Single Handedly - - Chapter 7

Title: Single Handedly
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Maedhros/OFC
Time: First Age 346 – Fourth Age
Chapter(s): 7/?
Chapter Summary: More and more, Maglor was coming to see how deeply he felt for Mîrluiniel in ways aside from simple attraction. When it came down to it, the only question was: whom did he love more… this maiden, or his brother?
Author: Codi Lyn (a.k.a. i_luv_obiwan91)
Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien and his family are the sole owners of his works including the Silmarillion and his Lord of the Rings series. I'm just inspired by his works and thought of different ways for different things to end as another option. It's his music; I'm just playing it on a ukulele, not a guitar. ಠ_ಠ


Chapter Seven – Our Words Journey

That evening, after dinner had been consumed in a common tent, Mîrluiniel sat at a long table talking with Maglor, watching as a comrade of his taught Celebrimbor the intricacies of whittling and carving wood. Yet even during this, she could not keep her mind off of how abruptly Maedhros' temperament had darkened, even from their conversation earlier in the day.
Now she took note that Celegorm seemed to be trying once more at an audience with him. What had been said between the two of them to cause such a sudden hardness of character? The Noldo lord did not even give her a passing glance as she served his meal that evening; the flexing of his jaw was all she could perceive as acknowledgment. At length, the first and third sons of Fëanor rose from their seats, daggers flying from their eyes and into the each other's as they exited in a deafening silence.
Being the observer that she was, Kalin studied carefully the only two brothers remaining and witnessed them both share a look of meaning as their kin left the tent. Her curiosity piqued further as Curufin stood also to leave the canvas common room, using the same exit that his brothers had only moments prior. Maglor shifted in his seat beside her and distractedly engaged her in conversation for a few minutes longer. After glancing toward the same tent flap once more, he sighed and turned to her with a handsome smile, politely excusing himself from her company. He then echoed the other Fëanorians' actions.
"Kalin, look what I did!" Celebrimbor eagerly showed her a small strip of wood with the seven-pointed star of his father and uncles' house etched upon it.
"That's wonderful, Celeb. Have you thanked Calanon for teaching you?" The elfling returned to the edhel's side and did as he was reminded to do, being pulled into the soldier's lap familiarly with a chuckle.
The elf smiled at her, explaining. "I have twins about this one's age, a boy and girl, at home in Himring. They are under my sister's care now that my wife has gone to Mandos."
With a considerate expression, Kalin touched his arm and gave her condolences. "I am grieved for you, my friend. When did she fade?"
"She lived long enough to wean my children of her milk, but could not endure the harsh changes of this land. I should never have taken her from Valinor." He managed only a small smile for her before it grew again by returning his attention to Celebrimbor. She still saw how his brow had changed in remembrance and had truly meant it when she said she grieved for him. She and Calanon conversed further for some time about pleasanter things, but it did not keep her thoughts long away from the Fëanorians outside in the cold night.
"Kalin, where is atar? I want to show him what I made." Celeb turned to her after searching the tent full of edhil with his young eyes, keen though they were.
Mîrluiniel glanced toward the tent flap once more before answering him. "He is outside talking with your uncles. Best not to interrupt them, dearest."
Calanon snorted quietly and looked sidelong toward her as he remarked, unknown to the lad on the carpet beneath them. "It certainly is best."
She regarded him inquisitively, and pressed. "What do you mean by that?"
He looked at her somewhat doubtfully but discerned that her words and expression were in earnest. "I will say only that Fëanor was possibly the single most passionate elf that will ever breathe. His offspring inherited each a share of that violence and exert it under frequent circumstances." A spark of realization flickered in her eyes and he turned away to show the elfling something with his carving blade, knowing he had made his point clear.
Uncertainty and concern welled in her chest now at Calanon's words. Kalin watched the same tent flap intently for a minute or two and finally made to go and find the brothers when Calanon stayed her with a hand upon her wrist. She turned to him questioningly and he shook his head gently. "My lady, it is good if you do as you instructed the boy. It's best not to interrupt." Hesitating, Mîrluiniel leaned against his grip on her and turned to look once more at that flap. "They are full-grown elves, I promise you. Let them be." With a sigh she accepted his words and sat uncomfortably in her seat to watch her charge carefully etch out tiny stars at the points of his larger seven-pointed emblem.

