Single Handedly

Title: Single Handedly
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Maedhros/OFC
Time: First Age 346 – Fourth Age
Chapter(s): 5/?
Chapter Summary: “’With all that has happened, it is not far fetched for him to believe there is no good left.’ Maglor looked to her eyes then, revealing in his that all he said was regretfully true. ‘We’ve done terrible things, Kalin.’”
Author: Codi Lyn (a.k.a. i_luv_obiwan91)
Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien and his family are the sole owners of his works including the Silmarillion and his Lord of the Rings series. I’m just inspired by his works and thought of different ways for different things to end as another option. It’s his music; I’m just playing it on a ukulele, not a guitar. ಠ_ಠ


Chapter Five – Let Your Heart Believe It’s True

“Kalin, I can barely open my eyes. I’m tired.” Celebrimbor softly moaned to her in his bed and she fixed herself behind him, his dampened head resting in her lap.
Stroking his hair soothingly she smiled and assured him. “Your Atar gave you medicine to sleep long, dearest. You’ll be just fine.” Though he mumbled, she deciphered his wish to know where Bellsui was. “Your uncle brought her back for you, young one. The mare is safe.”
“Can you thank uncle Maedhros for me?” With a sigh, she promised she would and at last he seemed to drift off with some finality. Cuddling into her lap with his cheek against her belly, he whispered with a sleepy smile on his young face. “I love you, Kalin.”
Brought to welcome tears by his sweet declaration, Mîrluiniel caressed his-- for now, still pudgy-- cheek and whispered back. “I love you, too, my little one.” She sat with him for a long hour alone simply combing dry his hair and stroking his back. At length she rested her head back on the child’s pillows and slipped her eyes shut to enjoy a moment of peace.
Behind her eyes she played out the days’ events and seemed to realize more acutely how disturbed Maedhros was, how self-doubting he was. Recalling little moments over the past week she further saw how almost every moment of pleasure for him, great or small, would end in a bitter thought, something to depress and dishearten him. In everything this stain of turmoil would seep through to taint the clean joy of the moment.
Was this the effect of his capture all those years ago? That he was never to have a moment of pleasure without regret? She could only imagine what kind of tortures and terrible things he’d been through in so long a life filled with war and evil. She, herself, had never experienced a ‘battle’ or seen one elf destroy another. Her life had long been protected from these things and she wondered, with Morgoth and his threat still present, how much longer she would be protected from thus.
With a change of light, Mîrluiniel felt an embracing arm encircle her waist tightly; a right arm, with no hand to hold her at its end. Firmly it seized her and her own arms wrapped about the owner’s neck, pulling closer against him as her lips frantically sought his. He kissed her back in the saddest of passions and she felt her tears making hot paths down her face and onto his. Abruptly she was pulled away from him and she screamed out his name in a sob, only through the fog of tears could she see his armored presence fade into darkness and fire.
Awaking suddenly, Mîrluiniel put a hand to her face and felt the wet of tears smeared upon flushed cheeks. Quite worked up from the dream, she carefully arranged Celebrimbor onto his own pillows from her lap and rose from the bed, leaving a warm kiss to his temple before she removed from the tent. She walked on unsteady feet to the horse paddocks, leaning heavily on the fence. Rúnyadal was the first to notice her approach in the darkness and made his way toward her.
With a smile she let him lick the salty tears from her palm and rested a weary head upon the left forearm she laid on the post. The stallion finished with her palm and nudged her hair before coaxing the hand up to pet him. “You’re such a sweet heart, aren’t you, Rúnya?” She crooned softly to the tall horse and he nickered in response.
Behind her, and without her knowledge, Maedhros was making his way toward the steed to bestow a good rubdown in reward for the day’s behavior. He stopped when Kalin’s voice reached his heightened hearing and made quickly to conceal himself, choosing to avoid the likely awkward scenario that could ensue by adding his presence to the equation. She looked exhausted, and who could blame her for being so after what he’d put her through that day?
Softly, she continued to speak with his horse and he listened intently, mourning the lack of delight her tone usually held. “Ah, Rúnyadal, there is so much I don’t know about your master… so much I want to know about him. He’s lied to himself for so long that I think he truly believes there is no good in him!” The steed nodded his large head as if in confirmation and her laughter, though weak, brought a peaceful smile to Maedhros’ lips before she sighed and went on. “I wish he could see how he works with Celebrimbor on that pony. He’s a perfect teacher: encouraging, descriptive… I’m curious to know if that is like his father or mother, or perhaps his own method of instruction. Even today interacting with Celebrimbor, just assuring him the way he did meant so much to the boy. I wish he would see the good in that.” Maedhros sagged against the tree he hid behind as he listened to the maiden speak unreservedly.
Sinking down to her knees, Mîrluiniel continued to scratch Rúnyadal under his jaw as he poked his head through the wooden bars of fence, draping his neck against her fair brow protectively. “I’m so glad he has you, Rúnya, at the very least. I think you’re one of the only things that makes him truly happy. Randiriel made me feel the same sort of happiness; it was a free happiness. And freedom is what I always had when I rode.” Maedhros heard a frailty in her voice as she spoke of riding, a sadness he wished he could soothe away. “I miss riding… I’m just, I’m just so afraid to fail, Rúnyadal. To learn again what I spent so long to learn and become competent at. To re-learn in so different a way…” Her voice broke and Maedhros instinctively moved as if to go to her, but stilled himself.
