Silmarillion Writers' Guild

In answer to jilba's question for the "Ask a Character a Question" challenge, I wrote three drabbles. The drabbles are from Macalaurë's perspective and answer the following question, proposed by Jillian:

Why didn't you rescue Maedhros; why did the poor chap have to wait for cousin Fingon to go get him?

For those who do not know, drabbles are short pieces of fiction that are *exactly* one hundred words in length. They are my new hobby in an attempt to curb my loquacity rambling lengthiness in writing. Not that I am going to stop writing long stories--I don't think I can--but it is good to be able to change hats every now and again.

Title: Oaths Sworn
Author: dawn_felagund
Rating: General
Warnings: none


I.
The firelight touches my brother’s face as he speaks to us. The parchment in his fingers does not tremble. It would tremble in mine. “Moringotto will treat with us,” he says.

Our voices rise and collide in the silence. Our words tangle in senseless cacophony: argument and agreement, pale hands flashing like moths to the flame, but Maitimo says nothing. He nods, raises his palm to us.

Silence.

I watched my father flare into brilliance—a star in the night—and end as dust. The firelight blazes on Maitimo’s hair. I can believe that he will share the same fate.

II.
My brother assembles his guard. Tyelkormo and the twins want to ride with him; I see them arguing. I know by the ways their eyes flash and their faces twist that they are losing.

“If you fall, we would be closer to failure. The Oath would be broken.”

He strides to me, and I hold his sword for him while he mounts. We do not speak; words long since unnecessary between us. I hand him his blade, and his eyes meet mine.

“If I do not return, follow me not.”

I have no time for protest before he rides away.

III.
The slow fall of hoofbeats in the street startles me from the surface of restless sleep. It is morning, although morning brings only darkness here.

I push the drape aside and stare into the street. I see horses. The horses of Maitimo’s guard have returned to their homes, but their riders have not. Their legs are speckled by dark splatters.

Feeling not the cold floor on my bare feet, I throw open the door. Maitimo’s horse stares me in the eye, dragging behind him by brother’s trampled banner.

I sob into my hand. Two oaths I should not have sworn.
~oOo~


This is cross-posted to my personal journal as well. Apologies for any redundancy.

Comments are always appreciated. Also, nelyo's post brought up another good question: If Maglor had been placed in Fingon's position as Maedhros' rescuer, what would have he have done?

::opens nuzgûl hutch:: Feed, my pretties! >:-D