bakerstreet | The Slave Auction Meme

[Either role fine, though leaning towards slave. If Master, probably not #1]

(( Kind of would love to play him as the slave. Favs are 1, 3, and 6 ))

[More likely to be the slave, given canon, but it's a meme for a reason; give me an excuse and he can be either side.

If master, he's probably undercover or rebel, but toss ideas at me, I'll work with you.]

[Does Barcus want to do the rescuing this time perhaps...?]

[Oh absolutely! I would love that. Do you have a canonpoint or situation in mind? I can throw something together if not, but if you have ideas, hit me!]

[Sometime in act 3? Just invent a little side quest of a sort. With Gortash enabling all kinds of shit in the city, wouldn't be too hard to invent a people smuggling ring that Gortash signs off on to stoke public outcry and fear.

Slip a guy who looks like a himbo something in his ale and then carry him off to collect from the highest bidder. Barcus might be there making sure none of His people are getting sold off again and get the shock of his life to find James Tavaris Kirk among the lot.]

Wulbren doesn't know he's doing this. He would never approve, and while Barcus has hit the point where he's going to inevitably feel compelled to work against his old friend's desires, he's not ready to openly defy him yet. What he is ready to do is this: research. Investigation for Barcus usually means books or an alchemy table, but every now and again field work becomes necessary for any artificer.

The rumor mill talks of prisoners in the Iron Throne, within a stone's throw of the City but still out of reach. Not all gnomes, say his contacts, but quite a lot of them. He suspects that not all of the Gondians are employed in the Foundry. Hostages make sense. Slaves make sense, for the Chosen of Bane.

The Zhentarim were tantamount to Banites themselves, once, and well-known slave-traders. Talking to a damn fool of an artist in the Lower City tells the gnome surprisingly a lot about where to find Zhent black markets. He goes early in the evening, alone, and his heart is pounding like a rabbit's with every step in the sewers, in the Undercity. These caverns are no place for a deep gnome.

He didn't come to buy anyone. That's ridiculous. He's no hero. His intent was to question the sellers as subtly as possible, and he knows he's only going to be able to do this once, because they're going to remember a deep gnome. He's going to need to get in, ask questions, maybe hand off a couple bribes, and get back out before they decide to just grab him, too. He's armed, but if the situation gets bad enough that he has to use weapons, he figures he'll probably just be killed anyway, so he's relying on stealth and gold.

By the time he spots Jim, he's handed off a couple coins already, to some of the younger, less-hardened Zhents, one of whom is still talking to him when he freezes, blinking at the familiar face bound amidst the other prospects. Magga camarra...

"...so gnomes aren't exactly in high demand," the Zhent is saying pleasantly. "But you'd be surprised how many drow we have. Men, mostly, of course. If you've got a fancy--oh. Or have you seen something you like already? That one's new goods, may not be broken in yet."

The Zhents are luckier than they know with their catch. Whatever the person smugglers dosed into his ale had given Jim a poor reaction indeed. So much so that he hasn't been able to put up much of a fight right up until they went to go clean him up for his auction. Then he'd come to and caused a bit of a fuss. The end result is putting him in thicker irons than some of the others. Wiping up the blood from his split lip they'd given him.

But Jim has been glaring daggers at anyone walking past. As if daring them to try and take him off the Zhent's hands. If he had his limbs free, he'd be starting one hell of a fight. He hasn't noticed Barcus yet, as the gnome is off to one side rather than perusing with the main crowd.

Someone tugs on the shackle collaring him and he jerks forward, coughing before he can stop himself.

"Pretty t'look at, won't lie, but he might be more than some can handle." No refunds, of course.

Shit shit shit! For one brief, ignominious second, Barcus considers just fleeing. Discretion has always been the better part of valor for him, after all, and he could go find Jim's companions, lead them here--

Except that Zhent markets move every few hours to avoid detection. Even here, in a city that's already effectively in Banite hands, they won't stay long. And what are the chances someone recognizes this man eventually? Hands him off to Gortash, or worse? Jim has had amazing luck but everyone's luck runs out eventually.

"I rather like his eyes," he says, managing to put his face back under his conscious control. "Mind you, I'm not here for just a pretty face. Where I'm going, a human might be more useful than a drow. Less likely to be shot on sight, anyway."

I always help my friends. He can't just leave him, but keeping up some kind of convincing act here is going to be hard. He weighs the pros versus the cons here; if Jim sees him he might settle down and stop trying to fight, but that could clue the Zhents in that there's something going on. Would they even care, as long as he pays? Making up his mind, Barcus straightens his tunic primly and makes a beeline for the handler nearest Jim. "He's not going to be much use if you choke him silly. I thought you people had more...finesse. Or something."

Close enough for Jim to see him, now, he glances at him briefly, as cold and impersonal as he can, but silently willing him to play along.

He doesn't act like one of the Absolute's thralls, but what happens if another True Soul gets too close to him? All Jim's luck has been used up not getting caught up until this point, one might argue. He's busy glaring daggers at the handler, and so beyond pissed off that at first he just levels that glare directly at Barcus too.

Fire and defiance and...a flicker of recognition Jim quickly covers up with another 'coughing fit' and a low groan around his abused throat. By the time he raises his head again he's also managed to school his expression.

How a Friend got down here, Jim's got no idea. But if he has to play the fool to get out then it's not much of a stretch given how badly his fingers ache to be shooting this place full of every arrow he's got.

"What, you gonna try to stick something else in that mouth of his? Your funeral if he bites more than most."

Another, albeit shorter yank, when Jim tries to mouth off about exactly what he'd do. Slaves do not speak unless invited to.

Barcus is immediately certain he doesn't want to be on the wrong side of that glower, but for the moment, it's welcome. Again, he's not sure whether the Zhents would care, were they to realize he's buying an acquaintance, but it's better to keep it on the down-low until he's sure.

He sees that flicker of recognition, the duck and cough, and that's all the signal he needs to be certain that Jim gets what's happening here and will play along.

Meanwhile, he gives the handler an unimpressed look. "The rest of your clientele may be perverts, but I don't actually need to pay for someone helpless to attend to my sexual whims, thanks. I can find volunteers."

"...Admittedly, he'd be my type, were the circumstances sightly less dire. But no. I need a bodyguard, not a plaything. Biting is just fine, as long as it's not my skin being broken. Stop yanking on him like that, you'll give him whiplash."

He moves closer, a show of boldness, the better to meet Jim's eyes. "How do you feel about duergar, hoon? Think you can kill a dozen for me? You'll have a better time in the Underdark than you will here, I'll wager."

Jim's going to track this market down, later. He's going to bring Lae'Zel and Astarion and Jaheira probably and he is going to ruin these slavers. For as much as Jim likes to take the peaceful route out of many of his problems there are those he will be glad to see Faerun rid of.

Permanently.

"You get me out of here, Ashskin, you give me a bow? And I'll shoot anyone you damn well please." Too proud to beg, but willing to find an accord with someone uninterested in charming his mind and putting him to stud.

Good luck rooting out the Zhentarim in their entirety, Jim. Many have tried and failed. Still, Barcus would be happy to contribute explosives to this cause. Having been, however briefly, a slave to the duergar at the Grymforge, he's not a fan of slavery, either.

He snorts at the response. "Creative. All right, let's see what you can do."

Haggling, of course, is to follow. The gnome clasps his hands behind his back as if he's perfectly comfortable, but in fact he feels nauseous. He has to shut off the part of his brain that is aware he's arguing for a discount on his friend's freedom, and pretend this is about the price of copper ingots from Suzail. He is a reasonably savvy trader where metal is concerned.

In the end, he's probably overpaying, but only by a little. He drops coins into the merchant's palm, withholding the last gold piece until the key to Jim's shackles is in his hand. Then, he plies that key as quickly as he dares. For all his projected calm and confidence, his hands are shaking as he undoes the collar.

Is it a pipe dream? Probably. But anything that keeps him calm and focused on surviving in the moment is a good distraction to have on hand. This is the first time the Upper City noble has seen this particular dark corner of his city, and he is beyond appalled by it.

Jim settles down a little, then. Quietly hopeful for the opportunity to be useful for his skills rather than his body. Eager to see a change of scenery even if it is "the Underdark". He remains wary however. Keeping his body as far away angled from Barcus as is possible to be in his restraints in case the violence has been waiting for Jim to be the gnome's property, now. His breath, though, is calm against the other's hand unlocking his neck. Then his ankles. Jim gets to his feet slowly.

" Leave his hands if you don't mind until he's out of here." The Zhent in charge of the pens calls out to Barcus sharply.

"I do mind," the gnome snaps back, instinctively mouthy due to sheer agitation. "Is he mine now, or not? I'll do as I wish."

One small hand grasps a hold of the chain holding Jim's wrist shackles together, and he looks up at the man's face. Bickering with the Zhents is only going to keep them here longer, and after a moment, the gnome's hackles go back down. "Fine." He says. "Good to see you're all scared of him. Maybe I didn't overpay, after all."

They should be scared of him. They should be scared of the Ironhands, too. He's going to look these shackles over closely for a maker's mark, when he gets a chance.

"Right," he says. "Keep pace with me. I know your legs are longer, you don't have to show them off."

He'll go as fast as he dares, though. As fast as he can, and still retain a sense of control and decorum. The moment they're out of earshot of the market, the shackles are coming off.

"...Sir." Comes a hesitant, reluctant reply above him. Jim slows his pace to match Barcus'. It's everything he can manage not to sigh in abject relief, nor smile down to his friend. They leave the main path and cut through a few more narrow passages before Barcus stops them and Jim finally heaves a full body sigh.

The wrist shackles drop to the ground and bare his raw skin to the open air for the first time in days.

"Balderan's bones that's better. I thought I was going to have to try something desperate to get out of there." Jim flexes his hands a little, glad to have them free once more. "Whatever were You doing down there, Barcus?"

Barcus pockets the key once the shackles are off, crouches to pick up the shackles, drops them because his hands are shaking, and finally manages to shove them in his jacket. He's quiet as he fumbles, trying to slow his breathing and calm himself.

The question sort of makes him want to sucker punch Jim in the leg, but since he's not sure how seriously the man is injured, he doesn't follow through on the impulse, just frowns up at him. "Looking for information. Word on the street is there are gnomes in the Iron Throne. Political prisoners."

"And you? You're supposed to be cleverer than this. How did you let the Zhentarim get their claws in you?"

"Zhents didn't have any gnomes on the market while I was there. Ugh. Must be getting fast tracked to the Throne."

It's so good to be able to stretch his arms, his neck, his shoulders. Everything again. Jim's tired and hungry but he's been in worse situations by now than a bit of light captivity. No one almost bled out or anything!

"Believe me I tried. We split up in the lower city looking for information on the two other Champions. Someone must have slipped something into my drink while I was taking an information trader for a dance at the pub, because next thing I know I'm going to throw up or faint, and the next thing after that I was already in chains down there."

[ the slave. ]

[Slave 2 and 4-6 are all pretty much canon. A security cyborg who has disabled the module that keeps it in line, this bot is trouble.]

[ slave. perhaps a prisoner of war situation. ]

( have one bratty slave. ota, cross-canon/medium. happy to write a starter. )

[ lets discuss :) ]

(( preferences: Slave - 2, 3, 7, Master - 2, 4, 6 ))

[ fitting for slave role. 1 & 3. ]

he'd never intentionally buy someone, so either undercover/gifted or sold. well. mirror!spock might.

he's a dick.

