Cold recieved by many - including the new high king of Gondolin- Turgon brother of his late beloved.
Maedhros did not care for any of this - he did not care about the people or the glory of the realm, or the king or any other member of the family.
Maedhros just wanted to be at peace for a moment at least - the death of Fingon devastated him in ways he could not imagine.
His one and only true love.
A memory of his body in the battlefield - crushed beneath the mud , the blood. Maedhros would remember every detail without closing his eyes, a haunting memory that stayed with him, even in sleep.
Wandering among the great halls of the palace in day time, where the sun was shining brightly. Maedhros finds him self walking through empty halls in the east wing of the palace - He barely met someone in this area, it seemed it was not used very much, but he would find out very soon what this place is. Maedhros enjoyed walking through those empty halls where no one around him, with only the sunlight and cooling wind, as he pass a tall golden gate braided in golden leaves.
Maedhros have never been in this part of the palace - looking through out the gate he sees an empty throne as he pulls the gate open.
Maedhros enters the hall slowly, looking through out the room - only banners hanging on the walls.
He feel senses a coolness and yet warmth from the sunlight coming from the great glass roof above, and the sharp smell of stone. His eyes lays on the glimpse that the sword catches from the sun - and the shield beside it.
This shield have seen battle, Maedhros noticed it has been cleansed, as he starts realizing it looks very familar - and on his left side he notice a helmet sat on a pillar by it self.
Silver carved through - and sharper than he remembers, this helmet did not belong a random warrior - the left sight of the helmet have a broken edge , and bulge from the top - and a slight of burning mark.
Maedhros heart get heavier as he aproaches the pillar, as he now recognize the helmet - he run his cold and harsh fingertips over the helmet, almost trembling the in his fingers, as he feels the rough surface - the silver still shining in the sun yet not faded.
With every touch Maedhros sees glimpse of memorys with his beloved, the torment of his absence, is even stronger now.
His clear blue eyes looking directly at him while holding his face, or black braided hair in golden laces waving in the air, while running in the woods behind him during a hunt.
Maedhros tears up silently as he holds the helmet up agains his face resting his palm kissing it , hearing Fingons whispering voice in his ear, hugging him from behind, the touch of his hand. His echoing singing voice as he plays the harp in the woods- his face expression when they made love, the smell of his warm embrace.
The moment he saw him laying buried in his own blood on the harsh ground, broken beneath his helmet - a haunting sight for Maedhros.
With the rage and guilt take over for a moment, as he kicks the pillar so hard that it flips over on the ground.
Maedhros catches his breath , feeling a pain in his chest like a knife stabbed him in his heart.
A love he lost - Maedhros broke down in tears , falling on his knees embracing the helmet - cold and heartbroken wished death would take him in this moment.
"His valour was as a fire yet steadfast as the hills of stone; wise he was and skilled in voice and hand; troth and justice he loved and bore goodwill to all, both Elves and Men, hating Morgoth only; he sought not his own, neither power nor glory, and death was his reward" JRR Tolkien
