Single Handedly

Title: Single Handedly
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Maedhros/OFC
Time: First Age 346 – Fourth Age
Chapter(s): 6/?
Chapter Summary: “I wish her only to be happy… a feat I know she would not lay claim to by becoming my wife.” A soft sigh was heard on the wind and the warmth of his mother’s kiss touched his brow before she spoke once more. ‘Not all jewels need be made of stone, Maitimo. Learn from your father’s mistake and keep your gems always close at hand.’
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 Six – The Light Snow of Winter

“Kalin, please can I go outside today? Atar says it is up to you, please! Please, please?” Celebrimbor begged his adopted naneth from between the covers. Not even his new bed, in his own room adjacent to his father’s could keep him from desiring new surroundings. Mîrluiniel grinned and shook her head, glancing with an amused look to Maglor, who sat on the edge of his nephew’s mattress playing a lute.
Tucking the thirteen year old in with an extra quilt, the lad’s only mother figure clucked her tongue softly and told him. “Celebrimbor, your father left it up to me because he knows I have some sense left! If you have not felt the effects, then let me remind you that it is now snowing heavily upon a few feet of already settled flakes. How would it feel to be a young boy with a broken leg laying out in the snow, doing nothing but shiver?”
Crossing his arms obstinately, he replied. “Natural.” Smirking, she remained steadfast in her decision, to his dismay, and walked past Maglor to pick up a sewing project she’d started up again a day or so earlier. Frowning, Celeb sank down against the pillows to sulk and reached out to pet Huan’s great head as the dog curled lazily across his bed.
Maglor watched Mîrluiniel work at her needle and thread and inquired with a compliment. “You are doing quite well on that, Kalin. How long have you been at it?”
She laughed when she thought of her first beginning the piece and glanced up to him briefly before answering. “I thank you, and I’ve improved greatly since I began it about two years ago, this spring. Curufin can attest to my being dreadful in the beginning, for it was his chore to cut me free from where I’d sewn myself to the blanket.”
He stopped his song to laugh with her until his brother entered from another tent and smilingly added. “Indeed, it was something of a mess-- but nothing done with, or for, our dear Kalin is ever a chore.” Blushing, the elleth returned to the needlework in her lap and watched as the Noldo lord came to cheer his young one. “Ah, my son, feeling some cabin fever are you? Well, I promise if you do what Kalin and I tell you, your leg will be mended before the last snow falls. If you promise not to run or jump on it too much, then you shall play outside e’er winter melts.” Celebrimbor grinned and hugged his atar, promising to do exactly as they said. Curufin winked at Kalin and then stood, making his excuses before leaving to return to his quarters.
It was a very short happy silence before the young elf flopped his arms dramatically and whined. “I’m so bored!” The two remaining adults could not hold in their laughter and even Huan had a twinkle of amusement in his large, expressive eyes.
“Shall I teach you a tune, Celeb?” Maglor offered to the child only to be answered with a scowl and proclamation of ‘hating music.’
“Celebrimbor, son of Curufinwё! Apologize to your Uncle. That was disrespectful and rude.” Maglor was thankful for Kalin’s quick reproach and accepted his nephew’s pitiful apology. “Young sir, you are to rest or keep to yourself until I come for you, do you understand?” Rising from her sewing, she made clear her punishment for the lad and motioned that Maglor should accompany her out from the elfling’s room, depriving him of company for a while. Exiting into the crisp air of a very white day, Kalin pulled her woolen shawl closer and turned to her escort with a sigh. “His mood is by far not the brightest.”
Maglor smiled and shrugged, making it clear he didn’t need an excuse or further apologizing for the matter to be over. “Children need to play, and he has been withdrawn from such. I am not shocked by his behavior.”
They began to walk on a cleared path and she shook her head. “I am. He’s been taught more respect than that, I’ve never known him to be so blatant.”
Maglor laughed then, and she smiled to hear it, but waited for him to enlighten her as to the jest. “My lady, then you surely forget whose family that child belongs to. Fëanor’s line is a stubborn one and his sons each acquired, whether by example or by blood, a hotheaded streak. Mostly these are to be taken in stride, but you did rightly to quell young Celebrimbor’s outburst.” She was grateful for his compliment on her discipline of the lad and he smiled. The notice of her sun-kissed blonde curls reflecting the vibrancy of snow did not escape him, hundreds of tiny flakes nestling to make a kind of natural crown. “Eventually you may come to meet my other three brothers, and it will be evident at times that our father was certainly more lenient when it came to checking the behavior of his younger sons.”
