maedhros backed away from Fëanor and fled to Fingon’s side.

They packed as fast as they could, leaving in less than an hour. They rode through the woods for days, stopping as little as possible in their haste. Part of Maedhros feared that Fëanor would change his mind and hunt them down. The other part knew how dangerous it was to not obey orders as best as he could. They entered the city through the back, creeping into Nolofinwë’s palace at dusk. Despite the hour, King Nolofinwë deigned to greet them, probably because of Fingon.

“Hello, Kano.” Nolofinwë said. “I see you’ve succeeded.”

“Yes. Is Tyelko here?”

“Yes, actually. He and the children arrived and…explained a few things.” Maedhros shuddered at the words, hoping Celegorm was all right. Nolofinwë seemed to catch the movement, and he frowned. “Greetings, Sons of Fëanor. Long have you been absent from my House.”

“I apologize for our absence, my lord.” Maedhros said, bowing deeply. It hadn’t really been their fault—Fëanor had forbidden it. And after the burning, Nolofinwë would have been furious with them and probably would have killed them before they could speak a word of defense.

“No need for apologies.” Nolofinwë said. “Tell me why my son was so insistent that I summon you?” Maedhros froze. If he messed up, Fingon could pay for it too. Maedhros ducked his head, trying to look non-threatening.

“I do not know why Findekáno wished us to come.” He said carefully. “I would guess that he was concerned about Fëanor’s reaction to the loss of a Silmaril.”

“So Eärendil got away? Good.” Nolofinwë mused.

“Win or lose, Fëanor would have been in a mood.” Fingon said. “I think that, winning, Curvo would have been in more danger. Either way, I couldn’t leave them.” He put a hand on Maedhros’ shoulder. “They are my friends, Father. My brothers. You yourself asked them to come. So could we wait until tomorrow for the questions?”

“As you wish, my son. The guest quarters are ready for all of you.”

“Thank you, Atar.” Fingon said, smiling. Nolofinwë left. Maedhros slumped.

“He hates me.” He breathed. Fingon snorted, then gave Maedhros an apologetic smile.

“He doesn’t hate you. He just doesn’t trust you. He used to really like you, remember?” Maedhros looked away.

“That was before.” He muttered. “When I was a kid. Small, well-behaved and... And before my father decided to betray and murder our kin and try to kill him.”

“Nelyo.”

“What!?”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Fingon said. “And you’re not—”

“He doesn’t like me.” Maedhros muttered. “Will he warm up to the others, at least? Do you think? Ambarussar are still so young; he can’t blame them for Fëanáro.” At least, Maedhros hoped so. There was a noise of protest from one of the twins—probably Amrod. Fingon smiled.

“Maedhros, it will be fine.” He said. “He is not your father. Now. I’m sure you’re all very tired and if we don’t show Nelyo where you guys are sleeping he’ll be worried. Come along, brothers!” He pulled Maedhros forwards, further into the palace. He brought Maedhros to each of the rooms, first Celegorm’s, then the Peredhel twins, then Ambarussa—who had refused his offer of separate rooms—then Curufin, Caranthir, and Maglor’s rooms. Then he pointed across the hall.

“That is where I will be.” He said. “If you need me.”

“You don’t have to stay by us.” Maedhros said quietly. Fingon gave a wan smile.

“I want to.” He said.

Chapter Text

Maedhros couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. When he finally did manage to drift off, he woke minutes later with his right arm pinned over his head and his shoulder screaming. He gave up on sleeping and buried his head in the pillow. He finally managed to doze off as the sun crept over the horizon.

A knock on the door startled him. Maedhros jolted upright, forcing his arm down to his side despite the agony that shot through his side and chest. Fëanor hated when Maedhros didn’t have his arm like it should be—but he wasn’t there anymore. He opened the door, not knowing who to expect. It was Nolofinwë.

“High King.” Maedhros said, bowing low. Why was Nolofinwë here? He didn’t seem upset. He’d knocked, and he wasn’t scowling.

“Good morning.” Nolofinwë said. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, my lord.” Maedhros lied, backing up so that Nolofinwë could enter. “May I ask why you came?” Nolofinwë stepped forward, the door swinging shut behind him.

“Can I just spend time with my nephew?” Nolofinwë asked. Maedhros nodded slowly. It was obviously an evasion. His brothers were the only ones who wanted to spend time with him.

“Of course, my lord.” Maedhros said politely. Nolofinwë frowned.

“You may use my name.” He said. “We are family, are we not?” Maedhros froze. Was he supposed to agree or disagree?

“We are the sons of Fëanor.” Maedhros said carefully. “Kinslayers.” Well, he and Maglor and Celegorm and Caranthir were. Curufin and the Ambarussar had never killed Elves, only Orcs.

“Are you denying that we’re family?” Nolofinwë asked. Maedhros flinched, struggling to find something right to say.

“N-no.” He said. “Only that we are murderers. Although Findekáno is very kind in accepting my brothers and I, despite our father, I understand that you may not feel the same.” He braced, waiting to see if he’d said the right thing.

“Oh, Nelyo.” Nolofinwë breathed. Maedhros flinched. That name wasn’t supposed to be used in front of Nolofinwë.

“I-I’m sorry.” He said automatically, knowing that his name was rude to Nolofinwë personally.

