#elair

You woke up screaming, kicking, panting, and eventually, sobbing. The horrific images of your dream did not - could not - leave your mind alone. Kneeling, with your forehead pressed to the cold ground, you did not even realise the sounds of approaching footsteps. It was only when a firm hand pressed onto your right shoulder, that you finally perceived his presence. You lift your head up, and looked into the dark eyes of Maglor. For a moment, your mind stopped working, and went blank completely. You had expected a lot of people to find you like this, but not the Firstborn prince, Maglor. Why was he even here? “Can you hear me?” He asked, his tone gentle. You nodded, but your ears still rang loudly, like there was a small creature screaming into them. Maglor smiled, and he reached out with his left hand, offering to help you up. With shaky legs, you managed to get up, and a night breeze sneaked past you then, making you hyper conscious of the sweat that gathered on your back, your forehead——even the back of your knees. This is so embarrassing, you thought to yourself, and casted your eyes elsewhere, too shy to look at him in the eyes. You also wanted to withdraw your hand, but Maglor held it with an unusual tightness that prevented you from doing so. “Your hand is so cold,” he commented, his thumb tracing the lines in your palm. “Do you not have enough blankets?” “No, I do, this is just what happens when I have nightmares,” you replied desperately, not wanting to sound like someone who is needy of materials. “Nightmares?” He looked into your eyes again, and you knew that he was observing you. You cowered a little under his unmoving gaze, and could feel your cheeks burning. I’m not lying, you thought to yourself, I’m not! These are really horrible dreams! It had been a problem troubling you since you were young. No one knew why, and at first people would comfort you, but as you grew older, their patience worn thin. You were often treated with contempt and distrust, with some even going as far as to explain your symptoms as “(Y/N) seeking for attention”. You tried to retaliate, you tried to talk yourself out of this, but none cared, and eventually, you resorted to sleeping by yourself, far away from the encampment of other people. Maglor’s question brought back all those horrible memories of distrust, and you really felt like crying. Having nightmares was bad enough, you did not need to be judged again, by an elf, even. “Is that why you sleep so far away from everyone?” He asked, and that brought your attention back. “Yeah, I... I don’t want to wake up anyone with this.” “Come with me.” “Huh?” You looked at him, dumbfounded. “Come with me, I might have a way to calm you down.” Without waiting for a answer, he led you away from your own camp. > He couldn’t explain it, but the truth of the things was that he was concerned about (Y/N). From the day he first met her, she had caught his attention. That day was still in his mind as he led her through the forest. She stood isolated from everyone else, as if there was an invisible wall around her. At first, he thought of her as having a cold nature, but he soon realised that even if she did, it was a characteristic forced upon her by her kinsman. He wondered why they disliked her, and for the longest time he could not get it. That was, until just now, when he was taking a stroll by himself, he heard the fearful scream she made. Maglor rushed to it, thinking that perhaps she was attacked, but seeing she was just having a nightmare, he ordered other soldiers to return to their post, and walked closer by himself. The sight tugged his heart. She was kneeling on the ground, her whole body shaking, and he could hear her sob, the sound of a wounded animal. When he felt how cold her hand was, he would have pulled her into a tight embrace, if not for the manners imprinted into him through a childhood much longer than human’s. That was why he doubted her when she said it was “nightmares”. He had his fair share of nightmares after that fateful departure from Valinor, but none of them was bad enough to have him screaming and crying like the human girl. It was also why he led her away, although he actually had no idea what to do, only knowing that he wanted to do something. Anything, actually, instead of just leaving her to deal with this by herself. It felt wrong. It felt uncaring. Walking beneath the star lit sky, Maglor breathed in the smell of trees and he felt himself calming down. Only then, did he turn around. The girl nearly crashed into him due to his abrupt movement, and up close, Maglor could see the blush on her cheeks, and the way her eyes reflected starlight. She blinked rapidly, her eyelashes flapping like the wings of a butterfly. “Have you ever listened to me sing before?” > You opened your mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. On that turn, your mind finally started working again, and you shook your head. You heard Maglor chuckle, his face lighting up, which made him all that more handsome. Holy Arda, am I dreaming? You had to try real hard to keep down the urge of pinching yourself. Maglor turned, and you followed him to his tent - HIS tent - which looked much more comfortable and well furnished than yours. It even had carpets inside! The elven guards beside the entrance looked at you with curiosity, but Maglor gestured them away with a wave of his hand. “Leave us be for a while,” he said, “we would like to talk privately.” Privately. The word made you blush, again (seriously, this needs to