Request: H/C, fourth age, angst, a hair brushing session, dark green velvet robes, Valinor, Imladris remorse and most of all Forgiveness.

Summary: Maedhros reflects on the failures and sins of his life and finds redemption in the arms of his beloved.

Author�s Notes: Written for Slashy Santa, December, 2007. I owe both the title and the opening verse to Shakespeare; I chose them because I�ve always seen parallels between Hamlet and Maedhros. Written in first person, from Maedhros point of view. I truly hope this pleases the requester, because writing it scared the beejezus out of me. I hope you enjoy it and thanks for the challenge!

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To die, to sleep.
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there�s the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil
Must give us pause.
~Hamlet, III.i.

To dream�

Even upon the hour of my father�s death, filled with rage and pain, I sought you. You, who had always warned me, you who had always watched me � yours was the council I sought that fateful day. Yet you answered me not and left me to my fate, the fate you had warned me about long ago.

Surrounded by fire and death I remembered what you once told me on a warm autumn afternoon, how you thought my hair glowed as an amber flame and warmed your spirit. Did you think of my flame-red hair as I twisted in agony, hanging from the cold, barren rock, forsaken and crying out to you, crying out for someone, anyone to end my torment and bring sweet release through death?

Did you hear my cries? Did you send him? Was it you who sent my old friend, my better, the one who I betrayed and left to die a cold and lingering death upon the Grinding Ice? I imagine you did; you were never afraid to remind me that you are master and I am indeed your thrall, unworthy and eternally beholden to you.

Rescue me Fingon did, and rightly does he deserve the honor bestowed upon him. Yet, I cannot help but feel that it would be better if I had passed from this dark, dismal world, released from my oath � my curse � through death. Perhaps then you and I could come together in a cloud of heat and desire again as we used to do when I was young and without these sins upon my head.

I barely remember those blissful days in my homeland, how your hot breath would fan my skin, causing me to tremble and arch into your hands. How good you felt � strong, powerful, and masterful. How lost I was in your eyes, your voice, your touch. Such wickedness has passed between us.

It was you who taught me to find pleasure at my own hands, to choke back my cries as my essence spilled over my young, slender fingers. It was your lips that kissed, caressed, suckled; your tongue that laved my skin and lapped my seed from my belly. Such shame I should have felt to be so wantonly wicked at such a tender age. But then, I have always been less than I should be.

It was that shame that fueled my rage each time I wielded my sword, as I spilled the blood of my own kind, as I tossed the torches into the wooden ships, as I cursed you and all the Valar and turned my back on the only home I ever knew to follow a father whose love I always needed. Yes, you taught me many things Lorien, not the least among them was shame.

Now, as I feel the wretched, cursed stone I have chased ceaselessly since I came to this forsaken place burn my flesh, it is shame I feel again. I have failed in my oath, I have failed my father, and I will soon meet him in your brother�s halls.

What dreams may come�

Fire. It has been the one constant in my life � from the fires of my father�s forge when I had yet to walk, to the burning ships of Alqualond� and the hellish flames of the Balrogs, to the fire in the stone that burns me now � it is fire that will finally end my wretched and shame filled life.

For in that sleep of death what dreams may you bring when I have shuffled off this immortal coil?

* * * *

It was fire I saw when I woke. Not the fire of Balrogs or Morgoth, but a gentle, flickering flame in a warm hearth. As I rose, I found myself in familiar surroundings � it was my family�s home in Valinor � or was it a dream? My mother once sat upon the stool I looked at, hanging our socks before the flames to dry. It was her voice I heard echoing in my mind, singing softly as was her wont, as I contemplated my fate.

But quickly her soft, lilting voice was replaced by the deep timbre of your honeyed, seductive tones.

�My Maedhros,� you said to me, and I turned slowly to find you standing before me. �My cursed, doomed, beloved.�

�How can you love me after what I have done?� I asked. I felt my cheeks color as your gaze settled upon me. �Why am I not in your brother�s halls, doomed to wander there alone until the end of days?�

�Because I love you more than all the world,� you answered, as simple and plain as anything I had ever heard, as if my question were the folly of a child.

You reached down and took my hands � it was then that I realized you had made me whole again.

�You are all I have ever wanted,� I whispered as you gathered me into your arms and lead me toward the bed where my father and mother once made me.

�And I am all you have now,� you answered, as your hands grazed my skin and set my flesh aflame and my desire ablaze. �Never again will you see your kindred; never again will you walk the shores of Aman. You have been banished and not even death can lift the Doom of the Noldor.�

�What is to become of me?� I asked. �I have earned a rich torment.�

�You have suffered enough,� you answered. �You will remain here, with me, for all time.�

�Then I am to be rewarded rather than punished,� I said. �For this is more than I ever could have dreamed of.�

�And are dreams not my domain?� With those words, you laid me down and rolled me to my stomach, your deep, green velvet robes teased my bare flesh as I rested my head upon a pillow. �Shall I brush your hair as I once did?� you asked.

�Yes,� I whispered, relishing what was always a prelude to your taking of me.

Long, slow strokes of a brush through my hair were followed by the caress of your hand. The brush trailed past the ends of my hair, grazing my skin, following the curve of my bare buttocks before returning to the crown of my head.

�My doomed Maedhros, your body has changed so much. You are no longer the lithe youth I once teased and rode until my lust was slaked. You have the body of a warrior now, lean and strong, your skin a faded map of scars and pain.�

�As scarred as it is, as battle-worn and battered as it has been, it is yet yours to use as you wish, my lord,� I answered, my breathing increasing in rhythm and depth as your hands worked my flesh and my hair.

�I know, my lusty warrior,� you whispered into my ear. �And I will use it well this night. I have long waited for your return, to take and ride your body as I wish.�

�Often I have lain in the cold dark, recalling the many days and nights of feeling your body atop mine. Many nights I have nearly wept for the memory of it.�

�Ah, but weep you did not, for you are many things Maedhros, not the least of which is a wretched kinslayer, but weak you are not � that you have surely proven.�

�I long for redemption, my lord.�

�And you shall have it, of a sort � if an eternity here with me is reward enough.�

�Do you forgive me?�

I felt your weight press me into the bed as your robe slipped from your broad shoulders. �Aye, my fiery warrior, I do.�

I felt a tear fall upon the pillow as your lips caressed my neck, then I gasped aloud as a strong hand reached between my spread legs. �Yes, break me, burn me, make me anew,� I moaned.

�I make you mine,� you answered, lifting my hips.

All the pain and disappointment, all the shame and failure fell away as you opened me with your fingers. Yes, it was more pain, but pain of a different kind � it was the type of pain that purged, that battered down the walls around my bruised heart.

As you breached me, I cried out, as much in agony as in relief. As you rode me, slamming into me, sending my body rocking forward on my hands and knees, as you wrapped my hair around your fist and pulled my head back and exposed my throat, as you marked me with your teeth and drove inside me, I finally felt like I was home.

As our bodies cooled and your hands caressed my hair, I closed my eyes, and for the first time in my life, I needed the love of no one but you.

For in that sleep of death what beautiful dreams may come when I have shuffled off this immortal coil. For in that sleep of death I have been redeemed and I have been returned to you, my Lord of Dreams.

~Finis