Characters/Pairing: Brandir the Lame of Brethil, healer; Turin, son of Hurin (the Mormegil); Brandir's mother Beldis
Warnings: suicidal ideation
Book/Source: Children of Hurin, Silmarillion, History of Middle-earth
Disclaimer: Tolkien gave Brandir a hard life and a short one. Himring couldn't do much about that, but felt he deserved more attention.
A/N: double drabble
‘Why was it not given to me to fall in battle against Glaurung? Then, whatever else anyone said of me, they would also have said I died a death worthy of my forebears!’
That was the only thing the Mormegil had said to Brandir in all those weeks. The time he did not spend wrapped in dark dreams, he spent in stubborn silence, his face turned to the wall. The Mormegil wished to die—and sometimes Brandir wondered why he was putting up a fight for his life.
Did not his own forebodings warn him of the doom Turin carried?
After his accident, leaning on his crutch, Brandir had lamented that he would never be a hero and a warrior like his father and grandfather
But Beldis said: ‘My brother, the uncle I named you for, was neither renowned nor did he fall in outright battle. Fools may die a celebrated death. Living may take more courage—and more wisdom.’
Groaning, Brandir hoisted himself up from Turin’s bedside. Turin turned his head. Brandir saw pity in his eyes and, although Brandir did not want pity, by that, he was sure Turin was going to live--nor could he regret it.