stop), and you stood there in his tent stiffly, not knowing what to do. Should you thank him? Or maybe compliment the decorations inside? Or maybe—— “Sit, please,” he gestured to a gathering of cushions on the ground, and you obeyed. You sat down, feeling like your limbs were all suddenly made of wood, similar to the dolls played by little children that could not move fluidly. Maglor sat down facing you with a lyre that honestly looked more like an artwork than an instrument. He noticed how stiff you were looking, and a warm smile that could rival the lamps beside you two appeared on his face one more time. “You can relax. It is safe here.” You nodded, but your eyes still wandered frantically around the room. “Is something wrong, (Y/N)?” “Ah! I—— I just wonder...”your voice died in your throat, but it came back after you saw the patience in Maglor’s eyes.”...I just wonder what is the meaning of this?” > When she asked that question, he only felt compassion growing inside him. It is one thing to be distrustful, another to be cautious, and (Y/N) clearly belonged to the latter. Maglor believed that she asked it not out of ill-will, but out of a habit formed by a life filled with ill-will from others. So much so that the moment she received some kindness from others, her first reaction was to doubt it, instead of accepting it with gladness. “I just want to calm you down—with my singing,” he assured her, making sure his manner and expression were as gentle as possible. It felt weird. How long has it been since the last time he exercised such gentleness? “Oh, I’m sorry, I, I did not mean to doubt you, I——“she clearly was convinced by him, but that only made her flustered, her fingers intertwined tightly together as she scrambled for words to explain herself. “It is okay,” he set the lyre down, and reached out with both hands to envelope hers in them. They were still so cold, despite all the heatings placed in this tent. “I understand. I do. There is no need to explain yourself.” He chose then not to let go of her hands, not before she had warmed up, at least. She had stopped fidgeting by then, though she still looked worried. “Do humans also sing to calm each other down like this?” He asked, gently pushing the conversation towards something else. “They do... but it is usually for babies or children,” (Y/N) replied, looking a bit embarrassed by the fact that he is going to sing for her like she is a young child. But you are young, mused Maglor to himself, at least for us. “We do it with each other no matter the age, especially me,” he said, “my mother called me Makalaurë. It means gold-cleaver. And my father named me Kanafinwë, the strong voiced.” “Your names sound like poetry,” her eyes lit up, and she tried to say the names herself. Maglor thought that his straightforward names sounded more like poetry in her mouth, but he kept his compliment down, not wanting to make her flustered. “What should I sing for you, (Y/N)?” He pulled her hands closed to him, and set them beneath his jaw. Maglor looked up to the roof of the tent, his mind wandering between possible candidates. “Something related to the place you come from?” Her voice was so low that he nearly missed it. Maglor looked back at her, and she turned her face away, her cheeks even redder than before. “Of course.” > You were sure that you are dreaming. It must be a dream. Why else would a High Prince of the Firstborn be singing to you? You, ever the outcast of your people, the freak, as some might say. His voice was low and gentle, like the murmuring speech between lovers. The language he sang in was foreign to your ears, but it did not matter, for Maglor sang with such skill that you could understand the emotions within without knowing the lyrics. Beat by beat, your heart started to slow down, no longer moving so erratically as if it was about to break out of your chest. Your mind drifted away from the horrible imageries in your dreams, and it went to a place filled with golden sunshine, gentle waves, white sand, and rows upon rows of trees. You had never been to places like the one in your mind, it could have been elven magic conjuring these imageries up. Was this his birthplace? You thought. With a turn of the tune, Maglor entered a new part of the song. Or maybe this was a new song, seamlessly joining the end of the first one? You did not know. Your eyelids were getting heavy, and your head started to sway a little, as you desperately tried to stay awake. You must stay away, an elven prince is singing to you, you cannot possibly fall asleep like this in front of him... > Maglor reached out and caught (Y/N)’s body when she fell asleep. He did not break the song however, only lowered his voice a little, while he quietly laid her head down on a cushion, then dragged a blanket across her body. Only then did he stop singing. Maglor observed the peaceful expression on her face, and took in every detail of it. He smiled silently to himself, and stayed by her side for a while. Then, as if a thought suddenly came to his mind, he stood up, and went out of the tent. “Take her things here,” he told the guards, who had just returned, “it should be near the encampment of the Atani.” “Is she staying with you, my lord?” When two of the three guards had scurried away, the one left behind asked tentatively. Maglor did not reply for a long time. He looked at the tent, which now had a human girl sleeping in it. “If she wishes to,” he finally said, but it was not all that that had crossed his mind. Because I really want her to.