Nodding in comprehension, Mîrluiniel understood completely. Being the youngest of her father’s children, there were many times—including her excursions outside Menegroth’s protection—when she had taken full advantage of her atar’s leniency. “Surely you are not so rash? I’d like to think I know you moderately well, do I not?”
He glanced at her sidelong and smirked. “I certainly acquired much of my mother’s patience… but I would not wish to paint a false portrait of myself. I can become quite a monster when my temper flares.” He joked and made a dramatically ‘serious’ face that elicited her sweet laughter.
Pondering a moment, Kalin looked to her walking partner in whose elbow her arm was linked and inquired. “Was your naneth a very mild elleth?”
Maglor’s expression, she noted, melted to a peaceful smile with softened eyes before he replied about the Noldorin woman who gave him birth. “No. She was a beautifully tended flame that warmed our hearts or, in turn, scathed our bottoms.” He smiled at some pleasant memory and then turned to meet her eyes, at once making some little connection in his personal thought that wasn’t to be shared. He continued, “She yet dwells in Aman. I shall not see her again, as part of my punishment for past made decisions.” Though Mîrluiniel began to apologize for bringing up a painful subject, Maglor silenced her gently with a bittersweet expression. “No, it is good to remember her… I have not done so in far too long a time.”
They shared a look filled with ruth and, at length, she smiled as well. “What does she look like?” Having now his permission to ask further, she chose a general topic and decided to partially satisfy her curiosity on the point of their deeper background.
“The last I saw her-- and I am certain she has not changed-- she had long wavy hair, a lovely red with lighter brown mixed throughout. Flushed cheeks and bright eyes, she was tall, about the height of my youngest brothers. I remember distinctly how graceful and fluid she would be in all her movements, even pouring a glass of miruvor was enthralling to watch.” He blinked and looked down to the maiden on his arm. “And what is your naneth like, Mîrluiniel?” He made himself comfortable calling her by her father-name and asking such a question while they were not so public. Taking a deep breath, she thought of the pieces of detail Galathil would tuck her into bed with, causing her to furrow her brows outwardly. “It goes without saying, you need not tell me…” Concerned that he might have broken upon a tender subject, he began to retract his inquiry but she would not hear of it.
“No, no it’s all right, Maglor. I’m just thinking of what my brothers have told me of her, my Atar never speaks of her. My Naneth died the night I was born. It was deep winter when she and my Atar were far enough away that it was impossible to bring her any nearer to our home before she gave birth. My older brother says she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, that I look much like her.” She shook her head even now at her firstborn kin and his compliment.
“I will agree with your brother on the note of your beauty, though your mother I may not see for some time yet.” Blushing, Kalin smiled down at her fingers fidgeting with her stunted arm and looked away for a moment of longing, for what, Maglor could only assume an image of her naneth. “I am sorry that she could not see the full-grown radiance of her daughter face to face as I’ve been blessed to.” Maglor further complimented her, effecting only in heightening her modesty so that she took a few steps away from him. She moved to the nearest paddock fence where a couple of horses had gathered to receive her attentions. Mîrluiniel took a calming comfort from the thick-coated animals which she pet each in turn, focusing on them instead of the growing amount of affection Maglor laid at her feet. It was difficult not to let those thoughts seep through, however.
Had he not himself been first to mention Maedhros’ attraction to her? Even making that the main focus of suggesting she accompany them to Himring? Much as she had grown exceptionally fond of him, it was always in a friendly manner. One of a confidante, nothing romantic, even if there were ample reasons why she should be attentive to him in this way. ‘I’ve never had a suitor… is this what’s supposed to happen? My case may be even more unique, for I’ve no relative that he might ask permission of. Is he courting me? I don’t want him to…’ Debating her circumstances, she knew with finality that Maglor was not the one she desired.
Whether she admitted it to herself or not, she knew inherently that her fate was woven with that of Maedhros’-- from both her visions, however dreadful at times, and her feelings toward him. Her emotions were not often uncertain or confused around Maedhros. Her fёa was certain, even more than her thoughts could be, with whom she belonged.
