Characters: Maedhros, Maglor(In passing) Mithwen(OFC)
Summary: Some questions just shouldn't be answered, as Maitimo's scribe is about to find out...Written by sindar_scribe a muse of Sar's.
"At the end of the first day, I still tried to fight it. At the end of the first night I remembered Findekano. At the end of the first week, I spat in His face when He came up the precipice to mock me. He laughed then, and vowed that I should give up soon. At the end of the first month I accepted the sponge soaked with brackish water as a means to end the terrible thirst, though I did not touch the food."
Lord Maedhros paused here, a thin smile crossing his face, a frightening smile that was nothing like his natural one and meant that a warning of fell things must come. "At the end of the first year..." His smile grew wider, the strange light in those green eyes heightened with every word now, making me shiver at the things it seemed he now watched, though I knew them not myself.
"...I went mad." he laughed, and I shuddered at the sound of it. "It was the madness that saved me, so they say. Letting me live above all other...Perhaps..." And that odd gaze fixed itself on me. "I am more like my father than I thought. You think that, don't you Mith?"
From what I had heard of Feanor, Lord Maedhros was anything but, save for the times like this, when his eyes gleamed wild and his hair caught the firelight, sparkling with the fey glimmer of some far off place I had no intent of joining him in, a place that no one, I think, not even his Findekano could reach him in. Caution would be needed then, if I wished this to proceed smoothly, though I knew not, none of us did, a way to pull him back.
"Nay my lord, I could never..."
"But you do." Lord Maedhros cried, whirling from me, his hand flying out to knock aside my ink, rip the quill from my hand, something, anything, though I couldn't not anticipate the specifics. "A lie." he continued, as the bottle shattered, scattering glass and droplets like black blood across the desk, my scroll, the floor and into the ends of his hair, now swinging madly back and forth. "But an honnest one. A lie with every stroke," leaning further he suceeded in pulling the quill from my hand, snaping it in pieces.
"But one who means it all, who...throw it away." he ordered tersely, nodding at the stack of parchments now splattered in black. "Usless," he continued, tossing the first of them into the roaring flames. "Useless, all of this, all of your..." He stopped, blinking hard, glancing around as if finally glimpsing the damage he had caused.
"Like Feanaro." he muttered again, suddenly weak, the light around him fading as he stepped back into the shadow. "Clean this up." he mumbled, and somehow, the usual protest that I was no maid, no longer applied, as he turned sharply and fled, seeming to take some of the light away with him still. Breathing deeply, as I reminded myself I had to do, I knelt to begin gathering the broken pieces, wishing only that other things could now be found so easily.
When the knock came I blinked back whatever it was that was threatening to fall, turned and smiled for Lord Maglor as best I could.
"A year to the day." he told me simply, nodding at his own right hand.
I was sorry I had ever asked...