This is an alternate-universe story. Or maybe it isn't. It's set in Valinor, after all of the bad stuff happens. So, basically, after the Silmarillion, after Lord of the Rings, after most things have happened. I'll explain it if you don't understand, although a lot of people already do. I had no idea what was going through my mind at the time, but all I knew was that this was something to be written down. I'm not mentally ill. I swear it.

Everything was burning down. Where was I? I was standing in a living room, unsure of myself, stuck in headlights as bits of the ceiling collapsed onto the floor. Everything was being torn down, everything was gone, and all that was left was curling cinders and suffocating smoke. I couldn't breathe. Someone, standing a few feet of from me, was screaming. He was screaming my name. He was—he was Macalaurë. He was screaming at me.

Why was he screaming?

I couldn't hear anything. I could see him mouthing something, and it looked like he was screaming for me to get out, but my limbs wouldn't obey.

I wasn't moving.

He was downstairs.

Findekáno was downstairs.

Before I could move, Macalaurë took me by the arm and dragged me from the house as I screamed after my cousin, Findekáno, who was in the basement, suffocating as—

I glanced to my left as everyone congratulated the two of us. Findekáno casually slung an arm across my shoulder as he explained why we decided to move in together. From out in the rows, Father was trying to look happy for us, though he didn't really like Findekáno's dad. Macalaurë was grinning off to the side, speaking with Tyelkormo in rapid tones of Quenya. Valinor was so peaceful, and everything was going right. Findekáno was alive, I was alive—everyone was alive.

The two of us walked into the house, and Findekáno directed me to my own room, decorated in red. Then he playfully punched me in the stomach.

"I guess we're living together now. Why did you say yes?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Just to make sure you don't die of loneliness."

"I was really surprised that you'd come and live with me. Irissë said no because she wanted to spend time with her son, and you've got family besides me, so I was just wondering."

I smiled humorlessly, but he smiled back, thinking it as a kind gesture. "Findekáno, don't question it," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't cold or limp, like a dead body. No, why was I thinking those thoughts? This was reality. "I am a bit tired though."

"Yes, you haven't slept for two days straight!" he replied, goofily grinning and tossing a pillow over to me. "I wonder why. Insomnia was never a problem for you."

I closed my eyes. "I wish I didn't have dreams."

We were running, running, but then he slipped. He slipped, but he didn't take me down with him, and I kept running until I realised he wasn't with me. Where was he? He was laying there, on the ground, five hundred metres away, too far away for me to go back. But the darkness was coming towards us, Morgoth Bauglir was coming towards us, and he was still lying there, not responding, smiling at me before he was swallowed into the stomach of the Void.

"Káno! Káno!'

My palms were filled with sweat as I watched in horror. The darkness descended upon me.

And then I watched, slowly, as Káno appeared before me, a knife in his hand. A knife in his hand. He was coming towards me. I backed away.

He...

He raised the knife...

...to his throat.

No...

No!

"Maitimo, Maitimo, are you all right?" Findekáno exclaimed, opening the door as I shot up from my seat, eyes wide with panic. "What happened?"

I breathed in slowly. "Nothing. Nothing happened."

He sat himself next to me on the couch, patting my back as I tried to calm myself down. My mind was swimming with dizziness. "It's all right. You can tell me. I won't make fun of you or anything. You know you can always tell me anything, Russandol. You can trust me." Seeing my blank look, he continued. "I'll die before I ever betray you."

That shook me from my thoughts. "No, you can't die!" I gasped out, grabbing his shoulders as I shook him. "You can't, you can't, you can't!"

He held his hands up as a gesture of peace, shaken by my sudden gesture. "Maitimo, calm down!"

I stopped slowly, pulling away from him. "I'm...I'm sorry."

His blue eyes were filled with confusion, but he wanted to help. He wanted to help. "It's fine. No need to apologise."

I leaned back into the couch, throwing my arm over my eyes.

Watching him train was something that I always did. He handled the sword so carefully that it was almost amazing to see him flip it over in his hand by the simple movement of his wrist. He was grinning at me as he tossed the sword into the air. It descended slowly, but he would catch it as always.

"Want to try?" he asked.

I shook my head, simply smiling at him.