[Slave]

[The trials of life were seemingly without end. Saving Maedhros from his raucous brothers had never been too much of a problem, though certainly they had tried to make it one. Saving him from the ghastly peaks of Thangorodrim had been difficult but he had done it with a song in his heart.

Aside from perhaps saving him in battle, Fingon had not thought he would need to go through this again, let alone for something somehow so much worse.

But there was always worse in Ennor. It lurked in every corner, under every inch of soil. It crept up on them in the dark woods or in the open plain. Evil did not care, evil just expanded and took everything in its path.

Yet this was an evil that Fingon had not known possible. Kinslayer he might be but he had never made anyone suffer such as the people in this house were suffering. His keen elven senses were overwhelmed by all of it. The stench of men, of piss and shit. The metallic tang of blood he had not tasted so strongly since their last battle. The muttering and crying, the screeching and suffering. It might have brought him to his knees if he were but a little younger.

But he was a King and he had thought he had seen all the evils of the world right up until he had walked past the creaking wooden doors into this mess.

Maedhros was not hard to find. He never was. His cousin could not have hidden from him in the deepest pits of the world, so a dingy room was hardly disguise enough. Fingon pushed through the crowd, gentle only with the enslaved and never their masters as he made his way to where his beautiful cousin, his best friend, his soulmate was bound. He had been beaten, possibly tortured though Fingon could not be wholly sure without removing the rags they claimed were clothes.

They were two shining beacons in a hall of filth, unmistakably elves, unmistakable Noldor with their bright glow and tall stature.]

We have to stop meeting like this. [He says with his mind, trying to egg out some kind of amusement as he considered the options. He had enough money to buy this entire house, and he just might (before burning the slavers alive) but his focus was, selfishly, on the broken form of his cousin for now.

Rocking back on his heel as if he was appraising him and not looking for signs of life and injury, Fingon regarded the men around him, clearly his "owners", no doubt followers of Morgoth who were profiting from grabbing prisoners and selling them to men who had no morals in their empty little heads.]

He does look quite broken for the price you're asking for him. But I will take him off your hands for the right price, before you have just a corpse. Look at him, I don't think he's eaten in weeks. [It was a state that Fingon was unfortunately very familiar with seeing the love of his life in.] I don't think you'll find anyone else willing to pay.

[Except Sauron. He thinks darkly, wondering how it was that Morgoth's favourite general hadn't yet found this little piece of hell and claimed it for his own along with one of his favourite former "pets".]

[If he wasn't in pain and discomfort right now he'd feel incredibly ashamed at having ended up in this kind of situation again. One might think he'd learned absolutely nothing since the last time he ended up as someones captive.

He'd underestimated these people, though. They are only human, he'd thought, what is the worst they could do to someone like me? Well... it had turned out they could do quite a lot to someone like him. More than he'd thought they'd be capable of, if he were being honest.

He's not sure how long he's been kept in this squalid house, but the moment Fingon steps foot in it he knows and it makes him breathe a bit easier.The bright warmth of him is already making this entire debacle a bit more bearable. Not that he'd ever doubted his dear cousin would come for him, he always did.]

But you always cut such a striking figure when you perform a daring rescue. [He sends back. His mind may feel a bit battered and bruised but there's also a distinct tinge of fond amusement echoing through it as well. Showing that whatever they had done to him they'd not managed to break him entirely.

He does not let it show, however, content with letting his captors feel like they've succeeded in making him a pitiable and compliant thing to be bought and sold at their leisure.]

I can be a prince out of song for you any time, I would prefer not like this though. There is something fouler than evil men in the air.

[The man argues with Fingon back and forth in the way a mortal man never would usually dare with someone like him, still in his gleaming silver armour and cloaked with the sigil of his late but great father. It was... curious. Fingon went back and forth on price, pretending he couldn't just pick Maitimo up and carry him from this house even at these men's strongest objections.

Eventually he trades a very big bag of silver for the key and his cousin, who he does not hesitate to pick up and begin carrying to the exit. He could make a show of dragging him or making him walk, but Fingon didn't care. His men were beyond the edge of human sight and would come deal with this house of horrors and so the sooner they left, the better. Besides, he does not like that unsettling feeling that is growing in the back of his throat. They all look like men, but were they really?]

We are lucky your height makes you awkward to carry, not too heavy. [He thinks, trying to sound cheerful and not worried as they pass over the threshold and into the dark, moonless night.]

You feel it too? I thought my memories of Angband were just playing tricks on me.

[It would explain the ease in which they'd overpowered him, he supposes. Though he keeps his eyes lowered in a feigned show of submission he observes the man Fingon is bargaining with as best he can without making it obvious.

For a moment he wonders if the man might realize his mistake when Fingon does not treat him like one would a slave but he seems to caught up in his greed to have caught on to the fact that his little enterprize will soon go up in flames. Likely with himself caught in the flames as well. Good riddance. The man deserved no better fate than that, if he even was a man at all. Some of Morgoth's servants could change their shapes to suit their needs, or simply cloak themselves in illusions if they so wished.]

Mmm. All those long limbs of mine are a pain to keep track of when I have to be carried around but at least they do not weigh overmuch to make the ordeal even harder. [He responds, the thought carrying a hint of a dry chuckle with it. Though despite his own attempt at humor he tightens his grip on Fingon as best he can, betraying his own anxious need to be away from here.]

I do not think the wretched one is here or I would be in irons as well. Yet still there is something wrong beyond men twisted by Morgoth's will into selling people as if they are livestock.

[If Sauron had known of this place and that Fingon would come he would not have wasted time in trying to capture or slay him, of that the Elf-King has no doubt, but his lack of presence does not make his influence over the minds he has corrupted and lines he has turned into thralls or devoted servants any less obvious.

It doesn't disquiet Fingon any less, either. In some ways he would sooner face the beast himself than be surrounded by his misdeeds and horrors.]

I think these chains are heavier than you, my love. [He carries him well away and into the treeline where horses await them both, sitting Maedhros gently on the ground he begins to unchain him.

Not so far from them, an arrow flies and then elves move, the signal given to surround the house of horrors and empty it and then burn it once the innocent are saved. Fingon should be with them but he is here, playing nursemaid, and would not be anywhere else.]

What have they done to you Maitimo? [His voice is smaller, softer as the chains fall away and he tries to assess him for wounds.]

He's not. I'd know if he was. But there are others... lesser servants that would not stand out so much. One of them might be part of this. It is a cruelty that would not be uncharacteristic for them to take part in.

[One of Thuringwethil's kin wrapped in a human seeming, perhaps? The blood and the pain that had permeated that place would be almost irresistable to one of their kind. If Sauron had had any direct hand in it neither of them would have ever seen the outside of that house again.]

No doubt they are. I were kept by poor hosts indeed for they did not seem overly concerned about feeding any of us that they'd taken captive. [Likely to keep them weak enough that anyone trying to escape would not get very far.

Maedhros watches the arrow fly with a grim sort of satisfaction. If he were not so weak from his ordeal he'd be there himself, repaying the fiends for the indignities they put him through, but he knows he'd only be in the way as he is now.]

Nothing I shant recover from, my love. [He says as he musters up a soft smile for Fingon.] The worst I think might be the effects of the starvation they put me through. That will take some time undoing, I think, but what hurts they've dealt me will heal in time.

I know. I considered them as well before I came to get you. [Fingon could send anyone else, of course. Even his cousins might obey him for this cause but as long as he could walk he would always follow Maedhros himself, and if he couldn't walk he would crawl. If he did not come at all he must be dead or captured himself.

Even for evildoers I feel like this land is uncommonly obsessed with starving people... [He mumbles, sounding as annoyed as he was generally upset.]

I am taking you home and I will see you fed and cleaned and healed. And perhaps never left alone again.

Whoever it was is probably one of those that's more ambitious than loyal to their master or I'd have been on my way back to Angband long before anyone even heard of my capture. [A thing he is reluctanty grateful for, for he does not wish to be grateful about anything his captors did or did not do.]

Because it's effective. Starve people long enough and they'll bash eachothers heads in for a piece of moldy bread. [Don't ask him how he knows that, though, some memories are best left in the past.]

Home... yes, I'd like that. [And a bath, to get the filth of this place off of him before he started to tear his skin off to be rid of it.] Not for quite some time, at least, I think no one could blame me for taking the chance to convalesce in the prescence of my dear cousin who also happens to be my savior twice over. [Never let it be said that Maedhros Fëanorion will not grasp at such a golden opportunity when it presents itself to him.]

Perhaps they really did mean to snag two King's instead of one but napped on the job? [He offers with a lightness he doesn't feel.] Or they are simply greedy. It is the downfall of many, even amongst our own kind.

[Fingon fusses briefly with what remains of Maedhros's clothes and then stands, getting new clothes out of the saddlebag on his ever paitent white horse, petting him absently before kneeling back down to offer the linen garments to Maedhros as cries call out beyond the trees.]

I know. Even above the ground men hurt each other for very little. [And he has heard bits and pieces of Angband, he is not so naive that he cannot guess at the cruelties within, even if his love has kept them from him.]

I will help you change. You can wash when we are clear of this place, if not home. [He does lean close enough to press the lightest of kisses to his lips.] No one will argue with their King about him protecting his cousin. Not even your brothers or I will stuff their mouths with their own socks.

Then I hope the lost opportunity galls them and angers their masters. [For that would certainly repay whatever pain they had inflicted upon him in spades.] It would not surprise me if it was greed, though.

[Maedhros let's him fuss as much as he likes and, in truth, finds it a comfort. The new clothes he's grateful for as well, the rags he's wearing deserves to be put to the flames as well as far as he's concerned and he'd be well rid of them.]

Aye. Hunger hurts in a most awful way. It awakens a beast in you if you let it. [Everything terrible in the world is taken to it's utmost extreme in Angband. He wishes he did not know as many of them as he did and he could somewhat pretend he did not as long as he kept from speaking of it.]

Thank you. I don't think I have even the strength to do it on my own right now. [He sighs softly at the kiss, savoring the feel of the first kindly touch he's felt in quite some time now.] Hah! Now that's a sight I'd pay good money to see. My beligerent brothers finaly granting me a moment of peace because their mouth is stuffed by their own nasty old socks.

I know. We did not carry enough food onto the ice, even with the losses. [Fingon talks of the Helcaraxë even less than Maedhros speaks of Angband but it is ever on his mind even all of these centuries later. Of course they had not starved, if only because it was a difficult task to kill an elf with lack of food alone but he knew hunger. A prince would not eat before his people. Fingon wouldn't, anyway.

His fussing turns into actually helping pull away what remains of Maedhros's clothes and tending to any obvious wounds with what salves and bandages he carries with him before beginning to help him into the clean and whole clothes.]

I bet I could get Kano to help me. They annoy him almost as much as they annoy us.

It would have been hard to carry enough to cross such a distance even if one was prepared for it, I think. [He could imagine what had happened on the Helcaraxë, just as he was sure Fingon could imagine what had gone on in Angband, and when he did he was usualy struck by a great wave of anger at his father. Maedhros had asked and begged and pleaded with him to send the ships back and been met by only cold and disappointed rebukes in turn.]

To finaly be able to get Tyelko and Curvo to shut their mouths for a while? He'd never forgive you if you did not let him have a hand in it.