The cobalt black horse receiving her rub to its ears successfully hid her from Maglor’s view now that he stood across from her, stroking his dappled bay. They were silent for a period of time, only the sweet nickering of the herd interrupting their frore quiet.
“A fool’s voice is known by his many words… Forgive me, Mîrluiniel, for so cumbrously expressing my feelings with such poor carping. I just…” He paused as she peeked her way to see him around the horse’s face and he met her sheer blue eyes. “Whether it be foolish or wise, it is always truth.” The rest of his statement came out clearer, as if focusing on her focused his thoughts.
Relenting, Mîrluiniel knew she completely trusted his honesty and treasured the declamation, though in like words she could never exactly return his sentiments. “I thank you, Maglor. It is your honesty I will always treasure.” They smiled amicably and continued to pet the noble animals until his steed switched and came to her hand, inhaling new scents and fogging her chilled fingers with its warm breath.
“Dǔri is tired of me, I shall have to make due with another nag for a mount.” Maglor sighed in feigned dejection and elicited a jealous whinny from his mare, who then delivered him a push in the arm with her muzzle. Kalin laughed at such antics from both elf and creature and tucked her hand under her left arm to keep warm.
Noticing her quickly growing too cold, Maglor stepped forward to feel her arm through the shawl and frowned. “Look at the kind of attention I give you, you’re freezing cold. Come, Mîrluiniel, let’s get you to a decent flame. My brother’s have done a superb job of providing warm lodgings for the winter months, canvas is the best insulator!” He jested the last with some sarcasm and a rolling of eyes for her to note with amusement. He brought her into a commons tent with a hole at the center of the roof and a fire in the midst just below it.
Celegorm subtly noticed their entrance from his corner as they entered the dwelling and his older brother escorted the elleth to a spot where flames would give sufficient warmth. “Humor us with a pretty song for a pretty lass, Maglor!” He called to his sibling from across the smoldering logs, no matter that he measured Kalin was not completely comfortable with such attention drawn to her. Gladly, the second-born complied, not one to refuse such a request, and began with a catchy limerick that developed into an upbeat chorus. An edhel in another part of the tent produced a flute and played along to the familiar ditty, lightening the mood of the small assembly gathered.
Celegorm smiled to see his hound come into the area with another hunting dog at his side, the latter’s red-haired owner trailing in behind them both, looking doggish himself with head bowed and shoulders slumped under the snow that had fallen upon them. Kalin, also, watched him walk in with the hounds and an unknown smile alighted on her lips, her eyes brightening to an argent blue in response to his presence. Unloading another faggot onto the fire, Maedhros glanced to his singing brother and brought his gaze to Kalin on the other end of the flames, his eyes softening in the kind of greeting that did not pass unnoticed.
“Dance for us, Kalin!” An elf encouraged her to entertain them further as Maglor’s lyrics ran out but the flute played on. Finally she rose with a glow to her cheeks and the rhythmic clapping from elves present helping her along, even from the two younger sons who laughed and enjoyed the warm sight on a cool day. Backing from the fire and hiking her less flexible outer-skirts with one hand, Mîrluiniel set her left arm at the hip to match the other and began her series of skipping steps, hops, and toe slides, keeping to the lively beat with every agile turn and weave between table and elf. A happy flush colored her face and her laughter filled the tent as merrily as any music could, pleasing more than one set of ears with its delightful sound.
With his eyes, Maedhros followed her every move—around and before him— through the dance that was performed with as much grace as any whole elleth; and in his opinion, far more. A spry edhel jumped in and took her by the waist to dance with her, letting her go at intervals for them to dance about each other before then taking hold of her once more.
Kalin gaily complied with him even as he began to make moves that she was unfamiliar with. But three distinct Noldor silenced their clapping if they had previously been doing so, the grins upon their lips slipping slowly away. “Enow! I beg you, let me rest.” Out of breath in the cold air, even within the tent, Mîrluiniel felt the familiar burn in her lungs and was conscious that at least one other knew why she was forced to take a breather. Moving away, she knelt before Taurvantian at a table that kept her mostly out of direct sight. The maiden slowly pet the eager hound with her left arm while her right hand held to her ribs which seemed to inflame with every inhale.
A large hand touched her shoulder and she turned to see Maedhros looking to her with meaning, asking if she was all right without speaking a word. A breath came easily into her lungs at that moment, and she smiled gratefully to him, nodding that she was indeed better. She noted his countenance seemed satisfied with her silent answer.
