Vanafin: Fulfilling Feanor's Oath (Under Re-Write)

The Eldest

Vanafin could feel himself being carried, and yet, he was too comfortable to move at the moment. It wasn't until he heard the horns of Amon Ereb that he snapped his eyes open. He sat in front of Amras on a horse; His uncle had one arm around his waist to keep him from sliding off. As he turned his head slightly to the side, he could see the gates before him and two Elves he barely remembered seeing before he had passed out.

The taller of the two had coppery hair almost as red as his twin uncles—save for what looked like tiny strands of silver hiding among the red.
It seemed sloppily cut and tangly, though. The other's hair was longer and almost black in colour—though Vanafin thought it looked a bit brown in the sunlight.

Clopping sounded ahead, Vanafin lifted his head to see over the two Elves. Caranthir rode their way, followed by Amrod and Curufin. His father was nowhere to be seen.

Amras turned his head to Vanafin. "Finally awake? You sure like to worry us, Vanafin. You're lucky you came across Nelyo and Kano instead of a pack of orcs."

"I could have handled them," he murmured.

Amras turned further towards him.

"I could have handled a pack of orcs, Uncle," he clarified, speaking a bit louder.

Amras snorted. "I'm sure you could have."

Caranthir was close enough now that Vanafin could see the anger on his face. The tall Elf before them pulled his horse to a stop as he raised up in the saddle. Amras continued to trot their horse forward until it was beside the tall Elf's. The dark-haired Elf sat on a horse on the other side.

Vanafin lowered his head as Caranthir's gaze briefly crossed his.

"Maitimo and I are glad to see you all alive and," the dark-haired Elf gave a sigh, "relatively well. Though, I must say, now I am indeed curious as to why you are so angered, Carnistir, and why you are not off trailing Tyelkormo, Atarinke?" Although Vanafin hardly knew all this Elf spoke of, he did not miss the slight mixture of amusement and annoyance coming from him.

Amras snickered as silently as he could. Amrod mirroring him.

Curufin was the first to answer, glancing at Vanafin as he began. "Tyelko has decided to spend some time in his room, sharpening his arrows. I, myself, have decided to come greet our eldest brothers and welcome them to Amon Ereb. Is that so hard to see, Makalaure?"
Vanafin glanced back at the dark-haired Elf, whose smile was beginning to twitch and eyes growing icy. "And, it seems, you have recovered our dear nephew, Vanafin? The poor child wouldn't even stay to greet his father properly." Several eyes turned to Curufin. "He may turn out to be worthless to our cause—"

"Curufinwe," a sharp, deep voice seemed to echo around them. The copper-haired Elf sat straighter in his saddle; eyes locked with Curufin's. "Do not begin to assume the boy's worth. That is to be decided by me when I am ready to decide such."

It was Curufin's turn to sit straighter. "How is it your right when you will not allow us to go after our one quest?! Atar left us long ago, and yet, where do we have a Silmaril? We swore to him to take them back from any who keep them."

"We have not the forces."

"'Forces'? Send the boy. Send what forces we do have. We are wasting our time here sitting around and waiting."

"You only desire to attack Doriath."

Doriath, Vanafin could only barely remember the day when his father and Uncle Curufin were exiled from Nargothrond, barely remember seeing the King read a letter from the King of Doriath demanding compensation for the troubles they caused.

He was snapped from his memories when Curufin turned back towards him.

"That boy might be useful as a spy. Send him inside the halls and see if he can find our Silmaril."

"He is too young, Atarinke," the dark-haired Elf joined back in.

Curufin ignored him this time and trotted his horse up to Amras and Vanafin's. Amras wheeled his horse around, keeping himself between Curufin and Vanafin, reaching for his sword. Their horse began to shift side to side the closer Curufin came.

"Leave him alone, Curufin," Amras gulped.

"Why? He has sworn the oath. He is an asset we could use, if he proves his worth," Curufin sneered.

"Stop it with the 'worth'. He doesn't need to prove himself."

Curufin continued to advance on them, seemingly unaffected by Amras.

Faint clopping, and Vanafin lifted his head. An Elf came riding out of the gates. His father.

Curufin shot his hand out then, grabbing at Vanafin's hair and tugging him backwards toward the other horse. Amras immediately wrapped his arms around Curufin's and sank his teeth in just below the elbow. The older Elf screeched and tugged his arm free. Amrod was then on top of him, and all four Elves—Vanafin including—tumbled to the ground in a heap.

Vanafin felt the loud snap in his right shoulder as pain shot through his arm. He struggled free of the kicking and biting Elves, dragging himself as far away as he could. Another round of pain like a thousand needles jabbed at his back. What little strength he had disappeared. He could barely turn his head back to see Curufin struggling away from the twins. All three of them were covered in bruises and cuts. Their horses had been pulled to the side by the dark-haired Elf before any of them were trampled. The copper-haired Elf continued to watch over the chaos with glossy eyes, having lost all interest.

For a short moment, Vanafin wondered if the Elf thought he was in some other time or place.

It took only a few more seconds before his father joined them all on the slope, laughing at the fighting. He trotted his horse past Caranthir and to the copper-haired Elf's horse, ignoring his own son just paces away on the ground. "Nelyo! Toron!"

Nelyo. So that must be his name? Vanafin dragged himself up as best he could. His eyes watering at the throbbing pain in his shoulder and back. A firm, yet gentle, hand came to rest on his shoulder, steadying him as he stood. He turned as best he could to look up at the dark-haired Elf. Makalaure, the Elf had been called. Maglor. Celebrimbor had told him to go find this Elf if the twins could not help him. Vanafin looked towards the tallest of the Elves. That must be Maedhros, then. He had only learned a little bit about his uncles when he was still in Nargothrond, yet, he remembered many Elves talked about this Elf quite a bit. How Maedhros, the eldest of his uncles, had been to Morgoth's dungeons, had his own hand cut off there. Vanafin looked to where the hand would have been, but the whole arm was hidden behind his massive cloak.

He wondered how the Elf could still fight, but his question went unspoken and unanswered. Caranthir began leading everyone back up the slope with Maedhros right beside him. His father finally gave a glance at him, glared, then trotted his horse beside Curufin's—who sat slumped in his saddle after the tumble and fight left gashes on his leg and arm. The twins had used the sudden silence of the moment to give Maglor a quick—albeit bloody—hug. Amras was then ushering him back onto the horse they'd shared.

Maglor was the last to get back on his horse, his gaze wandering the fields and hills around them as though he searched for something.

Vanafin could see no more of that moment as Amras kicked their horse into a gallop after the others; Amrod right beside them on his own horse, and Maglor trailing slowly behind at the rear.