We could have managed it if we had the time. [But they simply hadn't. They had barely anything at all, really. A shadow passes over his face as he does up the lacing on the tunic, ignoring the distant noises and his own troubled mind.]

Good, he can start with them. They would bite my fingers clean off if given half a chance.

And time was scarce then. [They had been relying on his father keeping his word, just as he had.]

I'd like to say they wouldn't go that far... but my brother a feral little savages even at the best of time and biting of someones fingers would not be out of character for them.

Considering what we arrived to, I am not sure that more time spend packing would have done much good. [It had not exactly been a calm world to arrive to, Maedhros hadn't even been there, Fingon had had to go and get him because his brothers would not.]

Oh they would relish it. You know how they loathe me. Moreso since father got the crown. Though I do look very handsome in it, so clearly they are just jealous. [There is nothing to do about them other than mock them. They certainly could not be reasoned with.]

No. We were all unprepared for what we'd gotten ourselves into. [But how could they have been? They'd known next to nothing about war and what came with it.]

Some of them would. [He concedes.] If they knew what it meant to wear it they would not gripe so much about me giving it away. Besides, you do look handsome in it and that alone is cause enough for me to wish to see you continue wearing it. So they are really barking up the wrong tree when they try to badger me into making a claim for it again. [He was a weak, weak man when it came to a regal looking Fingon.]

We had no way of knowing. It feels like an entire lifetime ago. [Even for an elf with their nearly perfect memory.]

You are my husband which is surely close enough to you wearing it, no? [He teases, helping him put some trousers on now as well.]

It was, in a way. Life was very different back then and there was a lot of things we didn't fully comprehend. [A lot of the time it's hard to believe he is the same man from his own memories of his youth.]

It is certainly close enough for me. If I'd wanted to be closer to it I wouldn't have thrown it at your fathers head and run for the hills to keep him from getting any ideas about returning it. [He's joking, of course. Fingolfins coronation had been far more dignified than that, but the sentiment behind his jest was not entirely unfounded.] And those little hypocrites would feel the same had they ever have had to wear the thing. I know them well enough to know they'd hate the responsibility and not having the freedom of movement that they do now. They just want to foist it of on me so they can enjoy the perks without suffering any of the drawbacks.

Most of them were things we couldn't comprehend, even if we had known to consider them. Even our fathers were like children before we came across the world to taste darkness for the first time. [They might have thought they knew shadow. The darkening of the trees wasn't nothing, after all, nor was the death of their grandfather but it was nothing compared to the horrors here. Even in the dark, Aman had ultimately been a place of peace and safety.]

Imagine if you had thrown it at his head and it had been the one time you failed to catch. You would either turn him black and blue or send him home the swift way. [Even when Maedhros had given up the crown to Fingon's father, none of them had ever expected Fingon to have to take it up. Fingolfin was strong and brave and wise, he should have outlived them all.

Oh, they would be tyrants. And then I would have to do something about them... which I would rather avoid. I have had enough Kinslaying for all the rest of my days. [And they would never cede anything to Fingon for a price less than death.]

We were all so... innocent back then. [Like children, as Fingon had said. Which meant they had at times been cruel in their innocence simply by not knowing any better.]

That would certainly have been embarrassing and almost no one would have believed me had I claimed it an accident. [Fingon would have, for he knew him better than that.]

I'd hate for either of us having to be in a position to have to stop them from such a course. [He'd find it very hard to do himself, having practicaly helped raise them from boys to men, but he'd not stand in Fingon's way either. For he knew a king of the Noldor could not be allowed to be a tyrant.] So it's for all of our best interest that you keep the crown on your dashing head, my love.

I know your heart. So did my father. And we are the judges that matter in such a circumstance. [Fingolfin had faults, but he loved his family–all of his family–and he truly did know Maedhros in a way that Fëanor never knew Fingon. He would have known this dark yet humour hypothetical had been an accident if it had come to pass.]

As long as my head doesn't get dashed instead of just being dashing, I think we will be fine. No one lets them close enough to me anymore for them to do any harm. [It's a dark joke, but one he doesn't think much of. He finishes Maedhros's clothes and then offers him a flask of water.]

We should start off home if you feel you can manage it. You will ride with me, I will not let you fall. [Nevermind that Fingon was close to a foot shorter. He somehow never let physics get in his way when it came to caring for his cousin.]

You do. I could not hide it from you even if I wished to. [Which he did not. Maedhros might do his best to keep dark memories and thoughts away from him but he'd never been able to even think of shielding his heart from Fingon. The mere thought made it ache.] Your father was good like that. I could not have asked for a better uncle, especially not when he was always so willing to open his doors for me when I needed some distance from my family. [They all had their flaws, but Maedhros too had always made a point that he loved all his family.]

It better not be. I like it far too much to stand for seeing it so abused. [Maedhros snorts in amusement. He's not above making dark jokes of his own so he can certainly see the humor in Fingon's. He gratefully accepts the flask but makes sure to pace himself so he does not make himself ill. He'd learnt that lesson since the last time he'd been starved.]

Let's. I want to be away from here sooner rather than later and getting to ride with you is certainly an incentive of it's own. [And he knows he'll not let him fall. Fingon has never let him fall.]

Good uncles you did not lack. I like to think Father would have let you in regardless though, for he knew how much I admired and adored you. Our home has always been your home.

Yes, you would go on a rampage while I twiddled my thumbs in Mandos, wondering how to get them to send me back to you.

[Fingon rises, picking up Maedhros as he does with a grace only the eldar could manage given how ungainly this should look and decidedly doesn't. He lifts him up to the back of his steed and will mount behind him once Maedhros is steady.]

You will have to get better if you really want to go for a ride. [He teases.] Hows that for incentive?

I certainly drew a winning hand when it came to uncles. I think he would have, he never took any joy in standing between his children and their happiness. A home I cherrished.

I would and I would not stop until I'd be right outside banging on the gates and demanding either your release or my entry. I might look enough a fright that they'd simply throw you at me to make me go away.

[Maedhros takes the opportunity to bury his face in the crook of Fingon's neck, breathing in the comforting and familiar scent of him. When they are both seated he'll lean back with a tired sigh.]

I think it's enough of one to make me have a positively miraculous recovery. [He chuckles.] Though considering I want to take my time lingering at your side I'll probably be playing up my terrible wounds to the healers so that they sadly have to keep me on bedrest for months on end. [Because he thinks this is the one time he could justify such antics from himself. He's earned a bit of a rest, hasn't he?]

Mother loves you as well, as if you were one of her own. [Not that Maedhros's own mother wasn't excellent, but Fingon had always felt that he needed as many parents as would have him given the harshness of Fëanor and how hard it was to gain his approval.]

We could only hope. I do not think you can kiss in Mandos and being so close to you without being able to feel your lips against mine would drive me mad.

[It is comforting sitting like this, his horses take a mere nudge to start off home, knowing instinctively what their master wants of them as Fingon gently strokes his hand over Maedhros's larger one. They used to ride like this when they were boys, though Fingon usually sat in front, abusing the fact he could make his cousin hold him tighter by seeming unusually unsteady.]

Oh, I am not letting you off of bed rest this time even if you beg or the healers protest. I am going to keep you safe, right where I can always feel you and know you are well or becoming well.

Aunt Anairë always made me feel welcome in her house. [More than welcome. She had always been kind to him. He had needed as many parents as would have him, Fingon was not wrong about that. Though he loved his father, even now when it was so terribly hard to feel anything but anger in regards to him, it had not been easy to be his son. His firstborn son even less so.]

I'd hate it too, but at least I'd be by your side. And who knows? Between the two of us we might just drive Námo mad enough that he'd toss us out on our behinds and forbid us from ever return to darken his day again?

[Comforting and familiar. Just what he needs right now. Riding like this brings only pleasant memories to him, of bright and warm days spent exploring Aman together as boys and young men both. And yes, even pleasant memories of their first youthful trysts together. Rolling around in the grass after a long ride, kissing and touching eachother wherever they could reach.]

I am of a mind to let you this time. I am... tired. I just want to rest by your side. To fall asleep next to you and wake up to the sight of you every morning. Forever if fate would let me. [Perhaps he should simply let Maglor hold Himring for him? Now that the Gap had fallen to dragonfire.]

She used to tell me to bring you home with me if I could. [Elven mothers knew the hearts of their children and he tries not to think what that might mean–if she might have known–but she did know at least that Fingon needed his cousin and Maedhros needed a safe place to land.]

With our luck we would get tossed to the furthest shores of Aman just so he didn't have to deal with kissing cousins who won't stop pestering him.

[Fingon lets himself rest draped around Maedhros. He smells wrong. Filthy, really, and he feels wrong too but under it all he is the same man, the same boy that Fingon had always loved and that could never not be a comfort. Any day they both draw breath is a blessing, even when things are so dark and dire.]

You did indirectly make me your King, my love. I can order it if it will make you feel better. I will bear the responsibility for your absence from the world and presence in my bed.

She did? [He asks, voice full of fondness for his aunt.] She always were a kind lady.

I could live with that. Our own little corner of the world, far away from nosy brothers and prying courtiers.

[Dirt and grime and misery is the source of it and he'll be all to happy to clean it off. It itches and even though he's largely grown used to it the smell bothers him. But he could stand to wait to do so as long as Fingon was holding him like that.]

So I did. And seeing as I quite like it when you order me around I would not be able to resist. [Then, a bit more seriously.] It has been on my thoughts a lot lately, in truth. That I could leave the East under Maglor's watchful eye. I know he would do well as lord there and that he, at least, I could trust to do so without getting himself into trouble. No one could argue that there is no sense in one of your chief generals to spend more time by your side. That it would make sense that I be close at hand so that we'd not need to send so many messages to coordinate strategies .

[He truly has put a lot of thought into it. Turning the thought over in his mind and finding all the arguments both for and against it. But in his heart the only argument he needs is that he wants to. That for once he just wants to do something purely for his own sake. He wants to be by Fingon's side always. Not just sometimes, not just when fate allows them but always.]

Edited 2025-03-31 20:57 (UTC)

She did. And she is. [It has been centuries but Fingon knows his mother has not changed. Maybe she is even somewhat restored now his father might have been able to go to her.]

We always did talk big about running away and living our own lives. [And they had done the opposite... still. Fingon longs for the freedom to do that, to do whatever he wants. To bask in love and not fear shame.]

We could ask him. I miss you and cannot sneak away like I once did as only a prince. And clearly you cannot be left alone or someone will find it irresistible to kidnap you.

I hope she has found happiness again. I hope they have not kept your father away from her. His brave and noble deeds surely deserves some mercy and grace. [He'd like to think they were together now. That his uncle was not kept overlong in the Hall's and were once again walking amongst the living.]

Aye. It is a dream I am loath to discard. [Even now with all their duties binding them where they are.]

He'll probably ask us why we waited so long to ask and call us idiots. Every now and again he'll give me one of those judgemental look and sing a song with a very pointed message for me. I truly am hopless when it comes to that. It's a wonder I don't get kidnapped every time I step foot outside the door.

I like to think they gave him back to her. Surely nothing is punishment for foolishness enough as being judged by your wife for the adventures you shouldn't have gone on or taken your children on.

As am I, though we are too tied to our duties to actually follow through.

He knows I have tried, I think it will be you he is writing pointed songs about my love. Though he might have one about being kidnapped by the time we reach him. You have to stop being so pretty, it makes people want you. [He jokes.]

