A/N Beren and Lúthien, but from the perspective of Maedhros and Maglor in Himring. Because this is from the point of view Noldor lords, I'm using the Quenya names. Artaresto is Arafinwë's son.

~~~

I don't know what I was expecting when we received a message from Artaresto. We'd heard word that Tyelkormo and Atarinkë had taken refuge in Nargothrond after the Bragollach. They'd always been decent friends, so that was fine right? Well, it was wasn't.

I was in the study with Maitimo. He was going through various papers and reports when a courier rushed in with a message. It was the first we'd heard from Artaresto after the Bragollach and we are glad to hear that he was alive, though it was curious that it was from him instead of Findaráto. I was absently plucking at the strings of my zither. Looking up I saw Maitimo frown and purse his lips and I knew in that way that older brothers do that it had to be about our younger brothers.

He didn't speak for a while, so I asked, "What is it?" And continued to play.

He looked up at me. "Tyelko and Curvo have been causing trouble for Ataresto."

"Really?" I asked. "Not that I'm terribly surprised, but what is it?" Friends though they be, Tyelkormo and Atarinkë are Tyelkormo and Atarinkë.

Maitimo snorted and muttered, "What do you mean you're not surprised?" Out loud he said, "They've been trying to sway the people of Nargothrond to their side. Also, apparently Findaráto is on a suicide mission."

Alarm took over my features. "What, why?"

Maitimo sighed. "He doesn't go into much detail, but do you remember Barahir of the house of Bëor?"

I shrugged.

"He saved Findaráto's life during the battle, so Findaráto swore that Barahir and any of his descendants could call upon him at need. His son Beren came to make good on that."

"So?" The zither sat idle before me.

Maitimo paused, "It appears that this Beren has fallen in love with Princess Lúthien, Thingol and Melian's daughter."

My eyes widened. I couldn't say knew Thingol very well, but I could hazard a guess he hadn't taken kindly to that."

Maitimo continued, "Beren asked for Lúthien's hand and Thingol gave him a mission to capture a Silmaril before they could wed."

A cold feeling crept into my veins. "What was he thinking?" I said almost to myself.

"That he didn't want a mortal son-in-law, probably." Maitimo shrugged. "It's an impossible quest for anyone to undertake. He would have started the quest, failed, and that would be that." Maitimo sighed. "But now he's had to go and involve others, and Findaráto's gone with him out of loyalty to his oath."

"And perhaps empathy," I added, recalling Amarië.

"Whatever the cause, we've as good as lost one of our best allies." Maitimo buried his face in his remaining hand.

I felt a sudden pang in my heart for him. The Dagor Bragollach almost destroyed us. My lands, the plain's of Lothlann, along with Himlad and Thargelion, had been completely lost. With Nelyo's fiery will, Himring withstood the assault. The Ambarussa and Carnistir retreated to Amon Ereb, and Tyelkormo and Atarinke escaped north of Doriath to Nargothrond. Others weren't able to escape. Angaráto and Aikanáro and most of the Bëorians were slain or consumed in the flames.

A deep ache settled over me again as I remembered my wife, Dŷrril, who was lost in the flames. Leading what was left of my people through the inferno and the legions and legions of orcs and fell creatures after losing her was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. If Nelyo hadn't been there for me at the end of it, I don't know if I could have pulled together the strength to survive. I depended on my older brother more than ever, but now that my physical wounds were healed, I was trying to help him however I could. Heaven knows he needed it.

With the utter defeat and the fall of Nolofinwë, though the High Kingship had fallen to Findekáno, much responsibility had also fallen upon Maitimo. Keeping the Eastern parts of Beleriand as free of the Shadow as we could, keeping our younger brothers in check, and managing a greater concentration of people now that much of our territory was overtaken by the Enemy. He had so much to look after, but he never let his resolve crack. I needed that to look up to. If he broke, I would to.

I got up and went to his side, glad to no longer feel the pain of the burns I received in the rout, though the pain of what was lost would remain with me forever. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I said to him, "Just keep a stiff upper lip. Remember, a good attitude and a bold face is half the battle."

He chuckled grimly. "Ah, Káno, would that it were true."

I hefted myself up on his desk. (My especially tall brother needed an especially high desk). "What's to stop it from being true?" I feigned a cheerfulness I didn't feel. It had been ten years since the first onset of Morgoth's forces. Nine since Nolofinwë's fall. Times were hard, and I couldn't let Nelyo fall into despair. I barely hovered above it myself, but so much depended on him. I would lighten the load if I could.

Nelyo didn't answer, just stared at the surface of his desk. I placed my hand over his. "Does Artaresto say anything else?" I glanced at the missive.

He shook his head. "Just finishes with telling about how they're trying to usurp the throne."

"Usurp the throne?" I exclaimed. "We need Artaresto! don't they know that?"

Nelyo sat back in his chair and raked a hand through his hair. "Who knows what they're thinking? Artaresto isn't assertive, he isn't impressive like like his siblings, he'd be easy to overtake. It sounds like most of Nargothrond is on their side already, what with their people being intermingled now."

My brow furrowed. "What are you saying?"

"It's just that it'd be very easy for them to succeed," He shrugged.

I didn't think this was a shrugging matter. "If you summoned them, they'd probably come." I suggested. Tyelko was my brother but there were some things I didn't trust him with. Diplomacy was near the top of that list.

"No," Maitimo decided. "They're grown. They've been grown for a while. They know not to cause trouble when there's so much around us." He sounded confident.

Outwardly, I agreed. Tyelko was a wild card, he always would be, but Curvo was smart. They wouldn't backstab their friend and cousin like that.

