Regrettable Decisions

by Aug 16, 2004Stories

Disclaimer: Nothing and No One in this story is mine, they all belong to Tolkien.

Regrettable Decisions

Chapter 1

Maglor watched, along with his six brothers, as the small group of Orcs rode up to them on great wolves. When the message had come from Morgoth saying he was defeated and would accept the Noldor’s terms, Maedhros, their eldest brother, chose to meet with his servants. Maedhros did not trust his enemy though, and neither did Maglor and the other brothers. And so now, hidden behind them was a great force of Noldorin warriors.

Beside Maglor, Caranthir clenched his swordless hand. “I still do not agree with this,” he growled. “No good comes of feigning to treat with Morgoth.”

“Peace, brother. We have a large force with us and when the time comes, we will destroy Morgoth’s vile creatures,” Maglor returned softly. In truth though, he was apprehensive about it also. Morgoth would not admit defeat so easily. He had managed to deceive almost all in Valinor, including the Valar. Surely he had a plan.

The Orcs were much closer now. Maglor narrowed his eyes as the leader held up a black flag. At that moment a shadow fell on his heart. “Maedhros…” No chance was given for him to finish, for a mass of Orcs appeared out of tunnels in the ground swarming toward them.

The hidden Elves behind the brothers immediately let loose a barrage of arrows, a rain of death for their enemies. The seven brothers drew their swords and set helms on their heads. Maglor didn’t look back when he heard the movement of armor behind them; he knew it was the company of Elves who had fired at the Orcs.

Glancing at Maedhros before the opposing forces crashed, he murmured, “I hope you were expecting this, brother.”

There was no time for more speech. Ducking a high swing, he pushed his sword through an orc. Spinning, he neatly sliced another’s head off before blocking a thrust with his shield. He was dimly aware of Celegorm and Caranthir laughing grimly as they slaughtered their enemies.

Dodging a spear, he quickly dispatched its wielder. A momentary pause allowed Maglor to glance around. The black tide of orcs was pushing against them, but even unnumbered as they were, the Noldor were slowly driving them back. Maedhros was right; they would crush the Orcs easily.

Movement from the North drew his gaze. There, issuing from the murk of Thangorodrim, rushed creatures of both shadow and flame. At their head, wielding a black axe was the Lord of Balrogs, Gothmog.

Even as fear began to fill him, his blood began to boil and anger overran the terror. Those were the same creatures, the same captain, that had killed his father just days ago! Maglor searched the battlefield for his elder brother. He found him in the thick of it, his red hair* flying like a banner amid the dark-haired Elves.

Fighting his way toward Maedhros, he stood back to back with him. “There are balrogs coming,” he said calmly, considering they were in the midst of a battle.

Maglor could sense his brother tensing in anger. “Do our brothers know?”

“Perhaps. I found you first.”

As if they knew they were needed, the remaining five began to appear. Amrod and Amras were together, as always.

“Balrogs are here,” Amras said darkly.

“Celegorm, Curufin, and Caranthir are coming.” Amrod voiced his twin’s next thoughts.

The last three brothers arrived at the same moment the balrogs crashed into the battle. For a few moments the brothers held together, then a balrog appeared. It’s flames and cracking whip pushed the brothers apart so that Maedhros stood alone.

As Gothmog and more of the balrogs surrounded his brother and left the other warriors alone, a sickened feeling came over Maglor, they were targeting Maedhros. “Curufin!” He called to his closest brother. Together the two tried to help Maedhros, but he could not be reached.

As the brothers were forced to retreat from the flames of the balrogs, Maglor saw his brother finally fall to the ground. No! “Maedhros!” He cried out. But there was no possible way to reach him. The Noldor were breaking under the attack of the Balrogs and Orcs, fleeing the battle.

“Maglor we must retreat.” Amrod’s calm voice reached his despairing thoughts.

“We will be of no use to our brother dead,” Amras added.

Reluctantly, Maglor sounded the retreat, listening to the reasoning words of the twins, even when they themselves were overcome with grief. He watched, as his brother was drug off in chains toward Angband. “I am so sorry, my brother,” he whispered, before turning and escaping from the slaughter.

*In “The People’s of Middle-earth” it is said that Maedhros, Amrod, and Amras inherited red hair from their mother, Nerdanel.

In case someone can’t remember all the sons of Fëanor here they are, oldest to youngest: Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, and Amras. The last two were twins.

If anyone has any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them.


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