I'd like to think that too. [The rest get's a wheezing laugh out of him.] Oh. Oh, no. Poor uncle. Nothing Námo could do or say to him would even come close to what Anairë might in a righteous rage.

We can always hope that sometime in the future, when all these dark days are over and done with, we might gracefully retire and sneakily disappear into the wilderness before someone can put any new responsibilities on our shoulders.

Sounds about right. He does think I am somewhat of an idiot when it comes to this. That he will, it is just too good of an opportunity for him to let slide. [He turns around to pout playfully at Fingon as he bats his eyelashes at him.] But it comes so naturaly to me.

Especially not with her children not all returned to her. What I wouldn't give for her righteous judgement. [Because it meant he would be close enough to see her, to hear her, to hug her once more.] Though I fear she would drag me by my ear...

We can pretend, at least. I do not imagine we will get Turu out of his secret city to be King in my stead. We might have to settle for having a summer palace.

Mmmn you're right, being seductive and charming is something you can't avoid. Which is why your brother wrote so many songs to torment us for how I could not keep my eyes off of you and your shapely backside.

I wouldn't mind suffering a lecture from my own mother. [He says with a fond sigh. He does miss her a lot and is very sorry for not having heeded her as much as he should have.] At least your mother does not make a habit of hauling around great blocks of marble on the regular. My ear might never recover after my mother's got her hand on it.

You never know... if he ever does we could tie him to a chair and throw the crown at him while we make our escape. [He'd never do that to poor longsuffering Turgon, though. But it's a nice dream.] A summer palace would be nice. No little brothers allowed, though.

It is a curse I must carry with as much grace and dignity as I can manage. [He sighs dramaticaly as he leans back against Fingon.] He has a cruel sense of humor that brother of mine. Well, at least he's written some nice songs about us too.

She might have a lecture for me as well, though maybe not when she learns how determined I am to keep you from harm. [Not that it was working, but it was hardly Fingon's fault that Maedhros was often beyond his reach until the damage was done.]

Turu would hunt us down, he is too clever to trick. Alas. [Fingon misses him and his too-clever mind a lot, but he found some peace and was safe so he ignored his own feelings about the matter. Better that one of them has a good life than none.

He chuckles softly and squeezes Maedhros, holding him tightly.] At least he can carry a tune when he is tormenting us. The others could but would refuse too, just to make it worse.

He has gifted us with many sweet [And blessedly subtle to those not in the know] songs, it is true.

And Anairë will likely have a few choice words for me as well, but I'll bear them gracefully just to get to see her again. [Just think of how much worse that damage would be if he did not have his dashing knight to save him from his own foolishness?]

He'd be so mad... the lectures would never end. [Responsible, serious Turgon would not let such shenaniganery slide.]

Yes. The mockery is at least pleasant to listen to if you can but ignore the lyrics. Ugh! The twins would sing out of tune just to see us wince at the assault on our poor ears.

He has. And thankfully he has enough sense not to make them too obvious.

Mmn no doubt. But her choice words usually come with cakes and fresh bread. I really miss her food... [Fingon, as much as he loved and emulated his father had also been very much a mama's boy. Ever since he could walk he had toddled after her, "helping" and then actually helping her cook and bake and weave. He missed his hands smelling like bread and not steel. Or the scent of apple blossoms that seemed to follow his mother wherever she went. He missed her so much.]

It's worse. He'd be disappointed in us. His anger I could take, but his disappointment? Never. [Not after everything Turu has been through. One never got over watching their spouse drown in a near-frozen river and the sorrows that followed after like hit after hit until Turu had simply withdrawn from them all.]

They would enjoy it. And you have enough brothers that they could form a choir of discord.

He does not wish us to be exiled or strung up, he only desires to be our every musical thought.

Mmm. You are not the only one, those cakes were delicious... [For all that Maedhros had always ran after his father trying to be the son and heir he wanted, despite that role often feeling like an ill-fitting pair of shoes to him, ha was a bit of a mamma's boy himself. It had always been to his mother that he ran when he was sad or had a problem he did not know what to do with for her gentle wisdom always served to make him feel better.]

Yes... that would be much worse. [He'd feel so guilty being faced with his cousins disappointment knowing what he'd lost.]

They'd all sing in a slightly different off tune to make it a truly wretched experience.

He never could resist a good love story, you know? He's a hopeless romantic, my brother. [But then so was he.]

She always seemed to make extra, more than even her brood could eat just in case I went sneaking off to see you.

It would. And he is too well practised at it for us to escape him.

They would. Their only unifying trait is the desire to cause chaos. [Even the more orderly amongst them was not exactly calm and collected by elven standards.]

We three fools are all cut from the same cloth. Though he has stopped whining that I am getting too good at my harp now that he has Daeron to wonder about. If he talked about him any more I would have thought they had made love instead of merely heard about each other's musical talents.

And I am forever grateful for that. Those cakes truly was a marvel.

His unrelentingly logical way of thinking makes it hard to outfox him.

It is practicaly what they live for. [No, even the most orderly of his brothers was an unrelenting little chaos goblin by elven standards.]

That we are. Hopeless romantics the lot of us. It would probably have been better if they had, then I likely would not have to listen to Kano wax poetically about his musical skills.

He was the only one of us smart enough to hide his city... [Whether that will help by the end of this Fingon doesn't actually know but it has bought him centuries of peace if nothing else and he envies his brother that.

Fingon sighs softly, nuzzling Maedhros's hair and searching for that old and familiar scent, one of the few that could soothe him east of the sea.]

Perhaps they have and we just do not know it. Though that is a relationship almost more forbidden than fair Lúthien and her mortal man's. [But maybe forbidden relationships run in the family. Theirs wasn't exactly sanctified.]

He was always the sensible one in this family. [As sensible as any of them got, at least, which may not be the highest of standards admitedly.

He leans into the nuzzling with a contented hum.]

Well, they did both seem to be missing during a lengthy part during the Mereth Aderthad... [But he does not truly wish to speculate to much about that, if for nothing else than for his mental health. He did not want to know about his brothers love life.]

As sensible as any of us who came east can be, anyway. [Some of the family (and most of the women) had been wise enough to stay home.]

We go missing together so often that I doubt we would notice if they had. We snuck off during the feast as well, as I recall. You were the only dessert that I craved.

Indeed. A low bar to rise above, I admit, but he does manage it well enough that I'd say he rises head and shoulders above the rest of us in terms of being sensible.

It was practicaly the high point of the celebration as far as I'm concerned. Truly a night to remember, and one I have fondly recalled more than once when we have been far apart from one another.

I think it is mostly because of Idril, though he was always more serious than even I am. [And Fingon knew he could be overly serious from time to time, if the situation warranted even a little seriousness.]

It's the high point of every celebration. And every grief. Touching you brings me peace like no other, to say nothing of the pleasure of it all.

This family needs some seriousness in it. Think if all of us would have the disposition of Tyelko when it came to serious matters. We'd all have perished ten times over before leaving Valinor was even in question. [His brother, for all that he loved him, had an unfortunate habit of going with whatever stupid idea that popped up in his head just to see what would happen.]

It is. Being touched by you, touching you... I don't think I'll ever grow tired of it. People say disire for the physical acts of love will wane for elves in time, but... I don't think it will for me. I don't think I want it to, either.

That or we somehow would have ended an island full of Valar. [Fingon does not hate any of his cousins but he knows danger when he sees it, and they are dangerous. Especially Tyelko.] Which would be an achievement, if not a good one.

I am not so sure it does for elves who have the passion for touch to start with. Some want children more than they want the act, and we can't have children so even if that desire was the cause perhaps we can never lose it since it cannot be fulfilled.

Or both. Both is always a possibility in that scenario. [Tyelko should always be viewed with a certain amount of caution. Especially if Curvo is close by. Those two always ended up bringing out the worst tendencies in one another.]

That would make more sense, I think. It is such a wonderful thing I can't see anyone finding joy in it would ever want to put it aside again. I don't know... I'm not entirely convinced my parents lost the urge even after they had as many children as they could take. Not until father basicaly drove mother away with his behaviour.

I am fully convinced it was only your father being... himself... that stopped Aunty having more. I remember she loved him very much despite his demanding personality.

But we do manage to be apart for years or decades at a time. Perhaps others come back together as we do and never speak of it. Much is unspoken in Aman.

He was a bit... much, even before he went completely mad. She did. Even at the end she did. It damned near broke her to have to leave him, I think, but neither could she stay with him the way he was.

It might be so. Perhaps it's just the way people think they should be and feel to ashamed to admit otherwise.

I do not like to insult your father to your face, but yes, he was always over the top. He held a sword to his own brother before he truly went over the edge. But I am glad she did not come, even if it grieves her. This world is too cruel to want to see either of our mothers in it, though they are strong enough. [It wasn't that he doubted them, it's just he is sure that the grief of missing their families is surely lesser than the grief of seeing the war.]

Or maybe not ashamed so much as thinking it too private to even discuss broadly and without detail. The Valar seem without desire, aside from Morgoth after all and the best of us try to model them more often than not.

Don't worry about that. I'm fully aware of his flaws and... I too have a lot of anger in my heart for him, little though I like that it is so. Neither would I. Knowing they are safe in Aman has always been a comfort for me. [He did not want them to have to face the kind of darkness that dwelled in these lands.]

That is also a possibility. I know I myself do not like to talk about these things with anyone but you. It is a bit silly though, for us to do that, they are beings who do not have bodies like our own. It makes sense for desire to be more foreign to their kind than to ours. [The less said about Morgoths capacity for it the better. That sort of desire... the mere thought makes him shudder in disgust. It is a rotten and twisted sort of desire that drives him.]

Yes, but I do not like to break your heart every time you are reminded of how flawed he was, especially to everyone else in the family. [Those outside of it didn't see his major flaws, they were blinded by his artistry.]

You blush so sweetly at the mere suggestion of the ways we touch each other that you need not discuss it. [He teases, nuzzling behind his ear again.] I love you, and I'd love you even if we never desired touch. We were made for each other.

It is something I came to terms with a long time ago. [Or as much as one ever came to terms with such things. Nowadays he mostly felt angry that he never got the chance to tell his father just how hurt and angry he felt about his actions.]

How could I not when your touches are just as sweet? [He chuckles as tilts his head a bit to the side giving Fingon a bit more room to do so.] And I love you as well. You are the other part of my soul, love.

When we are home I am going to drag a bed out beneath the trees in my private garden and curl up with you in the sun and we will allow ourselves to forget all of it, even if only for a few hours at a time. It will be like our secret clearing outside of Tirion. We will forget your father and mine and the war. We will allow ourselves to just be warm for a little while, and unashamed.

[No one would bother them. Fingon was too well loved by his people for a little thing like being dubiously close to his cousin to even be whispered as rumour.]

It will do you good, and me as well. We can talk and I can play for you or read to you and when you are well we can make love and remind you how sweet my touches really are.

That sounds absolutely amazing and, I must admit, probably just what we need. Just you, me and some peace and quiet for a while.

[Fingon was very lovable, in Maedhros's humble opinion, so it was only natural that his people should love him enough to turn a blind eye to their closeness.]

No better healing than that, I think. I've missed hearing you play and I've missed your touch even more so.

Peace, quiet and occasional breaks for paperwork... [He chuckles softly.]