Without hearing his movement, she continued. “I know Maedhros only a little, but I’m proud of him for having such determination to do things again, and the strength of will to do them even better. You’re a beautiful thing, the two of you, when your master is high on your back.” Exhaustion tinged her accent more toward Sindarin as she faded from her one-sided communication and Maedhros was again confident in his assessment that she was of no Noldorin line.
It disappointed him slightly, that she did not share his blood, though he would never aloud admit why. For several minutes she said nothing and at length he looked from his tree to see that she had fallen asleep on the ground, Rúnya nipping at her loosened hair. Feeling it safe to do so, the Fëanorian stood and came over to where she now lay resting, his stallion’s ears perking as his attention was drawn from the lass beneath his guard. Familiarly, the elf rubbed the creature’s intelligent ears and knelt down at Kalin’s side where she leaned upon the lower railing of the gate. It was far too chilly for her to be out, and he would not leave her under Rúnyadal’s protection alone, much as he trusted the fine animal.
With care, Maedhros bent down and gathered her gently against him, cradling her into his chest as she turned to nestle naturally against his warmth. He liked the feel of her so close while she knew not who held her or why. It was intrinsically right to have her face burrowed into his neck, her arms and hand pressed to his chest. He breathed deeply and stood, mostly succeeding in ignoring the pain of his freshly sealed gash from that afternoon. She smelled of horses and citrus, and as he inhaled he wondered if kissing her would be as sweet as winter oranges. Jostling himself off that path of thought, he looked quickly ahead to where he was going and made his way into her tent where only one oil lamp shed its light from the courtesy of a servant passing by, as he knew for certain she had not been to her own quarters since just after fast breaking that morn.
Laying her down upon the mattress, he turned her head away from him and knelt at her side to begin re-braiding the long hair, taking a leather tie from his own to tightly fasten it. Her curls were not common among the elves and he wondered at them as a few baby ones twirled around the point of her ear while others kept to her hair line in wispy ringlets of pearly white. He sat admiring her, perhaps too long, but finally felt it growing colder within her canvas room and he thought to pull the blankets up over her shoulders. ‘Surely Celegorm can spare a fur for her during the winter?’ He thought briefly and decided simply to give her the one from his own bed, since he slept very little.
With a last affectionate glance to her sleeping form, Maedhros walked to his temporary chambers with a mission to retrieve for her a fur covering. He groaned when he heard his name being called from behind and turned reluctantly, recognizing the voice’s owner.
“Coming from Kalin’s, are you? Was there some jealousy when my son received more attention from the fair one?” Curufin approached him with a smug grin Maedhros would have liked to slap from his face.
“Be silent.” He ordered, glancing ever so subtly back towards her tent. “Shall I even try to explain the truth to you? Whatever you’re thinking of, there is nothing improper.” With a glare, he sufficiently warned the younger sibling not to utter another word on the matter, and again began to walk off.
His arm being pulled back and Curufin looking to him apologetically halted progress, however, and the eldest son was coerced to listen. “I am sorry, Maedhros. I was actually coming to thank Kalin for my son’s life… but I want to thank you, also. If you had not gone after him he would be lost to me. I don’t know how to be grateful enough.” Maedhros thought to reply that the incident had been his fault in the first place, that his brother should be enraged with him for not paying heed enough to his child to thereby have prevented it; but then he remembered Kalin’s earlier words: ‘I wish he would see this.’
With a sore smile, Maedhros pulled his brother into an embrace and they held one other firmly before pulling back, each with shining eyes. “There’s no need, Curu. Go to your son.” With a pat on the arm, both edhil departed their own ways, both with a pleasantly surprised expression upon similar faces.

Mîrluiniel awoke at dawn’s breaking, as was her custom each day, and smiled for some unknown reason as a smell, familiar yet not often experienced, became clearer to her senses. Opening her eyes greeted her with the ceiling of her tent as always, yet looking down she was surprised to see a large fur, soft and warm to protect against the cold morning, and attached to it the musky smell of leather, horse, along with the pleasing and distinct scent of a male; she could never quite put a better name to it than that. ‘But I’ve never had a fur blanket in my room.’ She sat up and looked upon it for a few minutes, stroking its thick fibers until her memory of the night before came back. ‘I thought it only a dream. Could it have truly happened?’ She remembered essentially falling asleep at Rúnyadal’s hooves and then a moment later being taken up into strong arms. Mîrluiniel smiled at the thought, it had felt good to be held so closely. Although Celebrimbor was never shy to embrace her, she hadn’t been hugged or carried by a matured elf in years. Then she’d felt a gentle twining of her curls that Celeb had let free of binding earlier to his delight, and after that the weight of another blanket on her body.
She put her hand up to the braid and smiled that it was rather tightly bound, a leather thong holding it in place. Besides the obvious fact that it was leather, it smelled much like the fur did. Who had been so kind as to do all this for her? Thinking again harder, she believed she never felt the touch of her guardian’s right hand. ‘No, I surely must have dreamt that detail.’ She said to herself, yet unconsciously stroked the leather binding with even more care.
Rising to bathe and begin her day properly, Mîrluiniel began boiling some water left in the wooden basin to one side of her tent and pulled a dressing screen around it to hide her in the corner. Un-tucking her shirt and unbuttoning it slowly, she pulled it off and then unclasped the high-waist skirt, slipping it down over her hips and long legs. The water warmed enough to satisfy her and she took the flame from it before stepping into the warmth and submerging herself completely for a few moments’ solitude. The soap cloth was smoothed over her bare skin and, delicately, Mîrluiniel traced the terrible scars of her attack, now more than ten years old, though at times feeling as fresh as ten days.
