In Early Spring by Serinquanion  

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Memories

One TW: Very improper way to handle a panic attack

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Memory was a strange thing that this fana had returned to him. The memory of his past self was stranger still. Often shrouded in guilt and confusion of why he ever thought of disrupting the natural order to create another order? Or was the desire for order had arisen from the Arda being marred since the very start? Or maybe far before he even entered Arda even.

Memory was like a river. At the beginning, when it broke free from the limbo of a glacier of the frozen mind of a maia, it was like an angry vicious stream. Fast and fierce, piercing through even the hard rocks and turning stones into fine sand. A new creation. Violent in the start but ultimately ending in beauty.

Then on the vast plains of ages upon ages, the destructive creations turned into gently guided ones. Only to be put into downhill once again, a drop so sudden, that the river changed its mood and course altogether. As if, like everything else, it was predetermined.

By the time their paths merged, ages before the Eldar disappeared from the face of Arda and retreated to Blessed Realm, long before he or his master knew what to make out of the Atani, they were both like grand rivers bound by dams, waiting to be broken and broken they would be and flooded everything and everyone around them.

Then they separated and stayed separated for a long while, and hated each other. Why? Why though? Why did they fall apart?

Oh yes, this cursed fana also answered it. And he too would’ve hated himself if he was in his Alcarnë’s place. What a Dark Lord he was! How much destruction he had laid around him! It was a miracle that he was brought closer and his Alcarnë hadn’t run a sword through him. He knew he deserved it if that would've occurred.

That was something, Mairon knew, his partner heavily disagreed with.

“I wouldn’t.” Maedhros would say smiling even if Mairon could see the half-hidden restraint behind his eyes as if he was actively telling himself not to tear his still quite disoriented partner into pieces. Mairon never mentioned his doubts to him ever, instead he focused on their nightly conversations.

Each night after their supper, they would sit and relax in the upstairs living room and Maedhros would let him enter his mind to show him everything that he had forgotten. It was brutal, there was anger coming from every corner of the elf’s mind but all of Mairon’s consciousness only went to all the atrocities that had been committed by him. It saddened him deeply. Each night they go into detailed visions of each decade he spread pain and despair among humans and elves. And each night he wished he could call Maedhros back for comfort after their conversations ended. But he never did. Either shame or fear held him back.

So everyday he saw the elf disappearing in his room before convincing himself to take rest in his own chamber.

His chamber, it was another thing he felt very much guilty about. A glance and he could tell that the room was built for someone else. It was bright and sunny and airy with better bedding and walls were padded to keep the warmth inside. There were desks large enough for a large map and cupboards to keep every single parchments organized. It was made for such a comfort that Maedhros never allowed himself to have.

It was built for his brother. It must be. Maedhros must have hoped to travel and find Maglor and take him back here. The room was very comfortable. A chamber everyone would like to stay in. But something was missing here. Mairon felt very misplaced living in it.

‘Must be for it was never made for.’ He had thought to himself. The chamber was too big for him. He felt alone in here.

Right now though, he wasn’t alone, nor was he in the cottage but in the garden that Maedhros maintained just outside the kitchen. Two little children were staring attentively as he gently plucked the peas and tomatoes off the shrubs and leafy greens off the ground. The last caused the two children to make faces.

“They look nasty.” the little girl said.

“Can’t we just have the roast?” her brother whispered. “I mean, that will be made first anyway and I’m hungry.”

“Well, your elder sister,” Mairon said with a smile, “had told us you would say so. And I should remind you that she is right there in the kitchen helping my —” he stopped suddenly, as if remembering it would be improper to voice his thoughts. The children though didn’t notice as the said sister stood in the doorway, hands on her waist, clearly telling them with her eyes not to cause trouble.

“Mr Mairon, please don’t give in to their demands or they will be spoiled.” She said and left them there to check on the boiling pot of the potato soup for dinner.

“Well, I can promise that these vegetables will taste really great. Alcarnë can make anything taste good.” Mairon promised the children and stood up to wash the vegetables in the water well close by. The children scurried to help him. Mairon had to say they did quite a good job at pulling the water bucket up.