I have missed you as well. Whenever you go half my heart goes with you.

There is a small spring in my private garden as well, a good temperature to bathe and relax in.

Well, of course! There's really no escape from paperwork. It'll find you no matter where you try to hide. [He awnsers with a soft laugh of his own.]

And half of mine stays with you.

Lovelier and lovlier is the picture you're painting for me becoming, my love.

One of the many things I can thank you for. At least the crown looks good on me... [He jokes. This ride would be long and Maedhros was in need of care and a very thorough bath, but at least they could pretend like things were well and lighten each others spirits a bit.]

The fruit trees that line it are also in bloom. I planted them after your last visit, they are enough to hide us from the unlikely possibility of prying eyes without blocking out the beautiful sun. I have tried to capture a small corner of Aman, though it is not quite the same.

I'd say sorry, but I'm quite glad all that paperwork is no longer mine to deal with. [He teases.] But you do look absolutely ravishing in your crown, if that is any consolation.

Mmm. I do love the scent of appleblossoms and the like and the flowers are ever such a lovely sight. Not quite the same as Aman, perhaps, but beautiful in it's own right I'd imagine.

I have seen your desk at Himring, you somehow found yourself a stack of paperwork almost as sizeable.

It was with your rare visits in mind that I shaped and grew the garden.

Almost. It's almost as sizable. Which means there is still less than what it used to be.

My love is so kind to me. How did I ever get so lucky as to deserve you?

Mmmn. Well it all ends up on the floor when I come to visit, anyway.

You are quite lovable and kind yourself. Especially for a Fëanorean. [He teases.] I have loved you since first I set my eyes upon you. [It had, admittedly, been a more innocent love for a decade or two but it hadn't taken long to warm once he began to grow. By the time Turu came along Fingon had been glued to Maedhros every chance he got, even if it involved being chased off by his uncle before the day was through.]

Yes... it is often an unfortunate casualty of our enthusiastic reunions after spending far too long a time apart.

Compared to some of us. It's hard not to look positively civilized and mild mannered next to Tyelko. [He turns his head and gives Fingon a playful wink in return.] It must have been frustrating that I was so very oblivious to matters of the heart for so long when I was young. [Especially concerning the matters of his own heart. He'd known he'd felt strongly for Fingon, of course, but having grown up quite sheltered when it came to such things he'd just thought their friendship had been unusaly intense. Now he knew he'd been head over heels for his cousin for as long as he could remember.]

You are so easy to surprise in there and your desk is very sturdy... How could a prince resist? Or a King, for that matter? [Most of his sneaking to Himring had been done well before his father died but that didn't mean the desire to go despite his duties didn't linger. He often thought about that desk and the person behind it.]

You clearly take after Aunty in more than just looks. [She had always loved Fingon too, letting him sneak into the house when Fëanor was out of earshot–usually at the forge or tormenting someone further into the city.] I found it quite charming right up until the age at which I could not stop thinking about your lips and you didn't even notice that.

Mmm. I for one am grateful it is such an irresistable temptation. Though I may grumble some over the lost paperwork that desk has played a vital part in some of my fondest memories.

A high compliment, that. [And one that brings a soft, pleased smile to his face.] I was quite busy at the time wondering over why I could not stop obsessing over your hair back then. About how soft it looked and how I wished for nothing more than to touch it all the time. I was a very sheltered, very silly boy back in those days to not have realized by then it was because I was in love with you.

Sometimes you grumble just to grumble, my love. [It was definitely in the blood.]

When I used to let you braid my hair or brush it, or just play with it, I used to have to shift my tunic and trousers around until it hid how much I was enjoying it. I got so flustered and had to pretend I wasn't because I was sure that something was wrong with me to want kin so close as you. [Something not allowed, generally, and not even considered by most of the Eldar.] I didn't want to lose our friendship if you noticed and did not feel likewise.

Hm? Do I now? [Yes. Yes he did. But it was not like he was just going to admit to it.]

And I'd be so focused on keeping my entire body from shaking from the strange exitement I'd be feeling. Trying ever so hard to explain it away to myself why I'd feel so flushed and giddy just from a few simple touches to your hair. [He'd only had vauge ideas about what desire and love was back then and had had an embarrassingly hard time connecting the dots. But perhaps part of the problem was that he'd known he should not have such thoughts and feelings for his cousin.]I did not want to make you uncomfortable or... make it wierd, somehow.

You always have. The good news for you is that I find it endearing.

I suppose we are lucky then that my patience grew thin and I asked to kiss you. If it had not we might still be dancing around it, and a hard cock is much more obnoxious in armour than in silk trousers. [If Maedhros hadn't been starved and injured this kind of talk would lead to them finding somewhere off the track to make love. He settles for giving Maedhros a gentle squeeze where he holds him at the waist. Later. There was time for all of that later.]

If you say so. But since you find it endearing perhaps I should start to grumble more.

Very. I would not have had the courage to kiss you first back then. And an inconveniently hard cock in full armour is agony. [There had certainly been a few uncomfortable moments when desire struck at the most inconvenient of times when Fingon looked so very noble and dashing and they'd both been wearing armour.]

Oh, I may be forced to smother you if you do it on purpose. It would be terrible to be widowed, so perhaps you shouldn't.

The younger the bolder, I suppose. I could not stand not knowing any longer. And yes, it is. Though it would be worse if we desired each other and did not even speak of it. We would never get any relief.

Tough I'm sure you'd make a perfectly ravashing widower since I would not be able to be there to appreciate the look I probably should refrain.

And I am forever grateful for that boldness. It may have been a bit of a messy kiss but it was all the sweeter for it. Oh, that would have been absolutely terrible. We'd be forever stuck in perpetual frustration. We'd both go absolutely mad.

Being ravishing and having no one to ravish me would be a terrible combination. My heart would be as cold as my bed so often is.

I wouldn't have cared if you bit me I just wanted you. I wanted to climb you like a tree and never come down even though my notion on what to do after kissing was somewhat vaguer than I found helpful.

We would go mad, yes. We will go mad if we don't get you well again, too.

Exactly, so I better not give you any reason to strangle me. I do like it when you are passionate, but I prefer it when you are passionately amorous not passionately angry. And I'd never wish for your heart to be cold, it should be warm as a hearth fire always.

Instead I kissed you back. Very inexpertly so, but I did not know much about kissing then and even less what came after. That dreams I had that night afterwards were terribly confusing and did not do much to illuminate me on the matter. Just left me very sticky and frustrated when I awoke.

And we don't want that.

I prefer those things also. I am not very good at being angry. It has never suited me. Nor has being lonely and cold.

One cannot be an expert right out of the gate, no matter what our family thinks. I did go and find out more once I knew you would kiss me though. There is a lot of books and poetry and a few elders who were willing to humour my questions.

No. Happiness suits you better and warmth and cheer as well.

No, one cannot no matter what absurd expectations might be put forth. It's good they were willing to give awnsers to one of us. For I doubt they'd have risked my fathers wrath to awnser mine had I known how to ask them.

It suits you as well. It always has.

Mmn well, I had a way of getting people to see my point or bend to my will on little things like that. Not as impressive as a Silmaril and yet considerably more useful. I knew you would be too shy to ask anyone even if your father wasn't your father.

And here I thought my silent brooding made me look dignified and handsome. Clearly I must rethink the look I'm going for.

I would have turned redder than my hair, stammered like I had not yet learned how to speak in complete sentences and then run away. So it was probably for the best you asked the questions, love.

It does add a certain mystique, but that doesn't mean I don't prefer you to be happy.

I just wanted it to be good for both of us, like in the poems. We still fumbled a lot but at least there was less guessing about what to even do.

And I am always happiest with you.

It was. It was... all that I could have ever dreamed of. The fumbling just gave it a certain charm, wouldn't you say?

As am I with you.

It did. We continued to fumble for many years. We still do when we are especially full of emotions, no? When we are so in awe of each other that it is like we never touched instead of were merely parted for some years.

We do rather light up whenever we are together, no?

Aye, we do. And it's just as charming now as it was then. That even after all these centuries we are as awestruck with one another as when we shared our first kiss. I am still in awe of you and how lucky I am that I have your love.

I like to think so.

You will never lose it. No matter what.

So do I. At least I feel like everything becomes much brighter around you.

Then I am truly blessed.

You are seeing your own brightness as well as my own.

We both are. Love is no small thing to get, even when it is troubled like ours. And now I am kidnapping you and meaning to keep you so things should improve tenfold.

Our brightness, then? I like the sound of that, I think, a light all of our own making.

It is the greatest gift I can imagine, even with it's trials and tribulations. Is it still kidnapping if I am a willing accomplice?

Yes. Together we make up our own star.

It will be when you suddenly feel guilty for letting someone else do the work for once and think you should go back, even with Kano handling things.

A brightly shining, brilliant star.

Hmm... true. Kidnap away, then. Kano would be so insulted if I turned up one day in a panic acting as if he does not know what he's doing. [They were all a prideful lot, Kano no less than any other of them. Should he give him the responsibility of managing the Eastern Marches just to show up one day to micromanage it for him he'd throw such a fit.]

He would definitely start playing the songs about you that you most dislike if you upset him so. Assuming he didn't smack you over the head with his harp.

And the screaming matches. Eru, Finno! It'd be a wonder if Himring had any intact windows or glasses afterwards!

Edited 2025-04-04 16:34 (UTC)

I'm sure I'd hear it from Dor-lómin.

No doubt you would. My father did name him accurately when he named him Kanafinwë.

True. But I think your father was mostly trying to find any way to shove grandfathers name into his children’s.

Yes... for someone that had so much ingenuity in him he was truly unoriginal when it came to our names. [He was... not that much of a fan of his own father-name. It was truly the most boring and pompous one of them all.] But then I know it was not a lack of creativity that drove him. He just wanted to make some point about how much more legitimate we supposedly were.

Whereas I am mostly named for my magnificent hair. [He laughs softly. His name also somewhat reflected his grandfathers but it was nowhere near as look at me, I am related to Finwë as his cousins father names.] I wondered sometimes if he resented that mine and father's name resemble Grandfather's more, even if they are not as close as some other names in the family.

It is very magnificent hair, love. [He grins.] It was a thing that no doubt rubbed him the wrong way. He's... never been much good sharing grandfather with anyone he does not approve of personaly.

The only person he approved of personally was your mother and sometimes Grandfather. And himself, of course.

I never claimed the list was a lengthy one.

Honestly, I am ever in awe of the fact he managed to wed. She must have smacked him upside the head to get his attention.

If we were to ask my mother it would not surprise me if she were to tell us she did.

I did used to ask her sometimes what she saw in him. I was small and confused as to how such a lovely woman was married to such a cruel beast [For Fëanor had never spared a kindness for Fingon, not even when he was a baby, and it had bothered the young prince a lot.] She used to smile and laugh softly and tell me something mild about his talents or how much he loved her and distract me with a pastry. I stopped asking when I was older, but perhaps I shouldn't have.

He was different when I was very young. Not... not without his rough edges but he tried. [Before they'd taken him to court the first time and he'd finaly met the other parts of his family.] I think she probably stayed longer than she should have for the memory of the man he used to be when he did not give so much of himself to nurse old hurts and grievances.

He was different even when I was young, so long as he didn't know I was there.

I think she stayed for her children. He would have never allowed you all to go with her if she went elsewhere.