Her left arm from the shoulder down would have periods of numbness when idle or cold, her legs bore claw marks from the mad beasts shredding through her breeches, and parts of her side held deep scarring from jaws sinking powerfully through the muscle there. Shortness of breath after anything very strenuous plagued her by effect of damaged lungs from beatings upon already broken ribs. Remorsefully, the elleth looked over her extended, though stunted, left arm and flexed the hand that remained only in spirit, wincing when an intense cramp gripped the shoulder and bicep. Holding it with her remaining hand, she also studied the scabs formed by herself along the tops of her fingers and knuckles. ‘I should stop my self-abuse.’ She noted mentally and began combing fingers through her long hair. ‘Celebrimbor is getting old enough to notice, and now Maglor has seen that I’ve done so… it is enough.’
Quickly she finished in the tub as it came to grow cooler and ran her citrus-oiled fingers through the sun-white hair once more before letting it to dry. At that moment she heard someone enter the tent and she was thankful all at once for the dressing screen hiding her indecent self from the intruder.
“Kalin?” It was Veassen, and she instantly wondered about Celebrimbor, for this edhel was often charged with the lad’s care when she was unable.
“I’m here, what is it?” She answered and peered from just behind the stand-up, causing the elf-- not much younger than herself-- to avert his gaze and flush in embarrassment.
He stammered. “Ah, Celebrimbor has been asking for you.”
“This early?” He made a shrug and comical expression to match. “Fine. But tell him I have to feed everyone this morn so I shall not long remain at his side.”
Veassen nodded and looked over to her bedding before departing. “Is that a bear fur? When did you ask for that?”
Rolling her eyes and desirous not to speak about the blanket and how it came to be, Mîrluiniel caught him looking at her silhouette through the screen and commanded. “Veassen! Just go and tell Celeb what I have said. Now go.” He grinned and ran off at last, letting her change into a chemise and dress that laced up the front from her waist. Donning an apron, she hastened to Celebrimbor’s tent and strode through the flaps without announcement, thinking mainly that the edhil of the encampment would have growling stomachs by the time she got to them.
When she entered, though, she saw Celebrimbor fast asleep, still, and Maedhros standing over the boy in riding garb and a solemn look. He turned at her sudden entrance and instinctively Mîrluiniel began to back away, apologizing in hushed tones. “Forgive me for intruding, my lord…”
Staying her with an extended right arm, he shook his head. “No, you need not leave. I just wanted to see him before I left.”
She looked up then and questioned hesitantly. “You’re leaving?”
Disappointment was there for him to detect in her voice and he approached her so as not to risk waking the lad with their conversation. “Only to hunt for the day.” Maedhros took the opportunity to look her over subtly and noted her sweet smelling hair pulled into a damp plait off her shoulder, his braid now gone. The scent of horse and leather were gone yet, though he missed them mildly, the sugared citrus that he breathed in now was all but intoxicating.
Glancing idly toward Celebrimbor resting peacefully between his blankets, Mîrluiniel curiously inquired in what she hoped was a tactful way. “In respects for myself, may I ask how you hunt… without another, I mean?”
He smirked and raised an expressive brow toward her before answering vaguely, opening the tent material for them to exit. “I have a certain weapon made for me by a close friend… I should let you go. I bid you good day, my lady.”
He started to turn where she now saw his impressive steed and hound waiting for him, but she stayed him a moment with her hand on his upper arm. “Wait, you go to Nan Elmoth?” He paused before nodding and then noticing the distress bleeding through her normally calm visage. Looking up to his eyes she pressed gently on his arm and forced out a small smile. “Be careful.” The well wish was spoken quietly with meaning and he made the connection relating her fear to that forest. Furrowing his brow, he assured her he would, and then departed from her to mount up and ride away, wondering again at her concern.

It was not much later that Mîrluiniel was tending some meat crisping in her pan when Veassen came by and offered, with a look of teasing knowledge on his smug face. “It would seem my warnings concerning our eldest Fëanorian lord were not needed at all, Kalin. Is he to bring you back a spry buck for your foodstuffs?”
She deflected his hand with her hot scraper as he made to pinch a bite off her cooking and frowned at him with an accusing glare; glad to have stung his young flesh. “Yes, I thank you for alerting me to Celebrimbor’s needs this early morning, Veassen.” He dodged another attack from the angry elleth and laughed until she splashed a little hot oil onto him and he hissed. “It is not funny, Veassen. You’re not to spread false rumors, especially concerning your lord.”
“Oh come now, Kalin, surely you know I jest? Besides, all the rumors I’m starting are complete truth.”
She grabbed him by the shoulder of his tunic, fixing him with an ill-promising scowl. “I will tell you only once, firefly: I have done nothing in lord Maedhros’ presence that I would not do in any elf’s company. I want to hear nothing, true or false, spreading around camp concerning my lord and myself.”
“Not even the innocence of his carrying you asleep to your tent, last eve?” He quipped, unafraid. She just looked at him in shock, not even fully certain of his statement being factual. He waited only a moment before adding. “Lord Curufin was not the only elf to see that little scene in the dark.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously and she discerned that, unfortunately, he was telling the truth. “Lord Curufin is another story. As for you, I had better not hear our names even spoken in the same hour from your miserable mouth or there will be a significantly thinner elf walking about Himlad.” At last her threat seemed to resonate with him and he gulped, nodding his comprehension.