~~~

A month or so went by. I was standing outside on a parapet above the gate. A rider from the south-west appeared around a hill. As they got closer, their features betrayed them to be a Sinda. News from Thingol. The affair with Findaráto and Beren came to in the back of my mind. A watchman beside me wondered aloud what Thingol would have to say

The rider brought their steed to a halt before the gates.

I hailed him. "What business have you in the fortress of Himring?"

"I come from Doriath. I will speak with the sons of Fëanor." He replied.

With a call to the gatekeeper to open up, I descended to meet him.

The rider dismounted once inside and passed his horse to a groom. I escorted him to Maitimo's office, which was empty for once. Telling the courier to wait, I dashed off to find him.

It was late so he was probably in his room. With one swift knock I entered.

"Nelyo, there's a messenger from Doriath." I stuck my head in the door to announce.

He'd been lying on his couch, reading. I hated to disturb him when he had a quiet moment to himself.

"Doriath?" He sat up at once and strode to his closet to grab his belt and coat. "Did they just arrive?" He asked, running a hand through his hair before snatching a headband lying on the desk.

I stepped in to tie it for him. "Yes. He seemed serious. Any idea what it could be about?"

He secured his knife on his belt and straightened his collar. "Guess we'll find out." He brushed past me on his way out the door.

Back in Maitimo's office the courier seemed impatient.

"I apologize for the wait," Maitimo said as he took a seat in his chair. I stood next to him.

"Lord Maedhros, I am Cidinnon and I bring this message from King Thingol." He gave a curt bow and handed over a letter. "An prompt reply is requested."

Maitimo took it. "Will you wait for one?"

The messenger nodded.

Not wasting a movement, Maitimo began reading. I leaned over his shoulder to read.

To Maedhros Fëanorian, Lord of Himring

My daughter Lúthien, the princess of Doriath, is being held in Nargothrond under the authority of your brothers Celegorm and Curufin. I have also received disturbing news of a union between princess Lúthien and your brother Celegorm. I am curious as to your thoughts on this matter and if it has your blessing, nay, awareness.

A swift reply is requested.

Elu Thingol, King of Doriath

Maitimo's eyes went wide halfway through the terse message. A missing hand didn't stop his habit of covering his mouth in surprise and his forearm went over his gaping mouth. I could barely stop my jaw from dropping. Tyelko wanted to marry Thingol and Melian's daughter. If a mortal was bad a Fëanorian was worse.

The messenger noted our reactions.

Immediately, Maitimo whipped out a blank sheet of paper and began penning a reply.

