The Light of the Damned Stars

The Golden City. The Rescue of Maedhros After making sure for the one-hundred-thousandth time that he had everything, Findekano began to persuade himself that choosing the daytime for the campaign to the Morgoth’s Lands was the right decision. How likely was it that the enemy’s beasts adjusted to the light? Or was there, under the cover of darkness, no difference between the times of the day? His heart was filling up with rage. Ñolofinwë's son did not want to think about Fëanárians in a bad way, though, recalling the sight of Makalaurë being desperate and burning with shame, he could not calm himself down. His chest was bursting with the desire to shout out curses, to throw around stones and anything that would have come to hand, and then to take out his sword and… start killing. Why? Why those whom Findekano loved turned out to be such… such… The brothers did not even join Nelyo at the negotiations! Were they afraid?! While he could not bring himself to accept all that he had actually heard and what his imagination had filled in the rest, he saw that mountains became rather close and there were no more huge boulders around to hide carts and horses. The Prince of the Second House dismounted, checked his equipment and the content of his waist bag, then he silently gave a node to his fellows and rushed towards cliffs that were covered with darkness. Music became perceptible as soon as Noldo reached the sheer cliffs at a length of an arrow’s flight at the foothill. One of the Creation themes was resounding there, he did not have a single doubt about it. The thought that he would rather have never heard this song again crossed Findekano’s mind, however, he immediately abandoned it. 'Nelyo, where are you? ' the elf questioned himself, being lost in the endless maze of his own memories and feelings. Mountains, mountains, mountains… Darkness… A mutilated corpse on the shore and desperate, hopeless Kano… Why, Eru?! Mountains… They were all the same! No, they were not the same, they were all different; the real reason why he was losing his concentration was the music that was coming from the underground. The song was creating, but it was Creation for the sake of Destruction! Here, in the earth’s depths, life was appearing with only one purpose — to bring death! Why was everything like that?! 'Where are you, Nelyo? Perhaps, everything was pointless? Perhaps, you are already dead? No. Morgoth would never have hung you on display only for that. He likes to watch and feel the misery of others. However, damn enemy, you have forgotten one thing: I don’t! ' Findekano leaned against a surprisingly warm pillar rock that Makalaure has marked on the map, and tried to calm down. Enemies could not see him because of his disguise. But he was losing the race against time! How much longer should have he been running along the ridge and searching? But shouting was a bad idea as well. Forcing himself to focus, Noldo recalled Nelyafinwë's face. Flame amid darkness… The dead trees were burning down near the royal palace in Alqualondë. Maitimo was looking in the direction of doors that were getting lost amongst carved columns. There was a punctured shield laying at his feet, and there was blood stained armor at his left. Nelyafinwë took off his helmet with one hand. 'I’m not Fëanáro, ' the words resounded. 'Yes, Nelyo, you’re not Fëanáro. And you’ll never be. No one can. But you’re my brother. And if you wouldn’t have been one, what’s the difference? I won’t let Morgoth do this to elves! To none of us! Nelyo… Please hear me! ' Findekano closed his eyes. If he had used ósanwë, he would have exposed himself. But magic songs worked differently! A particular song came to his mind — one of many hundreds, that suddenly reminded him of his youth and first rebel against his father. His lips started whispering the words, and Findekano thought to himslef that music from the depths lost its rhythm. 'I swear, ' Maitimo whispered with his barely moving lips whilst he was restraining himself from reminiscing about his brothers or trying to explain everything that has happened in words, 'to always pursue… with fire and sword, ' the elf knew that if he would have tried to analyse or justify the deeds of his relatives, it would only make it worse, even though it seemed that it was not possible, 'with my anger… anyone. Be it Vala or…' Whilst slowly gathering the remnants of his powers bit by bit, Fëanáro’s son was also trying to ignore the horrific memories of Morgoth’s hand touching his head. These memories were involuntarily reappearing each time the enemy’s name was mentioned. 'Maya, or an elf, ' Maitimo sighed as calmly as he could, 'or any other creation of Eru…' No, he must not have started to remember! His family… and friends. The former ones… 'Whatever is already alive or will be born… later… big or small, good or evil…' Suddenly, the metal screeches from inside of the mountain lost their rhythm, as if two vortexes had crashed into each other and broke each other’s motion. ‘Or luine menel ná I arta laurea, Calasse ando látina Ar elen taurea.’ Maitimo thought that he was imagining his brother’s voice as if because of all the pain and desperation even the Oath could not protect him any longer and thus the Enemy finally broke him with the indifference of his own people that was shown too obviously. 'You think that you and your brothers are the same. You see them as heroes. You are judging them by your own standards. Disappointment is awaiting you, son of the great Fëanáro Kurufinwe. Disappointment and epiphany.' 'Whoso will obtain or try to obtain… the Silmarills, ' Maitimo whispered this, trying to silence the recalled words of his enemy that happened to be too true and prophetic. He realised to his horror that the wind was getting stronger. 'Whoso will keep possession…' ‘Artasse — aldeon Salquissen lóteo, Entasse vantar vanime Celvar ú nóteo.’ ‘Or will hinder the reclaiming of…' ‘Ve tulca minya nárefinda rá Ar tatya — mundo, quanta henduo, Nelya — sorno laurea menelya, Eryar hendu calime úquétime.’ 'The relic of Fëanáro Kurufinwe’s clan…' Maitimo’s sole desire was only to endure for as long as possible and avoid shivering from the freezing cold, so the experience of the inevitable sharp pain would be delayed at least for a moment. 'Let the endless darkness fall upon me…' ‘Menelde látina Min elen tintina. Ta elya ná, a Vanima, Tennoio elya ná! ’ The pain clawed into his flesh, and Nelyafinwë moaned with grinded teeth whilst unwillingly listening to a simple but so dear to his heart melody that was silencing the song of flaming depths. His injured joints were aching in spasms. Fëanárian wanted to continue uttering the words of the Oath through his moans but magic song forced him to give up and join the singing: ‘I mele — melima… I faina — air’elen, Nai tulya elenelya le Artanna tienen.’ 'Nelyo… You’re alive! ' As soon as Findekano got an answer, he bounced out of the rock wall and darted forward, towards the seeming source of the singing. The skypeaks of the Three-Headed Mountain and their extremely steep slopes were drowning in the darkness that was coming from somewhere across the ridge and creating long torn traces in the air. 'Nelyo! ' shouted Ñolofinwë's son, who completely forgot not only about carefulness but about everything else as well, whilst jumping over stones that were laying around in the mud on the run. ‘Nelyo! ’ Roaring wind brought along gray heavy clouds, covering the luminary. 'Nelyo! It’s me! Findekano! I’ll save you! ' Shivering from pain and cold, Maitimo looked down. A slight smirk touched his closed numb lips. 'Finyo, ' sighed the son of Fëanáro. And suddenly he noticed that his willpower, which he surprisingly still had and which was keeping him hanging on the edge of the abyss, began to leave him. The realisation of that HELP has come and that there was someone who would not leave him to endure all tortures alone, and that his sufferings were coming to an end — has destroyed the last barriers that were built up in his soul by the desperate and pointless desire to not to give up, not to surrender, not to allow himself to become broken. These barriers that were placed in the way of the alien will shattered with the ringing sound and pierced into his eyes and throat. The final thing that Maitimo could have consciously shouted, whilst violently convulsing and choking back tears, was a desperate cry: ‘Kill me, I beg you! I can’t bear it anymore! ’ 'I’m here not for that, you hear me?! ' the words came out on their own, and Findekano again became overwhelmed with growing anger. At that moment the son of Ñolofinwë thought that he hated everyone and everything at once. Raising his bow with trembling hands, Noldo felt like burning up with fever and blurted out, ‘No arrow will reach you! Isn’t it obvious?! ’ Completely unaware of how silly he looked, Finyo was cautiously searching with his eyes for a place to throw on his hook so he could start the ascent, when suddenly his gaze stopped at the exact person to whose rescue he came. 'Eru… how could you let it happen?..' Findekano could not remember the last time he had cried but he knew for sure that these tears would become his returning nightmare forever. In a second earth vanished beneath his feet. His consciousness refused to comprehend what his eyes were seeing: Maitimo, whom Ñolofinwë knew as a striking, strong and agile Noldo with a proud posture, became a crippled, quivering, dusty skeleton that was crowned with a nest of greyed matted hair. Findekano, with great difficulty, placed his bow behind his back and put his hand on the wall. He was gasping for air and began frantically wiping out his running tears. Gust of wind hit him in the face, and he heard the hoarse moan which could not be of a Fëanáro’s son! Perhaps, it was actually better to kill him? 'No, ' Findekano reigned himself, 'never! Maitimo must live! Despite this nightmare! To spite their enemy! To annoy all of these pathetic cowards who have left him! ' The palm, which was put on the rock, moved to the side and felt a ledge. The surface came out to be not as smooth as it seemed! 'Hold on, Neo! ' vainly shouted once again the son of Ñolofinwë. 