Chapter Text
Elai rolled over in the capacious bed at the New Moon Inn and regarded Melkor. She’d woken in the middle of the night to find him gone - not far, just to the chair beside the window - but when she sat up and looked for him, he turned his head towards her and told her to go back to sleep. She tried her best, but his absence made her uneasy.
It was daylight now and therefore not a time to be told she should rest.
“You’re doing a lot of thinking,” she observed.
“I have a lot to think about,” he replied.
“I should go talk to Nerdanel.”
He turned away from the window then. “I should talk to Nerdanel. You have done nothing wrong.”
“I'm sure Nerdanel wouldn't agree with that. I owe her an apology at least; I shouldn't have quizzed her about Feänaro without telling her you were returned.”
“Nelyafinwë did not tell her either. Nor did Tyelkormo.”
Elai slid out of bed and began pulling on a pair of leggings. “And I imagine she's angry with them, too, but they're her sons, she'll make allowances for them. She won't make allowances for me, even less so when she learns how closely tied I am to you. So the sooner I talk to her, the better.” She hunted amongst the piles of bags on the side table for some clean clothing. “And if I prepare the ground, she might just hear you out without trying to stab you.”
Melkor snorted. “She will never forgive my deeds. I cannot forgive them myself. So I shall offer atonement. But I do that for Feänaro, not for Nerdanel or her sons. I care nothing for them.”
Elai suppressed a sigh. There was no point in disagreeing with him; where he loved, he loved with a passion that could turn into hate without remorse. But he loved seldom - or so it seemed - and the rest of life under the sky meant nothing to him, except how it might serve his purpose. She truly believed - now, at least - that his purpose wasn't inherently immoral; he wished to know, he wished to understand, he wished to improve what he knew and understood. Whether he could accept that not everything wished for or required improvement was another matter, of course.
“Well, I care somewhat for them,” she reminded him. “I certainly care for Nelyo. So I'll proffer my apologies and mean them. And I definitely care for you, so I'll do whatever’s necessary to make Nerdanel understand that you were betrayed as much as Feänaro.”
“And Tyelkormo?” Melkor asked, raising his eyebrows.
“What about Tyelko?”
“You do not care for him?”
“We are not going down that rabbit-hole again, Melkor. Tyelko's my friend, so yes, I care about him. End of story. The other thing was … was a blip. A mistake. Even a big mistake. But it happened.”
“The Eldar do not regard carnal relationships in the same casual manner that you do.”
She raised her own eyebrows at that. “If you're calling me a slut, fine. Whatever. Sex is a fun diversion. Not saying it can't be more, much more, but it's mostly just fun. And I'm pretty sure not all the Eldar disagree with me. Or even the Valar.”
“I do not think you a slut,” Melkor protested. “I said no such words. I have no opinion at all about your physical relationships. Except some curiosity about how they may pertain to me. And some disapproval of your choice of Tyelkormo as a partner.”
“Jealousy,” Elai said. “Not disapproval.”
“If you say so.”
He allowed that more easily than she expected, and it made her uncomfortable. It was possible he said only what he thought she wanted to hear; when it came to sexual jealousy, she had no idea how it affected him. “Don't humour me, it's condescending. I'm going to go use the privy and wash up. Do you want some breakfast? I can pick something up from the camp kitchens?”
He turned back to the window. “I am fine. I will talk with you in a little while. I am waiting to hear Aulë's verdict on the temple.”
“Are you going to sit in here all day?” She didn't like it when he brooded, those were the times he was most likely to lose track of himself and do something stupid. And Melkor’s stupidities were generally catastrophic.
“There is much to consider, Elai,” he pointed out. “And I am not a strategist, not by inclination. I shall therefore sit for as long as it takes to plan what we must do.”
“Or you could talk to Nelyo,” she said. “Who is a strategist. According to everything I hear anyway.”
He looked at her for a long and silent moment, and then he inclined his head.
“I shall consider it,” he replied.
*
The Feänorian contingent was occupying the tent that had been Maglor’s previously.
Maglor was now resident with his wife and daughters at the inn, and Maedhros had insisted upon remaining with Fingon in their own quarters, but he and Fingon were present at the family gathering when Elai arrived. There was no sign of Maglor - for which Elai was grateful, Maglor had been too on edge around Melkor the day before - but Celegorm had also arrived, which meant Oromë was back from Aman. Elai had to fight the urge to go and check what news Oromë brought. But she needed to speak with Nerdanel, no matter how much she wished otherwise, so she straightened her shoulders and kept walking.
