Chapter Text
540 F.A.
Maedhros had lost too many homes for him to get emotional at watching another one go up in flames. Amon Ereb was hardly a true home, after all; it was little more than a military outpost. And he was no longer someone who could look at a fortress on a hill nestled between rivers and even try to find the comfort of his childhood home.
There was a strange sort of beauty in the place as it went up in flames, he supposed. Something about the way the smoke flowed up into the heavy clouds, making it look like the clouds were raining ash. If they survived this assault, which seemed nearly guaranteed given the success of the evacuation, there would be so much ash to get out of clothes and food and armor and books. Everything essential was out of the fortress - for once, Maedhros’ insistence on leaving everything organized for easy grabbing at all times came in handy. He himself had stopped by the library, collecting the most important books and the maps of the region that he had drawn out painstakingly and with far too much loss of life.
The stables reeked of orcs by the time he got down there, and although some of the orcs fled from the vile anger in his eyes, many stayed to fight. To die. He showed them no mercy, much as they had shown him none. He dispatched them easily, his old sword still as keen as ever, never rusted after all these years of slaughter. As the last orc carcasses fell to the ground, he ignored another group rushing past as he sought his horse.
Satarocco was still in his stall, snorting as Maedhros approached. He quickly looked over at the neighboring stall, which belonged to his brother Maglor’s horse Vercatál. Thankfully, the large roan was not there - Maglor must have gotten out even earlier. It was no accident that Maedhros gave himself the more difficult things to collect. He would not be able to leave if Maglor was still inside, even though his brother was quite the incredible fighter.
It seemed, from the general emptiness of the stable, that most of the elves residing at Amon Ereb were already making their escape. As Maedhros slung the saddle over his black stallion, he turned at the sound of agitated breathing. Two ponies, lovingly named Bathor and Tondroch by Maedhros and Maglor’s foster sons, were still tethered inside.
Maedhros abandoned Satarocco’s saddle momentarily, heading over to the stalls with the ponies. Tondroch was taller, which Elrond had insisted meant the dun pony was his because he was about an inch taller than his brother. Elros didn’t mind, saying that he preferred the older, more mature pony anyway. Elrond had retorted that Elros was not even a full day older, and Maedhros and Maglor had to explain to them that neither age nor height should matter between brothers.
The twins had only been with Maedhros and Maglor for a little over two years, which felt like less than a blink in his life, but for children, age seemed to matter so much. Perhaps, Maedhros thought as he struggled to open the latch with his metal hand meant far more for battle, he and Maglor might have been like that as children. He had been far taller, but Maglor had a quantifiable talent, so there were hardly any ways for them to compete.
Finally, the latch opened, and Maedhros held the door open for the two ponies. When they didn’t immediately bolt, he entered the stall, hardly thinking that he could be sending them to their deaths. It would be a quicker and easier death to be killed by orcs than stay trapped in burning stables. This was not the friendly fire of his father’s forge that could be turned on and off at will; this fire was deadly and quick and incredibly painful. He knew it all too well, and kept the thought in mind as he slapped Bathor’s flank.
Bathor, a bay who looked too dignified to be a child’s pony, ran faster, quickly joined by Tondroch. Maedhros didn’t bother to watch them. They would either be fast enough to escape the orcs or not, and his own escape was more important. Especially since if he took too long, he had no doubt that Maglor would risk his own life to come back looking for him, even if that meant abandoning the children again with one of their retainers.
I left you behind once. I wouldn’t do it again, he would say, even if it meant putting his life at risk. Maedhros understood the impulse. The painful problem was that it never worked.
As soon as Satarocco’s saddle was on properly, Maedhros took off at a thundering pace, not caring if he damaged the stable wall on his way out. The whole place would be little more than burned sticks and charred stones by morning, and he and the rest of his people would be far away. Somewhere. He was not sure where they could go, but they would find a place. They always did. And thanks to the children, they would have to.
As Maedhros expected, Maglor was waiting for him towards the rear of the retreat, caught between keeping track of their people and seeking his brother. “Where is Elrond?” Maedhros asked when he only saw one dark-haired child on the front of his brother’s horse.
“I thought he was with you,” gasped Maglor. “I only saw Elros in the hallway.” Their evacuation spot, the one they’d practiced over and over until even Maedhros believed both twins knew what they were supposed to do.
“They always go to you,” Maedhros said. “When they’re scared.”
A tiny voice piped up from the front of Maglor’s horse, speaking so quickly that Maedhros had to lean in to listen and even still he had trouble hearing through the child’s tears. “He was gonna get our necklaces,” Elros blubbered. “We took them off when we went to bed. And he knew…” His words became incomprehensible then as he shook in Maglor’s arms.
“He knew what?” Maglor asked, leaning in.
Maedhros interrupted. “He would throw his life away over a necklace?”
Elros took a few heaving breaths. “You said they were from your brothers, and your father made them,” he sniffed. “So they would mean a lot to you.”
Maglor and Maedhros shared a look of despair to picture Elrond, only a few months over eight years old, running through the besieged fortress, dodging fire and orcs and whatever else Morgoth might throw at them with this latest assault, all to retrieve two small pendants. Sure, the necklaces were meaningful, but they paled in comparison to their father’s true treasures. And to their very treasured child who was gentle and bookish and such easy prey.
Morgoth’s creatures would not hesitate to kill a child. They had done so before, and far worse, and would do so again. Or worse. They could capture him.
Maedhros froze at the thought of Elrond, sweet young Elrond who had gone through far too much in his short life, tortured as he was. If Morgoth even heard a rumor that he and Maglor were raising children, he would not hesitate to capture Elrond and let Maedhros know exactly what he was doing to him. Minute by minute, broken bone by broken bone, sent to him in parcels and packages for years after the child was dead. Reminder after reminder of how he failed yet again.
Was there no end of ways to become hurt, to feel the lashes of guilt and shame and pain? He turned around, barely even hearing that Maglor was speaking. He thought of the twins’ bedchamber, which was surely on fire now, or would be very soon. The smoke obscured his view, but in his mind, he could see Elrond getting cut down by orcs in a hundred different ways, each equally painful to endure. Then he pictured the orcs looking for Elrond, carrying him off, taking him on whatever creatures they used as beasts of burden and carrying him back as a prize. A prize Maedhros would pay as highly for as -
“And even if you thought about going in there, I would urge you to remember - ” Maglor’s voice rose, and Maedhros could hear the raw panic seeping through the edges. Elros clung to him, and he clung back just as fiercely. All Maedhros could think of was, even if the orcs or other foul creatures got to him this time, even if his plagued life was going to end, his brother and at least one of his foster-sons would not be alone.
He couldn’t freeze. Not this time. Not again. Against the backdrop of Maglor’s frantic shouts, he turned his horse around and raced back toward the blazing fortress.