With that, she released her hold and sent him on his way. ‘It was him? And more than one elf beheld us… that’s just wonderful. Perhaps Curufin will respect his brother enough to keep it silent. It would be too much for Maedhros.’ Thinking on it as she dished out savory strips of venison, Mîrluiniel wondered at how he had taken care of her even with his proclamation of having no goodness.
As she gave Veassen two charred pieces of meat, she also wondered if she was being so defensive not only for her lord, but for herself. If Maedhros caught wind that the camp suspected he had feelings for her, not only would he be embarrassed and disrespected, but without a doubt he would avoid, in every way, giving her attentions. On that cold morning, and in that same moment, she realized she truly enjoyed his attention; even desired it. ‘It can’t be more than infatuation, surely. I hardly know him, and he…’ She trailed off even in thought. Maglor had hinted at it, and she had flattered herself on several occasions to believe he did. But did he truly care for her in return?
“Good morning, Kalin.” Maglor’s voice came at her side once she had reached the trough for cleaning dishes and she was forced to put her thoughts away for the moment.
“Good day, my lord. Have you broken your fast?”
“No, and I’m in the hopes that you’ve not, either. If you are willing, I thought you could join me for a bit of a walk and picnic near to your garden?” Mîrluiniel nodded in response to the invitation and his sunny demeanor, smiling as she deposited her dirty pan and thanked another elf for washing them for her.
Taking her arm within his, Maglor continued. “I’ve only some fruit and bread with butter, but I’m hoping you’ll forgive the simplicity since I’d probably have you in a sickbed with Celeb should you dare to consume my cooking.” He indicated to the small basket and cloth he carried in his opposite hand and she laughed loudly.
“I thank you, then, for your thoughtfulness. Bread and fruit are just fine with me, I assure you.” They made their way to the oak tree by her plot where he had met her the day before and sat between its roots to eat and enjoy each other’s company.
Situating her with a slice of apple, Maglor studied her for a moment and inquired. “How does Mîrluiniel fare this day?”
She tilted her head as she swallowed and smiled knowingly before responding, then taking another bite. “How do you see me faring, my lord? If only so that I might keep from drawing a false picture for you to look upon.”
“Ha, at last she concedes to my superior ability in reading emotion! I’d say you’re looking slightly confused, or may it be only thoughtful?”
Sighing, she swallowed again and confirmed. “A little of both, it would seem…”
“Oh?” He asked, sad to see her pleasant expression fall to a furrowed brow and troubled look. “What has he done to confuse my dear Mîrluiniel, this time?”
She cut her eyes to him and smirked, scooting closer to his side and supporting herself on her good hand. “I just found out that it was your eldest brother who carried me to my tent, braided my hair, and lent me a bear skin blanket last night, after finding me asleep with the horses. Answer me this, does not that sound like a good and most chivalrous thing to do?”
He tucked in his chin in a moment of contemplation and nodded, agreeing that it was a kind act to perform.
“And here-- this is what confuses me-- yesterday as I came back with him from gathering Celebrimbor’s pony, he tried to convince me that everything bad that happened was his fault and doing! That had it not been for me, your nephew would now be dead.”
“Well, he was correct to say that it was by your skill Celeb was revived…”
“But Maglor, Maedhros did not break the lad’s leg and toss him into the river! He even reached the boy to his own detriment! I had to persuade him to let me bind a gash just below his chest before we returned.”
The Noldo stopped Kalin then with a hand on hers and looked on her in some shock. “He allowed you to see him with no concealment?”
“Yes… well, he removed only his tunic and jerkin as I asked…” She answered innocently, not immediately understanding his question.
“But you saw his scars?” She nodded that she had and then realized what he meant. “You must understand when I tell you that not even all his brothers have seen his bare flesh since he was tortured and brought back from Thangorodrim. I have been his foremost caretaker whenever he needs it… but he must surely respect and trust you to have allowed this.”
Mîrluiniel chose to keep from him the first time she had seen the scars, that morning after his nightmare, and decided to continue towards her point. “He asked me why I was so kind to him and said that I was ‘too good,’ to which I replied that he was, also. Too kind for his own good. His next words took a moment to come and they are what puzzle me most. He said that good things happen to good people, and he should not be counted among them.” Maglor seemed to understand what his brother had said and closed his eyes with a sigh. She noticed his change in posture and looked at him curiously. “Maglor? What is it? What does that mean?”
He chanced a look at her naturally fair visage, pure blue eyes unable to comprehend that even people she knew to be generous and kind now, have not always been so. “Kalin, what do you know of I and my brothers? Have you been told anything of our history?” He asked her in reluctance, seeming weary-- not of their conversation, but of life in general.
Concerned by what he might have to say, Mîrluiniel sat upright and furrowed her delicate brows, recalling what all had been publicized in Menegroth about Fёanor’s sons and what she had learnt from her sister-in-law who was, herself, of the Noldor. “I know that in Valinor you and your brothers followed your father by taking an oath to retrieve the Silmarilli, gathering many of the Noldor to come to Middle Earth and pursue Morgoth. After Dagor-nuin-Giliath Maedhros was tricked and taken, but when Fingon rescued him he relinquished claim as Finwё’s heir and you are now dispossessed because of it.” She paused. “There is more, I am certain, but I do not know it.”