Vant turned round and licked one of her warm cheeks, receiving her delighted smile before Maedhros playfully pushed him off, a small grin of his own coming out for her to admire. “Kalin, I…” Maedhros made to speak, but was immediately cut off.
“Kalin!” Veassen called to her rudely from across the room as the flute-player ended his song, causing the Fëanorian to flinch away from her. “Celebrimbor is asking for you…” The edhel continued as he came nearer. “He wishes to apologize for his actions.”
Mîrluiniel turned to him impatiently. “Veassen, go tell the young lord that I said he is to be resting as he was instructed, and that he may ask for mine and lord Maglor’s forgiveness later. Go, please.” The elf was sent away and she quickly turned to Maedhros with an apology. “Forgive the interruption, my lord.”
Shaking his head, he kept his gaze tactfully away from hers and upon his hunting dog. “Never mind. Put it from your thought.” He shrugged away whatever proposition he had and she sighed, cursing Veassen’s ill-timed disruption inwardly for the rarity of Maedhros volunteering speech.
He stood, then, and gave her his hand to assist her in the same act. Her now warm fingers felt more than natural in his grasp even as he warred within himself as to whether or not it was a feeling to be taken with pleasure. “Excuse me, my lady. I have some long neglected scrolls that need attending. I thank you for the earlier performed dance, you greatly out-shone your partner.” He grinned and let go of her very slowly. “I hope to repeat the pleasure of seeing you do so, again.” She blushed charmingly and curtsied to him as he bowed his head and turned to leave the tent.
Striding through the trampled snow between lodgings, Maedhros directed his long gait toward the paddocks and sought his horse among the herd. Rúnyadal’s tall, dark head peered over the other horses’ and found his master waiting by the gate, pushing his way through the cluster of warm animals to perhaps warm his Noldo owner. A nicker was granted him as Maedhros stroked the steed on his expressively dignified face. The stallion’s eyes regarded him in a contemplative way until they seemed to inquire after what was on his mind. The Noldo heaved a long breath and sighed, as if the work he’d done that day had left him forwandered and exhausted. “Ah, Rúnya… why must I so frowardly crave what can never come into my possession?” The horse puffed two outlets of steam onto his fingers and pushed the lone appendage downward, signaling in his own way to continue.
Maedhros chuckled before hopelessly beginning again. “Kalin is innocent and beautiful, generous beyond any I know in Arda. How I wish I could love and honor her, as she deserves, for the rest of my life and have that be enough. My life is already so riddled with error and wrong, the oath would never allow us a peaceful happiness. I cannot provide for her what she deserves; a suitable home, children… however greatly I may wish to. I am prevented from ever loving her above all else.” Rúnyadal nipped a few strand of his master’s long red hair and shocked him out of some melancholy with the small pain.
‘My son, how hopeless your voice sounds, and yet your heart is filled with ardor for this maiden.’ Maedhros turned around suddenly at the sound of his mother’s voice behind him, but found nothing except clean snow and the lone tree beside the paddock. ‘Will you deny yourself this one blessing that every elf should receive? Your intentions are true, so why do you not act, Maitimo?’
Falling snow caressed his cheek in the familiar form of his naneth’s fingers and he closed his eyes at the sensation. “Mother, I would not wish the curse of my oath upon anyone, least of all Kalin. Look what it did to you and father…”
‘You are not your father, Maedhros. And I will always love Fëanor… you know this. It was not your father’s oath, alone, that took him away from me, my son. I do not foresee such a thing happening to my children as it occurred between Fëanor and I.’
“Can you be so certain? Everyone I’ve grown close to comes to some harm. I have to protect her, Naneth, already she’s been through too much for me to grieve her further.” He turned back to his mount who now nodded his large head, possibly in concurrence with the last statement made. “I wish her only to be happy… a feat I know she would not lay claim to by becoming my wife.”
A soft sigh was heard on the wind and the warmth of his mother’s kiss touched his brow before she spoke once more. ‘Not all jewels need be made of stone, Maitimo. Learn from your father’s mistake and keep your gems always close at hand.’
Snow caught on the hair before his eyes and he brushed it away with his right arm, the limb catching his attention and reminding him of the mirror loss upon Kalin’s body. “I cannot allow anymore harm to come to her because of me.” He murmured to himself as he painfully flexed fingers that no longer existed.
