Exploring Westernesse [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Same Eyes

A/N: A gift. Chapter Thirty, and this ones... well...

Míril stayed quiet as they settled upon lounging rugs surrounding a low table. She regained control of herself, settling against Elrohir. Maglor refused to move from his brother’s side, shadowing him protectively. It made Elladan smile, and as he seemed the only one capable of such a feat in that instant, it stood out. So he quickly hid the smile.

“When you were in the Halls,” Maglor finally started a few minutes later after an intense silence, “did you see anyone else?”

Maedhros stared into the glass of wine that Míriel had retrieved for him. He did not answer right away, instead he merely stayed still, distant. But at last he shook his head. “None of our brothers, no, Káno. A few Weavers visited me, bringing me news.”

“News of what?” Fingon sipped his own glass.

Maedhros raised his eyes at Elladan, Elrohir, and Míril, causing Fingon and Maglor to look at them. Elrohir stared back. “Us?!”

Míriel spoke up from near the door. “I tend to all the grandchildren of Finwë. I have found that speaking of you and your successes against the dark has helped most of them.”

Míril choked on a grape she had been chewing. “All of them?!”

Míriel chuckled and came over to them, joining the group by sitting between Fingon and Elladan to the right side of the table. She nodded, her dark silvery hair bouncing with her movements. “Like it or no, you three are the heroes of this family. Alongside Galadriel, you are the lone survivors.” She frowned then and turned to Maedhros. “You, sir, must take care to not shut yourself away now.”

“What do you mean?” Maglor asked immediately.

Míriel turned to Fingon, and he sighed. “She speaks of Aredhel. You may recall she returned to the living shortly after these three arrived? I spend time with her when possible, but she takes up residence far away, near Lorien. Knowing her beloved Maeglin’s betrayal and without our brothers, she mourns in seclusion.”

“So that is where you disappear to,” Maglor replied quietly. Then he turned to Maedhros. “Fear not, Lady Míriel, we shall watch for this fool.”

Maedhros frowned then and looked at his grandmother. “You say you speak to the others?”

Míriel hesitated. “Yes.”

“How do they fare?” Maedhros looked about ready to break again. “Our brothers? Findo? Turvo? Aro?”

Míriel sighed. “Some better than others. Celegorm and Caranthir have calmed some in the Halls, but Curufin still fights repentence. Amrod mourns for Amras, and Amras for Amrod.” She paused before continuing. “Turgon… he mourns for all he has lost, and longs for family. Argon misses his sister most of all. Finrod has taken to quiet meditation. Angrod, of all the grandchildren, eagerly awaits news and begs me for information on his son. In turn, Orodreth wishes for Finduilas and Gil-Galad.” With a last pause she sighed. “Of all, Aegnor troubles me the most. For he mourns that which cannot ever be recovered.”

“Andreth,” Fingon realized with a sigh.

Míriel confirmed his suspicion with a nod. Then she turned to Míril, Elladan, and Elrohir. “Take heart, young ones. Your heroics have brought comfort to the aching here in Mandos. You have done more than you realize.”

Elrohir frowned. “And yet we too have lost that which we loved, and found little comfort. Where is our balm?”

No one had an answer. Míriel downcast her eyes, while Maedhros, Maglor, and Fingon found their own food fascinating. But Míril decided to take a stand. She herself had found comfort in visiting Maedhros. It had shown her that perhaps Tinneth might someday be saved.