“You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to,” he said, “I’m here to provide company, not to interrogate.” Despite your sadness, you could still feel a surge of heat passing through your cheeks. The Lord of Thargelion was famous for many things, but his temper especially. Yet that was what made his moments of softness - like right now - so irresistible. You would have been able to hold your tears longer, but now all your hardened exterior evaporated like morning dew under warm sunlight, and you quite literally threw yourself into his embrace. You cried, tears coming out like an overflowing dam, and your chest heaved up and down violently, until you started to feel like you could die of shortness of breath. That was when his hands reached out to cup your face, and perhaps it was elven magic, or perhaps it was because of how he looked at you, but your breathing slowed down, until only a sob escaped your mouth every now and then. A faint smile appeared on his usually stern face, his dark eyes filled with adoration, love and patience. “Death, what a gift,” you muttered to him, “I really felt like I could die with them when...” You broke off, unable to utter more words to remind yourself of what had happened. He pulled you into a tight hug with a sigh, and his hand patted your head lightly. “Everything comes with a price,” you heard him say, although you wondered if that was for you, or maybe for himself as well. You nodded, and at that moment, you suddenly became aware of this relationship between you and Caranthir. What will be the price of this? You asked yourself, looking into the distance through teary eyes. 

For he had caught something better.

•The first emotion you learnt from Maedhros was Hate. It burnt so brightly in his eyes that it was impossible to not comprehend it. •You are the product of Morgoth’s failed experiment to create elves - you are an elf in every sense, except in emotions. •When Maedhros first met you, he was so shocked to see another elf in Angband, and tried desperately to talk with you. •He soon realised that you are just one of the many ways that Morgoth had devised to hurt him: Maedhros is being guarded by someone who looks so alike his kin, yet also so different at the same time. •For a long time, you just watched him getting tortured, and sometimes you were even instructed to join in or give a hand •Things started to change, when Maedhros unconsciously murmured the name of his mother, and you caught on. When he woke up, you asked him about it simply because that was your nature: your lack of emotions meant that you did not know what should or shouldn’t be asked or said. •He was surprised to hear that question from you, but answered it nonetheless - not like he got anything better to do. •You kept on asking, because being an emotionless thing meant that you would try to follow logic and keep on digging, until you have the full picture. •However, somewhere along the way, you actually started to feel what he was describing, instead of simply taking it in. Especially when he talked about the times he spent with his family on Valinor. •You did not have a family to begin with, so when you heard how he interacted with his family, you felt a strange sense of warmth passing through you. •One day, he pleaded to you to help him escape, and he promised that once you two get out of here, you would be able to live. Truly live. Form connections with other people, and that he will make sure no one looks down on you because of your origin. •You seriously considered it, but your logic still triumphed over your not fully developed emotions •”It is illogical,” you replied, “to do so would either end in mutual destruction, or my death.” •He was very hurt and disappointed by your answer, and refused to answer any of your questions afterwards. •You felt weird, looking at him like that. Your throat felt tight, and your stomach felt heavy. What you did not know back then, was that at that moment you acquired sympathy. •You tried to explain to him your thought process, how you find his plan to be illogical, and his hope to be far-fetched. There was no malice in your tone or your reasoning. It was how you were made and raised. •Maedhros realised that too, and in the end he just patted your head. •”It isn’t your fault, (Y/N).” •You became, for the first time in forever, awfully conscious of how fast your heart was beating. •Right after that, he got chained up, and in the next 30 years, though you made no attempt to break him away, you did do everything you could to keep him alive. •A scrap of food there, a sip of water here. You sneaked these to him when no one was noticing. You did not have much yourself, but you found yourself unable to just turn away. That was how the third emotion came to you, compassion. Sauron and Morgoth were too deep in countering the elves to even notice or remember you. Even if they did, it would be a passing thought of: ‘What could a failed product do anyway - a thing that does not even have emotions.” •During that time, you two occasionally chatted, and Maedhros