Hastaina by Serinquanion  

Himring was cold around this time of the year. Himring had always been cold — a fitting name for a castle built on icy mountains, high above everyone — but this was a kind of cold that settled deep into one’s bones, freezing even the deepest warmest part of one’s fea.

And for those of her kind, it just kept them in the same cold freezing lake of despair she had been in for a decade now. She didn’t even want to leave it anymore.

Just let me drown, She often thought and sometimes loudly muttered to him, Why keep me afloat in this pain? Maybe Mandos would be kind enough to let me follow him? Maybe he isn’t that heartless that your people made him to be?

They are there too. He said to her in answer, always in such a gentle warm voice that would’ve thawed any heart if it wasn’t frozen like hers. Allfather didn’t intend us to be able to leave Arda. Mandos — the valar — won’t let you follow him.

I don’t care! She sometimes said back, if she had the strength or will do so, Maybe in my death, in the Halls I can finally avenge him! Maybe I can even convince Mandos to eternally doom those brothers of yours!

He never spoke back to those words. Hurtful as they might be, there wasn’t a lie in them. He just usually gave her a small strained smile and gently kissed her forehead as one might do to their children and tugged close the quilt or fur coat around her. You will get cold, He said, the gentle expression smooths out even the deepest scars on his once handsome — still handsome, just in a different way, she told herself — face. In another life, where her father hadn’t dwelt back in Beleriand and gone to Aman with his people, she wondered if they would’ve been engaged there. She thought to herself that she wouldn’t have minded that arrangement.

The old portrait hidden deep in the family wings showed a beautiful face, she would say far more beautiful than people called — they still do — her. She couldn’t look at the portrait for long. Her eyes had stung and she had fled before she gave in to her wish of burning the portrait to ash.

She couldn’t do so with it. Never with it.

It was a family portrait. In the middle was a lady sitting on a velvet chair, her hair was brown and bound in a loose braid and she had a ruddy complexion. Nerdanel the Wise, She had distantly thought, their mother. She won’t be called a beauty — it was clear the beauty of sons came from their father — but Luthien couldn’t help but admire her. How hard had it been to control them even in their childhood?

She held a child in her arms. Lord Celebrimbor of Nargothrond maybe? He was her only grandchild afterall. The ner standing behind her could only be Feanor. So, he got his father’s beauty. It seemed fitting. She wondered how much Feanor looked like Finwe. Her father rarely spoke of his old friend and she had never seen him even in any portraits in Menegroth.

On Nerdanel’s left side were Maglor, Caranthir and the twins she was yet to meet. Too much of a free spirit to settle down anywhere and especially not in Himring, not under their eldest brother’s eyes, She was told about them. On their mother’s right side stood Maedhros, her husband, close to Feanor. He was smiling, not the smile he usually gives her when he soothed her night terrors or just the ghost of a smile when he too stared out of the high balcony of their shared quarters for long while. It was warmer than her mother’s light and the warmth of the summer sun. His face was still unblemished and almost carefree.

They looked content in it. Happy. Even them. They, too, were smiling, looking so untouched by the world. Like they hadn’t upturned hers.

No, She told herself, they weren’t yet the monsters they were in her tale. And left the chamber. And wandered and wandered around the castle. There weren’t any restrictions placed on her movements, as long as it didn't end up hurting her or anyone else. Not that she would. She had started to hate the faint crease on her husband’s brow, concerned for her, that started appearing after he had found her on the north walls once, all alone staring at the empty scorched north plains like they held all the answers. He had looked scared for her. And had gently led her back to their quarters. Through some deserted hallways — she now realized they must be hidden ways, to keep others from seeing her in that state — and that was the day she found the empty spot on the wall at the entrance to the family wing.

The portrait must have been moved from here to that chamber so that she won’t come across it, just like all the portraits of the third and fifth son of Feanor were moved far away.

“My lady, your meal.” Luthien didn’t turn to the nis. She won’t probably recognize her anyway. The elf didn’t take offense to her not reacting — they never did, maybe Maedhros told them not to? — and set down the meal tray on the low tea-table beside the armchair she was sitting on. “The lord said to let you know, he will be late tonight, so please don’t wait for him.” She gave a slight bow and got up to leave.

Much to her and Luthien’s own surprise, Luthien asked, “Is it for the preparation of leaving Himring?”

The nis didn’t let her surprise show, it was one of the few times the lady spoke without prompt, “I am not sure, my lady, but given current movements from the Enemy most likely yes.” Luthien nodded at her and turned towards the open balcony again. The nis took it as her cue to leave the chamber.