“Child.” Nolofinwë said. He stepped close, and Maedhros forced himself to stay still. Nolofinwë rested his hands on Maedhros’ shoulders, but his grip didn’t grow painful.

“You are my nephew.” Nolofinwë said. “And more; my son calls you brother. How can I deny that?” Maedhros swallowed, feeling lost. He still didn’t know what Nolofinwë wanted him to say.

“It-it would be easy. It would be right? Everyone says that. You have nothing to gain from it.” He probably shouldn’t be saying that. He should just agree and obey. Nolofinwë could do whatever he wanted to them.

“No.” Nolofinwë said. “But you are still family.”

“Of course, sir.” Maedhros murmured, ducking his head.

“I originally came to ask if you and your brothers would join us for breakfast.” Nolofinwë said.

“We would be honored.” Maedhros said. Nolofinwë smiled and left, and Maedhros sunk to the ground, rubbing his shoulder as it ached. He let himself breathe for a few minutes and then went to gather his brothers.

Maedhros hadn’t thought through the breakfast. He had expected it to be a cover, maybe, for some sort of questioning. But Nolofinwë’s family was gathered there, even the young children. And no one else. It looked like a private breakfast, but Nolofinwë had invited them.

“Hello!” Fingon said cheerfully, motioning for Maedhros to come forward. “These are my siblings; Irissë, Turukáno, and Arakáno.” He motioned to each in turn. “Family, this is Maedhros, Makalaurë, Tyelkormo, Carnistir, Curufin, Amrod, and Amras.”

“Hi!” Irissë said, waving. Celegorm gave a small wave back—they’d been best friends, a long time ago.

“We are honored to be here.” Maedhros said, bowing.

“Kinslayers, Atar?” Turukáno whispered to Nolofinwë.

“They are my guests and your cousins, Turvo.” Nolofinwë said. Fingon gave Maedhros an apologetic grimace.

“Fëanor ordered the ships burnt, not Maedhros or his brothers. They are not responsible for anything that happened on the Ice.” Fingon said.

“They still obeyed him.” Turukáno said sharply. Maedhros’ breath hitched. His brothers had carried out the order, not him. He could still feel the pressure on his throat as Fëanor had used him to make his brothers obey.

“It’s not their fault.” Fingon said. Maedhros shot Fingon a pleading look. Don’t press it, Finno. Fingon sighed.

“Come, sit.” He said, pulling out his own chair. Maedhros sat at the opposite end, keeping his brothers between him and Fingon.

“Did you and the Peredhil get here all right, Tyelko?” Fingon asked. The twins were in school, Maedhros had been told. They’d had an early breakfast and been brought to their classes before Maedhros had gotten up. Celegorm startled at his name.

“Oh. Yes.” He said. “We did, thank you.”

“Is Huan around here somewhere?” Fingon asked. “Irissë loves dogs, you know. I’m sure she’d be happy to meet him.”

“I-I asked him to stay out of the city.” Celegorm said softly, looking down. “I know that he is…that he may be unwelcome.”

“Huan would certainly be welcome.” Fingon said. “We have several kennels in the palace. He will not be harmed here.” Fingon added, grimacing. Fëanor hated Huan. He’d nearly killed him once. Fingon had been able to save him, just like he had with Maedhros, but they made sure to keep Huan far away from Fëanor after that.

“Thank you.” Celegorm murmured.

“Huan is your dog?” Irissë asked brightly. “What kind is he?” Celegorm perked up.

“He’s a wolfhound, but he’s really, really big. But, um…he doesn’t stay with me much more, unless I’m out…hunting.”

“Why not?” Irissë demanded. Celegorm hesitated.

“He’s big. Takes up too much room. He’s dirty and loud and Father says he’s a waste of food and…” Celegorm glanced at Maedhros. “Father’s scared of him.” Celegorm whispered, sending a nervous look in Maedhros’ direction. “Father wanted to—he tried to punish me, and Huan bit him.” Maedhros stared at his brother.

“What?” He breathed. Celegorm flushed.

“You worry too much.” He muttered. “You didn’t need to know.” I did, Maedhros wanted to say, but knew he shouldn’t argue in public. Besides, Celegorm didn’t have to tell him. It wasn’t Maedhros’ business.

“Of course your Huan is welcome here.” Nolofinwë said, ignoring the exchange.

“Thank you.” Celegorm mumbled. Maglor elbowed him. “Many thanks, High King.” Celegorm amended politely.

“No need for that, dear.” Nolofinwë said, making Fingon grin happily. “We are family, are we not?” Celegorm gave Maedhros a puzzled look, but had the sense to stay quiet, trusting that Maedhros would explain later. Unfortunately, Amrod was not so sensible.

“No, we’re not. Father says we’re not.” Amrod said, frowning. “He says that you hate us for burning the ships and that if we ran away to you, you would…” He trailed off, aware that he’d misstepped. He hung his head, face burning as red as his hair. “Sorry, Nelyo.” He murmured. Maedhros tensed, watching Nolofinwë for the anger that Fëanor would have shown.

“Please explain, Amrod.” Nolofinwë said. His tone was completely level, and his face was neutral. Amrod shrunk back.

“I’m sorry.” He said, voice trembling. Maedhros longed to interrupt, but didn’t dare.

