Single Handedly - - Chapter 2

Title: Single Handedly
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Maedhros/OFC
Time: First Age 346 – Fourth Age
Chapter(s): 2/?
Summary: Celegorm reached out a hand to help him up and firmly Maedhros took it, pulling him close to bestow a poisonous look and growled, "This is not forgivable, Celegorm. I will never forget."
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. =]


Chapter Two – In the Darkness of My Dreaming

Mîrluiniel vaguely felt some nauseating paste of herbs being pushed deep into her mouth and she coughed in attempt to force the mess back out, failing when two fingers pushed the mixture back in and firmly made her swallow it past her gag reflex. As soon as the sickening stuff was down her throat, the elleth jolted instinctively as some kind of cord was tied uncomfortably tight just below her left elbow, shooting pain through the appendage as far as there was feeling. A whimper escaped her lips when whoever was at her side constricted the, already throb-evoking, knot to a numbingly uncomfortable length while a freshly cooled cloth covered her forehead and shocked an already cold body.
"Bring me that pan to contain the blood." A male voice ordered above her and Mîrluiniel struggled at first to understand him for he spoke quickly in Quenyan. Still gagging over the horrid herb mixture, she fought with her lungs to speak and hoarsely begged them grant her a drink of water.
The edhel on her left put his palm over her closed eyes and murmured softly to her exhausted displeasure. "Not now, my lady. If you will let my brother's medicine take effect, I promise you I will give you a drink when you awaken. Trust me now and sleep." The way his hand touched her eyelids made her initial drowsiness overcome her and, against her mind's consent, she relaxed into blankness, her last feeling being a million pricking and tingling sensations encasing her inside and out. Yet besides such feelings, there was something in her left arm that felt wrong.

"She spoke?" Curufin came over with a shallow dish and placed it under her forearm where the incision would soon be made.
"Yes, she asked for water, though I gave her none. The mixture has just taken effect. The last place I felt her pulse on the arm was right here." He gestured to the place spoken of. "Not as shallow as I had thought, midways up the fore length." Celegorm informed his younger sibling and met his eye at the last in search of some consent. He needed at least one person to back this decision before he proceeded.
And good brother as he had, Curufin put his hand on Cel's shoulder with an encouraging nod and gave him the go ahead. "I'm right here with needle and thread to finish the job." They shared a very slight smile before Celegorm unsheathed his dagger and took hold of her arm where he had marked the skin.

As Kalin cried out from her temporary paralysis, Maedhros felt a strong sense of fear and pain not his own well up in his chest. An urgency only experienced in battle washed over him and was amplified ten times over when the faint scream of an elven lady reached his sensitive ears.

The Valar blessed Celegorm's hands to be able and his blade sharp as the last of her bone was cut through and the deadened, gory hand was permanently removed. While the older brother cleaned the flesh and then his own hands, Curufin moved in quickly with efficient skills in suturing and shut tightly the fresh wound so precisely made. The faint light of a rain-clouded morning made its way through the canvas of their dwelling and aided both edhil along with candle light to clean and bandage Kalin's arm, making use of every ounce of care they possessed.
Curufin's paralyzing herb blend had quickened the procedure tremendously, though Celegorm could not restrain his guilt for neither giving her any information when she had awoken, nor providing pain-killing substances that would have helped to subdue the searing pain that was so evident on her pale face during, and now after, the surgery.
Dabbing beads of sweat from her face and neck that had developed through her fever, the elf was taken off-guard when his eldest brother burst into the quarters with a fury that shone in his eyes greater than the strongest emerald. 'How can he have known already?' His thoughts franticly tried to understand, but it mattered little. He knew. And by Ungoliant's webs, if this intimidating Noldo didn't murder him in that moment, then surely his ears would be torn off in the next for the crime he knew had been committed in his brother's sight.
"What have you done?" Maedhros' words carried more licking flames in them than a blacksmith's glowing embers as his gaze went from Kalin's missing hand to glaring at his second youngest brother. Reflexively, Celegorm backed away from the bed and the elleth in it as the tallest of them stalked forward menacingly. He found himself only grateful for the lack of sword at his brother's side. "Can you even fathom what you have done to her?" With a great leap and snarl, the largest of their brothers lunged and landed on top of the other, easily knocking the wind from him. "Do you even know!"
He sent a hard fist into Celegorm's jaw as the younger grabbed wildly at his collar but could not halt the attack even when his opponent lacked his right, and once most powerful, hand. "Maedhros, stop!" Curufin tried to grab the elf's shoulder but was violently shoved away. Suddenly dazed by a well-calculated hit to the temple, Maedhros paused overlong in his attack and received another blow in the same place from the third youngest son, sending him down on his back in a moment of weakness. Using a technique well practiced during their childhood spats, Celegorm quickly took the high ground atop his legs as Curufin came from behind the eldest and bound both arms in his locked grasp. In vain, Maedhros struggled and bowed his back against the two strong edhil atop him, calling out in anger when even his kicks and throws of weight proved fruitless between the two capable elves.
In subdued rage, the eldest stilled and at last yielded his strength to the younger sons. They let him go cautiously and stood, Celegorm reached out a hand to help him up and firmly Maedhros took it, pulling him close to bestow a poisonous look and growled. "This is unforgivable, Celegorm. I will never forget." His expression was dark and made only worse by a swollen and bleeding temple, the hot liquid that trickled down his face nearly matched in color the vibrancy of his dripping hair. His iron strong glare softened in concern as those eyes cut to Kalin. He asked quietly, "Will she live?"
Celegorm followed his gaze and heaved a sigh of relief to see her breathing more deeply and a peaceful expression settling on her face as she slept. "Yes."

