11. Whispering Winds
He trudged through the bloody cave, taking detached note of the empty armours, the bodies of the deceased elves having already vanished. He would have to arrange for the armaments to be buried, Sindar and Noldor. It would not be right to leave them here to be plundered, the memory of their bearers desecrated.
"Have you seen the Ambarussa?" came the voice of Maedhros from behind him.
Maglor slowly turned to face his brother. "No, why?" A flutter of panic, the only sign he could still feel something, anything.
"I have a task for them," was all Maedhros said. "Come."
They found the twins on the surface, pricking their arms with inked needles as they came upon the armour of dead Sindar warriors. "What are you doing?" demanded Maedhros as Maglor attempted to take the needles away from them.
"Keeping count," they said in a voice that sounded like and unlike those of the Ambarussa.
"What of?" cried Maglor.
"The Sindar dead," was the cold response.
"Why?" wondered Maedhros.
"To see if enough of them have fallen to make up for the lives of three sons of Fëanor."
Maglor staggered back as the realisation hit him that he had not lost three younger brothers. He had lost all five; for these were not the Ambarussa he knew and loved. The Ambarussa were keener to wrestle with their brothers and tease them about maidens they fancied than worry about the oath, war and all such heavy matters. These were twin Avatars of vengeance made flesh with eyes perpetually burning with hate, fury and bloodlust.
Maedhros turned back. "Where are you going?" wondered Maglor.
"It seems the Ambarussa are no longer suitable for the task I had in mind for them," came Maedhros's cryptic reply.
She sat by the river bank, shedding silent tears of grief and loss, remembering the brief years they had had together, walking the wild woods of the east. She wondered if he was in the Halls of Mandos or in floating in the void; whichever way, she desperately wished she was with him. A gentle breeze blew through her hair, caressing her skin, and surrounding her with the scent that tricked her senses to make her think he was near.
"Caranthir," she whispered into the wind, eyes closed in a vain effort to make herself believe that he was truly here.
A touch in her mind and she heard his voice, "I am here my love."
Shocked, surprised, afraid and all at once happy, she cried out, "Caranthir, my love, you are with me?"
"I am sorry."
"Hush, none of that now; it doesn't matter anymore… not that, not the oath, not the Silmarils, nothing. The only thing that matters is you and me," whispered the wind into her mind.
Tears trickled through her tightly shut eyelids. "But for how long?" she wondered.
"Till the end of days if you let me," came the whisper and suddenly she understood.
"Yes, of course. Yes!"
She could feel him smile and then she felt herself enclosed by his powerful fëa, burning bright and strong, intertwining her own, pouring into her body. She laughed, happy and whole. Slowly she opened her eyes; one of them held the light of the Two Trees.
Fëa = soul
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.