Chapter Text
Maedhros startled awake when a violent punch struck his gut.
He reached for a weapon that wasn't there, and grabbed his assailant instead. He threw the attacker down beside himself and used the momentum to straddle them, right arm pressed loosely to their throat.
Just a warning. For now.
The assailant... shrieked in delight?
"Again Nelyo, again!"
The warlord blinked blearily and tried to shift his worldview back into position.
"Elros?"
The elfling on his bed giggled excitedly.
"No, dummy. I am Laurë! Did you dream of someone? Was it a girl? I am going to tell amme right now!"
The child wriggled out of Maedhros's slack grasp and dashed out of the door.
With earthshattering glee he called:
"Ammë! Ammë! Nelyo was dreaming about a girl!"
"Indoor voices, darling!"
"This is my indoor voice!", thundered through the halls loud enough that in all likelihood all of Tirion had heard.
Maedhros slumped back on the bed with a wild look in his eyes.
The last thing he remembered... was jumping. Finally feeling the triumph of escaping the oath, because surely even the Void had to be better than this.
He remembered... Námo, the lord of Mandos looking at him in deep disapproval.
He remembered words, though he could not recall their meaning, and being flung, into what he had assumed to be the Void.
And perhaps it was. Perhaps this was a glimpse of what he had thrown away in his own stupidity. Perhaps this too would be taken violently from him, as he had torn away the lives of countless others.
But for now, he realized, he was just broken enough to crave even the illusion.
And so he sat up, took a brush with his right hand, and clumsily ran it through his hair while he listened to the noises of his family.
He dressed slowly and carefully, running his fingers over the fine and delicate fabrics.
Then he rubbed his fingers against each other, and wondered at the silken softness of them.
There were no callouses. Not a single scar.
He put his long hair into a simple braid and hesitated in front of the jewelry chest. He rubbed his earlobes and was almost surprised to find them pierced.
Swallowing nervously, he opened the chest and quickly selected a pair of sapphire teardrops to put in and, after a moment's hesitation, a golden comb he still remembered fondly. He twisted his braid around his head and used the comb to keep it in place.
Heart hammering in his chest, he opened the door to leave the room... and stared directly into his father's eyes.
Maedhros's eyes widened in disbelief when he realized that Fëanor was just as tall as him.
This was an early point in time indeed.
Fëanor frowned at him.
"Are you staying in today? I thought you wanted to visit the library? Don't forget to finish your assignment for master Rúmil. He will be expecting it in three days time."
"Er..."
Fëanor busteled into his son's room. made a beeline for the jewelry, and came back with several pieces.
He quickly pulled two necklaces over Maedhros's head, a wristband on each arm and added several golden charms to the sash of his simple robe.
The greatest of the Noldor looked over his son critacally, nodded and stood back.
"There. Now you are decent enough for a quick trip to the library if you feel better later. Remember, your education is important. Now come to breakfast, it is getting late."
Maedhros promptly turned around, returned to his room, and shut the door behind himself.
He barricaded the entrance, sat on the floor with his head between his knees and spent the next hour just breathing.
The first week in the past Maedhros spent determining that, in all likelihood, he really was in the past. He slowly remembered bits and pieces of his conversation with Námo, if you could call it that.
The Doomsman had apparently not known what to do with his broken fëa, and had conspired with Nienna and Estë to send it to the only place it had a chance to heal.
Into a world mostly unbroken.
When he finally felt like he could stomach the beloved but unfamiliar faces of his family again, he joined them for an evening meal.
Nerdanel gave him a quick hug, and Makalaurë immediately clung to his leg and chattered away at him.
Fëanor was already sitting at the table engrossed in what looked like a scientific paper.
"Are you feeling better, Nelyo? What did you do? Ammë always says she wants to sleep for a week, but I never thought someone could actually do it! Were you very bored without me? Ammë says her life would be very boring without me. I made a sculpture out of flour and oil while you were asleep! But ammë would not let me put it on the mantle even though she said it was very pretty. And she said to tell her first if I wanted to make one again, so she could give me clay! But it's ok, I know where the flour is, I don't need the clay. But I need your red earrings for the next one, can I have them?"
Maedhros picked his little brother up and settled him on his hip.
"I would love to see your sculpture, but you must not waste flour for one again. Food is precious. I will make you a deal, if you stay out of the kitchen ingredients, I will see to it that you get a nice red stone for your next project, hmm?"
He sat down Makalaurë in his chair and absentmindedly plucked the book out of his father's hands.
"No books at the table."
Maedhros was already halfway through a loaf of bread, when he noticed his parents open-mouthed staring.
On this evening, he climbed to the roof of the palace.
He could see Telperion gaining strength in the distance, and let the light of the silver tree wash over his bruised and tattered fëa.
All around him, Tirion was glittering, as beautiful as a Silmaril.
Maedhros let his gaze sweep over it, and felt his heart fill with love.
He had no illusions about having the ability to prevent the tragedies of the future. Never had he been the one to turn the odds around, and he knew that it would not work this time either.
But he also knew that he was going to try. If there was any way the innocence of this realm could last just a single day longer, if his efforts could save even a single life down the line, it would all be worth it.