As the sun rose fully, Maedhros went to the large paddock in which the company's horses were kept and sought out his stallion, Rúnyadal. Having gathered the tack from his own tent, he set the intricate saddle over the fence and opened the gate with a whistle to his steed. Obediently, the unusually tall dark grey trotted without harness from the gated corral, swishing his high-set black tail while he pranced about his master.
The elf hardly paid him mind as he shut the gate back again and picked up the detailed leather tack he had furnished himself long years ago. "Come to me, my flame foot. We're going for a run." Bowing his head excitedly, the majestic stallion made to stand beside Maedhros and, methodically, the elf fastened onto him both the lightweight saddle and thin leather bridle, both pieces black to compliment the horse's jet accents with grey and white in progression.
Rainwater spilled over both elf and animal and as the sodden edhel made to mount, a deep rumble of thunder shook the earth, frightening Rúnyadal to jolt away from his master. Maedhros cursed the skittish qualities of a young horse and was quick to successfully mount up and take off before the stallion made any other nervous movements that weren't in forward motion.
Rearing up at his master's forceful urging, the pair quickly sped through camp and onward in a race against Manwë's very breath. Mud and rocks flew up behind swift hooves and continuous rain hit them all the harder in punishment for flying so fast in the storm, stinging the elf's face as it also splashed off of Rúnyadal's mane. Shouting the horse onward, they cleared a fallen tree near the river and swiftly paced past the speed of the current in its overflow.
Maedhros could not express, hardly to himself even, how upset he was that his own brothers would do such a thing to this maiden. He was furious they had disobeyed his express orders, yet to add a helping of confusion in with his feelings, he was relieved that Kalin had been rescued from such a danger of near death. But that fact did not abate in any way the feeling that he had ruined her life by letting them remove her hand. Yes, she lived, but now she needed to survive. He could never forgive himself.
Without thought or much care he pushed his steed deeper into the storm and soon he could no longer see beyond the horse's head, even with keen elven eyes. Judging for his master, Rúnya slowed to an easy trot in spite of receiving multiple cues to keep on at the same speed. Maedhros sat up in the saddle and gave in, pulling the animal to a complete stop as he struggled to order his thoughts. It proved more difficult as fatigue settled on him and his head gave him grief from the powerful blows his brothers had dealt him earlier.
Dismounting stiffly, he took a seat, uncaring, down in the gravel and slough and softly beckoned his horse to lay beside him, surprised that Rúnyadal had even heard his voice through the rain and again that he obeyed in the next moment. The eldest son of Fëanor had trained many an unwilling horse in his numerous centuries; Rúnyadal was quite a pleasant change.
The stallion nudged his head against Maedhros' cheek and, with a rare smile, the Noldo stroked his neck and combed through the wet mane that greatly resembled his own in texture. "A fine pair we make, hmm, Rúnya? Both of us soaking, muddy, and lost out in a storm. A pitiful scene, I'd say." Calmly he spoke to the horse and persuaded the animal to focus only on his touch and voice, not the pounding rain or frequent thunder. "Do you know of the maiden Celegorm brought here yesterday?" He began as if talking to a child. "She was very hurt and is getting better now, I suppose in spite of me. You see, I told my brothers not to do something to help her and she became much, much worse because of it. This very morning they went against my word and took from her, her left hand, much like my right was taken from me. And it is only because of them that she still lives." He frowned and took a long breath. "In fact, I helped her none at all. If it had been up to me… Eru, she would be dead."

Mîrluiniel slept for several hours undisturbed except for some little pain when she tried to move her left side. One dream played out briefly during her rest and showed to her an elf, taller than most and with hair as red as the center of a rose.

He extended his hand toward her and she went to take it, but as soon as she did, it disappeared, replaced only by a reddened scar of where it once was. The edhel broke their gaze, ashamed, and his expression fell to a sad frown.
'Forgive me, mîr nin.' He murmured and turned away before she could reach for him again. The vision ended as he walked away from her and she felt more sorrow and pity for him than she had ever felt for anyone.