Tyelko must be mad, I thought. As I recalled, Beren was the one after Lúthien's hand. I'd assumed their feelings were mutual. Tyelkormo had always been a charmer, but marriage?
It occurred to me that he might think he was forging a stronger bond with our tentative allies, but with the visit of this messenger and basic understanding of our relationship with Doriath he should have known that such an act could near start a war. Maitimo must be disappointed.

We gave the messenger our assurances that our brother's proposals were not condoned by the eldest Fëanorians and would do what we could to discourage such a suit.

The courier refused to stay the night and set off as soon as Maitimo's response was in hand. After he was gone, Maitimo sagged forward in his chair and buried his face in his hand.

"What am I going to do with him?" Came his muffled voice.

I wrapped an arm about his shoulders. I've always had misgivings about Tyelko, dear though he be, after a fashion. Leave it to him to follow after his whims. Why was he doing this? I had the thought that this wouldn't have happened if Nelyo had demanded that he and Atarinkë join us in the east. But Nelyo didn't need more doubts to plague his mind.

~~~

Several more months passed. Every day we waited in anxiety for news from the west. Word came of the overthrowing of Sauron and the retaking of Tol-In-Gaurhoth by Lúthien, and of the death of Findaráto. A gain accompanied by a sore loss.

One day, I was again atop the parapet, enjoying the high breezes, chill though they be. There is music to be heard on the winds in its whistles and moans and howls. I took much inspiration from such sounds. I've always wanted to capture in music the trill of a bird's song, the laughter and crash of water, the rushing of wind. But after long years and many compositions, I'm convinced there is no true comparison can be made with any instrument or voice.

I descried from afar a horse that bore two riders. Odd. As they got closer the two riders started to look familiar. Even more odd. Tyelkormo and Atarinkë together on one horse. Alone. No folk with them, no Huan, no Telperinquar. I hailed someone to tell Maitimo of their approach and kept puzzling over their state.

We would find out in due time.

Tyelkormo saw me above the gate. A grin quirked his lips. "Waiting to welcome the weary wayfarers?"

"What did you do?" I demanded at once.

He scoffed he directed the horse through the gate. "Ever the accusatory." I heard him call as he disappeared from view.

I tried to keep the scowl off my face. Why did he always have to rub me the wrong way like that? In the past we'd been able to work together in hard times. This was different. I kept biting words to myself and I could tell he was trying to do the same. Atarinkë was despondent.

When at last all four of us were seated in Maitimo's office, the interrogation began. Maitimo's fingers were steepled and his gaze was hard.

In Maitimo's presence, Atarinkë sat straight and kept his gaze high. Tyelkormo slumped and glared at the floor.

"Well, boys, from the little news we've received up here, it sounds like you sent one of our best allies to his death, tried to usurp from another, kidnapped the princess of our neighbors, and I'd also like an explanation as to your rather lean state."

Tyelkormo's head shot up. "You've been hearing all this from that weakling Ataresto and that--"

A sharp glance from Maitimo silenced his next comment.

Leaping up, he burst out, "You've been hearing it from all the wrong sources. Shouldn't you hear out your own brothers first?"

I wasn't inclined to put too much faith in Tyelkormo's testimony. Even when he was a child he would twist a story to his own advantage. Atarinkë was crafty as a fox and would never mention anything incriminating.

"Then pray, tell us the story. What happened to you?" Maitimo remained calm.

Tyelkormo huffed and sat back down, leaning forward. "It's like this," and he went on to describe fleeing to Nargothrond with their folk and the arrival of Beren. "The people were already coming to our side. The sons of Arafinwë are become weak. We could have made Nargothrond a better and stronger fortress. Contributing to the war!"

Maitimo slammed his hand on his desk. "Our alliances depend on mutual respect. When you try to override that, no matter your intentions, it will end in dissonance and conflict. Conflict that we can't afford." His voice was deep with anger.

Tyelkormo scoffed. "You weren't even there. You've just holed yourself up here in your corner of the world and taken no notice of the world around."

That put me over the edge. "Don't display your ignorance by opening your mouth," I shouted at him. "Nelyo has enough to deal with besides cleaning up your messes. Shut it and take your reprimands."