He did. It was very confusing for me in the beginning before I started to understand why his mood shifted as drasticaly as it did.

That as well. No, he would not. She begged him to leave the twins behind, or Telvo at least if he could not find it in his heart to leave her both her youngest, and yet his heart would not be moved on that point.

He hated us all for his mother's choices. [It could be argued it was grandfathers choice, but he was not the one who went away.] Hated himself for it sometimes, too, I think.

No he wanted all of his might with him and all of you were a part of that. Not that it helped him in the end.

He did. He did both of those things just so he could avoid laying any of the blame at either grandmother or grandfathers feet. [Maedhros had always seen it as them both making a choice. It was not choices he could find it in himself to blame either of them for, but they were choices nonetheless and his father had been hurt by them. But his hurt was no excuse for how he'd chosen to handle it.]

That was part of it, yes. But also... he was loath to lose any other part of himself. And he very much did have a tendency to see us as an extension of himself at times, especially at the end.

He did love you all though, as much as he knew how to.

I would argue that it was more than a mere tendency. He very much thought of you all as a part of him above anything else.

I know. Even though it is hard to believe it at times.

I'm not sure he knew how to see the people he cared about in any other way.

The terribly unfortunate thing for him is that I think if he could have pulled his head out of his backside he would have loved father and me as well, and he did so love being loved.

But alas, instead of bonding with us he gave me free time to steal his eldest away into the forest.

Edited 2025-04-04 23:43 (UTC)

That is what I've always thought as well. His mother was never going to return... but he could have found some comfort in his siblings.He could have loved you all and I think he would have been happier for it, especially if he'd gotten a group of dedicated admirers out of it.

Oh yes, very sad that. [Maedhros says with mock seriousness.] All those hours I could have spent in the forge if only my coniving cousin had not tempted me away.

I admit that if he hadn't hated me so I probably just would have flirted with you in the forge when none of them were looking.

Now there's a fount of lost potential right there! What mischief we could have gotten into there. Probably for the best we didn't, though, it's not exactly the safest place to have your mind on anything but the forge.

I would have kept you away from swords and the flames. I am very mindful of how my love is treated.

My love is very gentle and careful with me, aye. Some of the places set aside for finer works would have probably been safe enough for two lovestruck rascals up to no good.

Besides, I only needed to get my hand or my mouth to your cock. We need not take off all protection.

True. If there is a will there's a way, as they say, I'm sure we'd have figured something out.

You know, I do happen to own several forges now that I am king. Perhaps when you are well we could empty one for the day and see what comes to mind.

Oho! You don't say? Now how could I ever say no to that?

We will throw the smiths a feast and barely attend before leaving to deal with our own affairs, hmm? It could be fun. The adolescence we never got to entirely have.

It would be absolutely fantastic! The smiths get to celebrate and feast as they well deserve to and you and me? We get to sneak around to canoodle in places we have no buisness doing so in like a couple of lovestruck youths. I'd say that's a win for everyone~

It is, and a feast is a morale boost for almost everyone. My morale would certainly be boosted by sneaking around with you.

Very true. I can't imagine a better way to boost my own morale than to sneak around with you.

It is fun to pretend like we are not yet even a full century old, just flirting and messing around. Though that was an entire lifetime ago.

Fun and exciting. Our youth may be long gone by now but our desire to sneak about and get up to no good together has yet to fade away. In truth I think it never will.

You can take the elf out of Aman but you can never fully take Aman out of the elf. Even old Thingol who barely stayed there was forever changed. It makes sense that some of our youthful desires remain.

Makes sense that it would fill us with more than just it's light. And just like that light those desires stick with us long after we've left those blessed shores.

And we always were quite wilful, even for elves. Even for Noldor.

Just so. It would have been hard to sneak around under my fathers nose if we hadn't both been quite wilful and stubborn.

And your father always worried you weren't enough like him. [He teases. If they hadn't both been a bit like him–stubborn as an ox–they would not have gotten up to half the mischief that they had.]

We should be home in a day and then you can recover and we can both shrug off a few centuries, if only for days at a time.

Only because he was more concerned with the fact my opinions differed from his. Had he looked at it a bit more objectively he'd have seen the reason we clashed so often was that I was terribly alike him in a lot of ways. [He says with a smirk. Willful and sure in his own convictions no matter what anyone else may say. He was very much his fathers son in those ways, he just chose to turn those parts of himself towards more productive pursuits. Like canoodling with a certain cousin of his.]

Mmm. I like the sound of that. Even if only for a few days here and there that's more than we've had in a long time.

I think if he started relating to anyone on anything other than smithing he felt compelled to leave before he found out the rest of us weren't so far removed from him. [And it's not like Fingon wants to be like his uncle.]

It is. But we do deserve some rest, no matter what story your mind has spun about worth.

That would have certainly hurt his ego to have to acknowledge. [His father had admirable qualities, he just had a bad habit of turning them to less admirable ends when his half-brothers were anywhere near him. Which to Fëanor meant inhabiting the same continent as him most of the time, unfortunately.]

Rest, yes. That does sound nice... [And though he feels guilty for it he can't help the small voice inside of himself agreeing with Fingon. Just for a little while, it should be fine for him to rest a little while. Right?]

Sometimes the weather hurt his ego to acknowledge. He was a very singular elf.

It is more than nice, it is needed. For both of us. I may look prettier and more well rested but that doesn't mean I am. [He teases gently.]

I could be a good son and defend him against that accusation, but... the thought of him shaking his fist at the sky in dismay is just too funny to me to deny it.

You are always pretty. Even when you look like you have not rested in weeks. [He teases back.]

Imagine if it dared to rain on a day he wanted to show off or work outside.

I must stay pretty for my husband, he might come home from the war and forget why it is that he loved me so.

He'd be cursing Manwë for not sending him favorable winds to chase the clouds away.

Impossible! I would have a greater chance of forgetting my own name than that! [He laughs.]

He would. And every other Ainur he deemed vaguely responsible. And also father, inexplicably.

Mmmn you never know. Though I think you would always answer to me calling for my Maitimo, even if you forgot it was your name.

Oh, especially your father. There isn't a problem he'd run across that he couldn't, somehow, trace back to uncle if he tried hard enough.

I do know. I would if it came from your lips. I'd feel it in my heart it was me you called for.

His insistence that his siblings–father in particular–were the cause of all his woes unintentionally gives them much more power than I'm sure he meant to.

I would let my fëa reach for you even in the depths of that mined out hell. We would find out understanding again.

He'd have hated to hear anyone putting it like that but it's true. Whether anyone else followed his lead or not he gave them both a whole lot of power over him since he spent so much of his time preoccupied with thoughts of them and whatever devious plans they may have to usurp him.

We would. All I'd need to do is look into your eyes and I'd find the most important parts of myself again.

I do not think he loved our aunts any better than father and uncle Finarfin, though his ire was lessened because he somehow saw them as less of a threat. [To his right to be king, if nothing else. Not hat anyone had expected grandfather to ever die and Fëanor to actually take up his mantle.]

You sang for me when I played even though you had little will or song left in you. You always find yourself for me.

I think he spent less time hating them simply because there was more distance between them most of the time. Findis was so often away to Valimar and Ingwë's court that it was easy for him to pretend she did not exist. And Lalwen... well, I don't think he took her seriously at all. He was always very dismissive when he spoke of her, when he spoke of her at all. [The whole thing was so incredibly stupid. No one back then had expected grandfather to die, and even if he'd somehow grown bored of ruling and passed the crown to one of his sons Maedhros thinks his father would not have enjoyed being king for long. As he did not enjoy anything that kept him away from the forges for any great lengths of time.]

It felt like waking up from a long and terrible sleep when I first heard you there. Had it been anyone else I likely would have believed them a figment of my imagination and kept silent. But... I knew you. I knew you were real and so I sang, even though I'd long believed I'd never have the strength in me to do so again.

They visited us often, or we visited them. Father could never imagine giving up a single one of his siblings. [Unfortunately, in the case of Fëanor.] I think sometimes that is why he and mama made sure there were at least the four of us. So we always had someone. [The night is dark and Fingon feels smaller than he sounds when he mentions his siblings, for it had not gone well for them over here. There was Turgon still, of course, but tragedy after tragedy befell the others and he had been able to do nothing about it. No more than he had been able to save his father from his desire to duel Morgoth.]

Despite everything I was sure you would have done the same for me were our positions reversed. Even if it was just to slay you and spare you more misery, I could not leave without finding you.

I wish I could have done the same... but father wasn't all that keen on letting any of us visit Vanyar lands. [Which had been a shame. He liked his aunts, and he was pretty sure they'd liked him as well.] It can't have been easy for her to see your father's disappointment whenever my father would rebuff his attempts at building a familial connection with him. [Maedhros leans back against Fingon and places a hand upon one of his arms, rubbing gently at it with his thumb. He does not need to probe at their bond to know where his thoughts have turned.]

I would have. I would not have been able to keep myself from going to you knowing you were there. I was happy to see you, it was the first time in a long while I'd felt even a spark of joy. To see you again, even though I fully believed it would be for the last time, made me feel joy even despite the pain and despair that had become my constant companions.

If we ever make it back there I will take you. The city is half made of gold, it is beautiful. Though perhaps lessened without the trees. [Wasn't everything lesser without the trees?] You would be welcomed still. I would see to it.

Mama did worry about him a lot, yes. I did my best to act unbothered by the many rebuffs I received on account of being my fathers son but I know that worried her too. [Fingon allows himself to sink just a bit against Maedhros. Not enough to burden the weakened elf, but enough to feel closer despite the smooth planes of his armour keeping them from touching more.]

I was close to trying the iron gate. I am glad I played first. I do not think even I am clever enough to slip by unnoticed by the black hearts that guard that place. We are lucky Thorondor favoured us for I could not reach you alone. I will never be able to repay him. [Or Manwë, whose will he was no doubt enacting.]

I'd like that. I always did want to see it, it sounded like such an incredible sight whenever somebody described it. [Of course it would not be the same without the trees, but seeing it at all would be more than enough for him.] I would make recompense if they asked me to.

Father could be terribly cruel with his words, a thing my brothers unfortunately decided to emulate. She was not wrong to worry about either of you. I worried about both of you whenever they were treating you like that. I don't think anyone could be truly unbothered by such treatment. [It is no burden to have Fingon lean against him, weakened state or no. Closeness to him has only ever been a comfort.]

I'm glad as well. I'd have been much less joyfull had you been nailed to that cliff right next to me. Thorondor are owed many thanks, I feel, for the kindness he's done for us. [And though he still have a lot of anger for the Valar he'd thank Manwë as well for it.]

They would welcome you. [He repeats, soft and sure of himself in a way he never was about things this side of the sea. The Vanyar were not the Noldor, they did not cling so strongly to grudges. The Teleri may even have forgiven them by the time they make it back, though to them they did owe much recompense.] I will ask grandmother to take us. She has always loved you, too, though you are not her blood.

I knew from the day I met them that this was how things were to be so I did my best to let it roll off my back. And you all did not hate me so it was not so bad.

Maybe they would have let me hang in a way I could play my harp. [He muses, snorting softly in quiet amusement.] I do wish we saw the eagles more often but I believe they mostly keep Turu company these days.

Grandmother... it would be good to see her again as well. [He'd been quite close to her when he was very young, much to his fathers chagrin. He'd been terribly upset when he could no longer see her quite as often.] I loved her too. I never knew Míriel, I'm sure I would have loved her had I known her but she was a stranger to me, but Indis was the only grandmother I knew. Blood or not that is simply the truth of it.