“Amrod—"

“Please don’t hurt Nelyo, Atar!” Amrod blurted, cringing as he spoke the wrong title. “It’s not his fault; he tried—”

“Ambarussa.” Maedhros said urgently. “Ambarussa, it’s all right. Just tell him.” He held Fingon’s gaze, hoping desperately that Fingon was right about his father.

“Sarinë.” Fingon soothed, drawing Amrod’s gaze. “It’s all right. You’re all fine.” Amrod swallowed hard.

“Father said you would punish us for the kinslayings and for Losgar.” He said, trying to keep his voice level. “And that…you wouldn’t kill us. Or all of us. He-he said that you might trade us. To Morgoth, for his prisoners of war.” Nolofinwë’s anger showed then, flame sparking in his gaze.

“Thou needst not fear treachery from me, son of my brother.” Nolofinwë swore. “No punishment shall thee face for the actions of thy father or thy kin, nor actions forced upon thee. Refuge thou hast, of my kin and myself, whenever thou needst it, from whoever seeks to harm thee; be he thrall of Morgoth or Fëanáro or of my own House.” Nolofinwë sat back, keeping Amrod’s gaze. “And I will not punish you or Nelyafinwë for speaking out.” He said. “And if you have any questions about things I say, you are free to ask them.”

“Okay.” Amrod said, then remembered his manners. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“How did you know he was Amrod?” Curufin asked, tilting his head. Nolofinwë frowned.

“What?” He asked. Curufin drew back, dropping his gaze.

“Sorry. I was just confused how you knew which twin he was.” Now that Curufin had mentioned it, Maedhros realized that it was strange. Maedhros and his brothers could tell, of course, but Nolofinwë had barely even met them.

“There are slight differences in their appearance.” Nolofinwë said. “I suppose I was paying attention when they were introduced. I thought it would be polite to be able to tell them apart.” He said it like he thought it was nothing. Fëanor had never bothered. Maedhros still wasn’t sure which twin had originally been named Pityo and which had been Telvo. Fëanor had called them by either name for a while, until Maedhros figured out that he needed to color-code their clothing. They’d stopped doing it now, unless Fëanor was present, and the twins hadn’t done it today either. Nolofinwe must have been paying very close attention. Maedhros studied Fingon's father. Maybe Fingon was right about him.

Chapter Text

Breakfast seemed to last ages. Maedhros listened idly to the small-talk, trying to force himself to eat. The food was good—fresh and flavorful, like nothing Maedhros had eaten in years. But it felt like too much. It lay heavy in his stomach and felt like it would choke him as he swallowed. The last time Maedhros had eaten something like this, it had been poisoned. He’d been sick for days. Maedhros forced himself to keep eating, trying to be polite and hoping no one noticed. His brothers did, he was sure, and Fingon, who had borne most of Maedhros’ finicky eating habits after Angband.

They were dismissed, finally, and Maedhros resisted the urge to flee to his room. He walked with Caranthir through the gardens as Fingon took the others out somewhere. Caranthir looked at Maedhros as they walked deep into the rows of rosebushes. He looked worried.

“What’s wrong, my love?” Maedhros asked softly. Caranthir gave a slight smile at the endearment.

“I am worried.” He admitted. He hesitated, and Maedhros waited for him to continue in silence. “I am worried about Atar.” Caranthir said at last. “If he decides he wants us back…before Findekáno wishes.” If he wants us to return at all, he didn’t say. If Nolofinwë allows it. If you ask us to. Maedhros sighed.

“Findekáno does not wish us to return at all.” He said quietly.

“If he recalls us and we do not go, he may try to take the city by force.” Caranthir said, dark eyes wide. “He will have us back, one way or another. Curvo, at least, he will want.”

“Yes.” Maedhros agreed. “We will have to wait and see. Do not worry about Father, Finyaþornë, I will handle him.” The use of his name did not settle Caranthir.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Caranthir whispered, voice anguished. “Curvo said he wanted to kill you.”

“Moryo…” Maedhros said softly.

“But I am also worried about Nolofinwë.” Caranthir continued. “Once he tires of us, or if we step out of line…what will he do?”

“You do not want to hear that I will deal with it, do you?” Maedhros teased gently. Caranthir hunched his shoulders.

“I don’t want you to deal with it!” He whispered. “I don’t want you to get hurt again, Nelyo, it’s not fair! You don’t deserve it; you didn’t do anything wrong!” Maedhros flinched.

“You know that’s not true, Moryo.” Maedhros chided carefully. “Atar says that I—”

“Atar is WRONG!” Caranthir yelled, shocking Maedhros with the tone as much as the words. Both froze, glancing around for any listeners. Luckily, they were alone. “Sorry.” Caranthir muttered. “I shouldn’t have shouted. But he is.”

“I’m not like the rest of you, Finya.” Maedhros murmured, not looking at his brother.

“Finno says you shouldn’t say that.” Caranthir said, tone heated. “He says that you are good and that Atar is wrong. And Finno is right.”

“Fingon is very wise.” Maedhros deferred. “But we were speaking of you, not me and my failings.”

“Very well.” Caranthir sighed. “When Nolofinwë tires of us or we do something wrong, his people will cry out for our punishment. And before you speak foolishly, my ever-wise brother, your blood alone would not sate them.”

“Finno would not allow you to be harmed.” Maedhros said carefully, although Caranthir was right. “And Nolofinwë has given his word.”

“To us.” Caranthir scoffed. “He’s given his word to faithless, treacherous, murderers. Who would require him to uphold such a vow?”