Celebrimbor greeted her with a smile, but his father folded his arms and glowered. Caranthir ignored her, but that wasn't necessarily hostile, not from him.
“Elai?” Maedhros said. “Is something amiss?”
There was little point in being evasive.
“I need to talk to your mother,” she replied.
Celegorm whistled, and Curufin said, “You are not welcome.”
“That's enough, Kurvo,” Maedhros snapped. “If not for Elai, you'd still be in Mandos.”
“Elai and me,” Celegorm added. “Oh, and Melkor, of course.”
“You're not helping,” Maedhros growled.
Celegorm shrugged. “Not trying to help. I'm just an observer.”
“Shut the fuck up, Tyelko,” Elai said. “This is important. Not fun. Not pleasant. For me or anyone else. But important. Please tell Nerdanel I'm here.”
“Me?”
“Sure, if you can do it without being a dick.”
“I will tell her,” Celebrimbor said. “Since I'm the least dramatic person here. Come inside, Elai, my grandmother’s resting in her room, but I will tell her you're waiting.”
Curufin tried to follow them - that wasn't a surprise - but he was ambushed by Maedhros. Fingon gave Elai what she hoped was supposed to be a reassuring nod, and Celegorm backed that with a thumbs-up. Caranthir continued to ignore her.
At least not all the Feanorions were hostile ...
Inside the tent, Celebrimbor waved her towards a chair while the Ambarussa looked puzzled - or possibly panicked - and sidled back outside. Elai could hear them asking questions and Maedhros growling something back at them. When Celegorm chimed in, Maedhros growled louder, and then Fingon said something that was quiet and soothing. Elai found herself praying the conversation with Nerdanel went well just to save poor Maedhros from any fall-out.
“She’ll be with you in a few moments,” Celebrimbor said.
Elai nodded. “Thank you.”
“As you can see, my family seem determined to make our return to Middle-earth as dramatic as possible.”
That made Elai smile. “Isn’t drama kind of their default?”
“Indeed it is. Which is why it would have been infinitely preferable if they'd all stayed in Aman. Caranthir and the twins really don't want to be here at all, and my father only wants to be here so he can stop me doing anything.”
“Anything?” Elai asked.
“Anything useful,” Celebrimbor amended. “The only person who understands how I feel, understands what I need to do, is Maeglin. Which, yes, I wasn't expecting, but if my father mentions the traitor of Gondolin one more time, I'll be forced to point out to him that he could easily be called the traitor of Nargothrond.”
It pleased Elai a great deal to learn she hadn't been wrong about Celebrimbor; his kind heart might have betrayed him in the past, but that hadn't stopped him from offering Maeglin no judgement. “How are they doing, Maeglin and his mother?”
Celebrimbor sat down in the chair opposite hers. “I would hesitate to say good; they are both shadowed by what they endured in Beleriand. But Irissë spends most of her time with Finno and my uncle, and Maeglin visits the dwarves. He's a smith, did you know?”
“You have that in common also, then,” Elai said without thinking. Then she winced and pulled a face. “Sorry, sorry. Nophica’s tits, Tyelpe, I'm really sorry. Didn't mean to …” She strangled the words that wanted to tumble out of her mouth; they would only make it worse. “I'm sorry.”
Celebrimbor shook his head. “It's true, though. Sauron practised his tortures on Maeglin before he turned them on me. And I was betrayed by my love for my craft, just as Maeglin was. We share the same thirsty need to punish Sauron for what he did to us.”
“Don't beat yourself up for that,” Elai replied. “Closure is important, however you find it. I'm not saying revenge is good - often it's far from good - but sometimes it's all that's left. Just as long as you don't hurt the innocent in its pursuit.”
Before Celebrimbor could reply, the hangings at the rear of the tent stirred, and Nerdanel stepped out.
Elai stood up at once.
Celebrimbor also stood, bowed to his grandmother, and said, “I'll leave both of you to talk.” Elai would have liked to cling onto him and beg him to stay - she could face a raging dragon without a qualm yet emotionally charged conversations were terrifying - but she let him leave without protest.
Lady Nerdanel was formally dressed - which was unusual, Elai had only ever seen her in workmanlike clothing before - and her face was impassive. She regarded Elai without saying anything, neither humble nor haughty but simply there, waiting to hear whatever words Elai chose to speak.
Elai thought that simplicity would serve her best. “I wish to apologise, Lady Nerdanel. It was unkind of me to quiz you as I did without advising you of the entire situation.”