It was not right how they acted. Father should have set a better example for them despite his own feelings on the matter. It was not kind to you nor was it kind to my brothers to let them grow up believing such behaviour was correct.

[Maedhros let's out a soft huff of laughter.] And let us interupt their gloom and doom by singing pretty songs at them? I think not. It would be nice to be able to say thank you when I'm not delerious from bloodloss.

Edited 2025-04-15 08:51 (UTC)

She loved him as well, though that seemed to only anger him further. There was no winning move to play there. Míriel became a shadow under which we all dwelt, though she probably didn't mean to.

My good uncle hated me most of all. Your brothers were at least sometimes amused with me, though rarely kind or good. I was as dirt upon their slippered princely feet.

Oh I would still sing at them, unless they cut out my tongue then I would have to work out how to turn a mountain into a drum. But perhaps the eagles will visit again. Sadly I cannot take you to Turu. Even I do not know the way.

Which is sad. I actually learnt more about Míriel from Indis than I did from anyone else. They were friends, the way she tells it, and from what she's said of her I don't think Míriel would have been glad that my father used her memory in such a way. She liekly would have wanted us all to find comfort with eachother if she was anything like Indis said.

He did. It hurt that he did so despite knowing I was quite fond of you. Not that he knew to what extent I held you dear, but the fact that I held you dear at all should have softened his heart for my sake if nothing else. The same with my brothers. Even if they could not bring themselves to be civil for your sake they should have at least had the curtesy to be so on my behalf.

You would, wouldn't you? [He smiles fondly despite knowing full well cutting out the tounges of their prisoners were quite a common practice there.] If they do I'll have to thank them properly. Perhaps even gift them something nice as thanks. Though I am unsure what they'd enjoy when it comes to gifts.

Yes, she and grandfather both have spoken about Míriel to all of us. She is not forgotten. I doubt any elf would want to be wielded like a weapon in the way she has been. It is no ones fault she felt exhausted. In some ways I think she was wiser than us all.

I am too much my father's son for him to ever have love of me, even if he wanted to soften for your sake. He could not stand how much I looked like him... though we all looked like each other if I may say so. Kano at least liked me. Possibly because I always fond of playing music, yet not better than him. Not quite.

If I must be captive I will be as annoying as possible. If nothing else, it passes the time. [His tongue hardly seemed like the worst thing they could cut off, anyway. And with luck he might bleed to death.]

Though they have not hands they admire our crafts. We could work out a gift worthy of such mighty beings. Something for them to keep in their eyries.

It must have hurt her. I know it would hurt me to have my choices and agency so disregarded as to be reduced to nothing but a victim who's circumstances can be used to bludgeoun others over the head with. What happened to her was no ones fault and what could she do but what she did? Would it have been fair to make her live when she would have spent the rest of eternity half faded?

While I would have liked for him to love you I would have settled for him to simply be civil, if that was all he could muster for my sake. Kano had more of our mother in him than our father, I think. Father was just too dominating of a precense for poor Kano to be able to stand up against him. I think he quite liked all of you, even if he could not always show it.

Honestly I think that mentality was half the reason they put me where they did in the end. It... annoyed them a great deal that they could not make me into a compliant thrall. [He'd never stopped hissing and spitting insults at them. Not even when he knew it would bring him nothing but pain.]

Something nice and shiny to wear on their ankles, perhaps? Or maybe a beautifully cut gem to keep in their nest to shine beautifully when the sun strikes it just right?

I imagine she has been spared it all in her slumber. It would be nice if one of us was truly at rest. It is never fair to make someone live when they cannot bear it. [Which is what had loosed Fingon's arrow against all of his wishes when he found Maedhros but could not reach him all of those long years ago.]

Civil seems more difficult for him than having a change of heart and loving me. He held strong emotions only. But yes, Kano was most like your mother. At least before all of this mess. Sometimes I see in him the shadow of your father now, though he still greets me with a smile and plays with me.

You are quite the firebrand. Which I would think would be their type, but perhaps Fëanorean fire is too much for even Ainur. [He doesn't say that Sauron might find him too akin, because that's not quite it, but the thought does cross his mind.]

Perhaps nothing that resembles a shackle. But they might like a gem. I have many great ones I would gladly give.

I hope she has. She deserves to rest and then at least someone in this family would not have to deal with all this ridicilousness. I would not wish her to live life that brings her naught but pain, even if it means I'll never truly know her. [Maedhros will always love him for that kindness, even though he knows it was a kindness that tore at his heart, for he knows that even if one of his brothers had come for him they'd not have been able to do that. They loved him well, he knew, but their love could be very selfish in many ways. They'd not be able to let him depart from their lives even if it meant leaving him in pain.]

You might just be right about that. He'd see it as censoring himself to force himself to be pleasant. Kano... it is guilt that makes him so. Guilt over our father and guilt over leaving me. Now he thinks he needs to prove himself. Forgetting entirely that it was I that ordered him not to come after me and that no one could have stopped our father from rushing headlong to his own death.

Oh? Am I now? [He smirks.] One would think so, but perhaps they enjoy the idea of one more than the reality of being faced with a feral Fëanorean spitting venom at them with every breath he takes.

Yes, probably not that. Something to adorn their claws would probably be better when it comes to jewelry. A gem though would probably be best. A treasure to adorn their home.

There may come a time when she is rested enough. Of course she may wake up, hear of her son and decide another fifty century nap is the way to go. I know I would. [Sometimes just having him as an uncle made Fingon want to take a fifty century nap. And the man wasn't even here any more.]

Plus, someone would have to tell him what the word pleasant means. I'm not sure that he knows. [As for Kano... well. Uncharitably, Fingon thought that Kano or any of the others should have tried to save their brother regardless of his wishes. Fingon had certainly known that Maedhros would not want him to come looking in that foul place and yet all the Mearas that existed east of the sea could not have held him back from trying.] Kano will forgive himself someday. I often distract him by pretending I think I have gotten better than him.

You do bite a lot. I have had several bruises to prove that. And the filth that comes out of your mouth sometimes...! [Is it wrong to joke about that when Fingon had just rescued him from slavery that didn't seem to be based on hard labour? Possibly, but their humour was often dark when they were alone. Their hells and trials differed but they both knew suffering and sometimes poked at it in ways they found amusing.]

Mmmmn... I do not know that I could ask him to come for a talon fitting without him considering that I have lost my kingly mind. Perhaps a netting of jewels which they can use in their nests or throw on their backs? They could even hunt with it, if they found that sporting enough. [Silmarils aside, elves had many jewels they were happy to share. The shores of Aman had been lined with them and Fingon found no shortage in Ennor, though their acquisition required more forethought.]

Edited 2025-04-15 19:15 (UTC)

You are not the only one. There were times in Valinor when he was acting especially viscious I wondered if it may not do me some good to go lay down next to her in Lórien and consign myself to the Hall's as well. [But then he thought better about it because that would certainly lead to his father burning the entire place down in a fit of rage.]

You know what? I think that may actually be a very real possibility. [Maedhros would not have thanked his brother for disregarding his order like that. Not least of all because he did not think any of his brothers could have succeeded as Fingon had, he did not even believe they would have been able to give him the mercy of an arrow.] I hope so. I did not mean to hurt him when I ordered him to stay, but even so I'd do it all over again if I had to.

I can't help it you are too delicious for me to keep from nibbling at you. [No. No, it's not wrong. Maedhros had long since learned he could laugh or cry about the terrible things life threw at him, and he was far too spiteful to give any of his tormentors his tears if he could help it. Making it into something he could laugh at felt better.] You love the filth that comes out of my mouth, don't you dare deny it!

Oh! Now that is an idea! [Their people had always delighted in making such gifts. Beauty, after all, were meant to be shared.]

It turned out to be he that we should have insisted on having a naptime. I would have been lost without you, though. I am not grandfather, I do not think I could find a second love.

He does live in quiet fear that I might actually be better than him some day so it keeps him on his toes. I certainly enjoy the spike of panic in his eyes when I play something that surprises him. [For his part, Fingon would never think he was actually better than Kano but that didn't mean he wasn't ever improving and holding back things to surprise his cousin. For him it was all in good fun. For the Fëanoreans? Well, it depended on the day and the cousin in question how amusing they found his talents. Kano mostly enjoyed it. Mostly.]

Mmmn I am all out of bruises of late. Perhaps you will find I am not as delicious as I once was? We will have to see. I will admit I do love your filthy mouth. For several reasons. [Playfully, but ever mindful to be gentle he nips at Maedhros's earlobe. He's still dirty, and therefore not very tasty himself but Fingon does not mind. Anything to play with his husband and raise his spirits.]

It would keep the smiths busy. They grumble so whenever I want yet more armour or swords. It would be a treat for all involved.

Seeing how he acted like a recalcitrant toddler it might have benefited him to have a nap whenever he started to act up. And I would have missed you too much to stay in the Hall's. I'd miss you too much to find much rest.

He needs to be kept on his toes lest he grow complacent. He'd never strive to improve if he thought he was completely secure in his superiority... and he'd be truly insufferable to deal with then. [They all had a prideful streak in them, his brothers as well as himself.]

Impossible! I bet you've only grown more delectable since last time I had a taste of you. [He leans back against Fingon with a sigh, enjoying the feeling despite the fact that he knows he likely taste like muck and grime right now.] I'll be sure to put my filthy mouth to good use when I have recovered some.

To make something so fine and unique would be a treat for them. Swords and armour is all good and well, but when that's all they are doing I can imagine they could grow a bit bored with it.

I'm sure your mother must have tried it. [Fingon says, kissing the tip of Maedhros's ear. He is not so sure his cousin will come forth from the halls once he finds them but for his own sake he likes to pretend, so he hums softly.] Good. We shall stay together forever, then.

That is true. And Daeron is. Well. I don't think anyone knows where anymore, assuming he has evaded capture upon leaving Doriath. Last my men saw of him he was fleeing east, beyond the mountains. So I will have to do for competition.

I'm sure you'll be trying to put it to good use well before the healers approve. You do get amorous when I dote on you. When you are not too busy being grumpy about it, I mean.

It would. The only one who enjoys making the armour all the time is my head smith, I believe he's convinced he can make something that will prevent me being smote upon the mountain or field by the great evils of the world. I think he's rather optimistic. [In a better world Fingon could have asked his cousins for help with his armour. They were better than his best smith... but it was not a better world, and his own men would have to do. And they did. For the most part.]

No doubt she must have. [Maedhros is not so sure he would either. It's not that he wants to stay confined in them forever, but... there is a wound inside of him, a wound in his spirit that despite his best effort he's never quite been able to close. It bleeds, always it bleeds, leaking all his strength and will through that gaping hole in it. Once he's dead he's not sure he'll have any strength left in him anymore.] Forever. I do like the sound of that.

I could never quite figure out if they hated or admired one another, those two. But there certainly was something going on there. I do believe Kano misses their musical rivalry, though.

You know me so well, love. [He says with a smirk.] I can't help myself. You always manage to say and do the right things to get me all hot and bothered up when you are doting on me. I mostly just turn grumpy when I know I can't act on it, or at least when I believe I should not.