Luthien didn’t turn again to see her meal and soon, the thought of it drowned in the freezing lake in her tired mind.

A light thud of the heavy doors opening broke her out of her half-sleep. Heavy footsteps echo through the large space, approaching her. Had it been anyone else, it would’ve scared her, made her curl up as the fea was too similar to theirs.

She didn’t turn around. Didn’t flinch when the warm palm landed on her left shoulder, and he said to her in a disapproving voice, like scolding an unruly child, “You didn’t eat today.”

“Didn’t want to.” She hummed. “Wasn’t hungry.” She finally looked up at him. His hair was tied back in a low ponytail. Eyes were tired but warm. Face tensed, lips in thin line. Brows furrowed in concern. Again. She suddenly, once again, felt bad for making him concerned.

“But if you want to, we can have supper together.” Luthien said, looking away.

“Hmm.” The smile — though she didn’t see it, its vibration somehow still seeped into her fea — was warm. “I will tell the staff to bring something light then.”

She watched him leaving the chambers for a few moments. And coming back soon with a tray in his hands. Was the order placed before I even said so? She wondered.

Though she was thankful that no one else entered the chamber. She didn’t want to see anyone else tonight.

Maedhros set the tray down on the table and sat across her. “How was your day?” He asked, plating two bowls of warm soup for them. Although he asked, he expected no reply. Luthien didn’t really respond to these small talks even on the good days and today wasn’t one of them.

“We will be leaving by the end of this winter.” He continued. “I will be quite busy for the rest of the month. So I may not be able to keep you much company.”

Luthien hummed, taking small sips of the soup. It is nice and –

She paused for a moment, scowling. A good memory and another heavy one entered her mind.

If Maedhros had seen her scowling at a bowl of soup, he mentioned nothing of it. He just finished his own meal and then waited for her to finish hers. She took her time to do so.

“It tastes like home.” She muttered absentmindedly. Maedhros hummed affirmatively. Once she finished eating too, he took the bowl out of her hands, arranging them back on the tray and leaving it at the corner of the chamber. She watched him work briskly. While anyone else moving so fast and quietly would’ve made her heart beat faster, around him she only felt peace descending upon her. She almost got startled when Maedhros asked her permission to brush her hair.

“May I?” He asked again. “It’s a pity to have it tangled and unkempt.”

Luthien nodded and moved to sit before the dresser. His hands were gentle, untangling the few knots that were there and brushing her hair. In the mirror, she watched the gentle look in her eyes as he worked ever so softly.

“It’s done.” He said once her hair was in a single loose braid. She had seen Maglor in this hairdo too. Did he do his brother’s hair too? She thought as Maedhros led her to the bed.

He said to her, wrapping a quilt around her shoulder. “Rest for tonight. If you need anything just call my name. I will still be in the chamber.”

“You won’t rest?” She asked, holding the sleeve of his robe. “You look tired.”

He just gave her a smile. “There is much work to do, my lady.”

“Didn’t you say, you won’t be able to spend much time with me from tomorrow. So stay for tonight.” She insisted.

“If my lady insists.” He pried the piece of cloth out of her hold and kissed the back of her hand.

“How did you handle it?” Luthien asked quietly once he joined under the quilt.

“What?”

“How did you handle the noise in your head when..when King Fingon first rescued you from Thangorodrim?”

Maedhros was silent for a few moments, as if contemplating but the silence made her regret asking. Before she voiced it, he started, “It wasn’t noise in my head. It was silent. Dead silent.” He said quietly. “Even when my brothers were around, it was fully silent like someone had taken the entirety of your eardrum out and severed it so you can’t hear anything. But only inside your head. Silent except for–” He didn’t complete it though Luthien could almost hear the name.

“It still is.” He added after a while. “But my lady shouldn’t be concerned about it. Nor should you be afraid of being alone when I am busy. Maglor and your brother are visiting from Nagrathrond. If you want, I can ask them to keep you company.”

“That would be great.” She said, “Was the soup recipe something Dae gave too?” She turned towards him.

“Hmm. I was hoping it would feel closer to home.” He muttered, watching her grey eyes reflecting the flaming red of his own hair.

“It did.” She whispered. “It tasted just like home.”

“Then I would’ve to thank my brother for dragging yours here.” He smiled.

“That makes sense that he didn’t want to come.” She laughed.

He stared at her smile for a while, savoring it. “May I?” He asked.

“Hmm.” She leaned up to the kiss, smiling into it.

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