And Maedhros Wept
Mar. 5th, 2017 10:56 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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b2memB2MeM Prompt and Path:Lost trust or betrayal, Red
Format:Short story
Genre:Tragedy
Rating:PG
Warnings:Mention of death
Characters:Maedhros, Feanor, Maglor, Fingon
Pairings:None
Creator’s Notes:Tolkien provided the sandbox, I merely play with the bucket and shovel he left behind. No profit of any kind is made from my fanworks.
Summary:
And Maedhros Wept
“We shall return for you!” Maedhros said, clutching Fingon’s shoulders firmly. “I promise you, the ships will be sent back. We will not abandon you. But I must leave now. Father calls.” He kissed Fingon once on each cheek and turned away, running toward the ship. The gangplank was being pulled into the ship as Maedhros jumped from the dock. Outstretched hands caught him as he jumped, and pulled him aboard over the side rail. He turned for a last glimpse of Fingon, but saw that Fingolfin, who appeared to be upset about Fëanor leaving him behind, had pulled his son away from the dock and was marching him back to the mass of elves on the shore.
“No loss there,” Fëanor said as he glanced toward the crowded shore. He turned away from the view behind them and looked to each side at the fleet of ships holding his own household – guards, craftspeople, servants, smiths of all types, even farmers and herders. These were the elves who looked to him, the ones who worked for him and whose labor supported his endeavors. Even though the host left on the shore was great, easily twice the number of his own household, they would be in Valinor while he and his sons were heading East with all speed to reclaim his Silmarils.
Fëanor climbed atop the rail at the boat’s prow, clinging to a rope, his face in the spray. Maedhros couldn’t swear to it, but thought he saw tears falling down his father’s face, not just drops from the ocean spray. Events had moved so quickly that there hadn’t been time to grieve for his grandfather, Finwë. Maedhros suspected his father was taking this first quiet opportunity to weep and help his heart heal from its grievous loss.
Turing away and leaving his father to his own thoughts, Maedhros turned and walked to the other end of the ship, his fists clenched in anger. Maglor came and stood next to him, gazing back towards Valinor and those they had left behind. “What have we done, brother?” whispered Maedhros. A shiver consumed him as he reviewed the events of the previous few days. “Death hath beget more death, and this oath that we have sworn may well destroy us all.”
“We have a great host assembled on these ships, brother, replied Maglor, attempting to calm his older sibling. "If we can catch Morgoth before he enters his stronghold, we have a chance".
Maedhros turned to face the minstrel, anguish painting his fair features. “Morgoth is Vala, Maglor. A Vala! What possible chance do we, mere elves, have against a being with his power? Yet, because we love our father and have sworn his oath, we must stand against the terror and attempt to defeat the undefeatable because we now have no choice. We have doomed ourselves and all who follow us.”
He turned back to look West once more, the seas dark and the land long faded in the distance. “In a way I hope our Uncle and the others stay in Valinor, returning to their homes. I hope that we do not send the ships back for them. Yes, it would be a betrayal of our word, but this betrayal would let them survive. I'm not so sure we'll have the same grace.”
Maglor shook his head. “They are elves of honor, brother. Our Uncle has his own reasons for wanting to follow our Father, and I can’t fathom them. But I can assure you of this – if they are given any means whatsoever, they will follow us into the East.”
After a swift crossing, the swan ships finally arrived on the shores of Middle Earth and the elves disembarked. “Burn the ships,” Fëanor called out. “Throw torches into them, burn them to ashen spars and let the skeletons sink. Those who follow my half-brother are no friends to us. We need them not!”
“Atar! You promised to send the ships back for them,” Maedhros shouted. “You cannot break your word!”
Fëanor pushed his oldest son aside, thrusting a brand into the fire that had been started on the beachhead. “If you will not aid me, then step aside, Maedhros. I decree that no ship will return for those waiting on the far shore. We will burn the ships in statement to all watching, that they may see our resolve and trust in our oath. It also abandons us here, leaving us with no choice but to succeed in our goal and not return to Valinor until the Silmarils are back in our hands.” He threw his brand into the nearest ship, all of his sons following his example, except one.
Maedhros stood aside, watching the destruction of ships the like of which would never again be seen on the seas of the world. In their destruction lay his promise to Fingon, also a victim of the flames of hatred and mistrust. Standing aside, he watched the ships burn, and Maedhros wept.