understood the goodness in you that was slowly growing. •Finally, Fingon came with the Great Eagle to rescue Maedhros. •Maedhros asked you to come with him, but at the same time a group of guards had seen you three, and they were on their way to report this. •You knew that you could take this chance to get away from Angband - but you also knew that if the guards let out the news, the chance of all three of you escaping would become minuscule. •In that moment, logic triumphed emotions again. •”Logically, the death of one is less than the death of three,” you told him before instructing Fingon to leave, “thus, it only makes sense for me to stay behind.” •Maedhros got carried away, but he knew he had left an important part of himself behind in Angband. Partly due to Sauron and Morgoth, partly due to you. •You, on the other hand, miraculously killed all the guards off, and living off your familiarity with the landscape, you escaped Angband. You were accepted into a small group of elves, and from them you learnt elven traditions, the stories of their coming, but most importantly, who Maedhros really is. •You did not feel much. Not really. You were appreciative of him inspiring you to break away, and that was more than enough. You did not seek him out, although you knew to do so would benefit you exceedingly. •Fate, or whatever invisible power others believed in ultimately led you two back to each other. •The elves you dwelt with eventually came to Himring, and when they met with Maedhros, you were also present. •He was very shocked to see you here, you, not so much (you had expected this to happen when your group decided to move to Himring). •”To inspire me to break away from that life is already help enough,” you told him when he asked why did you not seek him out, "I do not want anything more.” •”I suppose, you came to me in the end,” he said, when you two got to spend some private time together. “You will have a friend, and perhaps a family here. I feel it, (Y/N).” •It was night, he smiled at you under the pale moonlight. There were so much happiness and gentleness and care in it, and something else you could not identify. However, you again became conscious of how fast your heart is beating. •Maybe you did want something, but you could not comprehend it, and it took a long time for you to work it out. •But what mattered was that you worked it out, and that was, you loved him, and he you.

You woke up with a head so heavy it might as well be filled with cement. It took you a while to come around fully, and when you did, you could swear to whatever gods out there that you just wanted to find a chasm and dive in and never see the light of Arda again... or Maglor. Who was sitting next to your bed, book in hand, but looking more concentrated on whatever thoughts that was running in his head rather than the book’s content. They were probably important things to think about, because as sensitive as Maglor was, he did not even realise you had woken up a few minutes ago. Realising that there was no way he would leave soon, you coughed lightly to clear your throat, but also to catch his attention. His head flicked sharply towards you, and the book was thrown onto the table carelessly to make space for your hands. He held onto them tightly, so much so you were a bit taken back by his force. Maglor had always been gentle. From the way he talked, to the way he kissed you, his movements were always calculated and carefully exerted, like the performance of a dancer, or something like that. “How are you feeling?” He asked, his eyes filled with worry, although his face still managed to keep up a smile. “Fine...just a bit giddy,” you smiled back, and even that felt terrible. Oh Eru, what was happening with you? In addition to the heavy head, now you could feel an excessive amount of sweat gathering on your body, and your breathing suddenly quickened for no apparent reason. Even your hands, which were firmly held by Maglor, had started shaking. Maglor sensed what was happening immediately, and he held your hands even tighter to provide some sense of assurance. “(Y/N), when did you last eat?” He asked, his voice louder than usual and filled with concern. You wanted to speak, wanted to tell him that you hadn’t eaten since last night, but your voice was drowned in your quickened breath unable to get out. So you shook your head with the last reserve of your energy, which was enough to get the message across. Maglor released your hands and almost threw himself to the cabinet with food, going through each drawer and cupboard until he fished out a round tin box. He sat next to you again, and picked a hard candy glazed with fine sugar dust which was sent next to your mouth. You tried your darn best to reach for it, but whatever was happening with your body was worsening rapidly, and your body felt like it was sinking pass the bed and into the ground beneath. I am such an idiot, you thought to yourself, a thoroughly dumb and foolish and trouble-making... The rest of your thought was cut off when you felt your mouth sealed and tinge of