Vaguely she sensed someone giving her a draught of water and then she had peace again once her throat no longer cracked. And then she dreamed it again, seeing more of his face and how his emerald eyes clouded in pain. She remembered meeting this elf once before… Maedhros. His name was Maedhros, the eldest son of Fëanor, whose father created the Silmarils. She called his name this time as he turned away, but still he kept on and as he vanished, she awoke.
The heaviness of rain weighted the tent roof above her and she barely managed a smile at the sound and smell of it outside the open tent flap. 'Where am I?' She asked inwardly, surveying her new environment. 'Surely not in Nan Elmoth any longer, it's hardly open enough for this much rain to fall, let alone set up this large of a tent.' Mîrluiniel remembered the elf that had rescued her from the wolves, and she struggled to sit up and perhaps find him, yet a terrible tightness in her chest gave her grief over the attempted action.
Her left arm was in a sling and as she tried to flex her fingers she gasped sharply, feeling nothing but pain. Looking down shocked her to find the hand was in its entirety completely missing. Had the wolf taken it from her? She couldn't remember; it was just as numb then as it was gone now. She could hardly bring herself to believe her own eyes.
"My lady?" A male voice drew her attention to the blonde elf just come into the entrance of the tent.
She looked up to him, the shock of such a discovery still very clear in her shining blue eyes and he responded by making his way to her. "Wha-what happened to my arm?"
Panic began to creep into her voice and, sensing it, he quickly came to her right side and took her hand in his, brushing his other along her hair and forehead. "Hush now, it's all right. I promise you, you're fine. It was severed in your attack and when you arrived here, the hand would not take and was infecting the rest of your body so long as we left it. I'm afraid if we hadn't, you could very well have been lost to us." Mîrluiniel tried to breathe evenly and succeeded for the most part yet still tears fell quickly in the trauma of it all. Breathing deeply was hard as well because of her other mending wounds and she started to cry softly, leaning forward in immense pain to accept the embrace this elf freely offered her.
She missed her father, and Galathil, even Celeborn in that moment. Right then she wanted nothing more than to be in their arms. What would they say? 'You never should have been alone,' she knew, perhaps that it had even been coming to her. 'No, they would never be so cruel as to say such.' They would surely blame her rescuers for it, for taking it from her. Did she? 'No, I am grateful they saved my life. Indeed I owe them so very much for this gracious act.'
The elf holding her carefully rubbed her back and upper arm, allowing her to release in tears what she could not in coherent voice. Faster than she would have thought, she grew weary once again and leaned upon him more and more until he was the only thing keeping her on the bed. Easily, he laid her over on her right side for a change in position and thoughtfully pushed her hair to the side as she snubbed and hiccupped a few more times. "My name is Celegorm, my lady. Call me if you need aught and I will do my best to retrieve it for you." Nodding sleepily and with a furrowed brow, Mîrluiniel closed her eyes and huddled between the sheets and atop her pillow, an amazingly calm sleep coming over her immediately.

The next time she awoke was to a heated argument being held in barely subdued voices to one corner of the tent. They spoke in Quenyan, which seemed almost foreign to her young ears and, to her dismay, she could only translate a few words and phrases in her head as she was turned away from the quarreling pair. Namely, she heard stronger, returned, loved ones, and not of us, which surprisingly unnerved her more than anything else.
Now that her mind was mostly clear again, her adventurous and curious nature came back full force. 'I will be recuperating from limb-loss in any circumstance, and I'd rather be doing it with people who understand why I am like this.' There was also the matter of her dreams. Those had been present, though not in great detail, long before coming into the Fëanorian encampment, and she knew for a fact she would never meet Maedhros again if she returned to Doriath now. In her fëa she knew this was somehow so very important to her future.
At length they seemed to finish, and one of them stormed past the end of her bed, coming into her view just as the elf went to the door flap where, for some reason, he hesitated. Turning back to her even as his handless right arm held up the canvas, his face registered in her mind and she gasped softly, hardly heard beneath the pounding of continuous rain pelting down outside. 'Maedhros,' her mind raced. 'He is here? I don't even rightly know where here is. This is so much.' He was covered in mud and soaked through with rainwater. The stern glare that had been his prior expression, softened instantly when he met her tired gaze, and the emerald gems that served as his eyes seemed to link with hers just as he turned away and left the dwelling.

Managing to eat something light that Celegorm kindly brought to her the next morning, Mîrluiniel's anxiety returned when he finally started to ask the questions she knew would come.
"I'm afraid I still do not know your name, lady, or even where you come from. Were you alone when the wolves attacked?"
She chewed another bite of ripe apple before deciding on how to answer. "My name is Kalin. I was alone; the beasts killed first my horse but came after me as soon as I began to run. My bow was attached onto her saddle, I couldn't have reached it without incident." She thought sadly of her horse for a moment while he nodded
Then again he asked another question. "What realm do you come from, Kalin?"
She hesitated before looking up at him and probing. "Why do you wish to know that?"
The edhel's brows knit in confusion at such a question. He could only shrug. "Well, to be able to deliver you home once you recover. We aren't going to harm you or your people, I promise."
Quickly she corrected her meaning and explained. "No, no, no I know that is not your intent. I simply wish to… to remain here. I don't want to go back."
He was puzzled by her honest declaration, but judged her not to be acting out of fear or rash emotion. Yet still, he could hardly explain her desire to stay in a place, and with elves, so foreign to her beyond the fact that they had saved her life. He considered it. "You owe us nothing for your life, Kalin. You are not expected to pay any guerdon…"
"But I would certainly like to help in any way that I can. Whether you think so or not, I know I do owe you so very much. I'd like very much to stay, my lord." She seemed determined to remain and he crossed his arms in thought, motioning that she could continue to eat her small meal.
At length he decided not to decide in that instant, and told her as much. "There is a good deal more healing you have left to do before we need make any decisions, Kalin. I would have you rest and mend before any such choice is made." He patted her blanketed knee reassuringly and left her with instruction to try and sleep once she had finished. "I will speak with my brother about it. For now ease your mind, you are more stressed than you may realize." He departed with a smile and she hoped they would not take her away. She wanted to explore to what end her feelings and instincts were commanding her that she go, and possibly find what all her dreams concerning Fëanor's eldest son might truly meant for her.