It was much later, Celebrimbor had been put to bed and Mîrluiniel was on her way to such an end herself, and she was wringing her hair out from a hot bath quickly drawn when her friend Ruscion, a fellow healer, called to her from outside the tent. Hastily, she tied the ribbon around the waist of her long-sleeved chemise and threw a blanket over her shoulders to answer him. The canvas was pulled back partially and Kalin asked. "Ruscion, what is it?"
He sighed and consequently blew a long cloud of fog in the frigid moonlit air. "Our lords, sons of Fëanor, have returned. I have need of your aid. Please, come with me when you are ready." She followed him closely toward the healing tent and inquired, but was answered before even getting out the words. "I know not what they argued over, but they all fought. They're beaten quite badly and I'd like you to help me set a few bones and bandage them up."
The elleth nodded as they went into the canvas building and were met with three bloodied, bruised, and wet elves with confident, almost smug, grins on their faces. Mîrluiniel found herself sighing as well, not only at the sorry sight of them, but the fact that Maedhros was not among them could only mean he had lost whatever spat that had occurred. She went first to Maglor and laid her blanket aside to better attend him.
"Hello Kalin." He greeted her in a pained voice, amazingly still pleasant in tone. She helped him remove his snow-soaked tunics and revealed greenish-black bruises around his midsection and ribs where angered blows had been dealt.
She winced with a shake of her head. "Are you all as bad as this?" She asked in exasperation.
He coughed out a small laugh. "Worse."
"Where is Maedhros?"
"Licking his wounds in his own chambers, no doubt. I will take care of him when you are finished with me."
She objected. "You are hardly in a condition to be taking care of others. I will go to him."
He shook his head in return. "I do not think that is a good idea…"
She cut him off by setting the broken wrist bone that was protruding at an odd angle, speaking while he caught his breath over it. "If he is worse than all of you, of which I have no uncertainty, then he shall need more tending than you can provide tonight." Kalin became silent as she wrapped clean bandaging about his forearm with his help and, between measured breaths and a broken rib, he also said little. Once that was tied, she stopped and looked into his eyes with a serious gaze, speaking quietly. "Maglor, I have an idea of what took place. But I want to know exactly what happened and why. And I want to hear it from your lips."
Her hand still near to his where he had earlier aided her, Maglor took her fingers gently in his and assured her carefully. "I promise you I will tell you everything, but at another time. I beg you to be patient in this matter." Regarding him for a moment longer, she finally conceded and turned his face toward her to address a cut brow and blackened eye. From the serious expression he had adopted, he eased into an admiring smile as he watched her take care of him. "You look lovely, Mîrluiniel." He complimented her, quietly using her name, and she kept her eyes on her work, but smiled.
"You're ridiculous. My hair is dripping wet, and I'm in nothing but a shift."
She made to unarm his compliment, but he only built it up again. "I said nothing of your hair and clothing… You look lovely." She cut her clear eyes to him and smirked.
"Kalin how is my son?" Curufin inquired once he saw their conversation had lulled, nursing his own knuckles that punches had swollen and bloodied.
"He is well, my lord, and expecting you to tell him good night once you return." They shared a smile and she resumed preparing the second eldest son for stitches. Her thoughts strayed to Maedhros, however; whether he was in his quarters or not, how badly his wounds were, if this fight was greatly going to change how he treated her. Blast it, if they succeeded in completely backtracking her progress of trust between the lord and herself.