“Mr Mairon, if you don’t mind,” Zimrabel, the sister, said to him, “Why do you call Mr Coirëndil ‘Alcarnë’?”

“Oh, it’s just his nickname.” Mairon replied. “It means ‘brilliant red’.”

Azrazor, the brother, giggled. “It matches him.”

‘Yes it does,’ thought Mairon absentmindedly as they headed inside. Inside, Ûrinzil, their elder sister was standing over a stool and tasting the soup on stove for the final time.

“I think it’s ready.” She said to Maedhros who was right beside her.

“Well then,” Maedhros smiled and patted her head and turned to Mairon. “Aranwa, have them to eat first? I will join after I get the roast into the oven.”

Mairon had nodded and ushered the three children to the dining table before he peeked into the parlour to call out the two younger ones playing there. "Dinner’s ready.” he said to them, voice lightly teasing, “Hurry up or your brother will finish everything.”

“Azra! Azra, that’s not fair!” they giggled while rushing to the table, only to be scolded by Ûrinzil.

“Don’t be so loud.” she flicked their foreheads. “On your seats now.” Mairon smiled at their interaction as he poured the hot soup in smaller bowls from the pot and Ûrinzil set the fresh breads in everyone’s plates.

“Mr Mairon, will it take long for Mr Coirëndil to join the table?” Zimrabel asked.

Azrazor continued after her. “We just don’t want to start before him.” His siblings shared the same sentiment as they peeked at the open kitchen.

Mairon did so too and decided it won’t take his… meldo long to finish. That’s what he told the children but he also encouraged them to begin. “I will wait for him. Why don’t you children start early? Or the food won’t taste as good.” He said kindly, patting Zimrabel’s head.

“If you say so…” said Azrazor.

“Do as Mr Mairon said.” said Ûrinzil, clearly irritated by her younger siblings’ shenanigans.

They were halfway through the meal when Maedhros joined them. “How’s everything?”

“Very good!” replied Azrazor. “I loved the soup!”

“Well then,” Maedhros said, “considering how you have eaten most of your vegetables already, all of you will get these. On sweet scones.” In his hand was a jar of raspberry jam. “But you have to promise you will eat all vegetables at supper too.”

The bait for sweet treat made the younger bunch to eat more eagerly and Ûrinzil smiled at him. “Thank you.” she muttered. The two adults had smiled back.

The rest of the meal and day had passed pleasantly. After dinner (and cleaning up after the meal) and finishing up the rest of the preparation for supper, Maedhros had taken the children in his workshop to show all the landscape arts and portraits on canvases. Mairon in the meantime decided to… procrastinate while he made himself a cup of the warm drink Maedhros often made with some rare spices he acquired from his travels.

He had been thinking of leaving this town for a while now that he has most of his memories back. Well, not his memories but Maedhros had told him almost everything that had happened till date on Middle Earth and his involvement in it. And Mairon was truly ashamed of his actions and he understood, for most part Maedhros did so too.

He had kept these thoughts down, away from his meldo and when by afternoon they came back from the lower floor and Ûrinzil again got to help Maedhros to complete the cooking, his face had the pleasant smile plastered over it.

In another few hours, the children had departed with a full belly and happy smile (but not before the eldest got the promise out of them that they would have to go to their house for a meal too) and Mairon sighed in relief. He wasn’t quite sure if being so tired was normal for a Maia but he guessed it might be a side effect of all his deeds and how the third age ended.

“If you are that tired, we don’t have to do the history lessons tonight.” Maedhros said, observing him. “And don’t use that name again.” He really looked quite displeased with the last point. Mairon just nodded and climbed the stairs to head to his chamber. He didn’t really want to talk today and wanted to rest and Maedhros’ reaction just further resolved his recent thoughts.

