Sons of Destiny [CURRENTLY EDITING AND REWRITING]

Touché

Time passed swiftly in Hithlum. Before Maglor and Maedhros realized, five years had gone by, and the children were nine. Gone were the curious little toddlers who spent their days shyly exploring the palace; now they boldly spoke to the servants like the entitled sons they were. Unfortunately, the attendants longed for the day when they could tell those halfbreeds where they really belonged. Meanwhile, Elros and Elrond enjoyed rubbing up to their father and bribing their uncle.

Spring came late in the boys' ninth year; when it did come, the days were grey and humid. Everything in nature seemed bored. Birds hardly chirped, squirrels stayed hidden, and the grass was a dull emerald green. On the palace grounds, no one could work, train or even take leisure outside, not while it constantly threaded to rain.

No one could have been more bored than Maedhros, who would rather stay in green open spaces than in his own room. On one of those perpetually grey mornings, the redhead knocked on his brother's door. "Kano? May I have a word?" His voice sounded weary and listless, despite it still being early.

"Sure. Just come in; the door's unlocked," Maglor droned.

Maedhros pushed the door open with what remained of his right arm. Inside, Maglor sat at his desk, absently copying something from a book to a parchment before him.

"Lessons?" Maedhros asked, leaning over his brother's shoulder.

"Yes. Mainly poetry. The Lay of Luthien, ironically enough for us," Maglor droned.

"The boys are in the washroom, if you must know. I can hear them making a literal storm down there," Maedhros commented.

"Oh, let them have some semblance of fun before their lessons. They have nothing else to do."

"I wanted to talk to you about that same nothing-to-do-ness," Maedhros walked over to the wall and leaned against it.

Maglor looked up at his brother. His brow suddenly furrowed. "Oh no you don't, Neylafinwë Maitimo, I know that look. You are not going sparring in the back meadow.
Fog's made it a marsh!"

"Oh yes I do. Last I checked, I am the eldest. You've kept me cooped up long enough," Maedhros growled.

"I know you haven't had good history with closed spaces, but just tolerate it until summer comes 'round," Maglor sighed.

"That's months away!" Maedhros slammed his fist on the table. "I've been hunting before, and this is my land. I'm not going to randomly drown or get lost, contrary to your overprotective belief!"

"You're my brother," Maglor tried to be calm, "and I know you won't get lost, but the boys have always liked following you outside. That I will not risk."

"Fine. I shall return by noon," Maedhros hissed adamantly.

"Oh brother!" Maglor groaned, turning back to his papers.

Maedhros purposefully swung by the washroom. It had somehow fallen eerily silent. "Boys!?" he shouted.

"Having breakfast!" Elrond's voice cried downstairs.

Maedhros nodded to himself and ascended to his room on the palace's final floor. In his room above his desk hung a beautiful gilt sword with a heavy pommel and slightly curved blade—an immaculate elven rapier.

"Thanks, Curvo," he sighed as he took down the blade.

He silently made his way back downstairs, hoping the twins wouldn't notice him pass by. As he approached the kitchen, he found them quietly eating with nothing to say to each other, which for Elros and Elrond was alarmingly rare.