(Closed)

[castintoflames]

Who: Maedhros & Finrod
Broadcast: Nope!
Action: On SS Bishop.
When: Slightly backdated to a few days after Maedhros boards the ship.

Avoiding his half-cousin was cowardly and there was little he detested more than cowardice. Thus, after settling into his new, strange quarters, he sought Finrod out.

"Cousin? We have a conversation that is overdue, do we not?" he forced himself to breathe deep and stay calm, yet he dreaded what was to come, "I will tell you the truth no matter how difficult."

No longer would he run from the shadows. If he planned on staying at Maglor's side - and Fëanor's - he needed to be stronger. What had passed could not be changed, but the future was undecided. There was comfort in that.

He was free to be himself again - free of the Oath.

Comments

[faithfulwisdom]

Honestly, Finrod had been giving his cousin space; it had been obvious the moment he arrived that Maedhros was not just guilt-ridden but profound unwell. Whatever he may have done, Finrod had not had the heart to make him recount what had obviously caused so much trauma.

And perhaps, too, some small part of him was afraid to find out. To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass. Perhaps some part of him already knew.

But now that Maedhros had sought him out, he would listen. He braces himself and nods. "We do. Sit, please. Are you feeling well enough for this?"

[castintoflames]

His past was written on his skin. Scars obscured his once regular features and there were even more under his clothes. The tip of one of his ears was missing and his right arm ended with an empty sleeve. He committed atrocities and evil found him; it left its mark, carving him into someone he hated.

Fire had awoken him - but it had been too late. Or so he thought. Amongst the stars, he was given a second chance. He could not waste it.

Nodding awkwardly, he took a seat and gazed beyond Finrod. Focusing on him was difficult - it made his guilt grow exponentially.

"It doesn't matter." he pressed his lips together in a thin line, "What do you recall? What has Kano told you?"

[faithfulwisdom]

Finrod had few traces of his own trials; whatever scars would have been left by the werewolf were taken care of Atroma upon his arrival- whatever physical scars, that is. He rubbed his throat with his hand, a new nervous habit, as he considered the questions Maedhros put to him.

"The last sight I saw was the dungeons of Tol-in-Gaurhoth. I have breathed my last." It was strange, to say it so openly. He has spent so much time trying to dance around the topic and minimize the blow for others that it was almost a relief to just be out with it. "As for Kano, he has told me very little; he has been cautious in revealing the future- and with good reason. But he has told me that the Doom is lifted, and that my sister sails."

And that Maglor himself does not. But Finrod didn't know how much Maglor has told his brother and he was certainly not going to be the one to break the news to him. It was not his place.

[castintoflames]

The Atroma could not erase all of his scars. They were too old, however the burns that would have undoubtedly covered him from head to toe had been healed. There wasn't a sign of them. Even the burns on his left hand - from the Silmaril's rejection - were missing. Yet Maedhros knew to his core all of it had happened; it wasn't just a bad dream.

"I'm sorry." his voice was hoarse and he finally looked at Finrod, gaze pained, "Your bravery is known across the land. We mourned you."

None of which would erase the horrors his half-cousin had endured. Licking his dry lips, he shifted and gathered his strength.

"Dior, the son of Beren and Lúthien, inherited one of the Silmarils. We were drawn to him through the Oath. Tyelko convinced me to attack Doriath. It was...a slaughter." but that was not the worst of it for him, "Dior Eluchíl had twin sons. I...do not know what became of them. I searched for them long in the forest. I fear they succumbed to wild beasts."

[faithfulwisdom]

He shook his head.

"Do not be sorry. I knew what I risked when I chose to aid Beren." Which did not mean, of course, that he was not troubled by all that had happened, by all that he had endured. Still, he had gone in with eyes open; the decision was his own and he did not regret it.

The rest of what Maedhros told him, though, struck him like a punch to the gut. For a long moment, he could do little more than stare in stunned horror.

"That Oath. Your damned Oath." There's sorrow in his voice, but also anger- a quiet, seething anger, kept under tight restraint. His hands tighten into fists, knuckles turning white.
"That is not the end, is it?"