Repeat

I'm pretty sure this could fit anywhere in canon or in my Soulmate AU-verse.  Maedhros and elfling bonding over thunderstorms.  Quenya names used (Maitimo and Nelyo for Maedhros, Makalaurë for Maglor, Findekáno for Fingon, and Pityo for Amrod).  For those of you who don't know, elves sleep with their eyes open (and probably think it's weird that "men" sleep with their eyes closed).

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the characters and major plot.  The cuddling is completely mine.

Pairings: None

Characters: Maedhros, Elros, Elrond (mentions Maglor, Amrod, Amras, Fingon, Elwing and Ilúvatar)

Warnings: canon-compliant AU? (I'm not sure about this one LOL), possible OOC, mentions of gore and violence (non-explicit), canon character death, hinted mutilation (besides the obvious)

Song: Passion

Words: 1,352
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repeat (transitive verb): to say or state again; to make, do, or perform again
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/repeat

Many a night Maitimo spent staring at his ceiling.  It was rare that he got much sleep these days.

The redheaded elf rolled onto his side, allowing waves of silken hair to fall over his face, hiding his eyes.  Outside, rain was pelting down against the windows like a thousand tiny fists pounding against the glass, every now and then punctuated with a deep, rolling roar of thunder that shook the earth.  Even had it been quiet, he doubted tonight would have been one for sleeping.

Most of the day had been spent chasing after Makalaurë's fosterlings.  Elros and Elrond were not troublemakers, but at their age (barely more than toddlers) they seemed to get into absolutely everything.

Because he was the expert, as the eldest of seven, Makalaurë had demanded Maitimo's assistance.

It wasn't that he had anything in particular against the little ones.  Some might have called him petty, said that he was bitter over losing the Silmaril once again, and to a Sindarin woman, but Maitimo couldn't have cared less.  He was almost relieved.  If the glowing jewel was at the bottom of the sea, at least there would be no more trails of carnage and bloodshed in its wake.  There it could rest for a thousand ages and never see sunlight, and he would not have to follow.

In any case, the pain of looking after two lively little ones--twins at that--had more to do with his brothers than anything else.  To think, the very day that Pityo had passed--

But he didn't really want to think on it.  He did not want to contemplate a pair of dead twins frolicking in the evergreen fields of Valinor, untouched by darkness and hatred.  The two little ones with the dark hair and the gray eyes looked nothing alike to his brothers, yet the similarities were undeniable and heart-wrenching.

As much as he wished to deny it, part of him sincerely hated the fosterlings.  Ever since they had come into his life, his nightmares had grown worse.  Before, they had just been about Findekáno's beloved, broken face and disappointed eyes.  Now there was fire and dark, twisting branches reaching out to claw and tear at his flesh as he searched in the fading light, covered in blood and gore.  It always ended with two sets of familiar, terrified gray eyes and screaming echoing in his ears.

Groaning, he twisted in his sheets again, uncomfortable and so tired but unable to rest.  Outside, the storm merely appeared to grow more violent.

"L-Lord Maedhros?"

The voice was so soft, he almost didn't hear it, but Maitimo could not deny its existence, especially when it was followed by the rumble of thunder and a high-pitched squeal of fright.  The very sound jolted through his body, awakening instincts long buried and at the same leaving him feeling raw.

Looking over the edge of the bed, he spotted the fosterlings.  They clung tightly together, their bodies shivering in their white night-shifts, hand-stitched plush toys clamped tightly within their small, breakable little arms.  But the eyes struck him the most; Maitimo could have sworn that, as lightning lit the room again, they flashed green.

"What do you need, little ones?" he asked, not even pretending to have been asleep.

One of them stepped forward, and Maitimo guessed it was the older.  Elros was more outspoken than his brother, much the same as Pityo had been. "Can... Can we sleep with you?"

He almost asked why they weren't bothering his brother--they weren't his fosterlings, after all--but then remembered that Makalaurë was out for the night.   How inconvenient... He resisted the urge to scoff and glare at the intruders to his bedchambers, though it was hard to find resentment for small, quivering creatures sniveling so pathetically at a bit of thunder.