“You can’t be sure she won’t come to harm because of your absence, my brother. Nothing is certain.” Maedhros looked up to see Celegorm beginning to curry and brush the thickened hide of his white steed, Lostar.
The elder of the two shook his head and looked back to his missing hand. “Some things are certain.”
Celegorm scoffed and gave him the ‘eye’ from where he prepared his horse for a ride. “Whatever doom you’re thinking shall befall Kalin, is not certain.”
“There are several reasons why I do not pursue her, Celegorm.”
“Name one.” The younger challenged, to his brother’s growing annoyance.
“If Kalin knew half the terrible things I’ve done… aside from her mind being scarred, she would have every right to choose never to see me again. Whosever family she belongs to has done a precise job of guarding her knowledge, for she knows nothing of the acts we’ve committed…”
“Do not be so sure.”
Sharply, Maedhros turned on his younger sibling and questioned, “What do you mean?”
Celegorm only delayed a moment before clarifying. “Maglor has explained to her the truth of our deeds both on Middle Earth, and in Aman.”
“What? When?”
“It’s been nearly a month, now. You were hunting that day.”
Maedhros remembered then, finding her beside the river, distraught and uncertain. ‘But she accepted my comfort, let me escort her home… After knowing of my murders… my selfish and redeless crimes? How can she stand the sight of me, let alone treat me as kindly as she does?’ His mind raced, unable to fathom her treatment of him still in spite of her newfound knowledge of his deeds. ‘Unless she doesn’t know everything.’ His thoughts suggested, still absolute that she could surely do nothing but hate him after understanding his every act. “She cannot possibly know all that transpired? Why would she still wish to remain here? Or wish to remain civil?”
Cel shook his head as if he struggled to believe it, himself. “It is possible… It is especially possible that, knowing her character, she simply meant what she swore at Mereth Atherdad and is holding true to her oath. You and I both know her to be the most benevolent and trusting of ellith.”
Maedhros sighed sadly. “It is not that simple. With more knowledge there can be nothing but more grief… increasing such knowledge, increases one’s sorrow.”

“Celebrimbor! No running yet, please!” Mîrluiniel called out to the young lad in a splint, who was in the midst of chasing his father with a snowball. She walked along a deer path near the forest’s edge with lord Celegorm for an escort, watching his brother Curufin bait his son as a good target. “He’ll be sorry he didn’t listen to me when I pack his leg with river ice to relieve the swelling.” She remarked with a grin and shake of her fair head.
“I doubt it. He’ll complain, yes, but he will not regret such an afternoon.” Celegorm chuckled as he spoke with what could only be experience. Kalin smiled, also, certain he was right. They stopped to stand underneath the sporadic limbs of a dying pine and Cel leaned against it for a quiet moment, finally choosing to ask her his question. “Have you decided one way or another about leaving for Himring?”
Crossing her arms with a crocheted shawl close to her chest; Kalin took a deep breath and smiled even as she turned away from him to watch her ward in the snow. “I have.” Somewhat patiently, he waited for the rest of her answer as he watched the ends of her braid flutter in the cold wind that chapped his nephew’s cheeks in his play. “Your oldest brother holds so much grief that sometimes it pains me even to look at him. Maglor told me I have been good for him… and though I have seen him smile once or twice, I can hardly say those were because of me.”
Celegorm stood upright and came at her side to bestow an earnest look. “I assure you, Kalin, they could have been for no other reason but you.”
She blushed and turned her eyes away modestly. “He can be so easily depressed in his own thought. I want him to be content, to have some kind of peace.” She sighed. “If I could give him anything like that…” After a moment she met his eye with a little quirk of a smile. “Will you be fine without me, here?”
He laughed with a puff of fog and glanced sidelong toward his nephew, limping happily with a handful of snow balled up in mitten-clad hands. ‘She’s been good for more elves than Maedhros, only, hasn’t she?’ “We’ll get on, knowing you’re safe.”
Kalin smiled at his answer but blinked suddenly when his eyes cut away from hers and his arm instantly reached out to shield her face, an explosion of snow showering her head and shoulders from having smashed against his forearm. A surprised scream fled her mouth as it happened, and after the powder had settled she looked up to him in mirthful shock, answering his silent inquiry that she was all right.