Nerdanel inclined her head. “Yes.”
“The Valar …”
“Oh, do not make excuses. You should not have questioned me at all unless you were prepared to deal honestly with me. As I dealt honestly with you.”
That stung. Mostly because it was true. “I'm sorry.”
“So you say. But I struggle to believe you. My son tells me you are firmly in Morgoth's camp after all.”
Elai forbore to ask which son; she was guessing Maglor or Curufin. “My lady, the Valar were very clear that word of Lord Melkor’s return …”
Nerdanel snorted. “Lord Melkor? How dare you call him thus?”
“My lady, please …”
“And the Valar? Have they no honour, to welcome Morgoth back despite his crimes? When it was Aulë himself who warned Feänaro of Morgoth’s treachery!”
“Lord Aulë warned you?” Elai said, frowning. “You said it was a Maia.”
“Aulë sent one of his Maia with the message,” Nerdanel replied. “I do not see …”
“Are you sure this Maia truly came from Lord Aulë?”
“Of course he did. Why would he lie?”
“To deceive you,” Elai said gently.
“Do not be ridiculous,” Nerdanel snapped. “The Maia do not lie.”
This was going to be an endless, circular argument. “Then we should speak to Lord Aulë himself. He will surely be able to confirm who he sent and what he asked them to say.”
Nerdanel frowned. “Speak to Aulë?”
“Yes. He is travelling to Middle-earth with Lord Oromë; I’ll request a meeting with him.”
“I do not know what you hope to achieve with this nonsense.”
Elai very much hoped that Aulë would confirm that he hadn’t sent anyone, Maia or otherwise, to warn Feänaro about Melkor. Of course if Aulë had sent someone, that would muddy the waters, putting paid to her theory that the mystery Maia was Sauron. Cast more doubt on Melkor’s version of events. “Some measure of the truth, Lady Nerdanel. I’ll ask Lord Oromë to let Tyelko know when Lord Aulë can see us.”
*
When Elai stepped back outside, everyone but Fingon had disappeared, much to her relief. Fingon was sitting on a wooden bench in front of the tent, but he stood up as soon as he saw her.
“You make a very lovely elf,” he said, smiling at her in his dear, comforting, Fingon fashion. “Is it wrong of me to say that? Do you miss your old body?”
She smiled back at him. “I’m getting used to this one now, but it’s still a bit weird, being so tall. Irmo had them make me new gear, none of the old stuff fitted me any more. Miss my armour though. Melkor says the stuff Irmo’s Maiar fetched for me is just as good, but I’m not convinced …”
“Are you belittling the craftsmanship of Aman’s famous smiths?” Fingon demanded, laughter lighting his eyes. “Don’t let Kurvo hear you.”
“Well he loathes me anyway, so I doubt I could make it worse.”
Fingon shook his head. “He doesn’t loathe you, he’s just confused by everything that’s happening.”
“Confused?”
“Okay, a bit more than confused. But matters are changing rapidly at the moment, it’s not something the Eldar are very good at. Nelyo and I have seen more of the root of it, as it were, and we’re still struggling a little.” He widened his eyes and gave her what was clearly supposed to be an appealing smile. “Nelyo went to check on Irissë and then to coax some food out of the cooks; we thought the three of us could go sit by the river and have a picnic.” The smile grew. “We haven’t had a chance to talk for weeks.”
Elai couldn’t dispute that. “Sounds good. But you don’t have to charm me, Finno, I’m always happy to spend time with you two. You’re not quite the only sensible folk around, but you’re close.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It’s been a stressful few weeks …”
*
It was quiet down by the river, away from the bustle of the camp. They found a grassy hollow where the bank sloped down to the water at a less precarious angle, and a small willow tree provided some shade. It was still very warm - although the year was turning towards autumn - but much more comfortable than the heat in the southern desert of Mordor.
“Mordor,” Maedhros said. “Not a pleasant place, if Maglor’s tales are anything to go by.”
“No, it’s not,” Elai agreed. “But I think a lot of that is down to geography. Not just Sauron, I mean. The desert is beautiful, in a terrifying, I-can-kill-you-you-know kind of way. Like Melkor, really.”
Fingon rolled his eyes. “Melkor isn't beautiful.”
Elai shook her head at him. “I mean, objectively speaking, yes he is. You might not recognise it, because of the past, but …”
“Finno prefers redheads,” Maedhros said. Smugly.
Fingon nodded. “Yes I do.”