Above an hour-- of setting bones and suturing cuts that were worse than what might be expected from an ambush-- passed before Mîrluiniel knew she was no longer needed and gathered some supplies in a satchel, bent on finding Fëanor's eldest son. She passed by the paddocks to make certain he wasn't with Rúnyadal, and was assured to see the stallion sleeping on his own near his familiar herd. With a smile, she passed on and went to the Noldo lord's tent where the glow of light from within was clearly visible.
Only a little anxious to essentially be 'barging' in to take care of him, Kalin walked up to the canvas entrance and called out. "My lord?"
She heard a rustling of movement inside, and then a rougher version of Maedhros' voice responded defensively. "What do you want?"
Mîrluiniel bit her lip. He sounded in pain. "My lord, it's Kalin. I know you are hurt and I've brought things to help me care for you. May I enter?"
"I can care for myself." The statement was said after what sounded like a gasp and ripping of fabric.
"I believe you, but I know that I can aid in ways that you cannot do for yourself. I am coming in." She gave him a moment of warning and then pushed through the thick fabric door to go inside. Maedhros stood in the middle of his temporary chambers, hunched over a washbasin filled with bloodstained water. Shirtless, and wearing only a pair of darkly-dyed cotton trousers, she could clearly see where his brothers had dealt force upon his already tortured body. Severely bruised ribs, a swollen black eye, the reopened gash in his side, perhaps three broken fingers, and an abdomen that rivaled the black of a forest's pool for the depth of bruising there.
Her eyes quickly surveyed his damages and she bade him turn around as she came closer. Picking up the rag he had abandoned to the semi-warm bath, she squeezed only a little excess water out before placing it on his back to wipe away some dried blood from his scarred skin.
"I do not need your assistance." He protested once more, even while he obeyed her directions and allowed her to tend him, as he was unable to.
Deftly, she wiped over finger shaped bruises on his neck and shoulders and then turned him so she could focus on the mess around his partially reopened slash. "I know this. But I give my aid freely, you should accept it." Glancing to his hand, she observed that he had set two broken fingers-- she knew not how-- but they were devoid of the splint and wrappings he needed. He was having difficulties breathing because of the afore-mentioned bruises on his ribs and she took careful note of his rasping inhales. "Do you want to sit down?" She asked gently and looked up to him, her gaze steady even though he avoided her eyes.
He hesitated a moment but at last stalked to his bed and sat down stiffly, giving her a minute to gather needle and thread to sew him up again. Kneeling before him, she moved his arm to prop on her shoulder, much like they had done before, and pulled the needle through tender flesh. Wincing, he ground his teeth and tried to take breaths evenly in spite of his many inhibitions.
Mîrluiniel wished he would say something, anything, but she knew better than that and so continued to mend his cuts and other hurts in silence. Maedhros barely breathed, and it worried her that the reason could be broken ribs constricting his lungs. Her hand tried with all its might to be a comfort and heal what needed her care. It took as long to tend to this one elf as it had for his other three brothers combined. When she had tied off the bandaging that held together his finger splint, Kalin once again attempted to make eye contact, succeeding for all of one instant before her patient looked away in the pain of injury and something deeper.
With stiff and halting motions, Maedhros stood from the bed and away from her to his changing screen where a loose tunic hung to be worn. He stretched his arms up painfully to put it on and the elleth immediately came to his side to assist him. Her hand grazed his chest and he caught it with his own, holding it close, though still his eyes remained strictly lowered. "Kalin…" He closed his eyes with instant regret, securely tucking away whatever it was he had addressed her for in the first place and instead gazed down to her hand placed so carefully between his swollen and bandaged fingers. "Thank you… for not listening when I refuse your aid. It is appreciated more than you know." His eyes stubbornly kept away from hers, and he held to her sweet hand only a moment longer before releasing it.
Thankful that his temperament had at last cooled enough for him to speak, Mîrluiniel made certain he knew her eyes sought his and replied. "If you ever need care, Maedhros, you can be sure I will always give it." She went to a bowl of snow sitting on the tub rim and brought it to him, instructing that he should pack it for his hand and brow before gathering her healing tools to leave. "Good eve, my lord."
Her voice tormented his ears as she departed and he shut his eyes tightly to keep from watching her go. A hoarse whisper left him. "Good bye, Kalin."

