#maedhros :: threads :: every word a defiance

[lightofthetrees]

{ starter for @spiritofgrowth }

In his youth, Maedhros had travelled these roads many times, but it seemed that they had changed in the past few millennia. New branching paths, new houses, new gardens and copses of trees...he was forced to the embarrassing conclusion that he’d gotten himself lost. Perhaps he should have asked Fingon to accompany him after all.  Maedhros continued down the country road as it wound through the hills outside of Tirion and hoped he would pass by someone soon so he could ask for directions to his mother’s home. 

If it wasn’t for his tall frame and bright red hair, Maedhros would hardly look the part of one of the princes of the Noldor. He was dressed in plain traveling clothes - clothes that Finno had had made for him and brought to him when he was released from the Halls - but the fabrics were not the rich silks, satins, or velvet of courtly robes. Instead, he wore a blue linen tunic (with delicate embroidery around the collar in silver thread), a pair of fine-spun grey wool trousers, and some still-new leather boots.

Just when he wondered if he should turn around and head back to Tirion in shame (Finno would surely find all this hilarious), Maedhros caught sight of a house with a garden around a turn in the road, and it looked like someone was working among the plants there. 

“Greetings!” he called as he drew closer. “I apologize for interrupting your work, but could you direct me to the home of Lady Nerdanel?” 

[lightofthetrees]

{ continued from here for @thefatedfinwe }

That was the worst part, wasn’t it? That Findekano would compliment him, tell him how lovely the gold ribbon looked woven into his bright red hair. Maitimo had to admit he would bask in the light of a compliment like that from the one he so admired. But there would be a sparkle of mischief in Finno’s eyes, the question of how exactly Maitimo had obtained the ribbon, and then there would have to be an explanation. “If he asks me, I won’t tell him it was me who stole it,” Maitimo said, begrudgingly sitting down on the floor and allowing Telvo to braid the ribbon into his hair. “I don’t have to tell him it was you, either. I could just blame Ambarussa - and he’d probably laugh.”

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(@fourthsonoffeanor for Maedhros) "I'm sorry Nelyo, I did something terrible."

“Something terrible?” Maedhros asked, eyebrows raised in concern. He suspected that things were likely not as dire as Moryo thought, but he was always willing to offer a listening ear and what counsel he could.

He shuffled some stray books and papers off of the chair across from his desk. “What happened, Moryo?” His tone was gentle, not accusatory - he wanted to invite Moryo to speak his mind without fear of judgment.

@fourthsonoffeanor

[lightofthetrees]

Carnya had been having a trying day, he had a dream that his uncle Maedhros, the elf that raised him after his birth father passed away would be re-embodied soon. He had requested that Elrond go in his stead to meet the Feanorian with Fingon, things at court were too delicate for him to leave for long periods of time.

The noldor he led in the return to Aman had settled well, and now king in valinor he was attempting to keep a careful balance of change without ruffling too many feathers. It was far too archaic here; there were no public libraries for the common folk to access and little opportunities for them to learn, as well as a gross lack of parks with activities for children and so many other things that needed correcting.

In the town he had built and ruled as lord before Arafinwë felt it prudent to pass on the crown to him, and had been able to bring those vital things to the people there. The common folk flocked there in thousands, both his own and people that had spent their lives in valinor.

Those in power had started to become concerned, and uncomfortable with this shift in power. It didn't matter in the end, he would wear those stagnated fucks down and get some sorely needed progress that wasn't purely technological to Aman.

"Leave before I have you placed into a catapult and fired off to Top Eressa!" Carnya bellowed, finally loosing his patience with the absolute bore of a lord that wouldn't stop complaining about his newly reborn uncle. "And if you ever speak so poorly of my family again I'll cut off your hair and make it into shoes for cows!"

The lord in question cowered slightly with wide eyes, and eagerly ran from the audience chamber, passing Maedhros and Fingon with a white face and billowing clothes. "Begging your pardon your majesty!"

Carnya breathed heavily through his nose, urging himself to calm down. He didn't want his adopted atyas to see him in such a rage.