Elai made retching noises although - in truth - she loved how much they loved each other. It was something beautiful and sweet in a world that often lacked either quality. “I kind of need to talk to you about Melkor actually.”
Maedhros nodded. “I thought perhaps you did. I imagine he told Tyelko to talk to Ammë out of more than a fit of pique?”
“Nophica’s tits,” Elai said. “Tyelko didn't actually tell your mother, did he?”
“I told him I would break both his legs so badly, he would never hunt again if he breathed a word of it to anyone. Maglor knows, and Finno, but that's all. I presume there's something behind it, then? Judging by your expression?”
Elai had pondered various ways she might broach the subject with Maedhros, and in the end she'd decided a bald statement was best. It might be brutal, but she couldn't see it was any more brutal than a slow build-up.
“Melkor loved your father,” she said.
Maedhros blinked.
Fingon made a stifled sound of protest but then stayed silent.
Elai looked at Maedhros.
“That …” Maedhros said slowly. “Makes sense of a few things I never really understood.”
Fingon’s protest was a little louder that time.
“Your father …” Elai didn't say ‘loved’, she had no idea how Feänor had felt. “Your father appears to have been fond of Melkor also. I've spoken to several people - including your mother - who said that they were friends.”
“What the fuck …?” Fingon managed. “Nelyo?”
“When I was … when Melkor's trap was sprung, and I was taken,” Maedhros said. “He stared when they dragged me to his feet, and then he laughed. It wasn't triumphant, gloating laughter - which is what I expected, honestly - it was bitter and cold. And he said, “This is no child of Feänaro, you fools,” and he struck down the captain of the orcs who had captured me.” He shut his eyes for a moment and let out a slow breath. “They were truly friends?”
“Of course not,” Fingon protested. “A friend doesn't … doesn't …”
“Hush, meldonya,” Maedhros told him. “Let Elai speak.”
“It's messy,” Elai said. “And I still only have a handful of actual facts. But both Irmo and Olórin have confirmed that your father and Melkor were close. They met often in Lórien, and Irmo says they worked together. Irmo believes it's likely they worked together on the Silmarils.”
“Fuck …” Fingon muttered.
Maedhros nodded at Elai to continue.
“What happened then is conjecture currently,” Elai said. “They became estranged, but the reasons aren't clear.” She pretended not to hear Fingon’s continued muttering. “Someone claiming to be one of Aulë's Maia visited your parents with a warning, supposedly from Aulë himself, that Melkor was planning a betrayal. Up until a few days ago, Melkor had no knowledge of this; he thought your father betrayed him, cutting him off without an explanation and taking the Silmarils, which were partly Melkor's work. Melkor was furious; his love turned to deep hatred, and he was determined to be revenged. When he found out a few days ago about the message your father received, the one that spoke of Melkor's betrayal, he was devastated.” Fingon made a scoffing noise, and Elai turned to him. “I've known Melkor for a while now, Finno, he's absolutely terrible at dissimulation. If he can control his emotions, he can look like nothing bothers him, but when he loses his cool, what you see is genuine. Whether it's rage or pain or both, it's genuine.” She looked back at Maedhros. “I think the mystery Maia was Sauron. Sauron found out Melkor meant to stay in Aman because of Feänaro, so Sauron decided to break Feänaro. But I have no proof currently. I've sent a message via Melkor and Oromë to Aulë, so that we can find out who the mystery Maia was. If Aulë didn't send him …”
“If Aulë didn't send him …” Maedhros said. “Then it's highly possible it was Sauron - I was his plaything for years, I know what he's capable of - and Sauron destroyed my father and Melkor both, invoked the Doom of the Noldor and the horrors of the First Age. All in the name of …” He shook his head. “In the name of what, exactly?”
“He manipulated Melkor,” Elai replied. “Melkor has recognised that for a while now. There would have been no endless war in Beleriand if not for Sauron. Melkor's plan was simply to flee with the Silmarils as far as he could and disappear.”
“And you believe all this?” Fingon demanded. He did not sound convinced.
Elai nodded. “I do.” It was past the time for economies of truth. “I care about Melkor. I know that makes me unreliable, Finno, but I promise I still hold to my purpose. If this is all a lie, I will act. But until he proves himself unfaithful, I'll believe him. I hope Aulë verifies Melkor's version of events but, even if he doesn't, I won't turn my back without proof.”
“Then let us go and talk to Aulë,” Maedhros said.
Elai nodded and followed the two Noldori back up the river bank.
*