'I will save you! ' 'No, ' wheezed the wind, 'kill him. Be merciful.' Whilst Findekano was throwing his hook again and again, he was cursing Morgoth, the cliff, the inability to see anything that he could hold on to, and the continuous pleading of Ñolofinwë to end his misery, hearing which was making it hard for him to breath. 'Don’t you dare ask me that! ' the eldest son of Ñolofinwë lost his temper after hearing 'kill me' yet again. 'Shut up! You will live, whether you like it or not! ' Strangely enough, the words worked and silence prevailed on the Tangorodrim hillside. The hook caught onto something invisible but it felt sturdy, and Findekano began climbing up after checking if the safety harness was neatly placed on him. His hands and feet struggled to find stones to hold onto, the pickaxe was poorly crushing the rock, however, those hundred miles that he passed at ice peaks and where he had to move through slippery high ice blocks that were crushing under metal tips taught him enough. Furthermore, it was easier to grab onto warm stones than onto bitterly cold ice that was tearing his gloves, and to which his skin was sticking. His hand whilst feeling the rock slipped into a square hole with perfectly smooth sides, but Findekano was not in a state to care to analyse it. Square and square. What has to be more of it? Only one thought appeared — these kinds of ‘holes’ were very convenient for grabbing on. The ground was moving away, the goal was becoming closer. And because he understood that he should not have rushed it as it was too dangerous and he could fall, he was trying to chase off the involuntary thoughts of that each moment of a delay was becoming a one more eternity in torture for Nelyo. ‘Hold on, everything will end soon,’ Ñolofinwë did not say this aloud to avoid hearing the damn ‘kill me’ back. Higher, higher… ‘Probably,’ Noldo thought whilst trying to blindly hook onto something once more, ‘above Nelyo have to be caves. Otherwise, how have they hanged him up there? ’ The pickaxe got stuck in a crack and after struggling to get it out in order for him to continue his ascent, Finyo took a deep breath. He was almost there. Now the most important part was to not fall off with the one whom he wanted to rescue. Maitimo was not looking in his direction. Shivering and horribly wrinkling the thinned skin, strained around the skull, which was very hard to call a ‘face’, Fëanáro’s son was heavily breathing through clenched teeth. ‘Don’t rush it, don’t rush it,’ Findekano was ordering himself when he felt his hands starting to tremble again. After hooking the safety harness onto something invisible above Maitimo’s head, Ñolofinwë’s son found support for his feet and got closer to his brother. ‘I’m begging you,’ chapped bloody lips calmly uttered. Findekano decided to remain silent. He put one of his feet onto something firm whilst another one he bent in the knee and leaned with it on the rock. Noldo delicately grabbed his brother under his chest, then lifted him up a little bit to reduce pressure on the shoulder. Skinny body, which happened to be fully relaxed and not able to hold its own weight, flinched, and its head helplessly fell back. Maitimo yelped, and it seemed for Finyo that his cousin lost his consciousness, but only for a moment, and then he again came to his senses. Cursing his own carelessness, Nolofinvion managed to sit his brother down on his lap and placed brother’s head on his arm that was bent at the elbow. Noldo pulled out from his waist bag a small vial that he had to open with his bare teeth, and brought it closer to the lips covered with blood. 'Don’t, ' exhaled the son of Fëanáro, 'it’s pointless.' 'Drink, Nelyo! ' Findekano’s hand trembled. 'It’ll relieve the pain.' Empty colourless eyes looked at the son of Ñolofinwë, and in them was nothing left from the former gaze. Everything has died off, and only suffering remained. ‘It’s for the pain, Nelyo,’ repeated Finyo, frozen with terror. The dead stare became more alive — and there even appeared a glimpse of frail gratitude for a second. When the vial was emptied, Ñolofinwë’s son threw it out, took out the flask with water and helped his brother to drink until the potion would start to work. Maitimo started falling asleep. After seeing that his brother’s uneven, covered with obvious scars that were noticeable even under the layer of black dust, chest began rising and falling smoothly, without shivers, Findekano very carefully strapped him up to himself with two wide belts, and, as much as it was possible, covered his brother with the dirty rag that was dangling on his skinny shoulders. Supposedly, it was his cloak before. The left hand, that was sewn to the brother’s thigh with a metal ring, Findekano decided not to touch to avoid causing his brother more suffering. When Finyo made sure that straps were securely tight, he reached for the steel ring that was keeping the wrist of Ñolofinwë attached to the wall. As soon as he touched the metal, Findekano understood right away — everything was bad. The steel seemed to be a part of the hand instead of being just