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Maedhros wakes up gasping. A figure outlined in the glowing embers with too-bright eyes and a self-satisfied grin stains his vision. He blinks rapidly, dispelling the accursed image.
There is a light.
One of the peredhel children is leaning over him, star-filled eyes glowing in the dark room. He can’t see the other twin, but he is sure to be close by. They rarely part for long.
Elros, and it must be Elros, because he can see the chopped bangs he gave himself a few days ago framing the child’s face, Elros is staring down at him, eyebrows furrowed in a disturbing imitation of Kanó at his most confused.
He blinks, hand grasping the sheets still in a deathgrip. “Elros? What are you doing in here?” The words come out breathless and hoarse instead of the stern apathy he was going for. The twins never come to his room for comfort, it’s Kanó who can be woken up without fear of doing something horrible.
He hopes his screaming didn’t wake up the children. Kanó and them always forgive him for it but the guilt withers his spirit all the same.
The child gives him a chiding look. “You were screaming, Atar. I wanted to help.”
Maedhros sighs, regretting not putting his room in the next corridor over. Kanó never would have allowed it, but he wouldn’t be waking up anyone with his nightmares from over there.
“This isn’t something you can help, little one.” He says. “This is just how it is for me, and it’s dangerous for you to be around me when I'm like that.”
His voice sharpens. “I know you remember the talk Kanó and I gave you two.”
A pout was expected, a tantrum even, but instead the small peredhel glares at him with determination and a fire behind his star-lit eyes. He has no idea where that fire could’ve come from in such an Ulmo-blessed family line. He thinks of feä bonds and parent-child bonds and then slams the door closed on the thought.
“Don’t be silly, of course I can help.” Elros snaps. He glares a second more before a bright look overtakes his face with a giddy smile accompanying it. Maedhros holds back a flinch, unsure of why that look unnerves him.
Instead, he tries to gently let the child down, in spite of his gruff, ruined voice. “Elros, this isn’t something anyone can truly fix. It is the result of a terrible time. There is very little anyone, even Kanó, can do to help me.”
Elros makes a frustrated sound. He pouts childishly and begins whisper-yelling. “Atar! You’re not listening, I can help.”
He starts gesturing with his hands in a fashion similar to Maglor. “You’re sad ba’cuz a bad man got in your head and did bad stuff, right? That's what Naneth used to say.” Maedhros did not know the twins eavesdropped at Sirion, too. He gets the feeling Elwing didn’t either.
“Well! I’m almost the same thing as the bad man, I can do the same thing, but in a good way. “ Elros grandly gestures at himself, the embodiment of pride.
Maedhros feels like a band is once again around his throat. There is a connection coming together in his mind. His hand has not released its grip on the sheets.
All the candles burned out hours ago, depriving the bedroom of even the slightest light. In this darkness Elros gives off a faint ethereal glow. A haunting picture that is not quite an elfling (neither of them are elflings, it's hard to remember sometimes.) There is a ring of white light around the peredhel’s pupils. He wonders how he didn’t notice it before.
Elros leans forward, an eager smile highlighting his unearthly eyes. “Atar, I can help you.”
Maedhros can’t breathe. He thinks he takes a gasping breath and almost swallows his own tongue. He can’t breathe and he’s back there but it’s all wrong. The bright figure is too small, but it might be a trick. It could be another trap, another memory of his baby brothers torn from his mind and made falsely real in this horrible place.
In a moment of panicked mental flailing, he throws open his familiar bond with Kanó.
He doesn’t go for coherence, that is beyond him right now, but he does send a panicked flurry of Helphelpehelphelphelpimbackhe’sherehelpmepleasehelp.
I can't do this again, please.
Maedhros hears a door slam and heavy footsteps running. His bedroom door is thrown open and his brother is there clutching his sword like a lifeline. The dark-haired elf takes in the situation and drops the sword. He sweeps the child off the bed into his arms, from where Elros was presumably trying to get Maedhros to snap out of it, reaching for him in concern. He sets the elfing on the ground and tackle-hugs his older brother, gripping him tightly to his chest.
Maedhros feels his mind slam back into focus with a lurch and realizes he was trying to scramble backwards, repeatedly banging his head against the iron headboard. There is a sticky fluid coating the back of his head, running down his neck and into his nightshirt.
Even at this stilling and sudden awareness his little brother doesn’t let go, stubbornly keeping him bound against him. Maedhros hears a lullaby trickling through the air, soft and light, full of old memories of simpler times. His eyes grow heavy. He does not remember falling asleep.
Maglor sighs in relief when his brother finally slumps in his arms. He thought the worst when the osanwë bond with his brother was thrown open in reckless panic, yanking him from sleep as if doused in boiling water.
He hears a sniffle, and turns his head to look at the tiny peredhel still standing off to the side, looking as if he has seen a ghost.
Elros looks up at them with tears streaming down his face. “I didn’t,” He starts, a sob cutting him off. “I didn’t mean to! I just wanted to help.” He wails.
Maglor can guess what happened. He sighs. “Oh, Elros.”
Still clutching his brother close, Maglor gently sets down Maedhros on the bed. He takes care to make sure that his arms aren’t above his head and that they aren’t tangled in the sheets at all before he deems his brother as comfortable as he can be. The dried blood on the back of his head can wait until morning along with any other injuries. Awaking his brother once more in the darkness will do only more harm.
Maglor then crawls off his older brother’s bed and crouches to open his arms to the sobbing peredhel. Elros crashes into him with another wail bordering on animalistic keen, tiny pointed ears cowering.
“Atya,” Elros chokes out, “Atya, I don't want to do that again.”
Maglor pats the child’s back as Elros heaves and sobs. “It won’t happen again, and it wasn’t your fault. It’s okay.”
The child shakes his head violently. “I can’t hurt Atar again. I can’t. I never want to again!”
Face firmly pressed into his father’s chest, Elros doesn’t notice his eyes dimming. The tears that fall shine like diamonds and shatter soundlessly against the ground like fallen gems.
Maglor continues rocking the child and whispering quiet comforts, he does not look at the iridescent tears nor heed the ugly bird shrieks coming from his child.
“It’ll be alright.” He says, ears bleeding sluggishly from the initial wails. He hugs his child tighter.
“I know, Atya.” Elros replies, hoarse and dimmed ever so slightly.
Come morning, the twins are told they’re not allowed in Maedhros’ room past sundown. Elrond accepts this with a confused pout.
Elros just nods.