Maglor seemed to relive some of what she mentioned but remained sullen and calm, looking distantly toward her garden before returning his troubled gaze to her. She had never seen him so depressed and it gave her cause to worry. Sighing, he spoke. “You’re right, there is much more; and I risk losing your beautiful acquaintance and friendship, but you must know the truth… What you did not mention about our father’s oath was that we also swore to make war upon whomever would withhold the jewels from us. Man, Elf, or Vala alike. We also did not just leave Valinor. We needed ships, and asked our brothers of the Alqualondё to give up their well-fashioned swan boats. When they declined to give up their gifts from the Valar, we murdered all who refused us and took them against their will.
“Father, my brothers, and I used them to cross from Losgar, apart from the remainder of our Noldor brethren. Once there, all of us but Maedhros set fire to the ships. This forbade them from following us, and forced them to bear the cold wilderness of the Forbidding Ice. Maedhros regrets our actions perhaps more than all of us combined. But with all that has happened, it is not far fetched for him to believe there is no good left.” Maglor looked to her eyes then, revealing in his that all he said was regretfully true. “We’ve done terrible things, Kalin.” Speechless, she moved to stare at her skirts blankly and tried to reason it all out somehow, but failed.
Maglor shook his head and turned to look away. “This has not gone where I wished it to, and I apologize. In fact, I had suggested this picnic to ask you if you would like to return with us to Himring. I know Maedhros is fond of you, however he chooses to display it, and you of him from what I can tell. But that isn’t the only reason I’m asking you. You’ve been good for my brother, Mîrluiniel. I’ve known him many long years, and since his capture there’s been only very rare moments where he’s not worn some sort of mask to hide his true feelings. It may not seem like it, especially now, but you’ve been very good for him.” He knew it was probably too much to dump upon her poor mind at one time, but then, perhaps it was best to have it all at once and now mull it over. Valar only knew.
She turned to him when he put a warm hand on her upper arm and allowed him to kiss her on the cheek. “Just, take your time. You don’t have to do anything, least of all make a decision this moment. Just think about it… please.” She made a weak nod to let him know she’d heard, and then stood and began walking toward the river.
Realizing she would likely need quite some time to make heads or tails of it all, Maglor only followed her for an hour or so to make sure she would not do anything foolish. When he was confident she was fine physically, he left her to think on everything by the water’s edge.

Hidden perfectly between several rushes, below the heavy needles of a pine, Maedhros lay on his back with his right arm outstretched and supported on a drawn up knee. A crossbow knocked and ready to be shot with his eye along the sight, his fingers were ready at the trigger to catch any approaching prey. Several deer had been grazing in the berry bushes within several feet of him, but as yet only does and late fawns not quite rid of their young spots would come near him. At last their buck arrived with a rack twelve points to count, nibbling here and there until he moved towards Maedhros to eat a patch of greenery, almost giving the elf his perfect shot.
At the moment he was going to pull, Maedhros was accosted with a sudden loss of breath that pained his newly stitched wound and he jerked with a gasp, alarming all the deer to flee as his arrow was sent far into the branches of a distant tree. “Blast.” He muttered between his heaving for air and laid his head on the pine-needled ground under him, pressing a hand to the newly sewn gash below his right breast.
Taking several deep breaths helped to calm the throbbing, but didn’t answer why it happened in the first place. “I haven’t exerted myself in any way strenuous enough to knock the wind from me…” He reasoned out loud and turned on his side before sitting up and resting elbows on knees.

Mîrluiniel sat down finally and leaned elbows on her knees as she panted for air; glad to temporarily have her exhaustion to focus on instead of all that Maglor had told her. Once she had been certain the second eldest brother was gone and ceased his shadowing her, she had gathered her skirts to run as fast as she could down-river, needing solitude and exertion of force to let loose some self-directed frustration. ‘How have I been so stupid? Straight away, I believed them all to be blameless and willingly kept on in my ignorance!’ Inwardly, she blamed herself harshly for not realizing sooner why her King and family held no love for Fёanor’s children.
Tears came out of anger toward herself and then increased when she thought of what they did at Alqualondё, her kin near to Valinor. Elves were not meant to kill one another. It was not what Eru created them for. How hateful and selfish was Fёanor to desire physical gems so much that he would inspire others-- even his own sons-- to murder their kin? Mîrluiniel was in shock. How could she have been so sheltered as to not know these things? She was angry with her father, her brothers, for not telling her anything about the world outside of Doriath, but also at herself for being complacent and never asking questions.
It was a long time before she calmed down, both physically and mentally; but when she did, her memory became clearer and she thought of when she first came to Himlad and her reasons and desire to stay. Her visions of Maedhros certainly meant something, they came too consistently to merely be passing dreams. She had immediately trusted them once they met and truly believed them to be worthy. Had she not gone to Mereth Atherdad? Had she not sworn her own oath-- one of friendship-- to the Noldor? Even Maedhros and Maglor had sworn this same oath! ‘But will they not hold first to their father’s oath if the Silmarilli ever come into another elf’s hands but their own?’ Her cynical mind thought, but she put it aside.
As much as Kalin loved and cared for her family in Doriath, she did not wish to return… not now. If she mentioned anything, truth or lie, they would assume the worst and accuse Maedhros and his brothers of her terrible treatment, starting something that could not end well.