Rather than wait for a servant to open the doors and announce his guests, he rushed to the door in a flutter of scarlet and gold robes and they slammed open. He barely even paid attention to how Maedhros looked, instead taking in how much healthier the older redhead's fëar felt, less strained and flickering with more positive emotions.

"Atya!" He whispered, at a loss for words. Within moments his arms were wrapped around Maedhros's neck and his legs coiled around the older elf's waist, he had jumped onto his adopted atya like he had as an elfling. "You're back! You're back!"

Carnya sobbed, happy and relieved to have one of the last remaining members of his family back. "I missed you."

(This is so perfect thank you! He is very impatient to see his adopted dad again! He really missed Maedhros. I headcanon that like in pre-1700s that schooling, libraries and education were saved for wealthy families and I'm introducing the concept here)

( @erusavetheelves I made a new post for this thread since the one with my answered ask would soon become super long if we kept reblogging it )  As the door to the audience chamber opened, Maedhros stood, and Fingon stood with him, moving the hand that had been on Maedhros’ shoulder to the small of his back in a gesture of support.  Both were taken aback at the sight of the elf lord leaving the room in such a state, but having known him as an intolerable critic of just about everything and everyone since the Years of the Trees, they exchanged conspiratorial smiles at the sight of him fleeing so. Neither of them had seen a noble of the Tirion court so thoroughly chastised since Finwe’s day.  And then, Carnya had thrown his arms around Maedhros so quickly that the reembodied elf nearly stumbled and fell. (Fingon hovered nearby to make sure that didn’t happen, of course.)  “Carnya,” Maedhros said, and returned his nephew’s embrace. He tried to find words to express his joy at seeing Carnya alive, of seeing him here in Valinor, of how much he regretted not being there for so much of Carnya’s life - but instead of saying anything further, he found that his eyes had begun to cry without his conscious knowledge. This new body wept much more readily than the old one had.  “I...I missed you, too,” he said after a few moments, tears still streaming down his face. “Please, forgive me.”

[lightofthetrees]

“☽” (tarot card starter) Maedhros and Carnya?

7. Lovers (Love, union, relationships, values alignment, choices)

“The guards looked at me like I’m going to raze this place to the ground,” Maedhros muttered to Fingon as they waited in the anteroom outside the High King’s official audience chamber. The building was much the same as he remembered it from his youth, grand and stately. Its ornate stonework was adorned with the finest tapestries—a few even made by the hand of Miriel Therinde herself—and its large windows afforded breathtaking views of the city of Tirion and the surrounding mountains.

“Your family does have a certain…reputation,” Fingon replied with a smirk.

“You aren’t wrong,” Maedhros conceded. “But you’d think they’d be a bit less suspicious of me considering who is king.”

“Your father would be proud that his descendants have finally wrested the crown from Arafinwe.”

Maedhros gave a short laugh and shook his head. “I suppose he would. I’m sure he looks forward to meeting Carnya, when the Doomsayer finally releases him.” His grey eyes turned ever so slightly wistful. “It shouldn’t be too long now. He was…healing, when we spoke in the Halls.” Their conversations were shrouded in a veil of misty memory, but Maedhros remembered that his father’s pain had eased, ever so slightly, towards the end of his fea’s own lengthy stay in the realm of the dead.

“Are you nervous?” Fingon asked. “To see him after all this time?”

“No,” Maedhros replied. “And yes. I wonder if he will even recognize me.” Maedhros’ new body had only faint white lines where his numerous scars had once been, and he had been given a new right hand (though it was weak, so he still favored his left). His bright red hair was long and lustrous again, shining russet and amber under the light of the sun. His voice was softer, closer to the gentle tone it had held when last he’d walked the halls of the palace in Tirion.

“He will,” Fingon said, his smile bright as ever, as he laid a reassuring hand on Maedhros’ shoulder.

“How do you know?”

“I recognized you, didn’t I?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“You think the child you raised as your son would not?”

Maedhros gave a grunt of surrender and turned his eyes towards the audience chamber’s door. ( for @erusavetheelves - I figured that the random generator giving me “the lovers” was a sign that I had to bring in Mae and Finno together lol - so have some recently reembodied Maedhros in the King Carnya verse!)

