“It was really quite unexpected,” said Melkor to those gathered around him. “There we were, searching for the little one, and the two of them were some steps behind me the entire time. They whispered in hushed voices – not that I would have eavesdropped upon their conversation.”
“Of course not,” grumbled Feanor to himself, his glare directed towards Melkor.
“Naturally, my concern was for the infant. I heard something stirring, and I went to investigate. The two young ones were still behind me. When I saw that what we were looking for was before us, I crouched down and I picked him up. He was still asleep at the time, so I turned to ask the she-elf if she would mind taking her brother, as I did not wish for him to wake. Unfortunately, I did not see either of them. I thought perhaps they had gone down another path, so I called out for them. Neither one answered, and the baby awoke.” Melkor gave a fond look to Argon. “I wished to see him safely home, so I brought him back immediately. I assumed that the two who were with me were going to return. I never expected this.”
“Neither did we,” said Feanor accusingly.
“Are you sure you checked the house?” Fingolfin asked his mother. Indis nodded, and Finwe placed his hands upon his wife’s shoulders as he stepped behind her. “This is not good,” said Fingolfin, his comment directed to his half-brother. “Who knows what your son is up to out there.”
“My son? You can be sure that he is not the only one behind this.” Feanor took his eyes off of Melkor and addressed Fingolfin. “They lead each other around, and you can be sure this was a mutual decision, whatever it is that they are doing or have done.”
“That is exactly what worries me. There is no telling what they are going to do. Together!” This last exclamation was emphasized for all to hear, and Turgon made a little discomfited noise at the thought.
Finarfin stepped forward between his brothers. “There is something you should both keep in mind. Neither of them are children. Both of them have traveled through the woods before; both of them have camped in the woods before. They are going to be fine, and eventually, they are going to come back.”
“That is easy for you to say,” stated Fingolfin. “It is not your daughter who is lost in the woods with one of his sons.”
For a moment, it seemed as if Finarfin was going to snap back at his brother. He took a moment, however, and then said calmly, “If it was my daughter in the woods with Celegorm, I would not worry.”
“Just wait until it is your daughter,” warned Fingolfin. Finarfin frowned.
“My children,” said Finwe in a loud voice, “I think it is time for us to disband for the evening. Whether into my home or to your own, we are all in need of rest, and there is very little to celebrate at the moment. It has only been an hour since the disappearance of Aredhel and Celegorm – and for all we know, they are simply still searching the woods for Argon if they do not know he has been found.
“My suggestion is that we send out two small parties on horseback to search for them. This should be a brief search, after which, we shall have supper for those who are hungry and then retire. Are there any objections to this?” When no one spoke against Finwe, he looked to Finarfin and his children. “Perhaps one party consisting of Finrod, Artanis, and yourself, and another with Orodreth, Angrod, and Aegnor?”
Finarfin nodded, and he and his children gathered horses and rode into the woods. Indis did her best to keep the peace between the rest of the family members as they shuffled into the house and scattered into different areas.
Fingon was torn between following his family into the north wing and seeking out Maedhros on the other side of the house. His decision was made when Turgon came up behind him and nudged him forward. “If Celegorm does anything to hurt her, you know that she will kill him. At the very least, she will make it highly uncomfortable for him, or, maybe turn him into a soprano. In any case, I am a little concerned about things that could happen to our sister while she is missing, but Celegorm is, in all honesty, the least of my worries.”
He and Turgon walked to a window seat that overlooked the woods. The dense forest had yet to shed many of its leaves, so there was no way to see through the multicolored patches in order to find the runaways. Fingon found himself envious of Aredhel and Celegorm as he and Turgon quietly observed the riders entering the forest. If Celegorm and Aredhel stayed together, there was a good chance that Celegorm would be able to keep them shielded from those hunting them – of any of them, Celegorm knew the woods the best.
“Do you think they have any intention of returning soon?” asked Turgon.
Fingon looked to his brother, and saw that Turgon was quite distressed, though others may not have picked up on the subtleties that he could. “I am sure they are fine. They probably just got upset; you know how Celegorm’s temper can be. Aredhel is getting as bad as him.”
“I know. I still hope they come back tonight.”
“So do I.”
Indis came up behind them and placed one of her hands on each of their shoulders. “There is nothing to worry about. If something bad befell them, your cousin would know immediately,” she said in reference to the uncanny ability that Artanis exhibited in knowing of the wellbeing of the family. “If something was wrong, we would know.”