***

In this new life given to him, Maedhros had thought himself as ‘Maedhros’ or ‘Maitimo’ or ‘Nelyafinwë’ for very few times. He wasn’t even told those names of his previous lifetime until his coming of age begetting day, just like he never properly met his amillë till that day and was only then he was introduced to the lady he always addressed as aunt as his amillë. He didn’t blame his emmecë or atto for that. He understood why they would try to shield him from the actions done by himself as the firstborn of Fëanor in the first age. If the role was inverted, he would do the same. And he loved belonging in the youngest branch of House of Finwë. He had a great older brother and a vast amount of cousins who he now understood why they were so… cold in their initial interactions with him. He himself was quite uncomfortable with coming to the term of being the monstrous kinslayer of whom the Falmari sang about in many grieving songs.

Now, Coirëndil was the name he was most comfortable with using and others calling him and he would’ve been comfortable with Alcarnë too if that wasn’t an anessë given to him as a lover by the literal murderer of his brother and torturer of his nephew from another lifetime, the nephew whom he had only met once in this lifetime and that was only after the death of Celebrimbor.

Alataél was the name emmecë gave him which he loved dearly, but it was for people only close to his heart which were none in this grand human city. The only whom he might even allow to know this would be the same murderer he was harbouring under his roof right now, in the chamber he prepared for his lost brother (or should he call him ‘cousin’? He wasn’t sure of that. But from what he learned from Aráto before he left on the great ship, the address ‘brother’ would be far more appropriate).

Maedhros hadn’t meant to snap at Mairon tonight. He was just tired and seeing and taking care of all these children made a buried, dead part in his heart tremble and a lost memory to almost resurface but still out of his reach. It was like looking through a window with frosted glass, it was only a shape and blurred, distorted colours but he couldn’t make out the delicate details.

He felt exhausted down to his bones and homesickness once again entered his mind. A part of him entirely regretted agreeing to leave Aman along with the two Isatri and Laurefindele but that exact part also despised himself for even having the thought. After all, the sole reason he returned back to the scorched Middle Earth was to find Macalaurë to return with him, though the reason he gave to the Valar was that he wanted to help the Free People fighting Sauron. Now that Sauron was virtually no threat to them, he should return but his heart refused to listen to reasons and urged him to find the possibly fading elf.

And now, all he had found was the broken shade of a fading Dark Lord and was harbouring him here, feeding him, telling him everything and possibly giving him means to once again dominate Middle Earth. He wasn’t sure why he had even not crushed the Úmaia when his heart was yet to soften at him and was willing to draw a blade through his heart of the weak Dark Lord.

Maedhros sighed and berated him for once again overthinking as he put aside the last of the dishes that he just cleaned. Now that all his work was done he decided he could rest for the night. He cleaned himself up in the outhouse with water and gave himself a rare treat of a hot bath with some herbs from the garden. It took up much time of his rest and tired him even more but the comfort was enough to drive the initial idleness away.

He thought, still neck deep in the now cooling water, that he should tell Mairon to leave his house soon. Or maybe go out with him and help him find Macalaurë if he didn’t want to be alone. In either case, they should leave the city soon for a long while, possibly years.

By the time, the water was so cold that it was almost freezing and he got out of the bath to finally have rest, the thought of leaving this place before the year ended had solidified in Maedhros’ mind.

He climbed the stairs and halted his door, hand on the knob. Right beside was the door to Mairon’s bed chamber. For one moment, he thought to knock on the wood and see if the fallen Maia was asleep or not, if he was alright. He still somehow loved the person he had loved long ago even without any actual memory of those shared moments.

In the end, the hatred for the Dark Lord the said person would turn out to be won out and Maedhros scoffed to himself and shut the door of his own door loudly.

What had gotten into him, he thought, breathing hard in an almost panicked pattern. Before it got worse, Maedhros managed to drag his legs towards the bed and with his arms, pulled himself up on the mattress with a huff. For whatever reason, his limbs weren’t listening properly to him and were moving strangely and his heart was racing almost painfully. It was getting harder and harder to breathe and for a few moments he thought that he was dying once again. And he almost accepted it. At least, he thought, he would be returning home if that was the case.