“Fingon.” Maedhros said. “And Fingon is his heir. You do not have to look out for me, Finya.” He added quietly. Caranthir grimaced.

“And if I don’t? If Kano doesn’t, and Tyelko doesn’t, and Finno doesn’t? If your brothers don’t look out for you, Nelyo, who will?”

“It’s my job to look out for you.” Maedhros said. “Not the other way around.”

“No.” Caranthir said. “It was Atar and Ammë’s job to look out for us. All of us. They were responsible for us. They should have taken care of us. You should never have had all that responsibility, Nelyo!” Maedhros flinched at the words.

“I tried.” He whispered. “I-I did my best. I was—”

“A kid.” Caranthir said. “And you did the best job. But it was never—you didn’t fail us. You never did. It was Atar and Ammë who did.” Caranthir met Maedhros’ gaze. “That’s what’s been bothering me, ‘Timo.” He said, using Maedhros’ very old nickname. “Atar was wrong…and no one will admit it.”

“Of course Atar was wrong.” Maedhros said carefully. “For the kinslayings. And betraying Nolofinwë. And burning the ships. And-and hurting you.”

“And you, Nelyo.” Caranthir bit his lip. “That was wrong too. We all know it, Nelyo, ‘cept you! Atar was wrong about us all, and you-you know that unless he talks about you! I know I’m not worthless, not just a shadow, not invisible, and I know that you would notice if I was gone and you are the one who told me that!” Caranthir turned fully to look at Maedhros. Maedhros opened his arms, and Caranthir bolted forwards, wrapping Maedhros in a tight hug.

“Sorry, Nelyo, if I was rude.” He mumbled, face buried in Maedhros’ tunic. “I just wish you could see how much you mean to me.” Maedhros petted Caranthir’s hair, running his hand through gently.

“I am sorry to disappoint you.” He said quietly, but that only made Caranthir bury his head in Maedhros’ tunic, trembling. Maedhros bit his lip. “Don’t cry, Moryo, please.” He wanted to say more, to apologize for being wrong, but that would just upset Caranthir more.

“It isn’t your fault, Nelyo.” Caranthir scoffed. “I know you’re thinking that.” He looked up, not loosening his grip. “You didn’t disappoint me. You know me. You pay attention to me.” He paused, pulling away but tugging Maedhros with him.  “Come on.” He said, a slight smile back on his face. “I know you didn’t eat much. Kano left some crackers for you in his room, if you’re hungry.”

“I’m really not.” Maedhros protested. “It was a lot. I can’t eat anymore, Moryo.” Caranthir glanced back at him, then froze. Maedhros looked back as well, turning quickly to shield his brother as he spotted Nolofinwë approaching.

Chapter Text

“Hello, Nelyafinwë, Carnistir.” Nolofinwë said.

“High King.” Maedhros murmured, bowing. “I apologize, are we interrupting?”

“Not at all.” Nolofinwë said. “I was just coming to speak with you.”

“Of course.” Maedhros said, swallowing hard. “How can I serve you, my lord?”

“It’s nothing, nephew. I only wanted to make sure that you were feeling well. You didn’t eat much and you looked ill.” Maedhros blanched.

“I-I apologize if I gave offense, my lord. I did not mean to be rude; I simply wasn’t hungry. I am well.”

“I was not offended, Nelyafinwë, only concerned. And, speaking of food—is there anything you and your brothers cannot eat? Allergies or such?” Maedhros thought fast.

“My brothers know what they are allowed to have.” He said carefully. “Should I have told them otherwise?” He waited, breathless, but Nolofinwë shook his head.

“They can eat what they like, so long as it does not harm them.” He said.

“Thank you.” Maedhros said, because Fëanor always wanted to be thanked when he did anything for them.

“No need for that, Nelyafinwë. You are welcome. But what about you? I do not mean to pry, nephew, but you do look ill. Did something disagree with you?” Maedhros hesitated at the words. He knew he shouldn’t say anything. He should be grateful he was being fed. But…but Nolofinwë hadn’t been angry yet; he’d been kind. And Fingon trusted him. And he called Maedhros Nelyafinwë, like his father-name wasn’t an insult to Nolofinwë himself.

“I…don’t eat much other than plain foods.” Maedhros said carefully, watching for any sign that he was overstepping. “Fruits and vegetables if Atar is gone. Nothing terribly rich or sweet. I couldn’t, after Angband, and Atar doesn’t like me to indulge, not when I—not when I haven’t earned it. It-it isn’t a problem, I’m just not used to it.” He waited, braced, but Nolofinwë just smiled. He looked more like Fingon when he smiled.

“Thank you for telling me, Nelyafinwë.” Nolofinwë said. “And it isn’t a problem. I will make sure we have options for you.”

“Thank you, sir. It-it really isn’t a problem…I don’t want to bother you. But thank you.”

“It’s no trouble, nephew.” Nolofinwë said. He paused. “Do you dislike me using your father-name? I’ve never heard Fingon use it.”

“Oh.” Maedhros said, panicking internally. “No, sir. I just don’t want to be rude. Most-most people use my mother-name or the Sindarin version, but if you want to call me Nelyafinwë I don’t mind.”

“Findekáno never uses your mother-name either.” Nolofinwë said, tone deceptively light. Maedhros knew better than to assume that the comment was simply casual.

