By Elvenwanderer
When I am down and, oh my soul so weary
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,
Until you come and sit awhile with me.
He has changed, that is for certain. But we have all changed, the six of us remaining [1], from whom we were when we were younger. We were innocent then, some more so than others.
I have always admired him, for he had many of the qualities that I wished to have, though I have never told him this to his face. Kanafinwë [2] was always the most temperate and calmest, as well as the slowest to anger of the Seven Sons of Fëanor. He was also patient and tolerant with our younger brothers and he had a plucky inner beauty that won him many smiles and fast friends, including myself. A simple smile from him could quell anyone's tears, and his jokes would even cause Father to laugh until his sides ached and tears flowed from his eyes. Káno [3] was proud but not the least bit arrogant, a fault that often infected our House. And he was immensely trustworthy, I found that I could trust him far more than anyone else; he was the only one to whom I could tell my secrets with complete confidence that they would be kept.... He was simply a good person in every aspect.
But that is not my younger brother any longer.
My visits to his home have become increasingly lengthy and less time passes between them. Káno has grown increasingly reclusive of late. Often he will close himself within his chambers and refuse offers of food, of comfort, everything, for days on end. Sometimes he does not even allow me in to talk to him. He is gaunt and thin from lack of nourishment. His face is haunting, dark circles have formed beneath his eyes from lack of sleep.
I am greatly worried for him, and I feel as if I must watch over and protect him. I owe Káno at least this much for he took on this fool plight because of me. He followed me from the moment as a baby that he learned to crawl. As an independent elf with many elleths watching my every move with adoration, how I despised that moment that he could crawl after me. Only later, as he grew and tried to copy me in nearly every aspect, I realized how much he must have respected me. I never thought of myself as a great role model to anyone, much less my little brother.
I feel that this "sickness" [4] is my fault, that I caused its onset. I had not a choice but to take that Oath [5], and I could see the instant that he lay his sword next to our father's that he regretted doing so, but because of his love for me he would throw away his life. He would doom himself to darkness to follow me, not our Father [6].
I felt so unworthy of his love at that moment, and a huge pang of sorrow gripped my heart. I knew that I would never have done something like for him that had our places been exchanged. I would now, without a second thought. Anything in the world to make it up to him. It seems the least that I could do.
But he will not tell me what troubles him so greatly, and that is what upsets me the most. He keeps his feelings to himself, most likely not wanting me to be hurt by what he would tell me.
How far from the truth that really is.
Dear brother, you could tell me anything. Nary a word of it would pass my lips to grace the air with its secret. Nay, I should not again think of what you would tell me, only lock it up in my mind and throw away the key, if that were what you wanted. I only wish to help you the way you helped me. You were my only friend when I had none. I know I have wronged you, little brother, in making you come here. I realize that now. I should have loved you as much as you adored and respected me. I know that I also more than deserve what words of anger and disappointment you would aim at me.
He sleeps now, looking so naive and perfect lying there; so angelic the way his dark hair is splayed out upon the pillow. I brush a braid from his eyes, knowing the movement will not wake him, at least this time. I convinced the cook to put an herb in Káno's food that would make him rest long and deep, unhindered by dreams and nightmares. He shifts a bit, causing the braid to fall into his face again. He frowns, his forehead creasing, when my hand brushes past his regally pointed ear as I tuck the braid behind it. He will be angry with me when he wakes for tricking him like that, but that is a price I'll gladly pay to see any emotion besides fear and sadness come from him.
He does not deserve this kind of life, constantly fighting, fleeing, and watching others die, knowing there is not a thing he can do about it. He should not be here, in this dark, miserable land fighting a war that is impossible to win.
Song lyrics are from "You Raise Me Up," sung by Josh Groban
1: In The Peoples of Middle-earth, it is said that when Fëanor and Curufin's men (elves?) burned the ships at Losgar, there was still one of the Seven Sons aboard, Amras, I think it was. Fëanor didn't look back, which really got me angry.
2: Kanafinwë (also spelled with a "c"): Maglor's given Quenya name before it was "Sindarin-ized." I think that the brothers would continue to call themselves by their original names even in Beleriand. It would remind them of happier times, and old habits are hard to break, especially when Maedhros is speaking of Maglor as an elfling.
3: Not Káno as in Findekáno/Fingon, it is just Maglor's childhood nickname. In this fic, Fingon hasn't been born yet, until Maedhros says: "he was the only one to whom I could tell my secrets with complete confidence that they would be kept...."
4: Though elves cannot become physically sick, "sickness" I think is a good term for what Maglor is feeling. I look at it as Maglor is suffering from depression, a mostly psychiatric disease. Nowadays, don't we have to go to doctors for prescriptions for anti-depressants? Don't those same doctors treat us when we're sick? I know, big stretch, but you get my meaning.
5: I feel that Maedhros, as the eldest son, was pressured into the oath by both his fierce loyalty to his father (he did not want to make Fëanor look like the dumb-ass he was as he would look if his eldest son didn't support him) and by his younger brothers' enthusiasm for the cause... though not Maglor's.
6: Don't kill me. I believe that Maglor would have been more like his mother in mind and habit. I do not think he agreed with his father's and brothers' actions, and would not have sworn the Oath if it were up to him.
I wrote this fic with Maedhros's aid to illustrate the deep, indestructible love between the two brothers. Happy early birthday, Maglor, dear, from the both of us.