A small addendum to the previous chapter. My thanks goes to HaloFin17 for editing this chapter and for being such a great supporter!

Part II: To the Rightful King

Maglor was on the battlements when he saw the group of riders. Visitors were relatively rare for them and he kept his eyes fixed on the shapes until he was able to make out the riders' colours: they were King Ereinion Gil-galad's men.

Maglor went inside the fortress to alert his brother. He found Maedhros in their library dressed in comfortable, dark blue robes.

"Riders of Ereinion's people are approaching," Maglor informed him.

Maedhros immediately abandoned his book on a nearby table and rose. Wordlessly, they went to clean up and change. Their pride, or what was left of it, would not allow them to receive visitors without their hair brushed, faces washed and wearing suitable attire. Besides their steward, very few people ever saw them in a casual setting in their homes.

Maglor alerted Himedhel to their impending visitors, knowing the elf would ensure that the riders were served some small meal when they arrived and given rooms.

Maedhros' rooms faced the front of the fortress and overlooked the courtyard. Thus the singer sought them out to catch a glimpse of the riders' identity but also because he knew that Maedhros might need help readying himself.

He found his brother already sitting at his vanity, dressed in elegant black robes and black leather trousers beneath, brushing his hair. He had taken to wearing it unbound in everyday life after the First Age, when most of the fighting had stopped, only braiding it for travel, sword practice or when receiving visitors.

Maglor waited until Maedhros set the brush down.

"Simple braids?" Maglor inquired as he reached for the red hair.

Maedhros nodded, meeting his younger brother's eyes in the mirror.

After years of practice doing this for his brother – and some years of braiding the hair of impatient, half-elven children – Maglor did not need long to finish his work.

As Maedhros rose and straightened the folds of his robes, Maglor went to the window. The riders were just entering the courtyard, and the leader lifted his head to look straight towards Maedhros' windows. It was Elrond. He alerted his brother, who immediately strode up behind him and looked down over Maglor's shoulder.

"And Ereinion," Maedhros stated.

Maglor had been so caught-up by his foster-son that he had not paid attention to the rest of the group.

Ereinion wore a travel cloak like the others, the hood of which he had only now drawn back to look curiously around the courtyard. It was the first time that the king had come here to see them, and they had never gone to Lindon proper.

"Let's meet them downstairs," Maedhros suggested.

They arrived in the hall at the same time as Himedhel had the visitors enter. Only Gil-galad and Elrond came inside, the others had already been directed to quarters. The brothers bowed their heads to the king; they were respectful and elegant about it but the tilt of their heads went no further than required by customs.

"Lords Maedhros and Maglor Feanorion," Ereinion greeted them.

"Your Majesty," Maedhros replied, "Welcome to our home. Forgive us for being unprepared for your visit. We did not realize that the king himself was coming. We received no announcement of your arrival."

"Sometimes, a king prefers travelling without fanfare," Ereinion answered what might have been called an admonishment.

Indeed, protocol dictated that Ereinion should have a royal guard with him and that Elrond, his herald, carry his banner. Moreover, messengers were usually sent long in advance to announce the king's arrival. If this had been the case, he would have received a much grander welcome.

But the king, Maedhros knew, at times enjoyed breaking protocols. He respected that; even in his short reign he had come to dislike the restrictions placed on a king. Not even as princes in Valinor had they been thus subjugated to rules and customs. Yet Maedhros would have much preferred it if Ereinion had not decided to surprise them of all people with his presence. The redhead did not enjoy being caught off-guard.

Ereinion offered his arm to grasp, and Maedhros accepted it with his left. The King repeated the same gesture with the younger brother, then stood aside to allow Elrond to greet his foster fathers.

Himedhel entered then, announcing that the meal was ready.

"I apologize that it is not up to the usual standards of a king's meal," he said stiffly.

Gil-galad waved it off. "I'm sure it's fine. I cannot imagine former high kings partaking in food bad enough for me to refuse."

Maedhros smiled thinly. "You do not know what we ate back in the First Age."

"Ah, yes, the good old days."

Thus they ate exchanging pleasantries and other mundane conversation.

"You look well," Ereinion noted with a close look at Maedhros.

"Thank you. As do you, cousin."

"I've had news from Númenor."

Maedhros immediately thought of the emissary he had thrown out not too long ago. He smirked.

Ereinion caught it. "Exactly," he said. "That emissary."

"Did they come complaining to you?"

"They did, although not as vehemently as they could have. You must have made quite the impression. I made sure they knew not to interfere again and give you a wide berth if they enjoyed living."

Maedhros laughed. Shaking his head, he said seriously: "Númenor has already reached too far."

Ereinion nodded, his mouth drawn tight in a grim line. "But they remain our allies, and thus…"

"I understand," Maedhros replied, bowing his head. His reputation, after an age of kinslaying and an episode of torture, was founded on madness and a ruthless hand with a sword anyhow; Valar take pity on those who went against him or his brother, be they man, elf, dwarf, or servant to the Dark Lord. Maedhros had had the luxury of throwing out a high emissary on his backside. Ereinion, as king, who had to consider the greater picture and the wellbeing of all the Noldor in Middle-earth, did not, no matter how much he might like to.

"There will be trouble in Númenor," Maglor spoke up, ever as perceptive in political matters as elsewhere.

"Eventually, yes," Ereinion agreed. Although he sounded blasé about it, he was well aware of the risk. "So let us enjoy the peace while it lasts."

Silently, Maedhros raised his cup and they drank to that.