“He finds it wrong.” Maedhros said carefully, because that would keep Finno from getting in trouble. “But most of the Noldor use my mother-name. I do not mind.”  He could feel Caranthir’s stare. It was a lie. He didn’t like his mother-name, but he wasn’t supposed to say that.

“I do not find your father-name rude.” Nolofinwë said. “If you do not. Whatever insult Fëanáro intended, I do not see it in you.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Maedhros said, relieved. Fëanor had warned him not to use his father-name, especially around Nolofinwë. However selfish, Maedhros was just glad Nolofinwë wasn’t using his mother-name.

“I’m asking if you have a preference.” Nolofinwë said. “If you’d rather, I can ask Findekáno.” Maedhros swallowed hard.

“I do not have a preference, sir.” He said. Behind him, Caranthir let out a sharp breath, but didn’t protest. Instead of ignoring him, like everyone else would have, Nolofinwë looked directly at Caranthir.

“Yes?” He asked. Maedhros expected Caranthir to stay quiet, but he’d underestimated his brother’s protective and sometimes impulsive nature.

“I think Findekáno already told you how Maedhros would prefer to be addressed.” Caranthir said. His tone was respectful, but Maedhros still braced for the rebuke.

“Oh?” Nolofinwë asked. Maedhros barely kept himself from cringing. Caranthir had definitely overstepped. Caranthir crept up to Maedhros’ side.

“Findekáno is very kind.” He said carefully. “He always addresses us by our preferred names, especially with Maedhros.” He shifted, too-used to being invisible. “I apologize if I overstepped, my lord.” He added.

“I asked a question and you answered; there is no need for an apology, nephew. You did nothing wrong.” Nolofinwë said. “What would you prefer I called you?” Caranthir glanced at Maedhros, surprised.

“Um…it doesn’t really matter.” He said. “I usually go by Caranthir; you probably won’t even use it that often, but that’s what Ne—that’s what I prefer.” That’s what Nelyo calls me, Maedhros heard, and hoped Nolofinwë wouldn’t be able to guess the unspoken ending of the sentence.

“May I ask why?” Nolofinwë asked. Caranthir dipped his head.

“I am also called Carnistir, but At—everyone calls me that. And Morifinwë is my father-name, but…” He glanced to Maedhros. “Atar does not wish us to use our father-names unless we’ve earned them.” He finished softly. Nolofinwë’s eyes sparked.

“You think you have not earned your father-names?” He asked. Caranthir tensed. Maedhros grabbed his hand, reminding him to keep his cool.

“Dark Finwë?” Caranthir asked. “Sure. I’ve lived up to that. But…have I earned the right to use my father-name? Atar does not think so.”

“And the rest of you?” Nolofinwë asked. He looked angry. Caranthir read him as easily as Maedhros did.

“Except Curvo.” Caranthir said quietly. “Father likes him best. But he goes by Curufin. We usually just use our Sindarin names. Amrod and Amras always use their Sindarin names, because…they’ve only got one mother-name. Not that it matters; Father can’t tell them apart anyways.” Caranthir scoffed. Nolofinwë’s brows shot up.

“What?” Maedhros froze. Fëanor would be furious if he found out.

“N-no, Carnistir.” Maedhros said, stammering slightly in his haste to get the words out. “He can. Of course he can.” Caranthir scowled.

“When you color-coded them.” He snarled. Maedhros glanced anxiously towards Nolofinwë.

“Carnistir, you should go check on Ambarussa.” Maedhros said. Caranthir glowered, but didn’t argue, knowing that it would just get Maedhros in more trouble. Caranthir stalked off and Maedhros turned back to Nolofinwë, bracing himself.

“Fëanor cannot hurt you here, Nelyafinwë.” Nolofinwë said. “I will keep you and your family safe for as long as you wish it.” Maedhros frowned, surprised. How had Nolofinwë known what they were fearing?

“Protecting kinslayers is not a wise political choice.” Maedhros said, praying Nolofinwë would not take offense.

“As I have sworn, I shall protect you.” Nolofinwë said. Maedhros flinched, dropping his head.

“Of-of course, sir. I didn’t mean to imply that you were lying.”

“Peace, Nelyafinwë, it is all right.” Nolofinwë said, placing a hand on Maedhros’ shoulder. “I only meant to assure you. You are family and I will not abandon you.” He hesitated. “I know your father has left you before. I will not do so.” Maedhros winced. He didn’t know what time Nolofinwë was referring to, but his mind flashed immediately to Angband. Morgoth feared Fëanor. If Fëanor had wished, he could have freed Maedhros, or at least tried to. Celegorm had said that Fëanor had not even allowed anyone to search for him.

“I understand that you are expected to reject us.” Maedhros said carefully. “And I thank you for your protection.” Nolofinwë’s gaze flickered across Maedhros’ face, and Maedhros cringed inwardly, knowing that Nolofinwë was looking at the scars. Everyone always stared. Still, he didn’t duck his head. That would just get him in trouble.

“If it had been Findekáno taken…” Nolofinwë said quietly. “I would not have rested until he was returned to me.” Maedhros winced, hearing Nolofinwë’s unspoken condemnation of Fëanor.

“They thought I was dead.” Maedhros protested. “And I—it wasn’t worth it. They would have just been killed. He had more important things—”

“You are his son.” Nolofinwë said firmly.