sweetness started to spread in your mouth. Your tongue reached out instinctively and touched a solid object which was the source of sweetness. You could feel your face heating up crazy when you realised what Maglor was doing. He was mouth feeding you the hard candy. For some reason, he wouldn’t let you take the candy immediately, and it was only after the candy was passed between you two for a few rounds that he finally pushed the candy into your mouth with his tongue. Maglor left your mouth, and you could see the traces of saliva around his lips due to this sloppy way of feeding you. You sucked the candy absent-mindedly, all of your thoughts now focused on what just happened. Thankfully, the candy seemed to be helping with the horrible sensations, and soon enough you were able to sit up by yourself. Maglor handed you a few more candies just to be sure, and in the end you had to stop him from giving you more. “My teeth will feel sore if I eat that much sugar,” you said half-jokingly. Maglor nodded, then put the candy away. His body finally seemed to relax as he leaned back onto the chair, his dark eyes melted into yours, and his face became expressionless. You didn’t need him to tell you what to do, so you told him everything. How the rumours started by a few of Maglor’s jealous admirers, how they compared your body uncaringly to inanimate objects, and how you decided that the only way to solve this was to go on unreasonable fasting added with exercises that far exceeded what you ate. You saw his face went from expressionless to one darkened with anger in the span of a few minutes, and in moments like these, Maglor carried an uncanny resemblance to his younger brother Caranthir, whose humour closely resembled their father. “I am sorry,” your head dropped between your shoulders to hide the embarrassment and shame on your face, “I should not have done that... I... I was being foolish to be provoked by their words.” “If my kindred didn’t went to that part of the forest today, you could still be lying there unconsciously, (Y/N),” he said, his voice surprisingly low and gentle. “I will think of better ways to do this——“ “No.” “Huh?” You looked up. “I said no. You don’t have to do anything. Nor do I see the need to do anything,” his eyes wandered between your face and what was hidden beneath the blanket. He climbed into the bed with you, and cradled you with his whole body. “I love every part of you,” he whispered while his hand traced through your body, following every curve. You were so flustered by his actions that you didn’t even know what to say in reply. Maglor soon noticed your silence, and he tilted your head to face him, his eyes gleaming ominously. “Or perhaps you prefer a less verbal proof?” He said so as his hug tightened, practically pressing you two’s bodies together. “No, no - I am fine, I, I believe you,” you broke free from his embrace to face the wall, which elicited a light chuckle from him. WHEN DID HE BECOME THIS DIRTY? You buried your burning face in a pillow. “I will go fetch some food,” Maglor patted you on the head, “you be good now.”

Andromachus sat silently outside his makeshift shelter. It was outside the main structures of the Polis hive city, a less populated area that became even more devoid of human after the arrival of Andromachus. He might be physically breaking down, his mind descending into frenzy as each day went by, and his body eaten away by cancer, but he was still a bone-chilling sight to the common men. He was a product of His design, after all. No matter how crude he may be, when compared to His companions. The sound of light snoring leaked out of the shelter and into his ears. Andromachus turned to check on the child that was tangled with his cloak, using it as a blanket. The child was sleeping peacefully, which was a rare thing to happen, since even before their near extinction, Andromachus’ kind instilled fear into those who laid eyes on them. Peace was not something he was in company with. Andromachus had much more dealing with war and violence in his blood-soaked life. It was weird, really. After all that had happened, he was able to find peace when his kind was at the edge of extinction. Did He chose to let a few slip by? This was something he asked himself on a daily basis, and now he returned to this question as he sat in solitude.  