Maglor and Maedhros once again went to the open-air market, taking Elrond and Elros with them. While every room at Finarfin's palace was handsomely furnished and tastefully decorated, Finarfin wanted his nephews and grand-nephews to be able to make their rooms their own... and Maglor had been staying at Alqualondë long enough to be able to allow himself to customize his room. He had lost most of his possessions in the flight to Middle-Earth, and then more in the conflicts. He had gotten accustomed to having only what he needed to survive; beauty was a luxury. Now he realized he felt safe enough, settled in enough, to make his room feel like home; even though he spent almost every night in Finarfin's bedchamber, he still used his room for practicing when he wasn't playing his music outside.
More than wanting his own room to feel homely, he wanted the boys to settle in. And he wanted to spoil them. As they walked through the market, stopping when something caught the twins' eyes, Maglor cautioned himself not to spoil them too much... but he still gave in to buy the things they wanted.
Maedhros led the way to a table full of interesting sculptures, and Maglor gently picked up a white marble swan candleholder - it would be nice to have a reminder of Finarfin in his bedchamber, and the detail was lovely, the feathers almost looked real. Then he heard an all-too-familiar voice. "Found something you like?"
Maglor almost dropped the marble swan. He quickly put it down and reflexively took a step back as if it were contaminated. He should have realized who made the sculptures, with their fine detail. "Hello, Mother," he said, his voice frosty.
Nerdanel stepped forward and took down the hood of her cloak, copper hair spilling down her shoulders. She held out a freckled hand, but Maglor did not take it.
Nerdanel folded her arms. "I see Arafinwë has poisoned your mind against me."
Maglor's nostrils flared and he clenched his fists, feeling the tension coil in his shoulders and back. He looked around for Maedhros - who had already taken Elrond and Elros three tables down. Maedhros looked over his shoulder and glanced at Nerdanel, and back at Maglor, as if to say Come on, but Maglor couldn't let that remark go unchallenged.
"I think for myself," Maglor seethed. "And you did a perfectly good job of poisoning relations between us all on your own. My father would still be alive if your sharp tongue had not driven him to madness." His mind's eye recalled countless times when Nerdanel mocked Fëanor and made him cry... Fëanor running away to his forge, throwing himself into his projects to forget about the failing marriage.
Nerdanel's lips quirked with an ironic smile. Then she bared her teeth before she snarled, "And my other sons would still be alive if it weren't for you. You could have saved your brothers, you could have made them go back, and instead they followed you and Maitimo to their deaths -"
Nerdanel knew her second son too well, and those words cut Maglor to the quick. He didn't have an answer for her. Instead he turned on his heel and stormed off. Maedhros reached out as he approached, and gave Nerdanel a wary look over his shoulder before he led Maglor away.
Between mealtime and the boys' bedtime, Maglor and Maedhros helped Elrond and Elros decorate their rooms with their new statues and tapestries, and Finarfin transferred a few plants from his garden into the pots from the market, so the boys could start taking care of their own plants. Elrond and Elros were in bright spirits and it almost helped to take away the sting of the encounter with Nerdanel at the market.
Almost. But not quite.
Instead of going back with Finarfin through the secret passages to his bedchamber, Maglor told Finarfin, "I need to be alone tonight. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you tomorrow night."
"I sensed you were troubled," Finarfin said, leaning against the wall. "What's wrong?"
There was no use lying about it. "I saw Nerdanel at the market." Maglor's use of her name rather than calling her Mother was deliberate.
Finarfin gave a nod. "Ai, I wondered when your path would eventually cross hers. My rule still stands that she is not welcome under my roof -"
"I have no intention of meeting with her, especially not... after today."
"She said something." Finarfin raised an eyebrow.
"I don't want to talk about it." Maglor could not bring himself to say the words aloud. It was bad enough to think about it - his mind replaying the scene from the market over and over again.
"All right. Tonight I will give you your space." Finarfin put his hands on Maglor's shoulders. "But it's not good for you to isolate yourself too much."
"No, I agree. Tomorrow." Maglor gave him a hug and a kiss.
Finarfin kissed Maglor's brow, tousled his hair, and lingered, giving him a sad look, as if he could feel how much Maglor was hurting. Then Finarfin turned and walked off, and Maglor watched him for a moment - admiring him, especially the way his hair billowed and shimmered.
Alone in his room, Maglor's mind began to replay the scene from the market. Nerdanel's words echoing over and over again. My other sons would still be alive if it weren't for you. You could have saved your brothers.