Atarinkë spoke softer, "Are you any better, Makalaure? We're not the only ones who lost our lands to the Enemy. Why else would you be here except that you failed as well."

My jaw hardened. I was about to lift my shirt to show them the scars of horrible burns from when rivers of fire swept down from the north and turned the lands around to wasteland, to describe the horror of seeing my people, my wife, being consumed before my eyes, but Maitimo's spoke first. "Káno didn't sow dissension among our friends and allies."

"Whatever, you've always been quick to judge." Tyelkormo said quickly and continued his story, telling of the arrival of Lúthien. A starry eyed look came over them both and Tyelkormo took his time in describing her. Of course we'd all heard of the famed beauty of the daughter of Melian, but it almost disturbed me to hear Tyelkormo talk about her. I knew what love felt like in myself and others. I wasn't sure what to make of Tyelkormo's infatuation. For infatuated he was, not loving. There was no true fondness as he spoke of her. Just lust. And jealousy. He spoke of Beren like he would of a thief while he was the gallant hero. Disgust rose within me.

As he recounted the story, I waited for him to say something I could pounce on. Something to give way for accusation. He told us they kept Lúthien in a locked room and allowed no one else to see her.

"So you held her captive. Did she wish to stay? Was she receptive to your suit?" I demanded.

Tyelkormo blanched, "Well not yet, but she would have warmed to me in time--"

I cut him off. "You can't assume that with anyone. What's more, she is a princess. Treasured by her kingdom, especially by her father. If Thingol was so against a mortal, what would he think of a Fëanorian? You could have started a war! Do you even realize what a caricature you're making of yourself? As if anyone of sound mind would harbor romantic feelings towards the person who locked them up. Prince of the eldest line of Finwë though he be."

Wrath crossed Tyelkormo's brow. "You're just assuming again. You always think the worst of me. I've been telling you everything and you're just trying to twist it against me! Like always."

"Káno is harsh but he speaks truly." Maitimo waved Thingol's message before them. He'd decided to ignore Tyelko's last remark. "No matter your intentions, you should have known better. Haven't you listened when we've discussed these matters? Not even the Ambarussa, young as they are, or Carnistir, volatile as he is, would have made such mistakes." Maitimo let his surprise and disappointment show. "I tell you, Tyelko, our attention has to be concentrated on the north. We cannot afford any kind of conflict with anyone else." He finished firmly, almost pleading.

Tyelkormo was scowling and Atarinkë still sat tall and kept his chin up. They were taking the words to heart. Starting to at least. They didn't seem inclined to finish the story and Maitimo had to prompt them.

"I would like to know why it was just the two of you on one horse and no other folk. At least tell us that." He asked, gentler now.

Again hatred settled on Tyelkormo's brow. Atarinkë took over the telling.

"After the defeat of Sauron at Tol-In-Gaurhoth and the death of Findaráto, the people of Nargothrond turned against us. Ataresto finally had enough support to kick us out," he paused, "None of our folk would follow us. Not even Tyelpe."He said, his voice low and eyes downcast.

Pity overtook me for Curvo. Our nephew, Atarinkë's son, Telperinquar. Another one lost.

Atarinkë continued, "While we were on our way, who should we come across but Beren and Lúthien themselves. We rode in on them, attempting to take Lúthien and rid ourselves of Beren, but--"

"But Huan betrayed us." Tyelkormo's voice was a low thunder, his fists clenched, and a catch in his voice.

Huan? Huan the hound that had followed Tyelkormo's since both were small? I couldn't help but feel pity again. That was a severe blow to him. At the same time I wondered at the depths of their depravity that even Tyelpe and Huan would leave them.

Maitimo wanted to scold them more but I think he sensed as well that they were realizing the consequences of their deeds. He took a deep breath. "Well there's nothing we can do to change the past. Let's focus on the future, bleak as is." He got up and left the room.

"Thanks," Curvo muttered after he was gone.

~~~

It wasn't too long after the arrival of Tyelkormo and Atarinkë when word finally reached our ears of the success of Beren and Lúthien in the quest of the Silmaril. All of us were stunned. A maiden and mortal had done what all the hosts of the Noldor could not. Morgoth had been bested.

~~~

3332 words. Thanks for reading!

-GadSul