But he felt guilt too. He didn’t manage to fulfil his promise to amillë this time either. What a useless person he was! All he accomplished here was giving shelter to a Dark Lord and… and fell for the same Maia once more.

It seemed as if he was always destined to either fail or be a monster much like his choice in partner.

He didn’t hear the door to his room opening and the frantic words from the Maia he was thinking of before Mairon noticed that he wasn’t sleeping but was unable to move on the bed and was breathing frantically.

“Alcarnë? Alcarnë, what happened? What–” Mairon’s hands were frantic as he felt for his face and it took some time for Maedhros to even get back his breathing somewhat calm enough to realize Mairon was kneeling before him and holding him. It did not get him any less panicked.

“Let– let go of me.” Maedhros gritted through his teeth. It hurted, he almost wanted to bite off his own tongue but also tear away the unscarred arm off him. The maia seemed not to let him go but pushed a water glass through his cracked lips.

“Drink. You need to calm down.” Mairon kept saying and it didn’t help him at all in the slightest.

Maedhros was now not only getting light-headed but also agitated. He chugged down a few gulps of water before managing to push away the glass. It clanked on the floor and taking advantage of the Maia’s confusion from the sudden aggression, Maedhros flipped him under him.

It was only now that Mairon noticed the wrath burning behind his eyes and the tension and panic that bleed into anger. It made him tremble and suddenly it was like he was caged with an agitated predator who knew no bounds.

“Don’t ever fucking touch me when I say so.” Maedhros warned, visibly furious and gasping for breath. His grasp on the Maia’s wrists were almost painful, causing panic to rise in him too.

“I-I will remember it.” he managed to croak. The grasp tightened painfully and Maedhros stared intently in his eyes, Mairon could feel the unwanted presence tearing his mind, searching for sincerity of the statement. With quite an effort from the struggle, Mairon pushed forth the desired emotion upfront.

Against his best judgement, somehow it worked. Maybe it was for how tired and weary the elf was right now but once Maedhros was sure of it the elf let go of him and sat back on his heels. The moment Maedhros sat back and moved to lean on the bed frame, Mairon dragged himself up and moved to create a much needed space in between.

“What were you even doing here?” Maedhros grumbled once his head was clear and his lungs didn’t burn for air anymore. His tone softened when he noticed the tiniest of flinches that the Maia couldn’t hide. “You could’ve been harmed.”

“But you wouldn’t?” Mairon muttered to himself, watching him get up for the very glass he had thrown away earlier.

“What? Did you say anything?”

“No.” he replied and then with a hesitation, deciding whether he should let him know about it or not, Mairon said, “There’s an elven presence on the other shore. It’s very familiar and very potent, licked by the divine and by the light of Star-Kindler.”

Maedhros stopped on his track and his head snapped back. Feeling the doubt in the elf’s gaze, Mairon assured him, “I am quite sure. It’s… very weak too but strong enough to leave by himself. I don’t think he will stay long, he must have felt something too.”

“We are leaving. Now.” Maedhros said already taking out a small but sturdy leather bag he always kept packed.

“What? We?” Mairon was genuinely startled. What did Maedhros mean that he was to come too? What was the need of his presence?

“At this moment, you are more familiar with my brother’s presence than I am and so you are coming.” He said simply already heading out. “Get ready fast and come to the north outpost, I will rent two horses in the meantime.”

“I don’t need anything else.” Mairon said, also jumping on his feet. He all of a sudden wanted to help and assist the elf in whatever matters it was needed. ‘Alcarnë must be pleased if I do so’ were his thoughts. So all the Maia took was a coat for the cold outside and hurried downstairs to follow him down the streets.

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Chapter End Notes

Andunic:
Zimrabel - 'jewel' 'to befriend, love'
Azrazor - 'sea' 'foam'
Ûrinzil - 'sun' 'flower,, lily'

Telerin:
Alataél - 'radiance, glittering star'
emmecë - 'mother, mommy'

 

I would like to add something. If it's not clear, Maedhros was given to Finarfin and Eärwen after his re-embodiment and only got to know everything when he turned an adult.