[lightofthetrees]

☽ (how about for Maedhros from @ArawynnGoldwing)

17. TOWER (Disaster, upheaval, sudden change, revelation)

Maedhros was staring into the dying embers of the campfire when he heard the lookout’s cry. The scream was sharp and loud, but more disturbingly, it was silenced quickly, like a candle flame suddenly snuffed.  

In but a moment, Maedhros was on his feet, blade in hand, keen eyes searching for whatever enemy had brought down the sentry. Two of the elf lord’s companions stirred from their sleep and scrambled to prepare themselves for a fight, while the one who had been on watch on the other side of their camp sprinted towards the fire.

It was then that a shape roughly the size of an elf landed in the clearing before them. It roughly resembled a gigantic bat, its leathery black wings folding in towards its body as its clawed feet hit the ground. Its eyes glimmered black in the half-light of the moon, and behind them lurked an intelligence and malice that made Maedhros’ blood run cold. He had seen eyes like that before, long ago. When it opened its mouth to hiss at the small party of elves assembling around it, it revealed razor-sharp teeth that dripped with the lookout’s blood.

Maedhros had been expecting orc patrols—this close to the desolate plains of Lothlann, it would not have been surprising to run into a of foot-soldiers, or perhaps even a few warg riders—but this creature was neither orc nor warg. If not Thuringwethil, servant of Sauron, this was certainly one of her kin.

With the hatred in his silver-grey eyes speaking more strongly than any words could, Maedhros sprang at the creature with a growl, and his companions moved to flank it.

What none of the elves saw was that this bat-creature was only a distraction from the band of orcs rapidly approaching the camp. ( starter for @arawynngoldwing - this can take place pretty much whenever you’d like in the First Age! ) 

[lightofthetrees]

☽

1. Fool (Beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit) This was the fist proper harvest festival since Himring’s construction, and Maedhros had to admit that he felt a certain pride in what those who had followed him to the eastern marches had accomplished. There had been a few raids by bands of Orcs, testing the fortifications and patrols of the region’s furthest hills, but his people - and the majority of their homes, crops, and livestock - had survived the year.  The fortress itself stood strong, surrounded by sturdy and well-guarded walls, and the day was a grey one, but there was a rare joy in the small village that surrounded the keep. Banquet tables had been set out in the central courtyard, and craftsmen, servants, and soldiers all worked together to make sure everything was in place for the evening’s feast, from beer barrels and spits for roasting meat to a small stage for what musicians they had among them. The decorations were modest - mostly garlands of leaves and late summer flowers - but they were enough to make the atmosphere festive. (Then again, any kind of decoration that wasn’t in the stonework itself seemed festive here at Himring.)  It was nowhere near as glorious as the Feast of Reuniting, to be sure, but Maedhros could not help but smile as he walked among his retainers, assisting where he could (and where they would let him - some of them shooed him away, insisting that he simply rest and await the feast). He’d sent invitations to his brothers, but he had not received any responses. He was neither surprised nor insulted. Each of them had their own lands to attend to, after all - their own fortresses to build. Attendance at a simple harvest festival would certainly not be a priority. Still, it seemed strange to celebrate anything without them. When they’d all been together at the camp on the shores of Lake Mithrim, there were days when all he wished for was a few hours of peace and quiet, but right now Maedhros felt the absence of the other Feanorions keenly.  He missed their laughter and their bickering alike. For now, he contented himself with helping some Noldor from outlying farmsteads to hang garlands around the courtyard - he might only have one hand, but he was taller than any of the other elves here by at least a head, so they couldn’t very well turn him away when he offered them his assistance with this particular task. ( for @bloodthativespilt - feel free to respond if you like, and no need to match length since this was a drabble/starter combo prompt! I just felt like rambling. ) 

[lightofthetrees]

