Chapter Text
As Maedhros turned his attention from the forest edge he had come from to the small barricaded battlefield that had been hastily constructed. He snorted in disappointment when he saw the overturned wagons that had been left in between the bodies of his own men, orcs, and thralls on the field.
"My Lord," one of the captains asked him, forcing his attention to yet another place, "what should we do about the surviving thralls?"
As he surveyed the small group of starved and tortured elves, surrounded by some of his men who were busy trying to calm the newly freed elves. While sympathizing with them, he could not help but feel a sense of familiarity with them, since he too had been in a similar position, being rescued yet not believing it at first, as had many of his people.
"Find someone willing to guard them back to Himring but make sure they get care and rest before leaving. I don´t want them to be the king's problem," he answered with a frown, "when you find someone willingly make sure they take a Contubernium with them."
Leaving the captain to find a trustworthy person who where willing to escort the group of thralls back to Himring, but not before ensuring that they received at least some kind of proper rest and care. The last thing he wanted was for them to become a burden on the king. Taking a Contubernium with them would provide an extra layer of protection and ensure that the journey back was as safe as possible from Morgoth´s dark creatures and to keep the thralls from escaping before it was made sure if they were spies or not.
“My Lord,” a centurion asked, slowly approaching him as if fearing a harsh reaction, “some of my men found something... unusual.”
Lifting an eyebrow Maedhros answered, "unusual? How unusual?"
Nervously the centurion wrung his hands before waving for Maedhros to follow him while murmuring about how nobody had known and if they had, they wouldn´t have acted so rashly.
"Over there, my Lord," the man said as he stopped with a concerned look on his face, pointing towards a wagon currently surrounded by humming soldiers.
"What is it!" he ended up growling, barring his fangs, as he showed them away with his arm to see what had caught their attention. "We thought she was crazy, my Lord," one said as Maedhros stopped and stared down at the scene before him, "she wouldn´t shut up about how she would serve us as she tried to turn our attention away, we thought it a mercy to open the doors to Mandos for her."
Maedhros merely kept his silence, looking down at the dead elven woman with a gaping wound in her neck, indicating an instant death, yet still half curled in over a creature of sorts hiding under the wagon covers, only showing its existence with how the cover moved with a small trembling.
Slowly kneeling down, he grabbed the covering with his metal hand while his remaining hand was held over the sword in his belt. With a quick flick of the wrist, the cover was flicked away, leaving the creature bare and vulnerable to the onlooking elvers.
Looking down, shocked at the two wide, stark blue eyes of a child that answered him, Maedhros slowly released his sword as he called for the other onlookers to be quiet and find something else to do.
He knelt down to the child's level, his heart aching at the fright the eyes revealed, "what are you doing here, little one?" he asked gently, remembering how he had once asked similar questions to other children, but for far more innocent and naive reasons.
The child's response was hesitant, but eventually, a small whisper caught through, "Amil?"
Maedhros felt a pang of guilt as he looked over to the dead woman, who was still leaning in towards the child as if to protect it.
"No," he answered, "I will take care of you," he whispered, only for the child's ears, as he slowly leaned forward, trying to guard the sight of the mother against the child´s view with his cloak as he picked it up in his arms, trying to ignore how still and unresponsive it had gotten.
Stroking his hand over the black dirty curls of the child in his arms, he couldn´t stop but think of how much it looked like Fingon when he had been a child, if dirtier. Smiling to himself as he noticed the strands of white hiding under it.
"Come, child, let me see your face again," he said as he lifted the child with a gentle hand, catching sight of the round face. A spot on the right eyebrow and eyelash were completely white, as were two dots of skin, one triangle cutting up through the eye to the eyebrow and a smaller one above.
Looking down at the rags the child was wearing, his smile slowly disappeared as he took in how clearly malnourished the child was.
He knew it was already a gamble to send the other thralls to Himring with the long road ahead, but he didn´t want the child to be anyone's problem but his own, and he was highly doubting the child´s chance of survival with such a long and cold road ahead.
With a determined look on his face, he set off towards his, hopefully already raised, camp with the child folded in his cloak in his arms. He would decide what to do with the child as soon as it had been fed, and he could make one of the healers look it over.