Fingon nodded, but Turgon did not look so convinced. “It would still be best if they returned promptly.”
“It would,” agreed Indis. “Until then, we must do the best to carry on as we can. As someone already mentioned, they could still be out there looking for Argon! With that in mind, what can I get for the two of you to eat?”
“Sorry, grandmother, but I am not very hungry,” apologized Fingon.
Turgon shook his head as well. “I cannot eat while my sister is missing.”
“Alright, but if you change your minds, I will be in the kitchen for the next hour.”
They thanked her as she moved down the hallway. Once she was gone, Fingon asked, “How upset is father?”
“With you? Less upset than he is with Aredhel, and more upset than he has ever been with me.”
“More upset than when you let those pigs go run wild when he said he was going to slaughter them the next day?” asked Fingon.
“And then some.” Turgon leaned against the wall and drew up his legs. “At least now you can stop hiding.”
“Provided father does not lock me in the attic for the next five hundred years.”
“He will not do that.” Turgon poked Fingon with his foot when his brother did not answer him. “I know something you do not.”
Fingon grumbled, not willing to play the game.
“I know something about Maedhros that you do not know.”
Fingon shrugged.
Turgon sighed. “You are no fun at all.” He poked his brother again. “Do you want to know what it is?”
“Of course I do, and stop poking me.”
“Stop what, stop this?” Turgon tapped his foot in multiple places just for fun. “You want me to stop that? I thought you liked that.”
“Stop it!”
With a snicker, Turgon pulled his legs in further before Fingon could slap his foot. “Mother is quite fond of Maedhros. She thinks he is a good match for you.”
“Quit it.”
“What?” Turgon looked at his feet. “I did nothing.”
“You are lying to me,” accused Fingon.
“I am certainly not,” argued Turgon. “Mother has said so to me on a number of occasions, and she is with father right now telling him this. She told me so.”
Fingon gave Turgon a sideways glance. “Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
A few minutes later, Maglor turned the corner and padded lightly down the hallway. His hair was braided back, which was very different from how it had been earlier. In fact, his style now mirrored Fingon’s, with threads of gold adorning each plait. “I have a message,” he said, and he crouched down so that he could speak softly to them. “The two of you were to share a guestroom?” Turgon nodded, and Maglor continued, “I am to take Fingon’s place, and he, mine.”
“Who decided this?” asked Turgon.
“Father, though, I do not know if he plotted with Maedhros or not. My guess is that father figured this one out on his own. All I know is that if I am told to do something, I do it. Father says change into house clothes, I find a pair of comfortable sleeping pants and change. Father says braid your hair like your cousin does, I raid grandmother’s sewing chest.” Maglor pulled one of the braids around to inspect it. “I do like the gold embellishments. I might steal this idea in the future.”
“So, what am I to do?” asked Fingon as he stood up.
“Go down the hallway; Caranthir is standing in front of the window just in case someone should go out and look up as you are walking past. Father is at the foot of the stairway to stall your parents. They were just leaving the library, so you are going to want to hurry. When you see Curufin, he will guide you the rest of the way. You had better make haste; Maedhros is waiting for you.”
Fingon stood up quickly, his heart beating fast at the mention of his lover’s name.
“And what of you?” questioned Turgon.
“I am to take your brother’s place. I need you to show me which guest room you are in. Father told me to turn in, and keep my back to the door. I do hope that I do not turn over in my sleep, or we shall have some interesting explaining to do,” he added.
Turgon laughed as he stood up. “We can just tell everyone that you and I were interested in seeing just what it was our brothers enjoy so much.” The pair chuckled to themselves as they walked down the hall away from Fingon.
Fingon wanted to shout for his brother and cousin to have a good night, but he dared not do anything that could possibly make him heard by anyone else. Now he hurried down the hall in the opposite direction, and found Caranthir just where he was told he would be. His cousin nodded, and sipped his wine, being sure to block the majority of the window.
When Fingon reached the stairs, he could see a glimpse of his uncle at the bottom. Feanor was conversing politely with Anaire, but it was obvious from Fingolfin’s curt answers that he was wishing for his brother to move and allow him passage. Fear hurried Fingon down the hall to where he found Curufin standing up against a wall. His cousin nodded forward, and Fingon spied the open door. He swallowed hard and walked forward. When he heard the sound of his father bidding Feanor good evening and placing his foot on the steps, Fingon scrambled through the door, and shut it quickly behind him with a sigh of relief.