{Continued for @reflectingchaos​} 

 like a synchronized dance,  the boys turn on a dime and their identical faces express alarm and a small amount of fear.  they were still getting used to their lives with the Feanorions.  and Maedhros was still the scarier of the two.  Elros tucked himself behind Elrond.  Elrond,  who was evidently used to this,  puffed himself up in front of his brother,  similar to how he’d done when Maglor had located them in the caves.  it wasn’t that Elros was fearful,  but Elrond had just always been the more assertive.

so there he stood,  chin up.  “maglor said we could play in here,”  he states first,  as if he has to defend their presence in the room first and establish that they weren’t sneaking in.  then he looks over at the mess of the vase that he and Elros had accidentally knocked over when they started getting rowdy.  “it was an accident;  we were playing and I pushed him too hard.”  when Elrond had given his brother a playful shove,  the other twin had crashed into the stand that held the fragile object.  “it was my fault,”  Elrond admitted.  that was why Elros hid so much,  it wasn’t his fault,  really.  both children stared up at Maedhros despite their nervousness.  “maybe I can fix it.”

he was optimistic,  hopeful.  Elrond didn’t mind trying to fix where he had err’d.

Maedhros was silent as he approached the vase and knelt down to examine the damage. It was certainly shattered beyond repair, but he could hardly bring himself to care. Perhaps Maglor would, as it was one of his few remaining possessions, but the vase meant little if anything at all to Maedhros.  He was more annoyed that the first dreamless and restful sleep he’d been able to get in days - even if it was slumped over his maps and supply manifests - had been interrupted by the crash of the vase breaking. “I’m not angry with you,” he grumbled, regarding the twins once more. His gaze softened as it fell upon Elros cowering and Elrond jumping to his defense, and he sighed. “You have nothing to fear from me. Are either of you hurt?” 

[lightofthetrees]

❛ you always were an unruly child. i adored that about you. now fly. ❜ ( feanor @ maedthros )

“No,” Nelyafinwe said, meeting his father’s gaze. His silver-grey eyes shone bright with disobedience. Apart from the younger Curufinwe, the eldest of Feanaro’s sons was the only one who would outright challenge him in word or deed. “I will not flee when danger might still lurk in the shadows.”  @reflectingchaos ((A short reply for you - I wasn’t sure when you wanted this to take place. I was thinking either after the Darkening of Valinor or while Feanor & Co. are encountering Melkor’s forces in Beleriand for the first time.))

[lightofthetrees]

(Child Carafind for Mae) Sobbing softly, Carafind stretched onto the tips of his little toes to reach the doorknob and opened the door to his uncle's bedroom. "Uncle Mae-Mae?" He called softly, hiccupping and sniffing as he cried. He didn't want to startle his uncle awake but he was willing to take the risk, he really needed those lovely warm hugs the taller red head gave.

Maedhros blinked awake. He never drifted too far into sleep - in fact, he didn’t sleep nearly as much as he should, and Makalaure was always trying to get him to fix that. His sleep this night had been dreamless, but not terribly restful. Hearing the tears in Carafind’s voice, he rolled over to look towards the door, then sat up, concern evident in his normally stoic, scarred features. “Cara? What troubles you?”

[lightofthetrees]

“There you go, proving my point,” Maedhros rests his head on his brother’s shoulder. “You are kind to even those who are undeserving.”

“   you  deserve  every  good  thing  in  the  world .   ” (from Maedhros)

“Oh, Nelyo... so do you, dear. I could not wish for a better elder brother,”

[lightofthetrees]

{ continued from here for @wanderingsindar } Maedhros closed his eyes, bearing Carafind’s words in silence. “I meant to end my life,” he said at last. “The pain of the Oath, all the grief the Silmarils had wrought, the blood I had shed - they were too much to bear. But my body would not die.” He stepped closer to Carafind, reached out a hand but then withdrew it, uncertain. It wounded him to see Cara so upset, but as much as he wished to draw his nephew into his arms, to comfort him as he had when he was a child, he did not know if Carafind would accept the gesture from one who had left him to suffer and to turn bitter with revenge. “I am sorry...and I know that is not enough.”

[lightofthetrees]

A new friend?