Format:Short story
Genre:Tragedy
Rating:PG
Warnings:Mention of death
Characters:Maedhros, Feanor, Maglor, Fingon
Pairings:None
Creator’s Notes:Tolkien provided the sandbox, I merely play with the bucket and shovel he left behind. No profit of any kind is made from my fanworks.
Summary:
And Maedhros Wept
“We shall return for you!” Maedhros said, clutching Fingon’s shoulders firmly. “I promise you, the ships will be sent back. We will not abandon you. But I must leave now. Father calls.” He kissed Fingon once on each cheek and turned away, running toward the ship. The gangplank was being pulled into the ship as Maedhros jumped from the dock. Outstretched hands caught him as he jumped, and pulled him aboard over the side rail. He turned for a last glimpse of Fingon, but saw that Fingolfin, who appeared to be upset about Fëanor leaving him behind, had pulled his son away from the dock and was marching him back to the mass of elves on the shore.
“No loss there,” Fëanor said as he glanced toward the crowded shore. He turned away from the view behind them and looked to each side at the fleet of ships holding his own household – guards, craftspeople, servants, smiths of all types, even farmers and herders. These were the elves who looked to him, the ones who worked for him and whose labor supported his endeavors. Even though the host left on the shore was great, easily twice the number of his own household, they would be in Valinor while he and his sons were heading East with all speed to reclaim his Silmarils.
Fëanor climbed atop the rail at the boat’s prow, clinging to a rope, his face in the spray. Maedhros couldn’t swear to it, but thought he saw tears falling down his father’s face, not just drops from the ocean spray. Events had moved so quickly that there hadn’t been time to grieve for his grandfather, Finwë. Maedhros suspected his father was taking this first quiet opportunity to weep and help his heart heal from its grievous loss.
Turing away and leaving his father to his own thoughts, Maedhros turned and walked to the other end of the ship, his fists clenched in anger. Maglor came and stood next to him, gazing back towards Valinor and those they had left behind. “What have we done, brother?” whispered Maedhros. A shiver consumed him as he reviewed the events of the previous few days. “Death hath beget more death, and this oath that we have sworn may well destroy us all.”
“We have a great host assembled on these ships, brother, replied Maglor, attempting to calm his older sibling. "If we can catch Morgoth before he enters his stronghold, we have a chance".
Maedhros turned to face the minstrel, anguish painting his fair features. “Morgoth is Vala, Maglor. A Vala! What possible chance do we, mere elves, have against a being with his power? Yet, because we love our father and have sworn his oath, we must stand against the terror and attempt to defeat the undefeatable because we now have no choice. We have doomed ourselves and all who follow us.”
He turned back to look West once more, the seas dark and the land long faded in the distance. “In a way I hope our Uncle and the others stay in Valinor, returning to their homes. I hope that we do not send the ships back for them. Yes, it would be a betrayal of our word, but this betrayal would let them survive. I'm not so sure we'll have the same grace.”
Maglor shook his head. “They are elves of honor, brother. Our Uncle has his own reasons for wanting to follow our Father, and I can’t fathom them. But I can assure you of this – if they are given any means whatsoever, they will follow us into the East.”
After a swift crossing, the swan ships finally arrived on the shores of Middle Earth and the elves disembarked. “Burn the ships,” Fëanor called out. “Throw torches into them, burn them to ashen spars and let the skeletons sink. Those who follow my half-brother are no friends to us. We need them not!”
“Atar! You promised to send the ships back for them,” Maedhros shouted. “You cannot break your word!”
Fëanor pushed his oldest son aside, thrusting a brand into the fire that had been started on the beachhead. “If you will not aid me, then step aside, Maedhros. I decree that no ship will return for those waiting on the far shore. We will burn the ships in statement to all watching, that they may see our resolve and trust in our oath. It also abandons us here, leaving us with no choice but to succeed in our goal and not return to Valinor until the Silmarils are back in our hands.” He threw his brand into the nearest ship, all of his sons following his example, except one.
Maedhros stood aside, watching the destruction of ships the like of which would never again be seen on the seas of the world. In their destruction lay his promise to Fingon, also a victim of the flames of hatred and mistrust. Standing aside, he watched the ships burn, and Maedhros wept.
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