the shackles, and you could not turn the wrist in it or get in between, as if the damned metal had grown into the bone. Whilst trying to grab the bracelet to unclench it, the son of Ñolofinwë felt the flinch of brother’s palm. Cold skinny crooked fingers with long nails were moving a little bit, against all logic, each time they were accidentally touched. The veins and tendons were also becoming horrifically visible through translucent skin. Steel did not succumb. Findekano decided to try to rip the ring out of the rock and started to pull it in spurts. But to no avail. Whilst trying once more to unclench the enchanted metal, the elf felt how Maitimo started to flinch. Maybe it happened because the potion’s effect wore off, or Nolofinvion was too harsh in his pulls and thus disturbed brother’s damaged joints. 'By the name of… the Creator…' whispered the son of Fëanáro whilst taking heavy breaths. ‘Eru… I am taking an Oath… and calling upon…’ Findekano pulled the chains, and Maitimo made a choked groan. ‘The Lord…’ The raspy voice resounded with pain. ‘As the witness of my word…’ The last pull came out to be more sudden, and the wretched body shivered. ‘Finyo,’ Fëanáring whispered quietly, ‘I beg you, stop it. There’s no use. Don’t you see? ’ after taking a deep breath, the half-dead captive made a short groan. ‘Don’t torture me more, please. You can kill, I know that.’ Findekano knew that as well but he was not going to do that. Not now! When he understood that there was only one way left, he was hating himself for that he did not succeed in unclenching the shackles, Morgoth — for his cruelty, Nelyo — for his pleading for death because of which Findekano was losing his ability to think clearly, and everyone else — for not helping Nelyo earlier. The son of Ñolofinwë pulled one more short belt from his waist bag. ‘Finyo,’ Maitimo again whispered through a moan, ‘please. Just one blow… Please! ’ ‘How to silence him?! ’ Findekano exclaimed in his thoughts. The answer came to his mind unexpectedly, and suddenly the heinous music that was coming from the underground became louder. Whilst very carefully and slowly tying up his brother’s chained arm with the belt above the wrist, Ñolofinwion started quietly singing as if he was singing a baby to sleep. ‘Under the blue sky There is a golden city With transparent gates And a bright star.’ Maitimo became silent, his breathing got calmer. ‘In that city you’ll find the garden: All in grass and blooms, The animals that walk there Are of wondrous kinds.’ The belt was tied up on the arm, squeezing swollen veins. ‘In that blue sky The star that shine It’s yours, oh brother my, Forever it’ll be thine.’ Findekano, whilst carrying on singing, very slowly and quietly unsheathed the short thin sword. Perfectly sharpened. ‘The beloved is the one who loves. The blessed is the one who’s bright. And the star let it be the one To guide you to the garden of the divine.’ A swing, a hit, and the blood squirted. Maitimo’s arm, after an unnatural twist, fell down. The palm remained on the same place, chained up to the rock, and the fingers, with a quiver, slowly dropped. Fëanáro’s son froze. He was desperately hoping that Nelyo did not die, he threw away his sword and after unconsciously checking onto his gear, started to descend as fast as he could. Nelyafinwë moaned: first quietly but then, whilst starting to tremble more, the former prisoner of Morgoth began to intermittently shout, loudly and rushly breathing in air. 'Hold on, Nelyo! ' Findekano’s words resounded as an order to rush into the battle. 'Hold on! You’ll succeed! You can do it! ' Ñolofinwë's son did not remember how he got down to the ground, he ripped off the rope from himself and left it to just hang out on the mountain. He ran down to the cart as fast as he could whilst leaving a trail of blood and forgetting about carefulness. He was thinking only about one thing: to quickly bring Maitimo, who was struggling to breathe, to the cart, bind the stump of his arm, and give him more potions. And get him to the healers immediately! Two accompanying elves were waiting near the boulder; where the others were — Ñolofinwion did not care at all. Noldo tore down the straps that he used to tie his brother up to himself, then he carefully put the wretched and senseless elf on the blankets and shouted to his fellows, whose faces were contorted in terror by the looks of Fëanáro’s son, to ride faster. He sat down near his brother alongside a herbalist. His brother, even whilst lying unconsciously, was bent to the left and his right hand could not be put down. Findekano was wiping the mud from his brother’s face with a wet cloth, fabric of which was tangling with the bronze wreath, when he noticed how blackness started to appear underneath Maitimo’s eyes, how his forehead and lips turned blue, and how his breath became very shallow. 'I won’t be able to bring Nelyo to his brothers, ' he came to the bitter realisation, 'it’s too far away.' 'Tiryo! ' Findekano shouted to the elf who was driving the cart. 'To my father! Fast! We’re heading to the camp of Ñolofinwë! '