“I am not like Findekáno.” Maedhros whispered, not able to meet Nolofinwë’s gaze.

“Of course not.” Nolofinwë said. “But that does not mean you are worth any less.”

“I am.” Maedhros insisted.

“Do you think he would have looked for any of the others?” Nolofinwë asked. “Do you?” Maedhros shrunk back.

“No.” He admitted. “Maybe Curufinwë, but…” But Fëanor had no patience for healing, and Curvo would have been abandoned before long. Especially if he’d lost his hand.

“Atar is…not perfect.” Maedhros admitted, very uncomfortable.

“Certainly.” Nolofinwë agreed. “And a very skilled liar. I might not know you, but I trust Findekáno. You are as sons to me, Nelyafinwë, and I will never hurt you.”

Chapter Text

They had been in the city for a little over a week when the summons came. The messenger—clad in a dark cloak pinned with Fëanor’s star—handed the letter to Maedhros and left at once. Maedhros excused himself and retreated to his room. There he stared at the paper. It was sealed closed. Very slowly, he broke the seal and unfolded the paper. It was a short message, not even written in Fëanor’s hand. Come back. It said. Maedhros stared at it for a long moment. This was…bad. He hadn’t expected it so quickly. He’d thought he’d have time to plan.

“Russo?” Fingon peeked in. “Are you okay?”

“I’m…yes. I’m fine.” Maedhros swallowed hard, turning to face his friend.

“I saw Fëanor’s messenger.” Fingon said. “Does he want you back?”

“For once.” Maedhros muttered, then flinched. “Sorry. Yes.”

“Okay. We have to tell my dad.” Fingon said. Maedhros hesitated.

“Do we?” He asked, grimacing. “He—”

“He will protect you.” Fingon promised.

“Yes.” Maedhros said. That much had become clear in the past week, as Nolofinwë stood up to anyone who treated them unfairly. It was odd, to have someone do that much for them.

“But.” Maedhros added. “But F-Father has a large army, and people will get hurt.”

“That’s why we need to talk to Atya.” Fingon said. “We’ll come up with a plan.”

“We can’t go back.” Maedhros breathed, willing Fingon to understand. “We’ll run away first.”

“Yeah, and I’ll help you.” Fingon said. “I would never let him take you again.” He rested his hand over Maedhros’. “So let’s go to Atya and come up with a plan. We need to keep the Peredhil and your brothers safe.” His hand stayed steady on Maedhros’, and Maedhros closed his eyes.

“Okay.” He said.

Fingon pulled him up and brought him to Nolofinwë’s study. Nolofinwë invited them in immediately and shut the door carefully behind them.

“Is something the matter?” Nolofinwë asked. Maedhros swallowed hard and glanced at Fingon.

“Father wants us to return.” He said.

“And you will not be going back.” Nolofinwë agreed. “How much time do we have to prepare?” Maedhros bit his lip.

“He will wait a few days for us, and it will take probably a week for him to travel here if he brings any sizeable host.” Maedhros said. “But he will not wait long.”

“And do you think he will bring an army?” Nolofinwë asked. Maedhros nodded slowly.

“I would not resist him unless I was sure of victory.” He said. “Not with my brothers at stake. That means I either have a hiding place or that I have earned your protection.”

“Then we will have to be prepared to fight.” Nolofinwë said.

“Your men won’t want to defend kinslayers.” Maedhros said quietly. Nolofinwë’s jaw set.

“You are mine.” He said. “I will defend you.”

“I-I would not have them fight unwillingly.” Maedhros said, keeping his head down.

“Nor would I.” Nolofinwë said. “Do you think he could be negotiated with?” Maedhros flinched, wrapping his hand around his wrist.

“I…perhaps. But not for anything you would wish to give up.”

“And will anything cause him to back down?” Nolofinwë continued. Maedhros paused.

“He has not wished to anger you before. Not truly.” He said carefully. “He cannot win against your forces. Many of his followers would turn on him. Especially if…if my brothers and I stand with you.”

“Then we will try a show of force.” Nolofinwë said. “I will ride out to meet him. Your brothers will remain here, where it is safe.”

“Allow me to go with you?” Maedhros asked impulsively. He almost wished he could take the words back as fear curled acidly in his stomach, but he continued. “F-Father will not believe you alone. He will not trust that I am not coming back. That I would dare to stand up to him. He—he will call it a bluff. Unless I am there.” He wasn’t explaining it well, but he knew that he was right. Fëanor would expect Maedhros to come obediently crawling back. Nolofinwë nodded slowly.

“Yes.” He said. “You’re correct. Fëanáro will think I’m bluffing and attack.”

“But if I’m there, he won’t.” Maedhros insisted, swallowing down the acid. Nolofinwë studied him.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Fingon pried Maedhros’ fingers off his wrist and clasped Maedhros’ hand, offering silent support. Maedhros took a steadying breath.

“Yes.” He said. “My father is proud.” I can do this. “He ordered me to put my hand in the fire, and I nearly did it.” Fingon’s fingers tightened on his, and Maedhros had to take several more breaths before he could continue. “I wouldn’t bluff, because he would call it and I would be…he knows I wouldn’t lie.” Maedhros shook his head hard. “I wouldn’t say no unless I was serious.” Nolofinwë nodded.

“Then you shall ride with me.” He agreed.