"She's awakened, if you'd like to know." Celegorm announced to his eldest, currently brooding, brother and crossed his arms as he watched him groom Rúnyadal expertly.
Maedhros slowed his movements but kept his eyes on the charcoal clouded flanks of his steed. "Is she angered?" He asked hesitantly while his kin came to lean on the gate beside him, leaning with his elbows.
"Amazingly not. Just a bit in shock over it all. Would you care to know her name?"
"It's Kalin. Yes, I know it already." Celegorm looked surprised for a moment and made to ask further but he was already in the midst of continuing. "I met her once before, at Mereth Aderthad."
"You know where she's from, then?"
"Our meeting was brief. I learned only her name, and she, mine." He paused and turned to Cel. "You mean you don't know where she comes from? I thought you talked with her."
The younger sighed. "That's mainly why I've come. She won't tell me her homeland… She wishes to remain here. Whether out of obligation for our rescuing her, or fear of what waits for her in her land; though I do not believe that to be the case. I think she has yet another reason for her desire to stay than either of those, however earnest I trust her to be in repaying our kindness."
Maedhros scoffed at the term 'kindness' being used to describe their actions and continued to curry the drying mud from his stallion's hindquarters. "What did you tell her, then?"
Again, his brother sighed and passively reached out a hand for Rúnyadal to lip and nibble, debating once more what he'd been debating since leaving Kalin that morning. "You know better than I that if we were to keep her here, against her will or by it, we would most likely be hunted down for her 'kidnapping' and 'torture.' Our reputations balance upon an arrow's fletching as it is. A war fought over this maiden will not do." Maedhros remained quiet as the stressed edhel thought aloud and waited for his second youngest sibling to voice the option that had immediately come to his mind, though it was certainly not the faultless and correct thing to do. "Of course, there is the fact that no one knows she is under our care…"
"Celegorm," Maedhros started, using a chiding tone, however reluctant. "She has family somewhere that will be missing her at some point, whether fully healed or no. Whatever her personal desire is to stay, they will no doubt object to us keeping her overlong." Nodding, the younger brother seemed to concede to the logic of his point. "She will heal completely, yes?" The oldest asked in addition when he realized he'd taken that fact for granted and Celegorm nodded without much interest, his mind thinking over other obstacles besides Kalin's slowly improving health. The two were silent for some time before Maedhros switched tools for his mount's grooming and bid him go in a curt voice. The eldest had his own ideas to ponder and privacy was sacred to him.
It shocked him she was civil at all to them after knowing what had been done to her, yet, he reasoned, he had not been angry with Fingon upon for cutting him off that accursed cliff-side. In both instances it had been done to save a life, at length he accepted that she had simply realized this truth quicker than he had anticipated her to. 'But how can she so readily put her trust in strangers enough to want to live with us instead of returning to her own people and land?' It baffled him for anyone to be so swift in placing their faith in another. Perhaps it was her young age and innocence, but perhaps he had just become too calloused in such things.
With the subject of her innocence brought to his mind, Maedhros thought of Kalin more as the beautiful elleth that she was; how her hair had been so soft through his five fingers, her crystal-like blue eyes when they had met so quickly nigh on three centuries ago and then just last eve when their gaze caught, however briefly. He wished to see her again, perhaps try to find out more about her, but if anything just to see those bright eyes again and satiate the craving, then no more. 'You mustn't lose yourself on her, Maedhros.' His mind warned and shook him off of the current path his thoughts were walking. 'She's too pure to stain with your blood, keep your distance.' Sighing, he pressed his forehead to Rúnyadal's withers and grasped the grooming comb in a strong hand. He could not risk harming her by becoming too close. 'I will protect her by staying away.' Resolved, he tossed the comb into the bag of other tools before mounting skillfully upon Rúnya's high bare back. Fëanor's eldest son knew the oath's limits far better than most, understanding that the curse of its broken boundaries would injure far more than one individual.