Andromachus did not believe for a moment that He would let the survivors slip by so easily, so he lived each passing day like it would be his last, waiting patiently for an irrepressible gold to find him. He had stopped sleeping a few weeks ago, because the dreams made reality a better place than wherever he went to in his slumber. But also because, he wanted to meet his executor. No, he would not die in his sleep. He wanted to see it happen. To feel life leaking out of him, fast or slow. He would face his executor head on, and not ran again. A group of rats slipped past his feet, running so fast that even he had to take notice of them. Andromachus’ muscle tensed. The rats here were accustomed to humans, and they only ran for good reasons. Something was here, then. And that something was able to prompt the rats ran when his own arrival failed to do so. He lifted his head up, and looked at the direction the rats came from. Andromachus located the ‘good reason’ that made the rats ran easy enough, though he believed that the executor purposefully let him see. He raised his right hand and waved, gesturing for the executor to come. The executor did not move for a while, but eventually started walking closer towards him. The executor wore an armour of auramite gold, and carried a master-crafted spear of the same colour. The weirdly shaped helmet hid the executor’s face, but Andromachus knew he was looking at him. His executor stopped right beside him, and became as still as a statue. “You can relax a bit, I’m not running,” Andromachus assured him, “although, it would be better if we talk with your helmet off, Tisiphos.” The golden statue moved and placed his spear on the ground, then removed his helmet. A face that looked forty years of age was revealed, but his eyes looked much older. They looked into Andromachus’, blue and black bumping into each other. “Who is that?” Tisiphos looked at the snoring child. “Just something that tagged along,” Andromachus shrugged. Tisiphos nodded, taking in the information. Silence returned. Andromachus looked at the piles of metal scrap that occupied this place, and Tisiphos kept his eyes trained on Andromachus. “I didn’t expect Him to send you,” at last, Andromachus opened his mouth again. “Was this supposed to be symbolic?” “No, I requested for this,” Tisiphos replied, his voice deep, his tone calm. “I expected you to talk. You always like to talk.” “I am so predictable, huh?” Andromachus chuckled at himself. “Sorry about this. I didn’t mean to drag this long, even after I ran.” “It is alright.” “I just... I don’t know why I ran, Tisiphos. I had seen it coming. I thought I was prepared.” “Desire for life is natural, even for one like you.” “One like me?” Andromachus processed that word in his mind. “That reminds me of the day I became this. I also thought then I was ready for death. But it seems like I have over estimated myself.” “This is only a natural reaction, you must not chastise yourself over it.” Andromachus looked at Tisiphos. His executor had an expression as resolute as the unchanging laws of mathematics. But he knew that Tisiphos was showing mercy. He just could not show it on his face anymore. The surgeries Tisiphos had gone through was thoroughly different from Andromachus’, and the result was easy to see. “You make it sound like you are unnatural, my friend.” “Because I am.” Andromachus stared at Tisiphos unabashedly, and the latter showed no discomfort or unhappiness at getting stared. “You have questions, Tisiphos.” “Yes. Why did you keep her?” Tisiphos gestured to the child again, who was still sleeping soundly. “What did you expect? For me to kill her in a fit of annoyance?” Tisiphos nodded. “I honestly expected myself to do the same,” Andromachus smiled as he said this, “but I didn’t. Isn’t that intriguing?” Tisiphos nodded again. “Believe me when I say I tried. But she still stayed, and what else could I do than to let her stay? By Terra, Tisiphos, you can’t imagine how much work there are to look after a child. I had to scavenge for eatable food, steal water, and even surrender my cloak. Looking at her makes me wonder how human managed to come this far, when all of us used to be this weak and small.” Andromachus stopped to push down a cough, so as to not awake then child. Then he continued. “And what do I gain from doing this? You know I thought about this long and hard. And right before you came, literally two minutes before the rats heralded your arrival, I found the answer.” Tisiphos tilted his head to one side, waiting patiently for Andromachus to continue. What looked like embarrassment appeared on his face, and Andromachus breathed in deeply before he spoke. “I gained peace, Tisiphos. I found that I could do something other than killing - or be killed. In all these years of war and battle, war and battle, war and battle... I found refuge.” Andromachus suddenly stood up, his speed clearly taking Tisiphos by surprise, because he saw his executor’s eyes twitch, even though he made no move to stop him. Andromachus held onto Tisiphos’ shoulders, the auramite felt cold beneath his firm grasps. “Don’t leave her here, Tisiphos,” he said, “this is the last thing I can give her.” Tisiphos frowned, very lightly. Whatever he expected when he came here, it wasn’t this. His blue eyes were fixed on Andromachus’ face, which was riddled with scars tissues that made it look inhuman. He saw the plea in his dark eyes, how resolute it was. A time longer than any of them had lived for passed between them. Ultimately, Tisiphos removed Andromachus’ hands from his body, and bent down to pick up the spear. The tip of the spear was directly in front of Andromachus’ neck, and with a flick of the wrist, Tisiphos could end Andromachus’ life. He would. But before he did that, he answered Andromachus. “As you wish.”