"Kalin! Kalin! Calanon left and didn't even say good-bye! I wanted to show him what I made last night when atar came home, look." Celebrimbor thrust into her hand the same trinket he had carved the night before, but now with tiny beads of silver dropped and shaped into the stars at each point.  
Frowning in confusion, Mîrluiniel briefly complimented the piece but asked him further, abandoning the lembas filling she had been stirring. "Celeb what do you mean he's left? Your uncles aren't leaving for a week, yet."
"Atar told me uncle Maedhros took some of them away this morning before the sun even came up."
This news also surprised her, considering she had just seen the injured Noldo the night before. 'He must have gone just an instant after I left.' Her thoughts explained. Not sure what to think, or even what to tell Celebrimbor, Mîrluiniel spooned out a little of the sweet lembas mixture and gave it to him to run along with and enjoy. 'What could they have fought over to make Maedhros desire such a hasty departure? Perhaps Maglor will tell me today.' As she continued to make her waybread, she could only worry about the Noldorin prince: his reasons for going, the wounds he would aggravate by riding, where he would receive healing, if he would receive it at all.
"Good morning, my lady." Maglor's voice came from behind her and Kalin turned with a somewhat distressed greeting. He didn't have to look long upon her countenance to guess the source of her distress and, discreetly, he took her aside in one corner of the tent. "I allowed him to take whatever elves that wished to accompany him back to Himring this morning. The sun had not risen before the dust settled from their departure."
"Maglor, why has he reacted so strongly to this? What was fought over?"
He sighed and glanced down to his boots before gazing back at her crystal eyes with an apology. "Mîrluiniel, I know this is unfair to you, but please do not ask that of me at this time."
"Was it about me, Maglor? Does he not… does he feel nothing for me?" She chanced voicing her insecurities to her dear friend and with a 'tsk' Maglor stepped forward and carefully held her against him in a comforting gesture.
"Don't ever believe that. He feels more deeply for you than I've ever seen him feel for anyone. In his mind, he believes he protects you by acting this way. You have done nothing that would accomplish aught but endear us more to you." He took a breath. "Maedhros has a multitude of demons to battle every day, and I'm afraid they give him little rest." The second-born Fëanorian pulled away and gave her an encouraging smile that looked pitiful enough with his darkly colored eye and a stitched lip staring at her.
She smiled also and nodded in acknowledgement to what all he had said. "Thank you. You're so certain… it is a most welcome assurance."
He nodded and squeezed her arm in his familiar way. "Well, enjoy your moment of comfort, because I do have to let Celebrimbor know that his terrible Uncle is taking you away soon. It's likely we'll neither of us have a moment's peace, afterward."
"I don't know what I'm going to do without that child."
She shook her head with a saddened smile before he linked her arm through his and informed her with a grin. "Nonsense! You'll be keeping me company, and…" He added in a mock whisper. "'Wooing' a certain first born lord."
With an elbow to his healing ribs, Kalin quieted his teasing and he nursed an aching side.