"You would have laughed so loud to see Cel's face when that poor nag took him for it right in front of us all and a few ellith besides. I'd never seen any elf turn as red as Maedhros' hair…" Curufin laughed at Kalin's side as he distracted her from having her wounds checked by Celegorm. She giggled softly, but in pain, though she wished to laugh out right like she would normally have been able to.
"Curufinwë," The elder of the present siblings addressed his brother in a chastising tone. "You lessen my honor to this young maiden, though she barely knows me. It's an unfair act and the favor will be returned, you know it." The edhel admonished with a jesting quirk in his brow and gently slid his knife between the skin and bandaging on her shoulder.
Kalin smiled broadly to the brothers and shook her head. "I feel as if I know so much about you all already, Curufin is so fit for telling stories of everyone." Her compliment was taken well by the younger of the pair and he stood from the bedside to bow elaborately, hamming up her attention to get another laugh or that lovely smile.
"My lady flatters most preferably to the verbal sustenance I bestow upon her starved ears. Shall I tell you another and more?"
Flinching as Celegorm placed another herb poultice onto her side wounds, she grimaced a smile with difficulty and nodded. "Please do. I would much rather hear you than feel this." He knit his fallow brows in concern for her but knew she was in good hands and so began with another tale of his brothers. As he continued, he noted curiously that she took a much greater interest in stories containing anything about the eldest of his brothers, Maedhros. She would ask subtly what he enjoyed to do or playfully what his weak spots were for becoming annoyed or pleased.
Stolen glances told him Celegorm had noticed this same quality and so he kept baiting her with more information until at last his brother became satisfied more or less with the condition of her flesh wounds. "Kalin, you've worn yourself out listening to my brother and staying awake this long in your state of health. Please rest as long as you can. One or both of us will check on you from time to time, is that well?" Celegorm situated the pillows around her and stopped with his hand on her head as she nodded in response and thanked them both most sincerely. The brothers left her to sleep and Kalin took a measured breath, careful of her healing ribs.
She was happy they were so accommodating to her in every way. Her curiosity towards the sons of Fëanor had truly begun several hundred years ago when her young ears had been exposed tales of their changes to elven life and their oath to reclaim the Silmarils. It had been the reason she'd spirited away to the High King Fingolfin's Mereth Aderthad, even when the people of Doriath were against attending. Blessed Galathil had assisted her in making the journey from Menegroth, informing their King Thingol of his own business out of their Queen's protective Girdle. His information was all truth, for her eldest brother had indeed gone to the Feast of Reuniting with her in Hithlum, changing his title to Herumor*, and hers to her mother-name, Kalin. They both swore the oath of friendship between their Sindarin people and the Noldor come from Aman. Even though the people of her King's realm, her own father included, loathed the Fëanorians for their Kinslaying in Alqualondë and lust for the Silmarils, Mîrluiniel spoke the oath of friendship and meant every word with all of her fëa.
In her heart Mîrluiniel knew she could trust the sons of Fëanor, though rash and fierce they had proved to be countless times in the years since their oath. Her heart, her very fëa, believed and knew that they could be good edhil. Maedhros, particularly, had always appealed to her the very most; in his character to reclaim alliances and seek peace first, before anger and violence. To her, it appeared he truly regretted his father's oath more than any of the sons, and revealed such in his loyal actions toward elves that his family had once proclaimed rule over and fought against. He knew when to comply and bow out gracefully, and when to stand up and fight to the death, which he very nearly attained on Thangorodrim.
Only in that moment did she realize that they now shared the same disability, if on the opposite arm. Mîrluiniel resolved as drowsiness sought to overcome her that she would never treat her amputation as a handicap. It would change her life, but she could adapt.