Sighing, knowing very well that they would not sleep a wink if he did not allow them under his sheets (he had learned something from having so many brothers, at least)--not to mention there would likely be tears and a scolding from Makalaurë later--he held up the corner of the sheet in a clear invitation.

The little ones needed no prompting to hoist themselves onto his mattress and squirm underneath the blankets.  It was strange, indeed, feeling the two small bodies curling up against his stomach, little bony elbows poking into his gut.  It brought to mind a time when he had greatly desired nothing more than this, to have little ones to watch over and protect, but it was a dream that had long ago been sacrificed on the altar of his Oath, and Maitimo tried to ignore the ache that rose behind his ribs at the knowledge that there would never be a child in his future, even if he had had a future left that wasn't tainted with sin and darkness.

"Go to sleep," he grumbled hypocritically when they continued squirming.

"Sorry," one of them whispered, large eyes peeking up at him.  Another deep rumble of thunder brought forth a whimper from the pair, and Maitimo could see that familiar over-bright gleam in their eyes.   Wonderful... simply wonderful, he thought sarcastically.  The last thing he wanted to deal with was a pair of crying elflings.

Stroking his useless stump over the two shivering bodies, he crooned. "Hush, it's just thunder.  There is no reason to be frightened."

"Sounds scary," one of them replied, huddling closer against him. "Monster coming to get us."

Sharply, he recalled a similar scene in his mind.  "It is going to come and eat us, Nelyo," a tiny redhead murmured, tugging at his hair.

"There is no monster." Well, that was a lie, but they didn't need to know that if anyone around here was a monster, it was the elf they were cuddled up in bed with.

There was soft grumbling, but the gentle caressing seemed to calm the little ones a bit, as it had two other such twins a very long time ago.  Finally, they settled, one head resting against his pinned left arm, the other tucked somehow up against his belly, nuzzling. "Warm," one of them murmured softly, even as their gray eyes drooped closed as human eyes were prone to do.  There was a yawn, and murmuring, and then silence.

Unable to sleep, he watched them, feeling more drained than he had in days yet desperate to remain awake.  He did not want any more dreams about dead elflings or disappointed eyes.  He just wanted empty, restful darkness, to forget for just a few hours.  Instead, he focused on their restful, innocent faces and recalled others from millennia past.  It had been so long.  To think that the same innocent faces of two different elflings relaxed in peaceful slumber had grown up into a pair of murderers, separated from one another by fate, broken and crushed and thrown aside like trash...

Shutting his eyes tightly, Maitimo tried not to remember, but images came unbidden anyway.  They always did.

May these little ones have a better future.  Maybe he begrudged them the gift that they possessed that had been taken from his own brothers, but there had been too much blood and sorrow for him to wish more upon anyone else, especially two helpless children. May they never know the pain of loss and separation of brothers.  May they never know what it feels like to lose everything you care about and have nothing left but empty oaths and promises.

He wondered if Ilúvatar was listening to him, if the One even cared about the wishes and prayers of a Kinslayer.  Had he, just by touching these two lives, damned them?

As he laid in silence, he prayed not.  But in his heart, he knew that history was destined to repeat itself.  The world was too dark and filled with hate.  Eventually, even these pure little lights would be stained with its filth.

His mind would know no rest.  Not that night, nor any night after.
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Angst-fest.  It's hard to write Maedhros without angst.  In any case, it ended up more in-character than I thought it would, if you could say that Maedhros even has a canonical personality.  Tolkien doesn't give us much to work off of.

Anyway, there it is.

Picture that partially inspired idea: Brothers by ~eilian on dA.  Also, it was partially inspired by a ficlet that was part of my NaNoWriMo last year featuring Maedhros + Elfling cuddling, though this is much more angsty and less fluffy than the other one LOL.

And the song that I've been listening to for this is called Passion by Mitsumune Shinkichi (from the Zero no Tsukaima F OST).  It's a lovely piano-violin duet and kind of reminded me of a music-box.  In any case, I think it deserves more on it's YouTube page than "I want this played at my funeral".  I mean, I respect that and such, but I feel like music is made for living, not for dying.  What's it do for you if you're dead?  And personally, I want something happy played at my funeral.  People don't need something melancholy when they're mourning.

Not that any of you care, of course :3.