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For a while, Maitimo barely heard the conversation between Ancalirë and Amrod. He was vaguely aware that she was trying to lovingly speak some sense into him, but he is lost in his own thoughts and not paying much attention. That Amrod would do this is its own form of betrayal: a betrayal against himself, and even against the rest of the family, and Maitimo's mind reels with despair and anger over it.
Snapping him out of his thoughts, though, is the glint of metal from Ancalirë's sword, and a cry of alarm unconsciously escapes his lips as she poises it against her wrist. "Ancalirë--" he gasps. "Don't do this; don't do what you yourself condemn!"
Fëanor calls out to her sternly too when she takes the Silmaril and threatens to destroy it. "Don't you dare! Do not bring yourself a tragic fate and compound the rest of our sorrows!"
Thankfully, Nerdanel takes the sword and the Silmaril before Ancalirë can do anything really foolish and drastic.
Maitimo runs to her side, putting a hand gently on her arm. "Please don't tell me you're actually considering this, are you?" he whispers. "Or are you just trying to make a point to Amrod? Either way, it scares me, sister... don't do this... after losing so many things, I can't lose you too. Please, if I can manage to find enough will to live after being so despised by our brothers and feeling so alone in the world, you ought to do the same."
He realizes he can't speak to Ancalirë with tenderness and compassion, yet at the same time with truth, without doing the same for Amrod, as much as he doesn't want to. He doesn't want Amrod to think that he utterly despises him and is showing favoritism to Ancalirë.
Coming closer to Amrod's bedside, he looks at him with a mixture of compassion and sorrow, hoping his underlying bitterness isn't showing through. "Brother... I'm sorry for your pain; truly I am. And I had meant to tell you, upon coming back here, that I'm sorry for my harsh words against you earlier. My heart was grieved about many things that had nothing to do with you, and I unjustly took it out on you.
"And yet..." He shakes his head and his eyes well up with tears. "Why could you not accept my forgiveness, which was sincere and gladly given? Do you take me for a liar or a manipulator? And further..." He has the feeling he might regret bringing this up, but he feels it has to be said. "That you have done this, it's not fair to anyone, least of all yourself, but also not to me either! For if I had the choice not to be wounded those three times, I gladly would have chosen it. You had a choice-- to choose pain or well-being-- and you chose pain. Don't you see that wounding yourself does not change the past or ease my sorrows, but rather compounds them?"
He glances back at Ancalirë. "And for the same reason, you also have that choice, Ancalirë, and I hope you make the right one! If you have a choice between suffering and well-being-- a choice which I did not have-- choose peace and healing. Not pain and violence."
Glancing back at Amrod, he finishes, "I love you dearly, my brother. Do not think that I despise you for what you have done either now or in the past. I just want you to understand the truth."
Utterly spent and burdened with sorrows, he falls to his knees.
~~~
"It is not your presence but your actions," Turgon argues. "It is not who you are that is the problem. It's what you've done, and that can be righted. So don't leave; don't run away from these problems!"
He glances at Fingolfin with sort of a defeated look, indicating he has done what he can. "Please, Father, don't let him leave..."
Snapping him out of his thoughts, though, is the glint of metal from Ancalirë's sword, and a cry of alarm unconsciously escapes his lips as she poises it against her wrist. "Ancalirë--" he gasps. "Don't do this; don't do what you yourself condemn!"
Fëanor calls out to her sternly too when she takes the Silmaril and threatens to destroy it. "Don't you dare! Do not bring yourself a tragic fate and compound the rest of our sorrows!"
Thankfully, Nerdanel takes the sword and the Silmaril before Ancalirë can do anything really foolish and drastic.
Maitimo runs to her side, putting a hand gently on her arm. "Please don't tell me you're actually considering this, are you?" he whispers. "Or are you just trying to make a point to Amrod? Either way, it scares me, sister... don't do this... after losing so many things, I can't lose you too. Please, if I can manage to find enough will to live after being so despised by our brothers and feeling so alone in the world, you ought to do the same."
He realizes he can't speak to Ancalirë with tenderness and compassion, yet at the same time with truth, without doing the same for Amrod, as much as he doesn't want to. He doesn't want Amrod to think that he utterly despises him and is showing favoritism to Ancalirë.
Coming closer to Amrod's bedside, he looks at him with a mixture of compassion and sorrow, hoping his underlying bitterness isn't showing through. "Brother... I'm sorry for your pain; truly I am. And I had meant to tell you, upon coming back here, that I'm sorry for my harsh words against you earlier. My heart was grieved about many things that had nothing to do with you, and I unjustly took it out on you.
"And yet..." He shakes his head and his eyes well up with tears. "Why could you not accept my forgiveness, which was sincere and gladly given? Do you take me for a liar or a manipulator? And further..." He has the feeling he might regret bringing this up, but he feels it has to be said. "That you have done this, it's not fair to anyone, least of all yourself, but also not to me either! For if I had the choice not to be wounded those three times, I gladly would have chosen it. You had a choice-- to choose pain or well-being-- and you chose pain. Don't you see that wounding yourself does not change the past or ease my sorrows, but rather compounds them?"
He glances back at Ancalirë. "And for the same reason, you also have that choice, Ancalirë, and I hope you make the right one! If you have a choice between suffering and well-being-- a choice which I did not have-- choose peace and healing. Not pain and violence."
Glancing back at Amrod, he finishes, "I love you dearly, my brother. Do not think that I despise you for what you have done either now or in the past. I just want you to understand the truth."
Utterly spent and burdened with sorrows, he falls to his knees.
~~~
"It is not your presence but your actions," Turgon argues. "It is not who you are that is the problem. It's what you've done, and that can be righted. So don't leave; don't run away from these problems!"
He glances at Fingolfin with sort of a defeated look, indicating he has done what he can. "Please, Father, don't let him leave..."