Maedhros cooled Rúnyadal down after their run and sent him into the paddock with the others once dismounting the bare animal. Tack was not always necessary in his opinion. Intently studying his boots on the ground as he walked, he hardly noticed the direction in which they took until he stopped at the edge of tent stakes he knew not to be his own. Lifting weary eyes to the tent flap before him, he could not be surprised to find the one containing Kalin within it. He sighed. He did not wish to deal with his brothers in his current mood… Yet, he heard no voices or movement within. 'If she is sleeping, I would be able to see her as I wish, and then leave satisfied that I will have at least checked on her.' He convinced himself and entered the tent without giving his logical mind a chance to think out of the decision.
He was thankful she was asleep as he'd hoped, and neither Celegorm nor Curufin were anywhere to be seen within the canvas chamber. Hesitant still, he neared the bed and let his eyes follow the curve of her shoulder, arm, hip, and leg under the blanket as she rested on her right side away from him. At last he settled in the chair beside the mattress and simply watched her breathe for several minutes.
Kalin's breaths changed in a moment, though, and soon quickened after the left arm in her sling tried to move against bandages and in her unconscious state let out a groan of discomfort, moaning and shifting in distress as she muttered. "No, stay with me… please." Maedhros sat upright in his seat and listened to her voiced dream intently. "Please… Maedhros." He stiffened when his name passed through her lips and sat rigid as she continued to squirm in pain until she turned onto her back, her face conveying as much pain as he'd seen her in upon her first arrival nearly in pieces. "Maedhros?" The hurt in her voice as she gasped made him wish to Eru that he could stop doing whatever it was that distressed her in her sleep, to ease that beautiful face from such sadness. His only hand betrayed him and gently reached to touch her cheek with a few fingers, stroking downward lightly until they grazed the numerous fresh bandages where he held her upper left arm in a tentative, yet comforting, way.
A weak smile graced his mouth as she shifted just into his hand and he believed her face eased ever so slightly. If it would not harm her further, he knew he would take her in his arms and hold her until every bad dream could melt away. Though after an instant of thinking such, he pulled his hand away from her damaged body and stood abruptly. He could not do this; tempt himself with her touch and appearance whenever she was unaware. It was wrong, he knew, but he felt much differently than his mind thought. But being near her was too dangerous. Whether she could contain herself or not, he was afraid of his own reaction to her lengthened presence.
Looking at her for a moment longer, he frowned to see her face return to the sad expression from before and he forced himself away, striding out of the tent with no destination in his eyes.
Curufin saw his brother as he made his own way to visit Kalin and changed direction to catch him up. "Maedhros!" He turned as his name was called and his younger sibling came up to him with a curious look. "Did you see Kalin? I thought her asleep."
"She is. I saw her for but a moment."
He continued walking but was matched in step by his shorter brother and he began. "Cel re-bandaged her this morning and I told her stories of our youth in Araman to keep her mind off things." Curufin watched his elder closely and added. "She particularly liked anything I said about you, Maitimo."
Maedhros stopped stiff for a fleeting moment until he seemed to resume his calm, once more assuming his normal, foreboding temperament. "I can't imagine why. Did you find out anything of her background?"
Curufin stammered slightly as he thought. "Well, no. I did most of the talking."
Maedhros rolled his eyes and walked further. 'Why does that not surprise me?' He thought inwardly.
"When she spoke it was really only to ask more of you."
The oldest brother had finally endured enough razing and whirled on his younger sibling by more than enough decades. "Curufin, it is enough that I am myself struggling to keep my distance from this elleth. But your hinting at her supposed interest is not needed. End it. Before I do, forcibly." The command was perhaps stricter than he had intended; after all, his brothers were his only source of information on Kalin, yet in the end he was glad to have made himself expressly clear. Curufin was indeed shocked by such a reprimand and stood a moment dumbly as Maedhros stormed away to his tent on the other side of camp.
This was becoming too much, Maedhros felt, and began to clean the mess around his quarters, packing his things away into the saddlebags on his bed. He had to leave, he needed to return to Himring and tend his own business, not his brothers,' and consequently Kalin's, in the process. Things were well enough in their cavalry encampment and he had a people of his own to secure in the windy hills of his 'home' where he was needed. Kalin was simply too beautiful, in appearance and character. She drew him to her very fëa without any knowledge of her power over him. He conceded that she was a weakness for him, much like the Silmarilli were the weakness of his father. Just as the Silmarils had never done anything in and of themselves, it was the desire of their possession.
"Maedhros, where are you going? You are not leaving already…" Curufin entered his brother's room and questioned pointlessly, as answers were already clear.
"I am leaving already, Curu. Do not burden yourself, you knew my visit would be brief when I came." Maedhros replied indifferently.
"If this is about Kalin, I find it completely unnecessary. I apologize for my 'hinting' earlier, you know I cannot miss an opportunity to tease, but I was truthful concerning what she said and what she took interests in."
The eldest sighed. "If already she takes such interest in my person, then it is best if I leave now. I have no wish to disappoint her by being a realistic elf instead of the story tale character that she's been fed with most, if not all, of her youth. Do not pester me, Curufin. It is not only in concern for her welfare that I am going. I would rather reach Himring before the snows, than be trapped here and serve Maglor no use until the spring."
Curufin rolled his eyes, certain that that particular excuse had never been of much significance. He'd seen his brother to trek, without horse or company, through a blizzard to reach destinations not half so important before. Yet he knew Maedhros would not change his decision once made and chose to no longer argue over so moot a point. "Will you farewell Celegorm before you rush away? Celebrimbor, also, has but rarely seen you since you arrived." He asked after a while as his flame-haired brother at length took both bags and a bedroll outside and set them down before starting toward his horse in the corral.
"If I meet my brother before then. I will not seek him out if that is what you wish to know. And my nephew will not miss me overmuch; tell him a story for me. If you desire a goodbye be made to Cel, then you may go and fetch him. I'll be packing Rúnyadal." With a nod to his subtle instruction, the younger fair sibling ran off in another direction in search of Celegorm.