"You're leaving? You can't leave us, Kalin! What will we eat? Who will teach me? I don't want you to leave!" Celebrimbor wrapped his little arms around her waist and shook his head as Mîrluiniel's hand stroked his soft blonde hair.
"Dearest, there are other elves that can cook in this camp, and your father and Veassen will tutor you. I am certain you will learn just as much-- if not much more-- from them as from me."
The lad held her even more tightly. "But they're not you. You are my teacher, aren't you, Kalin?" He looked up to her from dampened skirts with those innocent eyes clouded in tears.
Her brow furrowed at the sight of her young ward in such distress and she held him by his sweetly curved chin. "Yes, love, I am your teacher. And I won't be away forever, I promise you. What would I do without you, Celeb?"
With a sigh the elfling hid his face once more into the folds of her dress and, muffled though it was, gave her his hopeless little answer. "I don't know…" Kalin smiled at his pitiful reply and held him close, certain that she was going to miss this sweet familiarity in such an unfamiliar place as Himring. Subtly, she directed him toward his bed and set him upon it, sitting at his side as she often did when tucking him in at night.
Pulling his fur and blankets around him, Celebrimbor snuggled into her side and gladly let her hold him. "Kalin?"
He began to ask and she responded. "Yes, dearest?"
He situated himself for a moment longer before continuing. "Do you love uncle Maedhros?"
The question took her off-guard at its directness and she had to think of an equally direct answer for him. "Why do you ask that, Celeb?"
She felt his shrug. "When I see you talk to him, you act differently than you do when talking with Atar or uncle Celegorm. He does, too."
Kalin took a deep breath and absorbed his words before replying. "I do like him very much. But I think I know too little of him to truly love him."
"I think he loves you."
She giggled and squeezed him playfully at his sides. "Is that what you think? Is it?" Her fingers found his sensitive areas and she tickled him mercilessly until he was red in the face and she kissed both of those rosy cheeks before letting up. "I love you, and that is as far as my heart will allow, for now. You need to sleep, dearest."
Hugging her neck tightly, he kissed her cheek also and then slid under his covers to keep warm. "I love you too, Kalin."
She stopped at the opening of his tent and smiled back at the sleepy boy. "Good night, Celebrimbor." Mîrluiniel shut his tent flap quickly to keep in the warmth and turned to trek through the snow toward the paddocks. Nearing the horses, she shivered and folded her arms over each other.
"Out alone, my lady?" Curufin's voice was welcome at her side and he gave her his cloak before reaching out to pet one the steeds that had come up to them. He leaned onto the thick wooden beams and looked at her for a moment, gauging the elleth's emotions and studying her face in the dimmed light. "You shall be sorely missed, Kalin. If my brothers fail to attend to you properly, my camp is always open."
She smiled and thanked him genuinely before pausing, and then drawing enough courage around her to voice a thought. "Curufin, might I beg of you to answer me a question concerning your eldest brother?"
Resting in a thoughtful position, he regarded her and spoke. "I may or may not be able to answer you fully, but you can inquire anything of me."
Kalin looked away and drew in a breath, the sigh escaping that breath forming a subtle cloud of fog before her mouth. "Am I the cause of his sudden departure this day? Would an elf do such a thing to the one he loved?"
A comforting hand grasped hers in the darkness and he told her. "The first question I shall answer also with my reply to the second: an elf would do such to the one he loved too much."
Mîrluiniel shook her head. "One cannot love another too much. It is a scarcity, if that."
"But it does happen, though as you say, rarely. It happens. Maedhros will know you, eventually. Things do not move quickly or without ample thought around such an elf."
Looking down, and a little ill content with his truthful answers, Mîrluiniel rolled over the thoughts of Maedhros in her head. 'Even Celebrimbor knows and sees his love for me… Perhaps I should trust them in this, and not worry as I do.' Kalin settled in her mind to be patient and focus on other things. She would have to get used to an entirely different place and people now. But there would be ellith and other children. It could be a wonderful beginning if she chose to make it one. As Curufin escorted her back, she decided that it would.