Nolofinwë’s nobles were not pleased. Maedhros had expected strong resistance, even anger. The nobles did not disappoint.

“You would risk our men for murderers?” One demanded as Nolofinwë didn’t back down.

“I will offer them the choice.” Nolofinwë said evenly. “But I do not think Fëanáro will attack.”

“My soldiers will stand with you.” Fingon’s captain said. “But we are not strong.”

“You cannot sacrifice true elves for them.” The noble scoffed. “They have brought the wrath of the Valar upon them by murdering their kin.”

“They are not the only ones who slew elves at Alqualondë.” Fingon said, his voice soft steel. The noble drew back.

“I meant no offense to you, Prince Findekáno.” He said quickly. “Alqualondë was regrettable, but I was not referring to that.”

“Fingon.” Maedhros murmured, grabbing Fingon’s arm. “Please don’t.” Fingon’s eyes flashed, but he dipped his head.

“Fine.” He said.

“Maedhros, will you tell them our plan?” Nolofinwë asked. Maedhros’ stomach churned, but he nodded.

“Fëanor does not have the strength to fight the king’s armies.” He said. “If he tried, many of his men would desert him. But he doesn’t think King Nolofinwë would ever defend us.”

“Because no one would defend the likes of you.” Someone scoffed.

“If we ride out to meet him, he will back down.” Maedhros continued.

“Why?” One of the nobles asked. “He has proven to be rash before.”

“In his anger he is quick to lash out.” Maedhros said carefully. “But this has provoked him far beyond anger. He will be calculating. He will only attempt this once. If he knows that King Nolofinwë is defending us, he will not come in force again. But we need to show that he is, or he’ll come back even if he’s beaten off.”

“Why can’t we just give the kinslayers up?” A noble demanded again. “They have brought this upon themselves!” Fingon bristled, and Maedhros stepped in quickly.

“Several reasons, my lord.” He said. “Nolofinwë has already declared that he will protect us. My father has undoubtedly heard of this vow. Though he does not expect it to be kept, the removal of such protection would only encourage Fëanor to push his boundaries. However, you have stated before that we are Fëanor’s top generals. You have the choice to use us or send us back to Fëanor. Tactically speaking, it would be unwise to let such an advantage fall back into the enemy’s hands.” It hadn’t calmed Fingon down, but the noble nodded slowly.

“You make sense, kinslayer.” He said. “Though perhaps you estimate your value too highly.” Maedhros gave a bitter smile.

“I do not.” He said. “If you are speaking of my value as a warrior and a commander, as I was.” He knew they didn’t care about him. He was useless as a person. Especially to Nolofinwë’s court. But he was good at fighting.

“Maedhros is a prince of the Noldor, as are his brothers.” Fingon said. His voice was cold as he stepped up to Maedhros’ side. “They are my brothers and they hold my loyalty.” The nobles drew back.

“We will notify the soldiers, my prince.” Fingon’s captain said.

Chapter Text

It took Fëanor less time to arrive than what Maedhros had estimated, but they had plenty of time to prepare. When the scouts reported the gleam of armor on the horizon, Nolofinwë’s army formed outside the city.

“Don’t go.” Amras begged, clinging to Maedhros’ arm as he prepared to mount his horse. “Don’t go back, Nelyo, please.” Maedhros hesitated, then ran a hand through his brother’s red hair.

“I’m not gonna go back.” He promised. “Uncle Nolo will make sure of it.” Amras bit his lip, glancing back at his twin. Amrod was hanging back a step, eyes wide.

“Is he gonna hurt you?” Amrod asked. Maedhros winced. He’d tried to keep the twins from knowing too much, but Fëanor hadn’t been kind to them either.

“Would Fingon really let him?” Maedhros gave a slight smile. “Don’t worry, I will be fine.” Maglor, at his side, nodded much more convincingly.

“Can anyone hurt Nelyo if he doesn’t let them?” Maglor asked. Amrod thought, his nose scrunching up.

“Well…I guess not.” He said. “Except maybe Morgoth.” Maglor winced.

“Well, Atar is not Morgoth.” Maedhros said quickly. “I will be okay, I promise.” Celegorm approached silently.

“Nelyo.” He said. “The king is waiting.” Maedhros’ stomach lurched. His horse suddenly seemed very tall and difficult to get onto.

“I…” He hesitated. “Stay here. Don’t get into trouble. We’ll be back.”  He stepped up into the saddle, swinging his leg over the horse easily. She didn’t move under him, and he rested his hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll be fine, Nelyo.” Curufin said, giving a hesitant smile. Caranthir nodded.

“Go.”

Maedhros nudged his horse and she stepped forwards. He glanced back. Maglor was herding the rest of his brothers inside for breakfast.

“They’ll be fine, Russo.” Fingon said, riding up next to Maedhros. “Did you eat?” Maedhros grimaced.

“I tried.” He said. Fingon’s face softened.

“It’ll be all right. Whatever happens, we won’t let Fëanor take you.”

“I know.” Maedhros said stiffly. Fingon studied him for a long moment, and Maedhros looked away. His stomach was churning. He’d thought he’d be able to handle this, but…facing Fëanor was not easy. He’d never been able to do it well. But. This was for his brothers. He was good at defending his brothers. This was just a little bit different, but he could do it.