Both turned their heads to a very guilty looking Celebrimbor and with a tilt of the elleth’s, Kalin gave the Noldo lord her permission to avenge her against his brother’s son. Laughing for a moment with her, he then turned with a growl and pursued his already fleeing nephew. Shaking her head and giggling at the punishment the lad was now receiving from his uncle, Mîrluiniel took off her snow-filled shawl and tried to flap out most of the wet beginnings of ice.
“Can I be of assistance?” A deep voice addressed her warmly from her side and she looked up with a smile to see it was Maedhros, Rúnya following close behind him with only a bridle upon his lovely dark face.
“Oh, yes please. Your nephew got the better of me, I think.” She let him take hold of a corner of the shawl and they both shook out the remaining mess, quickly removing it and allowing her to begin picking out the small chunks from her hair.
Helping her with this also, Maedhros noted there weren’t any marks where she could have been hit, and so inquired. “Did it strike you?”
Shaking her head and encouraging more snow to fall off of her, she replied. “Oh no, Celegorm managed to deflect that pleasantry. If it had, I can assure you there would be another elf chasing after that child with a mission in mind.” He laughed gently as his fingers combed carefully through the hair on her crown and she smiled at the butterfly-sensations that fluttered in her belly and across her skin in response to that combination of actions.
“Are you well? Your cheeks are flushed.” He asked politely and succeeded in spreading the warm color both down her neck and up to her beautifully pointed ears.
“I’m all right, I thank you.” He pulled the covering up over her right shoulder and smiled with a tightened jaw, seeming to be keeping himself from saying something to her. Rúnyadal stepped nearer to his master and reached his head forward to nudge the maiden’s arm, searching for the palm of syrup she usually produced for him to enjoy. With a grin she turned her attention to the animal and stroked his velvety black muzzle. “I haven’t any sweets for you, today, Rúnya.”
Maedhros rubbed his mount’s long, jet mane and smirked. “So you’re the one who’s been making this brute’s lips sticky.” He noted she tensed up momentarily, having been caught, and it troubled him that that should be her first reaction. “Don’t fret over it.” He assured her quickly. “He’s a good lad, he deserves a treat or two.”
Kalin eased into a bright smile. “Well I’m glad for that. I certainly love giving them to him.” She remarked and caught his gaze very quickly with her own before redirecting her eyes to the stallion.
Maedhros studied the way she touched and looked at the horse, checking his carriage and posture, hooves and joints, just as he imagined she’d done countless times with her own steed before the wolves took it from her. He pictured her on the back of a horse, high in the saddle and in beautiful control of the creature beneath her weight as he was certain she once was. “You loved to ride.” He acknowledged, more than asked, her and a grin danced upon her lips and shone through vibrant eyes, even though they remained upon Rúnyadal’s commanding presence.
“Oh yes. There’s not a freedom in the world that is to match it.” She answered in that lovely voice, the one she used only for the horses when she believed herself alone.
“I believe you’re right, my lady, in more ways than you may know.” He murmured and she blinked at the sound of his voice, turning to look up at him quizzically, desirous to know in which ways did he see her to be right. There was a far away look in his eye as he stared at her hand upon the creature’s warm coat and he finally looked at her, an express understanding in is green depths that she wished she understood.
Calmly, he changed the subject and asked her. “I’m to go and groom Rúnyadal, would you care to assist me?” Again, he dealt her a wild card by so easily asking her to accompany him and she was taken aback before politely complying and moving to the opposite side of the animal.
Finding it a tame subject to expand upon, Mîrluiniel inquired of the conveniently relaxed Noldo. “How old is Rúnyadal? Your brother told me you’ve had him since his birth.”
“He is five winters old, and one of the most obedient creatures I’ve ever trained, despite his young age.”
“My Randiriel was of such a temperament, though she was coming upon thirteen birth seasons, herself.” Maedhros chanced a look to her beneath Rúnya’s large head and was pleased that mentioning something from her ‘previous life’ had not at all saddened her expression. Catching his eye, she tilted her head and smirked at this noble elf peeking out from below his own steed. “I can speak about things that occurred before I came here, my lord. They do not always give me pain.”
He allowed a smile in response and nodded. “For that I am thankful. If it were not true then I should know even less of you than I do now, and I assure you my knowledge of this subject is minimal.”
