Maedhros Character Bio

I am Maedhros, eldest son of Fëanor and one of the princes of the Noldor. I stand tall among my kin, 7’8” according to some, with long red hair and eyes of sapphire.

I was born in Valinor but went into exile with my father once he was banished from Tirion. But everything changed when that foul Morgoth killed my grandfather Finwë and stole his Silmarils that my father had forged. Consequently, my brothers and I swore the Oath of Fëanor to reclaim them, no matter the cost. We now do everything in our power to get them back. When the neighboring kingdom of Alqualonde refused to supply us with ships to aid in our mission, we slaughtered them. This was simply wrong. I and many others knew that. Never would I have imagined mercilessly killing our own. To make matters worse, Father ordered that the ships be burned after we were done with them. I refused to join in this senseless act and I am appalled by this event to this very day. I thought I understood fully the lengths we were willing to go for the oath. Nonetheless, I cannot betray the will of my father, for my mission is not yet complete.

During our battles, Father was killed by that hideous Balrog, Gothmog. And then even I was outsmarted by Morgoth, who lured my allies and me into a cowardly ambush. I was defeated. But, Morgoth decided that he was far from finished with me. I endured three decades of torment, chained by one hand to the jagged cliffs of Thangorodrim. The iron bit into my flesh until it was one with the rock, and the weight of my body caused the bone and muscle to tear. Thirty years of nothing but unceasing agony and pain. There was no rest, only the wind tearing at my hair and the merciless sun beating down on me, the stars above bearing witness to my utter humiliation. I eventually gave up on the thought that one of my brothers would save me. There was no hope. I would never be able to recover the Silmarils. I failed my father, my brothers, and my entire bloodline. Years passed as I endured a fate far worse than death. Until at last, I was rescued by my cousin Fingon and that eagle Thorondor, losing my right hand in the process, for it was the only way they could liberate me.

For thirty years I was dead. An impotent corpse existing under a false guise of life. But now, it is once again my purpose and my duty to reclaim the Silmarils and I will do whatever it takes to get them back. Though I strive to be virtuous and noble to the very end, the Oath binds me. The path I am forced to follow leaves sorrow and destruction wherever I go. While I hate myself for the things that I have done and the things I know I am going to do , I simply cannot just sit back and let the honor of my family be violated any longer. We have lost enough. In order to restore peace and balance, I shall commit evil to destroy the greater evil. Even my own conscience shall be cast aside. The only path forward is straight ahead. The Silmarils will once again be ours. For Fëanor.