Who: Maedhros & Nerdanel (Turgon, briefly) What: Mommy has come to the island, finally! Where: Vinyamar. When: Late evening. Warnings | Status: There will be weeping | in progress
Maedhros made haste across the island, coming up from Rivendell with all speed despite his pains and his worries, and his wonders. The island was dark at night, terrible, and cruel in nature but he was an elf-lord in his prime, and none would stand before him with the fury of his Fëanorian spirit burning brightly in his eyes. Nor did they dare attack the massive form of the Hound that followed close on Maedhros' heels. Huan had not elected to stay behind, but ran with his Master as the pack mentality demanded of him. Together, they moved with the swiftness of the wind behind them, not even the woods or the calls of the wilds could deter elf or hound, though the mountains caused his spirit to shrank away at the buried memories of his torture at the hands of Morgoth. With Huan at his side he was steadied.
But Vinyamar was near at hand and coming through the rock face the castle loomed before him. Grand, beautiful, and flying the device of Fingolfin's House it made his heart stop. As always it would. Turgon was skilled in his craft and his buildings were remarkable. None could deny it. But taking the west entrance, Maedhros stepped into Turgon's Hall, his sharp eyes darting left and right to spy the few residents of the castle.. to find Turgon himself sitting at the far east end, kneeling before the empty seats of the High King and Queen.
"Cousin!" he called, an uncharacteristically familiar term Maedhros rarely used to address the elf. "Where is the Lady Nerdanel?"
Turgon rose and turned to face his oldest cousin, too defeated to allow his anger to overwhelm him.
"The sitting room in the Queen's quarters," he said quietly, bowing shallowly in respect then departing. Maedhros stared after him a moment, then turned sharply to take the staircase to the upper levels in which the Queen resided. And once outside the sitting room he paused, suddenly afraid. Five hundred years and more had passed since he'd seen her, since they'd marched away from her. All of her boys, including her husband. Five hundred years and more of their suffering she'd endured.
Maedhros held his breath as he knocked and pushed open the door, caring not for propriety in the moment, and as he slid through the other side he raised his grey eyes to his mother's face and cried out his pain. He moved to her, falling to his knees at her feet, where he wept.