"Maedhros?" Mîrluiniel asked out into her dream. Soon a fear of abandonment, the kind of which she had never felt so strong in her life, came over her and in searing pain she sat up, calling out as her right arm reached out to where she felt he was leaving her to. "Maedhros! Why do you leave me?" Waves of tighter and more bearing pain became too much, and with a jolt she awoke in tears and a sore voice. Quickly someone was at her side and easing her back down to the mattress, worried hands checking her left side that had possibly been damaged by the strain of movement.
At last her eyes cleared of some tears and she looked up to see Celegorm standing over her with worry and what seemed to be a piqued interest in his expression. "Kalin, I think you need to tell me what you've dreamt that concerns my brother." His serious suggestion made her feel like she had done some wrong. S
he was in the middle of taking a deep breath when Curufin burst through the tent flap and glanced between them before looking to his brother with a sarcastic urgency on his fair features. "Maedhros is leaving for Himring." At his announcement, both Celegorm and Kalin looked to each other in surprise and then he looked back to his younger brother. "He is packing Rúnya as we speak, I thought you might want to see him before he makes away. He told me he wouldn't seek you out, so I did."
Celegorm nodded and turned to Kalin with gentle hands to wipe her tears away, looking to her meaningfully. "I will return in a moment, do not distress yourself so." Giving him a very forced smile that seemed to satisfy him, he turned from her and was out the door with his brother, leaving her to calm down and attempt to collect her thoughts.
Mîrluiniel was briefly unsure as to what she should tell him but then immediately decided to communicate only the truth. She was keeping enough from them already, and she didn't at all prefer it to complete honesty, though she knew it had become necessary. Her most recent dreams had been slightly different than the others since arriving in this place. In these she, also, had but one arm, like in reality, and Maedhros had kissed her neck while he held her for what seemed like it would be the last time and finally let her go, allowing her to be pulled away by someone unknown to her. He drew a long sword in his one hand and turned away from her sadly, at last leaving her sight as she cried out his name in tears. Mîrluiniel realized only then that Curufin had come to tell his brother Maedhros was truly leaving, heading back to Himring where she understood he kept a fortress with his brother, Maglor.
"Kalin?" A familiar voice re-entered the tent and she looked up. "I am back. I would like you to tell me why you called out Maedhros' name in your sleep. What was your dream?" Celegorm came to sit on the bed at her right and helped her sit just a little more upright against the pillows.
She took a cautious breath to test the new position and finally began. "To be direct, this was not the first dream I've had of your brother; though this one differed from the others." He politely allowed her to continue with a curious expression as he leaned an elbow on his knee. "The first dreams I could not recognize him right away, he was just a tall, red-haired edhel extending his hand to me, his right hand. Whenever I reached up to take it, it would vanish, and only the scars remained on his arm. He wouldn't look at me then and seemed to be disappointed, though toward himself, not at me. I just couldn't understand it because he did nothing wrong. Then he asked me to forgive him, calling me his 'jewel' as he turned and walked away."
"How many times had this vision come to you, Kalin?" He inquired and she tried to think.
"I've lost count. I've had these dreams before even coming here, but they were much less detailed and he never spoke, it was always fleeting."
He nodded in thought and acknowledgement before asking further. "And what of your most recent dream? You said it was differed, yes?"
With a nod she answered him completely, running the fabric of her sling through her remaining fingers. "Yes, one difference was that I, also, had but one hand and his simply wasn't there at all, there was no disappearance this time. He embraced me like he knew he'd never see me again; kissed my neck and then of a sudden released me, letting another pull me away from behind. I watched him draw his sword and turn away from me in a reluctant manner. I felt so much despair that I could not control it and I called his name. This was when you awoke me and it ended quite abruptly."
Celegorm noticed she again seemed very depressed and wondered to himself if their meeting at Mereth Aderthad was more than just introductions as his brother had informed him. Deciding to start with the beginning, he asked her. "Kalin, have you ever met Maedhros face to face?"
She tilted her head almost to say no, but then nodded, looking away so as to not meet his inquisitive gaze. "I was at the Feast of Reuniting and met him very quickly before we all swore the oath of friendship. I only learned his name and he mine. It was very brief."
The edhel massaged a hand over his eyes before looking at her with an attempt at an encouraging expression and Mîrluiniel took it for what it was, an attempt. "Well, my impetuous brother is now on his merry way to his fortress on Himring, so it may happen that you will not have these dreams near as often. My lady, I beg you speak openly with I, or my brother, about anything you wish. I understand your desire to keep your homeland concealed for now, but anything you do want to express, you are most certainly free to do so. For a while, at least, this is your home. I welcome you, lady Kalin."
With a delightful blush to her sun-deprived cheeks, Mîrluiniel thanked him and promised to make good on his offer of confidence.
"Well, you're a lovely elleth and our encampment could use a feminine eye and voice once you recover properly." He mentioned subtly the idea of her remaining, even once healed, as he situated her with blankets and pillows to her liking. "But to recover, you must do as I say, and now I am saying rest. Think of music, or dancing, or whatever you like, and sleep well, Kalin."
With a smile he left and Kalin sincerely considered what was presented before her. She wondered if it was the brother he had consulted with earlier that day that had advised him it would be acceptable for her to stay. In any case she hoped she would be allowed to stay through the winter in which it would be impractical to travel anywhere far. Though she imagined if they had a mind to do it, the sons of Fëanor could, and would, do anything no matter the circumstances or weather. The actions of Fëanor's house were brought to mind for the first real time since she'd arrived and under the covers, Mîrluiniel grimaced reluctantly.
There was a reason her King Elu Thingol and all of Doriath despised Fëanor and his offspring. The killings of Alqualondë, burning the ships at Losgar; there weren't many reasons to trust them at all, yet her fëa disputed everything said against them and sought to tell her they could be trusted in her case. The brothers that she'd met had been nothing but kind to her, gentle and respectful. If their father had been any other Noldo, she was certain her atar would approve of those that now cared for his only daughter and youngest child.
Deciding not to judge the edhil by things done long ago, she remembered the oath she had taken at the High King's Feast where her words spoke of friendship with all Noldorin people and she remembered the conviction with which those words were released from her young lips. Mîrluiniel knew she still held that conviction within her and smiled when she realized these Noldo also honored the oath that their leader had vowed for them by the action of saving her life. She would stay with them as long as she was able, and learn everything she could to be of help and assistance to them, not a hindrance.