She wanted to be here. She desired to remain with the brothers and trust them, and why could she not? Yes, they’d committed heinous acts, but were they doing so now? Celegorm could have easily left her to die if Maglor was right and they already knew her Sindarin blood, but he had risked much to rescue her and sacrificed much to save her life. Not one of them had personally given her any reason to doubt them, and even Maglor that morning had been brutally honest, to his detriment, by revealing the most gruesome details of their past with her. Not one of them had lied to her.
With some grasp of finality, she lowered herself to the gravel of Celon’s shore and rested her head on her left arm. The maiden’s thoughts drifted to Maedhros and his believing himself only a source of terrible things. Heavily lidded eyes wandered to look across the river and into Nan Elmoth’s forest. ‘It may not seem like it… but you’ve been very good for him.’ Maglor’s admission came up in her mind, and as she faded into sleep with the sun’s earlier decline, Mîrluiniel promised to try her hardest to rub her positive attitude upon him, to help him be happy once more. Her eyes at last fell shut.
Just like before, there was fire. It cracked loudly in her ears and the sound of a collapsing roof assaulted her before the hiss of some water touched it somewhere, an individual’s frenzied attempt to put it out. Her frantic legs took her forward and back, dodging men and horses while everything became blurry and she knew not what her feet were looking for.
Not until Maedhros’ commanding presence filled her vision in a shining hauberk and long sword drawn in his left hand. She fled to him and he turned to catch her in his right arm, holding her tightly and burying his face into her neck as he whispered. ‘Mîr nin.’ Clinging to him still, she turned his face to hers and kissed him for what she feared may be the last time, savoring it as much as she could before strong arms pulled her away. His expression as she was dragged backwards was longing, before a moment changed it into a passionate determination and he left her sight.

Maedhros walked Rúnyadal easily upstream on the Himlad-side of the Celon, a young buck with small antlers tied to the back of the tall horse. Taurvantian trotted gaily ahead with a strip of jerky hanging out of his mouth for reward. The elf’s thoughts drifted as they made their way home with his catch, Kalin’s face and clear smiling eyes making a beautiful image in his mind’s eye. Her voice in its sweet mother-like tone when she talked to his nephew, or her caring and skilled touch when she bandaged his gash, even soothing him after that terrible dream…
“No! Maedhros, please Maedhros!” He was startled out of his reverie by what he at first believed to be a waking vision, but was in fact Kalin’s voice calling for him. Looking ahead, he saw his hound already running toward a small white form that lay alone in the dark and cold. Rúnya leapt forward at his signal and Maedhros called for her, praying she was not hurt as he pulled up at her side.
Dismounting in a heartbeat, he skidded to his knees in the loose rock, pulling her struggling and unconscious body toward him while she strained and pushed out of his grasp. “Kalin, Kalin… hush now, I’m right here. You’re safe, I’ve got you.” She seemed to recognize his voice at last and stilled suddenly, her eyes opening with a gasp while her hand still clung desperately to the collar of his garb. Mîrluiniel quite suddenly felt the contrast from the fiery and explosive heat in her dream, to the biting cold air that blew into her from the river. He rested her head against his shoulder now that she was sitting up and wrapped part of his fur-lined cloak about her quivering shoulders.
Her breaths were measured, and by his feeling her flinch when she inhaled, Maedhros wondered if she was injured as he had worried. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” He asked her with a deep voice full of concern.
She shook her head against him, quietly responding. “I’m just, a little out of breath; it’s hurt like this ever since my attack. I’ve just gotten used to it.” He knit his dark red brows, not liking references to her ‘attack,’ and even less so when they had to do with any continued pain on her part. “I’m sorry if I hit you… I didn’t mean it.” She apologized and snuggled a little more into his welcome warmth, not sure how long he would allow her to remain in such a position. It was an instinctive embrace she greatly appreciated, accepting the comfort he unknowingly lent through such an act.
“That matters little, you may hit me all you like.” He assured her calmly and Kalin chanced a look up at him, ascertaining whether or not he was being self-depreciating in the remark. He looked down to her also and smiled attractively, his expression for once relaxed, something that caused her to smile in response.
“You don’t mean that.”
With a chuckle he shrugged like he was still debating, turning his eyes away to the river flowing before them that provided no accommodation from its frigid winter current. “Perhaps it was in jest, but I would not lie to you. You may surely beat me all you like.” He glanced at her and then looked back to the river with a sigh. “I wasn’t always so disagreeable as I am now…” He was remorseful for his more innocent years in Valinor, knowing he’d never truly been happy for himself since those days early in his life. He’d been glad for many people; such as the birth of his brother’s son, Aredhel’s joy for the gelding he’d gifted for her birthing day… But his own happiness he’d not attained in many a century.
“You can be most agreeable, my lord, when your thoughts are not drawn inward. I don’t think you realize it when you are, but others know it.” She pointed out and tucked her stunted arm in the fold of her other to keep the appendage warm and prevent numbing. “At the High King’s feast, I saw you were very polite and agreeable with those whom you conversed.”
He puffed a cloud of fog with his chuckle in the chill air and glanced at her again. “Amusing, how I saw you but once during the entire course of festival, yet you espied me enough to make that comment.” He paused in recollection. “Dare I ask if you were even supposed to attend?” Mîrluiniel could only hold his piercing gaze for an instant before turning away in some shame. He shifted so as to see more of her fair face, cheeks a frosty pink for the cold autumn’s night. “You’re the same now as you were then; careful with your words, and as skittish as a deer when it comes to inquiring after your person… Why do you wish to remain here, Kalin?” Each word in Maedhros’ question was very soft, as if raising his voice would frighten her away.