Still uncertain about riding by herself, Mîrluiniel was glad to have Maglor and his strong mare to ride out the journey with. She thought of the pitiful picture she and Celebrimbor had made that morning, flushed cheeks and tearing eyes as they embraced one another. 'How different will he look when I see him again?' She pondered regretfully, but was confident no one could raise him better than his father.
Bouncing along through the serene landscapes of snowy fields and forests, Kalin couldn't help but note that Dûri's trot was nothing in comparison to a smooth ride upon Rúnyadal's back. She missed the stallion and hoped that she would get to see him soon.
"How are you back there?" Maglor checked on his welcome extra passenger and Mîrluiniel responded positively behind him. He confessed, he was pleased to somewhat have her to himself on this trip. Certainly, he knew that her thoughts were not of him, yet the feel of her closeness and arms around his waist were enough to satiate him without idle conversation drawing their attention to one another. The more he got to know the elleth; the more ardor he held for her and affection blossomed within him for her sweet temper. Jealousy seeped steadily into his being when his older brother drew Kalin's attention and held it so effortlessly. In the back of his mind, Maglor knew she was Maedhros' match, that their fates would imminently intertwine and she was what his despondent brother needed to come alive once more.
Kalin was pleasing in manner and beautiful, elegant and loving. How could he not admire and respect such a generous lady? She reminded him greatly of his mother, Nerdanel. Only when he had described his naneth to Kalin that day did he realize how greatly in temperament they were alike. More and more, Maglor was coming to see how deeply he felt for Mîrluiniel in ways aside from simple attraction. When it came down to it, the only question was: whom did he love more… this maiden, or his brother?

Mîrluiniel lay by the fire that night and listened to Maglor as he sang. It was nothing grand or special, more of a hummed tune to one's self, but it was lovely and the tightness of emotion in her throat eased gently away as she was put to sleep by it. The tall elf passed behind her unconscious form and added another fur-lined cloak to keep the chill of falling snow away. His song turned more into a lullaby as he carefully looped one of her soft white curls around a finger and returned to the opposite end of the fire, folding his arms and leaning back against the wide-girthed tree to watch her quietly.
Once his eyes were shut and his mind put to rest at last, Kalin arose and returned to him the cloak, thoughtfully draping it around his shoulders that bore no more than leather and chain mail. With a kiss to his unknowing brow, she stealthily wrapped back into her own coverings and fell once again into slumber, an innocent smile lingering upon her lips as she did so.

"If we follow the river, we'll arrive by noon-day tomorrow. We could make it by morning, but I don't want to push through the night." Maglor looked up above them and turned around to check with the elleth before continuing, "With this wind and the looks of that sky, I'd say Manwë is going to give us a bit of a storm anyway." Urging Dûri up over a fallen tree, he gave Kalin's knee a pat and looked sideways with a grin that she clearly saw. "Nothing we should be worried over."
"Can you sing the wind to sleep, now?" She teased and was answered with his handsome laugh.
"If only, then how nice so many things would be!" In a jovial mood, Maglor led his mare along a deer path off their trail and trotted through until he came to a creek that they followed up to a partially frozen waterfall.
Mîrluiniel gasped and peeked out from behind him to see it. "Oh, Maglor, it's beautiful. You must take me here again when it has thawed."
He turned to see the light in her eyes and smiled to have placed it there. With a nod, he pulled the reins to direct them back and regroup. "I promise you, I shall."

The weather did indeed come to pass as Maglor had predicted, the wind's frigid bit from across the river finally forcing the company to stop their travel early and seek shelter. The clouds thickened and got darker as night came upon them, bringing strong blowing snow in its gusts. Fixing lean-to's for themselves with dead limbs and spruce boughs, the elves settled in for a long night and huddled together for some little warmth.
Maglor came over by Kalin's pitifully huddled appearance and sat shoulder to shoulder with her, handing her a flask of unknown drink that she accepted gladly. "It has no fancy crystal to carry it, but the miruvor will warm you."
Shivering a smile in thanks, she took a sip and then two long droughts of the good elven liquor before returning it to him. "Thank you. Do you think this din will let up by morning?"
The Noldo took a long drink himself and put an arm around her, allowing her to nestle freely into his heat. "It will take a lot of singing, but I think I can manage it." They shared a grin between them and then Kalin once more pressed her cheek to his warm chest. Maglor liked her tucked in so close to him as she was, encouraging her by gently massaging her blood to flow warmly through her back and arm. "Sleep well, Mîrluiniel." He murmured quietly to her and rested his chin upon her crown, shielding her further from any snow that dared disturb her respite.