“They are gone.”

“Who? Who is gone?” The scene in Doriath was total chaos. Bodies were strewn all over, and in some cases it was difficult to tell which pieces went with which corpse. Maglor was in a corner, cradling Caranthir, telling him it would be alright, telling him they would see each other again, tears falling freely as he rocked his little brother to sleep for the last time. Not far away, little Ambarussa, not so little anymore with his blood-stained tunic, filth on his hands and face, stood over Celegorm’s limp form in disbelief. No one had been able to silence the fairest of Feanor’s children until now.

The servant, one of Celegorm’s messengers, was pulled forward by his armor when he did not answer Maedhros. “Of whom do you speak?” roared the eldest, next pinning the messenger to the wall.

“The children -- they are gone -- they were taken to the woods! Prince Celegorm ordered it so!” The messanger cried out in fear as he was drawn back, then shoved to the stone again, a blade now at his throat. “Astarmo! Astarmo!” he cried, which was often used by unwilling witnesses to petty crimes in Valinor to declare why they had not aided, and that they had not been involved.

Maedhros lowered his blade as Maglor lightly touched his shoulder. “We need to move the survivors,” explained Maglor, still crying at their loss. “Ambarussa hear footsteps; we need to leave now.”

“No! We do not have what we came for!”

“Russandol, you fool, we have lost more than they are worth!” Maglor dodged his brother’s attempt to strike him with his maimed arm. “And now we shall fight among each other? You raise your hand to me, as father did to Uncle Fingolfin?”

Instantly, Maedhros shook his head in remorse. “Maglor.. I am sorry, I did not think..” He embraced his brother tightly. “Go. Take Ambarussa with you; bring Curufin from this place. He may yet survive.” It was a hope, a hope he felt he had to hold onto. Before leaving, Maedhros knelt beside his brother. “Hold on, little father,” he said squeezing Curufin’s shoulder with his hand.

“Father.. yes.. I am going to see him again,” whispered Curufin.

Maedhros swallowed hard. “When we sail back, with the silmarilli, when we have reclaimed them for him.” He bowed his head, uncertain of the words. “Be brave. Maglor is going to get you out of here.”

Curufin nodded weakly, but his eyes were already clouded and the pool of blood beneath him was growing. Maedhros, torn between his own brothers and the twin brothers he knew must also be suffering, nodded to Maglor and then left, racing into the night.

Neldoreth was vast, and there was little to track. Maedhros began the most logical way he knew -- speeding out to run straight in, calling out to Celegorm’s host. He tried first to hail them as friends, then to shout a declaration that their lord was dead. There was no answer to either call, and he began to wonder if they had gone another way until he found the first sign that he had perhaps chosen wisely.

It was a small rattle, made of scrap metal and decorated with gold and pearls -- not the sort of toy for the child of a wandering Sinda or the forest-born Nandor. Maedhros picked it up and raced on, finding a new burst of energy with this discovery.

He called out their names now, hoping that one of the two babes might hear it and react with cries that he could follow. He heard only his own unmasked footsteps and the whispers of adult voices that came from nowhere and everywhere. At times he stopped to listen, but they were too far away to discern, and sometimes too close that he wondered if they were only inside his head. Was it Celegorm himself, his spirit loathe to leave yet, and upset to think his final plan would have been in vain?

When he reached the Sirion, he stood at the water’s edge, panting as he tried to imagine how one would take two small children across the body of water, or whether they had not continued on to Brethil. Again he looked for clues, examining the shoreline. He tried to think of how long he had been gone -- was it hours or days that he had searched already? His mind was clouded, and even as he stood beside the water’s edge, his own thirst that swelled his tongue and parched his throat did not register.

“Noldo. Go home.”

Maedhros spun around, finding several archers standing in a semi-circle behind him, weapons drawn. “I am searching for--”

“We know,” drawled the one who seemed to be the leader. “You will not find them.”

“I seek the children,” he specified, lest they should think that he was searching for Celegorm’s followers.

The leader nodded his head. “They are not your concern.”

“But are they alive?” Maedhros settled his hand on his hip in an attempt to catch his breath. “I must know, are they alive?”

“Go home.” The archer waved a hand to allow a path to be made between two of those guarding him. “You are lucky we have allowed you this far, Son of Feanor. Go, before my benevolence wears off.”

Maedhros took a few defeated steps forward, then looked at the leader. From his satchel, he pulled the rattle. “I found this.” He paused. “Is there still need of it?”

The archer looked at the object, but did not reach for it. He gave an elegant shrug. “Leave it,” he said.

“So they are still alive,” assumed Maedhros.

“I never said that,” replied the archer. “But it is clearly not yours.”

Maedhros dropped it to the ground. “For what it is worth, I hope you have, or will, find them,” he said. He examined the archer’s expression, but it told him nothing. With a forlorn sigh, he trudged back through the trees, still looking for signs as he made the return journey, but finding none.

When he returned to the camp, he found Maglor and Ambarussa with what was left of those loyal to them, but not the one he was hoping to find. “Where is Curufin?” He knew the answer before asking the question.

Maglor shook his head. “Gone. We did not have time to bring the bodies with us.”

Maedhros bowed his head. “I should have stayed,” he muttered. “I could have helped--”

“Did you find...” Maglor trailed off as Maedhros walked away. He looked at Ambarussa, who was tending a camfire, and wondered how long it would be before he was mourning the loss of another brother.