Laughing in her slight way, she quizzed him. “Such a statement begs me to test you, then! What color are my eyes?”
“The purest blue.” He answered her immediately and surprised Mîrluiniel to silence, causing her to look in his direction, saddened that his eyes remained obstinately upon the snow-covered path before him.
“Are they?” Still stunned by his so readily made reply, she pressed him to continue.
“Most assuredly. I will never lie to you.” A timid glance met hers and, pleased beyond expression, Kalin smiled at him as she would smile to coax Celebrimbor out from a hiding place. It worked in much the same manner, she noted, and he smiled at her in return.
In that moment she found herself taking great care and notice of his eyes. How could she not have drawn their detail before now? Unlike many of his brothers, his were not the cloudy grey, but a much more vibrant and richly expressive green. Though clouded at times, at the moment while looking at her they adopted the color of shaded summer grass, with emerald flecks centered around the pitch black of his pupils. Falling out of her focus, she realized he’d caught her gawking and they were already halted at the paddock fence.
“Forgive me for staring so…” He apologized hurriedly and looked away, turning to pick up a currycomb and brush.
Quickly at his side, Mîrluiniel put her hand over his and stopped him with the shock of her touch. “I was staring as well, it’s all right.” He studied her fair hand intently and committed the feel of her soft calluses on the back of his hand to memory. After a moment, his instinctive thoughts screamed at him to flee from her, not to feel these blessed feelings and run from her all the way back to Himring. Clenching his teeth and furrowing his brow to resist the urge of action, he turned his hand over as a gesture to give her a tool and she smiled, seeming to understand the barrier he’d broken through for her. “Thank you.” She said quietly before standing and going to Rúnya’s other side, allowing Maedhros to have a moment and clear his head.
Calmly, Mîrluiniel brushed through Rúnyadal’s beautiful black mane, easily as long as her own hair, and looked up when Maedhros finally stood to curry out the mud and dried slough from the horse’s thickened coat. Quiet for a few minutes more, Mîrluiniel disliked the uncomfortable silence she was afraid that she had caused and sought to remedy it. “Was I rude, earlier, for staring at you? I promise I meant nothing for it, my thoughts simply drifted…”
Keeping his eyes on his work to avoid repeating such an occurrence, he made sure she was not to blame in any way. “Do not distress yourself, I assure you, I am not offended.”
She smiled to herself now that he refused to look at her directly, but as she took several strands of Rúnya’s mane to braid and focus upon, she could feel his eyes upon her. “When do you intend to return to Himring?” She inquired to, hopefully, spark some conversation and the warmth of his gaze snapped to ice as it left her.
“Maglor and I have tentatively set our departure to when my nephew’s leg is healed. It should be fairly soon if I have judged rightly.”
Nodding, she knew it would indeed be soon when they departed and wondered when Celegorm or Maglor would present the idea of her going along with them to their hills. “Does Maglor dwell with you up there? Or does he have his own domain?”
“Maglor lives in my fortress often enough to have his own chambers, but dwells much with his men while on the March. We frequently trade places keeping the patrol and barracks.”
“What kind of a place is your barracks? Do you have many elves in company?”
He looked over at her while making long sweeps of his curry over the horse’s rear and found himself pleased that she wished to learn more about his settlement. “It is strongly built; stones and mortar as opposed to Celegorm’s camp, for this is more cavalry post than stronghold. I have many Noldorin soldiers and while many of them have found their life-mates, only a choice few have begun families. It may be a peaceful time now, but I understand why many would consider it too dangerous to have a child in such a location. My fort is built sturdily for the express purpose of dwelling so far east, nearer to the Enemy.”
Kalin finished Rúnya’s mane and went around to comb out the tangles from his long tail, close to where Maedhros worked. To him, it seemed she was thinking intently upon all that he’d said, and he wondered what she made of it.
Just when he had almost bolstered himself enough to ask for her company on a ride, he heard his nephew’s laughter and they both turned to see Celebrimbor hop running towards them, Celegorm in close pursuit. “Kalin! Uncle’s after me, help!” The lad squealed as he hid behind her in her skirts and the elleth snickered to see said Uncle approaching, his long blonde hair matted in snow while wet masses of melting flakes tucked into every wrinkle of his clothes.
“My dear, it seems as though you certainly deserve whatever fate he has in store for you.” She shared an amused look with Maedhros as Celegorm stalked around her, Celeb always hobbling on the opposite side.