He took a spear into his hands. "Watch this!"

Dread filled me, and I was locked in place.

He didn't catch the spear, but his body did.

"You know that drinking this anti-sleep potions aren't good for you," said Findekáno as I pinched my nose and downed the flask in one. "Maitimo, I'm worried for your health. You don't sleep, and you don't exercise, and you're always drinking things that keep you awake."

I shook my head. "I'm all right. This is only a temporary situation. I have too many things to do in the day to go to sleep too early in the night."

He sighed. "If you say so."

All was silent as he watched me carefully from his eyes, as if worried for me. But he was genuinely worried. When he could take care of himself, then he would be allowed to worry for others. I wanted him to stay safe. He needed to be safe. I got up from where I stood and paced about until I felt weary and fizzy. Everything started to fade to a greyish fuzz, and I looked to Findekáno. He was still as clear as ever. He was alive. He was colorful. I looked down at my hands.

Grey.

The color of death, as I viewed it. The color of nothingness.

"What's your favorite color, Káno?" I asked, attempting to start a conversation. Damn anti-sleep potions weren't working.

"Red," he replied, smiling.

Everything was drenched in red. I blinked. My hands were drenched in red. I looked down into my arms, feeling a heavy weight in them. My gaze traveled from my blood-stained tunic to a blood-stained figure in my arms. We were somewhere—we were in Himring. Orcs were surrounding us, but none of them pointed their spears at me.

Findekáno was in my arms.

"Maitimo," he gasped out. "Run... Run..."

I shook my head firmly, tightening my hold around him.

The spears came down, raining down on him, but all of them slipped past me.

Why?

Why was he dying without me?

"Let's go for a walk, Maitimo."

I sighed. "I'm too lazy to go for a walk, Káno."

He scoffed. "Back in Himring, you went patrolling every day. Now that you have two hands again, make use of them and come pick flowers with me! Turukáno's trying to impress Elenwë again, since Idril—have you noticed that she's really grown?—suggested it after Elenwë stormed off the other day."

"You're just simply too charitable," I replied.

"I'm not too charitable."

"You're too good. I don't know how you ever committed a Kinslaying." It hurt to push him away from me, but I had to do it. My words were barbed, and I knew I hit the mark as soon as his facial expression turned to something other than happiness. Quite the opposite.

His eyes darkened. "Fine. I'll go picking flowers by myself."

I watched him. He was standing before a dark figure carrying a fiery whip and axe. He was standing there. He wasn't moving, but his banner was held up proudly as he brandished his sword and stood before the Balrog, a vicious expression on his face. Then he turned around, and the expression changed. It turned to a light, carefree expression as he smiled at me, waving and dropping his sword.

No, no, the idiot!

"Pick up your sword!" I yelled.

But he started to make his way towards me as the axe came down upon his helm.

He kept walking, his head bleeding, his skull cracked, and his skin and bones started rapidly deteriorating before my eyes as they were burned with fire.

Why...

...Wake up...

"I know what's bothering you," he said, sitting down beside me on the bed as I pointedly averted my gaze and stared at my feet. "You need to stop drinking those anti-sleep potions. They make you cranky and cantankerous. You're not like yourself anymore, Maitimo. I'm worried for you."

He's worried for me?

I looked at him blankly and placed my hands on his shoulders. Then, I slid them closer to his neck as he stared into my eyes, his own wide with uncertainty at what I was about to do.

"Maitimo, you need to get help."

I nodded at his words, not registering them, disregarding them, as the palms of my hands came to rest on the base of his neck.

"Maitimo...what are you doing?"

My fingers spread across his skin. I watched him intently.

"Maitimo?"

They tightened.

He couldn't breathe.

"Maitimo...Maitimo, I can't breathe."

His breaths were coming in quicker now.

"Maitimo, I can't breathe."

I watched him intently as the light faded from his eyes. "I know."

Everything was so grey... Nothing was burning, nothing was stained with red. I stood in a pool of grey, and I looked into the mirror. My eyes were the grey that I stood in. I was drowning. And above the surface, Findekáno stood above me, a smile on his face as he reached for me.

I stood there, unblinking.

He reached for my neck.

And I let him.

Finally, he was safe.