Maglor closed his eyes and lowered his head. He'd been fighting the tears all day but now they broke.
In the back of his head he could hear Nerdanel's voice again. Stop crying. Be a man. Nerdanel had driven Fëanor to tears many times, and then mocked him for crying. Maglor was a lot like his father - they were both creative and they were both sensitive. Nerdanel had been harsh with Maglor for crying as well, saying if she was tough on him he would grow a thicker skin. It did the opposite.
Nerdanel knew exactly how to upset him, the same way she'd learned how to upset Fëanor. There was no way Maglor could come back to Valinor with five of his brothers dead and not feel regret and guilt unless he were some kind of monster, dead inside. She had seen that in him and weaponized it. And even as he knew his mother derived sick pleasure from belittling others, nonetheless, he felt that wave of guilt now. His brothers had been grown men - even the Ambarussa, who had come of age - and he knew that they had chosen the Oath for themselves. They were all fiercely loyal to their father. Even now, Maglor felt more loyalty to his father than he did to the Valar. But he had survived and they had not, and when he'd lived in Middle-Earth with Maedhros and the boys, he lay awake many nights pondering what he could have done differently, any thousand things he could have said or done to change the course of events for himself and his family.
He felt he had his brothers' blood on his hands, not just the people he'd killed himself or otherwise held some responsibility for killing.
Since he and Finarfin had begun their relationship, the storm in him had been quieting down. Life was getting back to normal. And now this. Now the reminder that he would never truly be free. Manwë had pardoned him and Maedhros and lifted the Doom, and yet Maglor still shed tears unnumbered, even now. The word of Manwë could not wash away the stains of blood on his heart, in his fëa... his brothers' blood.
If it weren't for you. If it weren't for you.
Maglor curled up sobbing. The pain wouldn't stop. He felt like he was being torn apart inside. His heart pounded in his ears as he relived his father dying in his arms. As he relived the Sack of Doriath, in the throes of battle-madness. As he received news of his brothers' deaths.
Maglor found himself getting his dagger, feeling like his mind was leaving his body. He watched, as if it were happening to someone else, as he cut stripes across his arms, making them bleed.
As the knife wounds stung and blood dripped down his arms, Maglor's heartbeat began to slow. He breathed a shuddery sigh of relief, watching the blood flow. It couldn't bring his brothers back, or his father. But the pain searing his arms pushed everything else aside. The blood was a small punishment. A small offering to the cruel goddess who he'd spent much of his life trying to appease.
He hated himself for doing it, feeling like Nerdanel won... but he'd already lost. Many times over.
Maglor let himself bleed for awhile before he dressed his wounds and lay back down. This time as he lay there, he thought of nothing. He felt nothing. He still felt like he was floating outside his body, like time had slowed down.
Eventually he went to sleep.
The next day Maglor wore long sleeves, as usual, and tried to be nonchalant, like yesterday hadn't happened. A little too glib. The sort of "I'm fine" act he had learned to put on for Nerdanel because he found out if he wasn't fine, she would make him even less fine, scolding and ridiculing him.
Fëanor had tried to leave, more than once. Always, Nerdanel had come to try to reconcile. Always, he'd taken her back and things would be sweet for awhile... until they weren't, the tension and inevitable conflicts brewing once more.
Maglor tried not to think about it, even going so far as to give a little concert in the garden to distract himself and play up how fine and completely normal he was.
But later, as he followed Finarfin through the secret passages to Finarfin's bedchamber, Finarfin wanted to take a bath with him before they did anything. And it was in the bath that Maglor, naked, could not hide his arms.
Finarfin studied the wounds on Maglor's arms for a long time, not saying anything, not showing any reaction. Maglor braced himself, and eventually Finarfin did speak, his voice soft as he asked, "Who did this to you?"
"I... I did it." Maglor swallowed hard.
"Why?"
Maglor didn't answer that right away.
Finarfin raised an eyebrow, and now his jaw set and he squared his shoulders. "What did she say to you."
Maglor exhaled. "She blamed me for my brothers' deaths."
There was another long silence.
Excruciatingly long.
Maglor's fingers wrinkled from the bath by the time Finarfin said, simply, "I see."
When they got out of the tub and dried off, Finarfin began to march Maglor - not towards the bed, but back through the secret passages. Maglor was a little afraid Finarfin was going to send him back to his room, alone, but instead they arrived at the dungeon.
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