“Don’t stand in my way, Kalin, that tot is as good as mine.” The blonde Fëanorian threatened as another yelp was heard from behind her dress and Kalin could hardly hold in her laughter at the situation she now found herself a part of. Quickly, in a moment of bravery, the young one took hold of her stunted arm and fled with her through the snow, escaping with the damsel.
“I’ll get you yet!” Celegorm held out his fist toward the retreating pair and then shook his hands through his hair to rid himself of the load of white. Patting Rúnyadal, he approached Maedhros and faced him from the other side of the stallion’s hindquarters. Both edhil watched their nephew play with the maiden with a smile and Celegorm at length turned to his older brother. “You and Maglor will be heading off, soon, now that Celeb is nearly well?”
The eldest furrowed his brow-- still looking after the elfling and elleth-- at the thought of leaving. He turned somberly back to cleaning Rúnyadal. “I suppose.” He answered briefly, not caring to volunteer any of his feelings on the matter.
Looking back to where Kalin and Celebrimbor were joined in their play by the lad’s father, Celegorm ventured to throw out the proposition he’d long been plotting and thinking over. “What would you say to bringing Kalin back along with your party to Himring?”
Maedhros’ hand stopped mid-stroke upon the stallion’s coat and he paused before turning his eyes to his brother. “What? What are you trying at?”
“I just know that, aside from Celebrimbor, she has no real ties here. And in Himring there are ellith for her to befriend and talk with, unlike here.”
Maedhros shook his head and gestured with his right arm to Celeb in the snow-laden field. “And you would abandon our nephew of the only source of encouragement and out-going nature he’s had since his Naneth was taken from him? There are others to think of, Cel.”
“I am thinking of others, Maedhros. Celebrimbor does not need a nurse any longer.”
“The lad’s only thirteen!” He argued. “You, yourself, had only learnt to play with sticks as swords at such an age.”
“And look how progressed he is, already! In any case, I am aware you’re arguing this for a purpose other than our nephew’s development.”
The statement earned him a warning glare from the eldest with lowered crimson brows. Thinking of Kalin as his brother’s insinuation pertained, thoughts and snippets of his previous conversation with the elleth were evoked and he remembered her words in a new light. ‘What kind of place is your fort? … When do you intend to return to Himring?’ She already knew.
Anger flared within him now that he had found out his brother’s scheme, but was not withheld from burning himself, also, for having let down his guard so to have not witnessed such clues earlier. “Has she made her choice, then?” Bitterly, he asked, and Celegorm answered, hopeful that Kalin’s desires would at least hold some sway over the elder’s decision.
“Yes. She’s told me only today that she has agreed to make the journey.” With a clenched jaw, Maedhros closed his eyes and then opened them to see Kalin adjusting his nephew’s scarf in the distance, a shadow of foresight passing before his eyes that envisioned her doing the same thing to another child with deep auburn curls.
“Maedhros, if she is going to dwell with the Noldor, let her at least enjoy more than the company of one young boy and his only relatives. She is young, herself! Bind her not to only one way of living. Even before coming into our care, she was not tied to one home. And she’s adapted to different circumstances and environs far more easily than I’d ever have thought possible. She can handle it.” Celegorm talked his father’s first-born into thinking more for Kalin’s welfare and needs, than only his own obstinate choices.
The reluctant Noldo looked to his younger brother in a hopeless manner. “Is she waiting for my answer, or has the decision been made without me?”
“It is banking on your approval.” Celegorm supplied, and immediately regretted it upon seeing his brother’s mind working through his expressive eyes.
Maedhros cared about Kalin’s well being in more ways than most others, but looked again at the larger picture, remembering every inhibition he’d ever carried about coming close to the woman. The more time he spent in her company, the more he was drawn to her presence: her vivacity, her purity, and her beauty. There were now only few moments where his mind somehow controlled his thoughts of her and kept them at bay. It was becoming dangerous.
Religiously, he held the belief that he would bring her to ruin in some form or another the longer he remained near, and, hate it though he did, the fact remained before him that it would never be safe to pursue her. With all his being, he desired to protect her, and if that meant keeping away, then he would do so. He had already grown too close, and with a deep breath he became resolute in his decision and informed Celegorm as much. Kalin was not coming to Himring.