{ for @reflectingchaos }

Today’s events had certainly been unexpected, Maedhros mused as he leaned back in his chair and sipped his tea - chamomile, a part of his normal evening ritual. Today, he had unwittingly stumbled upon a person from a society hitherto completely unknown to the Noldor. Maglor would lose his mind when he heard the news - he would just have to make sure that Drizzt knew enough Sindarin to be able to deal with the barrage of questions that would inevitably come his way.  Maedhros had taken a few hours to clean himself up from his patrol - bathing, changing into fresh clothing, and eating a small meal. This had given him the opportunity to clear his head a bit, and now he was prepared to meet with Drizzt in a manner more befitting of a lord and his guest. In the meantime, Maedhros had entrusted one of his captains (a Sinda and a former Angband prisoner herself, so she could get by in rudimentary Orcish) with seeing that Drizzt was given food, lodgings, the option to bathe, and some time to rest. Hopefully, everything had gone well - Maedhros hadn’t been alerted about any serious problems, so he assumed that no news was good news.  For now, he waited, letting his mind wander to more pleasant realms of thought than it usually did - a spark of inspiration surfaced as he wondered what the best way to teach conversational Sindarin would be, and he let this thought occupy him until he heard a knock at the door and rose to answer it.

[lightofthetrees]

a moment of weakness

 { @theelvenscholar }

“A moment of weakness” meme (accepting)7. Your muse is surrounded by thugs up to no good and mine happens to pass by.

The lead orc was about to hurl another insult at the young elf he and his party had surrounded, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, his head slid from his shoulders. 

Behind him stood a towering figure, face impassive as a statue made of stone save for the gleaming of its pale eyes. After the initial shock, it would become apparent that the figure was an elf, clad in leather armor and the crimson and silver of Himring, with a Feanorion star embossed into his breastplate. His flame-colored hair was tied into a loose plait, though it was to be noted that this elf did not keep his hair as long as most among the nobility. His face was lined with scars, and the edge of one of his ears was cruelly mangled. It was also clear that his right hand was constructed of metal, not flesh. This was the Lord of Himring himself. 

The other orcs gathered about hissed and scattered at the appearance of the fearsome elven lord, and though some of them managed to escape, others were felled by the soldiers standing on either side of the Feanorion.

“Are you hurt?” Maedhros asked, fixing the unnerving intensity of his gaze upon Erestor. 

[lightofthetrees]

“I stand by what I said before. None of my siblings will let fear of you dictate their actions. What you do is your responsibility alone, and you will face consequences if you wrong someone who does not deserve it. That is all.”

Maedhros turned on his heel and strode from the room. He’d known from the beginning he would not be able to truly intimidate Aicarmo, but he felt confident that he’d at least made his warning clear.

“How dare you try to hurt Alafea.” (have a very angry Maedhros)

“This is none of your business. Stay out of it, little prince,”

[lightofthetrees]

@easterlingwanderer​ There were many Edain now in his and his brothers’ service, but the one who had just arrived at Himring was different. He had no name, the captain of Maedhros’ personal guard had told him. Just called himself the Wanderer. But he had a baby with him, no more than a few months old. Maedhros had been puzzled, but he instructed the soldiers to bring the visitor up to his study so that they could speak in private.  He stood now, awaiting the man’s arrival, looking out the window from his study into the courtyard below. Most of the soldiers who would ordinarily be training there were likely inside now, having supper, as the sun dipped below the horizon. Macalaurë would likely be with them - he liked having an audience when he played his harp in the evenings. 

At the sound of someone knocking, he crossed the room in a few long strides and opened the door to the study. 

The Lord of Himring was as austere in appearance as the fortress he ruled. Though not entirely without humor, smiles did not come easily to him. His grey eyes often burned silver with intensity, brighter than ever before, but there was little warmth there. Nowadays he favored conservative clothing (not difficult to do given the cold weather of Beleriand’s northern regions), and the high collar and tight sleeves of his dark green tunic leant him an air of particular severity. His hair was braided back from his face in a more intricate style than usual - this morning, Macalaurë had insisted on attending to it, and Maedhros had humored him. 

“Please, come in,” Maedhros said to the visitor, gesturing towards the inside of the room.