Galloping across Himlad at a good pace, Maedhros paid little heed to the surroundings beyond Rúnya's mane flicking his face in the wind of their movement and the grip of his strong legs on either side of the animal's girth beneath him. Kalin's voice speaking his name haunted every thought like the echo of his sword hitting his back with every gait of the stallion's legs. He needed his closest brother's counsel, to end the war within himself over his feelings and actions toward Kalin. His fëa begged him to go to her, for what reason he knew not; it told him only that she was so imperative to his being, promising his hopeful heart a peace he'd not claimed since elflinghood. Could this elleth he only knew the name of, promise to be of such meaning to him in so short a span of time?
It all seemed too improbable for his logical mind to consider being hale. He did not want to believe something that would fail in its promises. His father had inadvertently taught him hundreds of years ago at Losgar, how naive and ignorant his mind could be, and how it would not serve him well under such command; thinking that they would return for the other exiled elves, their cousins and relations. He had hated his father that day but even more he had hated himself for being so stupid, and still hated himself for too many things. Destruction of himself and those around him would always follow too close on his heels as long as he lived; never would he willingly subject one as lovely as Kalin to the curse of his presence or ardor.
The wind of evening began to bite uncaringly through his clothes and skin, pricking his cheeks with needles until he was aware enough to realize that Telperion was already high. He should rest, the next late night would see him in his own bed if he pushed hard enough. And his horse, faithful though he was to his master's commands, still needed energy while his heart was young and his legs long. Guiding Rúnyadal to a small knoll of trees near to the river, he dismounted smoothly and let the horse drink for himself while he knelt down by its banks and splashed the frigid water onto his face and through his hair. Aside from clearing his eyes of the sand kicked up on the ride, the motion served to be no help concerning his alertness and Maedhros unpacked his belongings only enough to have his sword by his side before lying down on some softer earth.
Rúnyadal took his place standing beside his master and watched the flame-haired Noldo slip unwillingly into a well-needed sleep. Maedhros did not currently desire rest, for even a little unconsciousness summoned dreams which would always strip away his carefully laid layers of self-control and denial. Before he could adjust to anything, his mother's lovely voice summoned her eldest child to attention and he found himself in Fingolfin's realm at Mereth Aderthad, gazing at an image of Kalin as she stood alone sipping sweet wine while others danced in a clearing outside. "Maitimo, is that her? She's very comely." His mother came behind him and rested her cheek on his strong arm as one of her elegant hands stroked the long hair partially braided down his back.
He nodded and stood with his naneth watching her, as if it was perfectly all right to be staring so openly. "Her name is Kalin, do you like her?" He asked innocently and truthfully, not hiding anything from her who knew and loved him most unconditionally.
"I like her very much, my son. Will you tell her you, also, like her?"
Finally he was able to draw his eyes away from the beauty of Kalin's unassuming grace and turned away from even his mother though she kept contact by holding his hand. "Naneth, I cannot… and you know why."
"Pretend I do not know, Maitimo. Why can you not pursue and love this elleth?"
He sighed and chanced a look up to where Kalin remained in solitude, unable to withdraw his gaze this time for she also glanced toward him before looking down in a shy manner, blushing delightfully. "Because my love for her will only cause grief. Atar's oath is a curse on all whom I care for, this you know… I have no wish to harm anyone so exquisite and pure by my own selfishness or feigned ignorance of the terrible things I have done or may do because of my quest for the Silmarils. I will not force her love me, for I deserve none."
Nerdanel was saddened by her son's self-neglect and the solitude he thought himself bound to because of her late husband's oath that bound all her children. Gently she took her eldest son's face in her hands since he had again looked away from Kalin and brought his eyes to meet her steady emerald gaze with a loving smile. "My dear one, have you not thought that perhaps it is out of your hands? You know I do not believe in coincidence. I trust that Eru and the Valar have our entire lives planned and you met this elleth for a reason, not by chance. Your brother found her just in time, healed her, and is taking care of her now because it was meant to happen. Do not scorn Celegorm in this, my son, for I foresee that it may very well be the last act of good he commits." She brought her eyes to the clasps of his tunic and unfastened one to her satisfaction before looking in her child's like green eyes once more. "Think on what I've told you, Maitimo. Sleep well and know that I love you, my son." She pulled him down to kiss his forehead motherly and stepped back as his vision faded into black oblivion and his mind turned off at last to allow true slumber.