Racing through her thoughts to find a suitable reply, Mîrluiniel’s eyes darted from the ruffled fur of his wind and weather-blown cloak, to the rapids and swells of the Celon’s water before them, searching for some explanation yet coming at last to the only truth she had. Maedhros blinked when her gem-like eyes gleamed up at him, catching both the river’s reflection and the harvest moon’s bright light in those crystalline blue irises.
“I’ve no answer for you, Maedhros. Something here gives me peace and freedom, but I have yet to find what it is.”
He looked at her and tried to see what she was keeping from him, but could not. Her words were the truth, if not every part of it. Its honesty did not satisfy him completely, however, but he smirked softly when he realized it was hopeless. “I believe you, though I do not understand how that can be.”
She laughed to herself, emitting more fog between them as she put forth. “Believe me, had I any notion, it would been known to you.”
“Would it?” He questioned with a splinter of doubt that startled her before she remembered that he had every right to doubt her. She desired his trust, yet she openly kept significant truths hidden away.
Mîrluiniel so desperately wished to be completely open and honest with him, with everyone, but if she revealed where she was from and the specific people with whom she shared blood, he would do the honorable duties of returning her back to them. That was not at all what she wanted. “In this, it would.” She at length granted him answer and the appreciation in his eyes was truly sweet and good. She was certain if he peeked from behind his mask, as he was doing now with her, it would do him far greater good than whatever her presence could lend, as Maglor believed.
Maedhros contemplated her rosy face and lips that held so many secrets until those lips began to tremble lightly. Not having thought that she was surely freezing cold for the abundant warmth within himself, he held her arms and helped her to stand as he did so, also, unclasping his heat-retaining cloak to fasten about her neck. A small smile appeared when her hand assisted his to fasten it. “Forgive my keeping you in this cold. Come, I’ll return you to my brother’s camp.” He apologized and led her to Rúnyadal, who waited patiently for his master and the elven lady.
Kalin stopped as he adjusted his buck on the stallion’s hindquarters and grew nervous once she understood that it was far enough, they would be riding back. Much as she trusted Rúnya and Maedhros as horse and rider, she wasn’t sure if she trusted herself.
The Noldorin prince readied things securely upon his mount’s back, but only realized what was not ready when he turned to the maiden standing off with her arm anxiously cradled in the other. Looping Rúnya’s reins over his own missing hand, he walked calmly toward her with the large animal in tow and took her hand in his with reassurance. The action brought her eyes to his, an understanding welcoming her there. “You’ve not been on a horse since your attack?” He asked quite tenderly, surprising even himself at the ease with which he related to the incident that caused so much grief not very long ago. He had for some time recognized these mixed emotions of longing, and fear, that reflected in her eyes every time she watched him ride, that of one who hasn’t gotten back into the saddle after a fall.
She shook her head quietly and looked as Rúnya’s nostrils flared at his master’s clothing. With a deep breath she answered. “I confess I have not.” Maedhros nodded and squeezed her hand on impulse before bringing his stallion forward and placing her hand on his head, keeping contact with her, still. Mîrluiniel stroked the beautiful animal’s face for a few moments and at last a smile broke through, easing her into the natural inclination she already felt for the great steed.
“What are you afraid of, when you think to start again?” The tall elf subtly inquired further and watched her averted eyes carefully for any surges of panic or uneasiness. As yet, there were none.
“There’s just so much to relearn… It seems impossible.” He felt he understood that she was not talking simply of riding, but of every thing one must deal with because of loss of limb.
Nodding in complete empathy, he knew that even after so long that he still struggled with tying an intricate knot or buckling a stiff harness. He could never be the same as he was before, and it ever left him in a depression to dwell on it. Yet he chose not to focus on himself this night, nor before this elleth; gaining her attention by again touching her soft fingers with his calloused digits. “Then we must begin slowly. Tonight you need not even direct the horse.”
Her expression held uncertainty once again and his eyes became serious enough to let her know he spoke the truth. “Do you trust me still as you claimed that first night?” Maedhros studied her closely in her silence and beheld the answer she wished to give him, struggling to make it beyond her lips. Had something changed, or was it the circumstances of this particular scenario to make her question what she had so faithfully uttered upon tending him? Did he desire her trust, now? An individual relationship with the maiden he’d vowed to protect by removing from? Yes, he desired thus. He found in this moment he desired it more than his own breath.
“Maedhros, I…” She closed her beautiful eyes to gather her thoughts, as he grew concerned for her answer. Opening them, she smiled contentedly, as if grateful for her own reply, and spoke. “I have always trusted you, my lord.”
A small sigh escaped him that would have gone unnoticed had not the little blow of steam escaped his lips. He smiled warmly. “Then trust me, my lady.” Maedhros brought her to the noble creature’s side and supported her leg as she put her arms on Rúnya’s mane and back, taking a breath before pushing off the leg that he held and swinging her other over the steed’s high back to take her seat. Her lord’s hand remained gratefully upon her leg to steady her as she found her center of gravity.