They rode forth with Nolofinwë’s army. Fingon had positioned himself on Maedhros’ right while Nolofinwë was on his left. Fëanor’s army stood firm, despite being absolutely dwarfed by Nolofinwë’s forces.

“Nolo, brother!” Fëanor called. “You’ve come to return my sons in person, I see.” His eyes narrowed. Maedhros sucked in a quick breath. Stay calm. You’re fine. It’s fine.

“I have come to tell you to leave my lands.” Nolofinwë said. “You are not welcome here, Fëanáro, and I do not take your threats kindly. Leave my kin in peace.”

“Gladly.” Fëanor said. “But give me my sons. You have no right to keep them.”

“I have every right.” Nolofinwë said. “You lost any right to your children when you hurt them.” Fëanor looked startled, then shook his head with a laugh.

“What stories has Maitimo been telling you?” He asked. “They all have very wild imaginations, but Maitimo is quite a storyteller.”

“Will you accuse me of lying next?” Fingon asked sharply. “I saw you—”

“What did you see?” Fëanor scoffed. “There was nothing to see.”

“You were holding his hand in the fire.” Fingon snarled. Maedhros winced, flexing his hand on the reins. 

“My, such accusations.” Fëanor murmured. “Maitimo, where are your brothers? Have they packed?”

“No.” Maedhros said, mouth dry. “They’re—we’re not going.” Fëanor’s eyebrows rose.

“Oh? You think that you would be welcomed here? After everything you’ve done?” Maedhros shook his head.

“We have been given permission to stay here.”

“Then they are using you.” Fëanor scoffed.

“So?” Maedhros took a shaky breath. “You’ve always used us.”

“And you’ve done well, so I’ve showed you kindness.” Fëanor said. “You think they will do the same? They’ve been bribing you, Maitimo. It’s a lie.” Maedhros looked away, his gaze meeting Fingon’s.

“No.” He said. “They’re not lying.” Even if everyone else was, Fingon was honest. Fingon would never take them into danger like that.

“Maitimo, don’t be so gullible—”

“Fingon doesn’t lie. He’s not like you.” Maedhros snapped his gaze back to Fëanor, fighting the urge to drop his gaze. “I’m not going to change my mind. I won’t go with you, and I won’t let you take my brothers either.”

“Do you really think you can challenge me?” Fëanor scoffed. Maedhros swallowed hard but held Fëanor’s angry gaze.

“I am challenging you.” He said. “Take your people and leave. I’m not bluffing.” Fëanor stared at him for a long moment.

“You want to keep your brothers safe. You think I’m too hard on them.” Fëanor sighed and shook his head. “How about a compromise, then? If you and Curufinwë come with me, I’ll let your other brothers stay with Nolofinwë.”

“No.” Maedhros rasped. “None of us will be going back to you.” Fëanor moved closer, his horse pinning its ears at Maedhros’.

“Maitimo, I’m trying to be courteous but you’re making me angry.”

“I don’t care.” Maedhros lied, wanting very much to flee. “Go away.”

“That’s far enough, Fëanáro.” Nolofinwë said. Fëanor pulled to a stop with an exasperated sigh.

“Very well.” He said. “My final offer, Maitimo. You and your brothers come back immediately and I will not punish any of you. If you delay you will not like the consequences. You know better than to make me fetch you.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Maedhros scoffed. “You never brought me back before, not when Morgoth had me.”

“Carnistir can tell you.” Fëanor shrugged. “He’s run often enough to be familiar with the consequences.” His gaze darkened. “Get back home now or I will find a more permanent consequence for him.” Maedhros froze, fighting the instinct to obey. He blinked past the horribly detailed vision that Feanor's vague threat had conjured up in his mind.

“No.” He said, shaking his head hard.

“You’re never going to touch them again.” Fingon snapped, riding forward. His sword was out, but held loose at his side. “Get thee gone and do not trouble us again.” Fëanor scoffed.

“Should I be scared of you?” He sneered. Fingon flicked his sword up, leveled at Fëanor’s chest.

“You should.” He growled. “Because I have hated you ever since I learned what you did to my brothers. Do not forget that it was I who walked into Thangorodrim and left with his prisoner. Do not forget that I drove back dragons from the land of Hithlum and slew them when they came forth. I have fought in more battle than you and against foes more terrifying than you.” His horse stepped forward and the sword rung against Fëanor’s breastplate. “I should kill you now.” Fingon threatened. Fëanor, shocked, didn’t even move for a weapon.

“You want them that badly, Nolofinwëon?” He scoffed. “Take them. You’ll be begging me to take them back.” His horse backed up a step and then turned. Fingon returned the sword to its sheath.

“Are you okay, Nelyo?” He asked. Maedhros forced a smile.

“Of course.” He said. Fingon gave him a level look.

“Russo.”

“I’m fine.” Maedhros promised. He glanced back at Fëanor, who was retreating in a storm of dust. “I didn’t think he’d leave so easily.”

“He was wearing decorative armor and he didn’t have a sword.” Fingon said. “I don’t think he was expecting a fight. And I would have stabbed him for you.” Maedhros gave a slight smile.

“I know.” He said. “I almost wanted you to.” Fingon laughed.

“Oh, I really wanted to. But Atya would have lectured me for days.” He shook his head. “If he tries to come back again, I will.” He promised. “He won’t hurt you.”

“I know.” Maedhros said. “We won’t let him.”