As he walked, he couldn't help but think about the daunting journey ahead. The path was treacherous and filled with risks, not to mention the trouble he would have at Barad Eithel if he just showed up with a child. He knew the logical choice would be to make sure the child came to Himring safely, yet he also knew himself well enough to know he wouldn't entrust the child´s wellbeing to anyone but himself or his brothers, who were currently not present.
As he reached the camp, he was relieved to see that his people had already started making camp for the night. Quickly finding two bowls of deer stew and his tent, thankfully already sat up. He sat the child down on his sleeping pallet after entering, slowly detangling the small, dirty hands from his big cloak.
"Come," he said as he finally reclaimed his cloak from the child´s stubborn hands, "I´ll give you a blanket and some food. There´s no reason to be afraid." knowing the child wouldn't trust him didn´t stop him from trying to calm them as he slowly reached over for a blanket to wrap around the small shoulders and showed off the bowl with a slightly smaller potion of food, "you are hungry, are you not?"
With a small scream, the child grabbed out towards the stew, almost falling over from sheer desperation.
Maedhros took a deep breath and proceeded to gently grab the child's hands, which were now drenched in the stew. He then led the struggling child to a nearby water basin and proceeded to wash their hands, patting them dry with the edge of a nearby lying towel. After doing so, he showed the child a spoon and calmly instructed them to use it to eat, instead of using their hands. The child, now crying with frustration and anger, only shook their head stubbornly.
“Hush,” Maedhros tried to appease them, “see, I´m not taking the food away from you,” after a quick debate about if he wanted to risk giving the child the spoon he decided to feed the child himself with small cooing sounds, his metal hand under the small chin so the food didn´t spill more than necessary, as he held the newly dipped food to the child´s mouth again and again before two thirds of the potion had been finished.
While placing the child's bowl to the side, he swiftly located a wax-covered towel to cover it, ensuring that the child's food remains fresh and free from any contamination. After that, he proceeded to eat his own serving of food. Addressing the child's concerns about his remaining food, he tried to reassure them, “don´t worry,” Maedhros said to the child as he saw how displeased they looked after their bowl had been taken, still looking at it even covered, “you´ll get the rest later when we´re sure you won't get sick.”
As the child gazed up at him with pleading eyes, he felt a twinge of guilt for what he was about to do, but he steeled himself, knowing that it was for the best no matter the stress the child would feel later. He didn´t know why it affected him so much, no trust could be broken as nothing had been made.
After finishing his own potion, he emerged from his tent and sought out a guard, requesting that they summon a healer and find a wooden basin filled with water for the purpose of cleaning the afflicted child. The child required medical attention.
The guard quickly complied with the request, and soon a healer arrived to examine and bathe the unnerving, unresponsive child that kept looking at them with wide, frightful eyes.
After a thorough examination, the healer determined that the child miraculously only suffered from small bruises and cuts. The healer immediately began administering treatment, which included a combination of herbal remedies and rest.
Maedhros himself was advised to keep the child warm and to avoid exposing them to any cold or ... as the child was led down on his own bed pallet.
Sighing, Maedhros kneeled down in front of the small figure and asked, "do you even understand what I´m saying, or are you just too scared to answer me?" the child´s only response was a terrified whisper.
Sighing, Maedhros pointed at himself with his reminding hand, "Maedhros," he said, then pointed to the child, and true enough, after a little time in silence the child replied in a hoarse voice, "Hina."
Chuckling Maedhros shook his head, "yes, you are a child, but what about a name? What say you that I´ll give you something to call you by, and when you´re ready, you can tell me your name? Be it the one your parents gave you or one you´ve chosen yourself?"
Hearing the question the child just hurried to nod in agreement and Maedhros ended up pointing at them while uttering the nickname he had chosen, "Elveo," which the child replied to with more nodding but now with a small light of understanding in the eyes, before Maedhros filled a glass of water and gave some to the child before placing it beside his pallet with the child.
Subsequently, Maedhros gently touched the child's freshly washed hair that cascaded down to the length of their shoulders before exiting the tent to confer with his officers. He took the time to ensure that someone was in charge of looking after the young guest before commencing discussions on their next moves and the most optimal strategy for reaching Barad Eithel with the child in tow as fast as possible.
As the night wore on, the child slept soundly, wrapped in a warm blanket. The soldiers kept watch outside the tent, alert for any signs of danger. In the morning, they set out on their journey to Barad Eithel, with the skittish child safely held in the arms of Maedhros.