He grinned up at her and she smiled, a little less than calmly, back at him. Gathering the reins in his hand, Maedhros pulled himself up gracefully behind her and wrapped his arms around Kalin’s waist to guide the horse in the right direction. “Are you comfortable?” He asked next to her ear as they trotted easily along the river’s edge. Not trusting her voice so close to him, she nodded in affirmative and allowed herself to relax against his strong posture.
As Kalin’s figure slackened against him, the high elf let his arms wrap about her more naturally and became quite comfortable, himself. The rhythms of Rúnyadal’s gait relaxed Mîrluiniel while the muscles below and behind her were enough to make her feel completely protected. In relative silence, they passed outside of an hour until Maedhros chose to slow to a walk just so it wouldn’t jostle his new passenger-- if not also to lengthen the amount of time he could hold her thus. Sensing she was still awake, curiosity claimed the better of him and he asked, his deep voice vibrating from his chest through to hers. “How is it you came to be all the way out here on your own, Kalin?”
“Oh, I… needed to be alone for a while. This morning I just started running, and stopped when I ran out of breath. I needed to think.”
“I completely understand you. There’s many times when I’ll just take Rúnyadal and go, nowhere in particular, just go. And as fast as I can.”
She laughed softly to herself at a thought. “Maglor said the reason he is so skilled a musician is that every time your brothers became too much of an annoyance, he would go and practice.”
Maedhros laughed at the memory and added his own. “Aye, that is surely true. When they would begin trying my patience, I went to the sparring field with my sword. Much of my reputation is due to the long hours I spent on that field.” Mîrluiniel thought of his repute as a warrior and briefly wished she could see his grace with a blade, until an image of him cutting down a fellow elf flashed behind her eyes and she hoped she never had to see such a thing as that come to reality.
After she thought the mental picture was diminished, another one of Maedhros standing blade in hand with fire and darkness at his back struck viciously to attack her mind. The suddenness of it caused her to jolt abruptly and Maedhros halted his steed to look at her with concern; her eyes shut tightly, back rigid, and hand clenched. His hand held her by the waist and he saw tears forming even through her closed lashes. “Kalin? Kalin, what is it?”
She shook her head stiffly while trembling with something more than cold, vehement in her desire not to explain that her vision filled with him. “I… just a chill. It was a sudden chill, nothing more.” Mîrluiniel turned away from his perceptive green eyes and ended turning further into his strong arms.
He set his jaw, knowing her excuse to be false, and pressed her, if only out of concern. “I am not fooled. Tell me what is wrong, Kalin. I promise I will do nothing to you aside from try and help, of course.” Rúnyadal made a side step for the distribution of weight on his back and the elf maiden pressed back against the prince in reflex, allowing him to settle both her and the horse.
“My lord, it was the thought of a terrible dream that I have longed to be rid of for some time. I wish not to speak of it… please.” She briefly explained to him and beseeched that he not inquire further than he already had. Somewhat perturbed by this similarity to his own unconscious grievances, Maedhros found himself unable to volunteer the comforting word she needed. Not certain as to what his silence meant, she kept reasonably still through her shivering until he took up the reins again and nudged Rúnyadal into motion.
The bright autumn moon guided them into a trot the last few miles before camp and Kalin quietly accepted the warmth he lent her, closing her eyes against the icy breeze coming off the river. They walked, then, between tents toward her dwelling and gently, almost too quiet for Maedhros to hear over the distant river’s song, she asked that he take her to Celebrimbor instead and he turned accordingly to grant the request.
Dismounting first, Maedhros caught her by the waist as she slid off behind him and gave her a small smile when he saw her expression had eased considerably, the fear finally gone from those jeweled eyes. “Sleep well, my lady.” He murmured to her, conscientious of the light blown out in his nephew’s tent. Mîrluiniel was grateful for his chivalry toward her and told him as much; giving him a peaceful smile once he mounted up again into the high saddle.
He turned back to her and fog blew from his mouth with a gentle sigh. “Good eve, Kalin.” He bowed his head to her respectfully and turned Rúnya away to trot off through camp.
“Good night, Maedhros.” She watched him ride into the night before ducking under the nearby canvas flap to check on her lord’s son. Mîrluiniel was happy to see the child asleep peacefully and sat at his head to braid the shoulder-length blonde hair that had been tangled from being bed-ridden all day. Singing softly to take her mind from things, she finished the braid and kissed the young lad’s temple before leaving the dwelling and starting towards her own.
“Kalin!” She was called to by Celegorm who had turned away from approaching his nephew’s tent and was now making his was to her. “I have not seen you this long day, not once! Where have you been busying yourself?”
She smiled at the sight of him but not at his question and replied apologetically. “Forgive my absence if I was asked for, I needed time to think over some things and I am well now.”
He nodded understandingly and inquired. “Have you eaten aught? I’m to take a small meal now, would you join me?”
Grinning to herself, she shook her head politely. “No, but I thank you. I’m to retire just now.”
“Well, in that case may I ask if you have thought of what my brother proposed to you this morning? I told him of my idea for you to journey with them not long after they arrived, themselves. He only just told me that he had presented the offer to you.”
Surprised that it had been him to think of the idea, Kalin adjusted quickly and relented that she was happy this was not so secretive a subject. Though she was certain Maedhros did not know of it, or at least not the thought behind the plan. “I have thought on it, long and diligently; and though I have no answer for you now, I am thinking of it positively.” He smiled brightly at her reply and she mirrored his expression before curtseying and bidding him good eve.