I like his optimism, and his ambitions, in that and wholeheartedly support his efforts. [He'd reckomend his nephew if Fingon wished for any of his relatives to make him anything. He did not trust Curvo to not tamper with anything he'd make for Fingon, not right now at least. Tyelpe was a good lad, though, and too kindhearted to do anything to cause anyone harm. Armour, though, was not his field of expertise.]

You have promised me a fine house in the forests far from home. Where we can grow our own flowers and an orchard and bathe in the stream and kiss whenever we like.

I think it was both. If Daeron hadn't been so obsessed with Lúthien, it might even have been love and then we would have never known another moment of silence and they both could have looked down upon my playing.

Plus the massages. Sometimes you need them to help you heal and I am a very caring cousin. And you can be quite sullen when you know you should not.

I mean I, too, would like my heroic demise to not be for another ten thousand years so I like him as well. [It was just with how things were it did seem a mite foolish to think armour could help that much. With orcs and men, yes, but orcs and men were not the evils that troubled the Kings of the Noldor. Not one had yet been felled by an enemy they could hope to slay.]

I'll have to show you some of the schematics I've drawn up for that house some day. It is something I like to do whenever I find myself with idle time on my hand. But I can't decide which one I'd most like to build for you.

They would have made a fine, if very annoying, couple.

You have magical hands, my love. And my shoulders and back so often yearn for their attention, which in turn leads to more ardent yearnings on my own part when they get their wish. [He chuckles.] Sullen as a child denied a favorite treat.

I'd like it better if it never came at all. So whenever he asks me for materials he'd like I'm always happy to comply. [There is little enough to protect against dragon fire or a balrogs whip, though. Little enough to protect against Morgoth himself, as well.]

I would like that, even if we can't really decide until we have land we can claim for our own. [For as much land as they had here, they could not go running away to little cottages and expect peace.]

They would have. I cannot say I would complain too much about the best bards in all the lands playing for us far too often.

I can give you all the attention you want and some well before you can give it to me. I will just have to torment you with my love and good hands. What a terrible fate for you.

As would I, but war is war. [And Fingon is acutely aware that Maedhros is the only Noldo King who has yet to fall with the crown on his head, and only because he cast it off as soon as he could.] He will love you. He will bend your ear about his ideas every chance he gets. There are some interesting alloys they have come up with that are sturdier than what we use now, though if they are practical to wear I do not know.

I'd like to hear which style you'd like most from what I've come up with. [As well as Fingon's own ideas for how he'd like their dream home to look like.]

The pretty singing and excpert music making is a perk. It's their gigantic egos feeding into one another that would be a nightmare to deal with.

Hmm? Now how could I ever say no to that? [A grin that would not be out of place on a cat that'd just devoured a cannary spreads across his face.] Oh, yes. A truly lamentable fate. How shall I ever recover from such cruelty?

And war is above all things unfair. [Sometimes he wonders if the Doomsman made a mistake and accidentaly cursed the crown rather than the Noldor people. It did seem to bring with it a great deal of misfortune.] Since he is so devoted to keeping you protected and well armoured I'd happily let him yap my ears off if he so wished. And I'm always happy to hear about new inovations no matter the craft.

No doubt we could come up with a dozen iterations from what you have already thought up. Though in truth I mostly long for the garden. The plants here are... not quite the same.

You speak as if I am not used to handling massively oversized egos, my love.

Mmmmn... from experience you will enjoy yourself then whine and fuss when you realise I am not letting you touch me in return. It drives you mad.

It is. It is very unfair, in every way. I will make sure to get him to bother you when I have to actually go be the King. You will need time to recuperate and my office will not wait for me for that long. You may even end up helping each other. He was also my father's head smith so he feels guilty, I think, though it is largely Father's own doing.

I'm sure we could, and I'd love to do that with you. Ah, yes. A garden all our own. I miss the flowers back home. The ones here are... nice, beutiful even in their own way, but they are not the same.

I know you are. I am too, I just do not always enjoy the experience.

There will be much whining and fussing, I can promise you, I enjoy touching you as much as I enjoy you touching me and do not like for either thing to be off the table. No matter if it's for my own good or not.

Do so. I am the lord of my house and none of my brothers can really do much of anything if I wish to share our resources. They can whine, but that's about it. [And he's used to their whining by now.] I'd grow bored if I had nothing to do but recuperate, as well, so helping your smith will likely keep me from climbing the walls in frustration. [He had a tendency to be a very bad patient whenever he was put on bedrest.] There is little he could have done to shield your father against Morgoth, but I know guilt often has very little to do with the reality of a situation.

We will start to day dream about the seven thousand different ways the kitchen might be laid out and then get distracted by thinking about how to make the garden path and what we should cultivate where. It would be lovely. And we could bring the best of the flowers from here, too. That way we have parts of our whole life.

The trouble is, my love, if I give you my cock in any way you are sure to move too much and hurt yourself. So alas, it will have to suffer only the pleasure of my own hands.

You can help him design my next set of armour then. He both wishes to make it somehow rebuff Morgoth himself and look stunning at the same time. [He sighs softly.] At least I will be pretty.

I like the thought of that. A little piece of Beleriand to remind us that not all of it was dark and terrible.

That is undoubtedly true, love, but it does not mean I have to like the fact I'll have to wait for that particular pleasure. I'll just have to make up for it with gusto once I've finaly regained my strength, then.

I would like that very much. Both noble and admirable goals, especially the one about rebuffing Morgoth. You always look pretty, Finno, but if I had my way you'd look pretty far, far away from anywhere Morgoth can lay his eyes on you.

Much of it has not been dark and terrible. Most of it, even. It is just that the terrible is so terrible...

Mmn. All I hear is you promising to ravish me. Perhaps even somewhere dangerous and unbecoming of two kings. [He grins so broadly it warms his voice and can be felt where he rests against his cousin.] Truly, a terrible consequence of my own actions.

The trouble is that he will not succeed against Morgoth, no matter what. Though I do not foresee ever meeting him myself his corrupted maiar are just as bad or worse for a mere elf to face. [Morgoth might at least kill him quickly. Sauron surely would not and he did not want to burn, either. The balrogs sent a great dread into the pit of his stomach even though he would face them when the time came and not cower, he was sure of it.] Kings do not get much choice but to face the enemy, whichever enemy it may be.

Which unfortunately tend to drown out the better parts of it.

Terrible, terrible consequenses to be sure. [He says as he casts a sly smile over his shoulder.] No doubt I'll end up ravishing you in a most indiscreet location, one where we'll both have to do our level best to keep from making too much noise lest we want the entire court to bear witness to our passion.

No. Unfortunately he will not. [Having had the misfortune of being face to face with their dark foe Maedhros knew that better than most.] An elf can dream, though. [If it ever looked like Fingon was about to end up at the hands of Sauron Maedhros would kill him himself, even though doing so would likely make his spirit flee his body in despair the moment the blow fell. Maedhros would not let his love suffer what that fiend would likely put him through if he ever got the chance.] No, they are unfortunately not afforded that luxury.

It is easier to forget a hundred blissful years than one very terrible one, yes. Especially when one grew up only knowing bliss.

I will have to keep you to your word. Make you want me so much that you cannot resist no matter how hot it makes your cheeks burn. And if nothing else we have my private garden to use as we will. It is ours alone.

An elf must dream or go mad, I think. [He also liked to sometimes think that just maybe they could slay a valar and come out the other end alive and no more wounded than they are now. It won't happen. But he can wish and dream and hope.]

It is the mind and body trying to ward against experiensing such pain again, I think. A reminder to keep away from whatever caused it. Bliss does not quite warrant the same visceral reaction.

You are an expert in stoking the flames of my passion, Finno, I don't doubt you'll manage to hold me to that promise. And we'll no doubt dally about in your private gardens no matter what. They are so very lovely and inviting, after all.

Yes, I think so too. [Without dreams of hopefully seeing a happy ending to all this they'd have likely laid down die a long time ago. He knows a happy ending is unlikely to be in his future, but he could dream and wish for one nevertheless.]

I do not think it wards against much. It is so tiring that one might throw themself at the iron gates just to get it over with.

I grow them while I think of you. I pick flowers you will like and fruits you love and when I cannot be by your side I go there and read to the trees, wishing you could hear me from so many miles away.

I never said it was a particularly sucesfull attempt. It is certainly a thing that tends to create more problems than it solves.

Even so far away I sometimes catch bits and pieces of your thoughts and feelings. It always serve to make my day much brighter for the feel of your prescence.

We will make our own bliss and cling to it as long as we can. The nature of memory be damned. We deserve happiness.

Have you ever gotten the how could he abandon me to so much bureaucracy thought? It is for both you and father, but the halls are a bit of a stretch for Osanwë.

Aye, we will. Deserved or not I find I... want to be happy, if even just for a time. And more than anything I want it for you as well.

Oh, on many occassions. I can't say I do not deserve the chastaisment either. I'll have to make up for it now that I have decided I should dwell in your lands instead. Wheher it is by enduring all that bureaucracy with you or to give you something else to think of when the day is done.

All beings deserve peace and happiness. Even those of us who have strayed.

Mmn I could make you do my paper work and still make love to you on my desk. What a delightful day that would be for me.

It is a hard thing to believe at times...

You come up with the most deliciously wicked ideas, love. I wonder if I'd manage to keep my hand steady or if I'd have to redo it over and over again whilst shaking from the effort to keep from writhing in pleasure.

You would end up covered in ink and smearing it all over me as well. You cannot resist reaching for me when I touch you.

It would be well worth it, though, I think. Of all the ways of marking you that I can think of I must admit ink has never before crossed my mind... but you somehow make it sound so very tempting.

What other ways have you considered? I want a very detailed list. It sounds crucial to know.

[And a more cheerful way to pass the hours than talking of war or whatever had gone on in that house. There would be time for questions later when they were safe at home.]

Oh, there's the usual ways of course. Biting and the bruies that come about when passion and pleasure makes you tighten your grip just so. I've also played with the thought of bedecking you in jewels and finery in styles that would make quite a statement, but then my mind always wanders to how beautiful you'd look wearing nothing but that.

[A much more pleasant topic of conversation. No doubt he'll tell Fingon what had happened in that house later on, and they would both undoubtedly weep and cling to eachother in comfort when that moment came, but for now he wanted to feel as if all was well. He wanted to be happy for a while.]

[

I would wear only jewels for you. What did you imagine they would look like? Are there any pieces you think would most suit me? Something to claim me as yours?

In my mind you are always wearing a perfect blend of red and blue gemstones, expertly cut to display the symbol of both our houses. Joined together in a show of unity. There is always also a lot of very fine gold bands and necklaces that hides naught at all but only serve to draw the eye to all your fine features.

Armour made of unity and thin gold chains and gems. With all of me on display for you. Would these jewels go all the way down to my cock? Or perhaps my backside? Perhaps your red should bejewel those so it is known to whom my body belongs.

Why of course they would. I wish to stake my claim so that none may miss it, after all.

You had better make these golden chains strong enough to withstand you when you grab me by them, because I know you will.

I'm sure I can manage to make them sturdy and fine at the same time.

[Because he will not deny that is exactly what he would end up doing, he wouldn't be able to resist.]

You will have to or we will spend as much time repairing it as we do letting you admire me while I wear it.

Which would be a terrible shame since I do so enjoy admiring you.

I am happy to be your canvas, your art to gaze upon. Especially if you're inclined to touch said art.

A finer one I could not ask for. And I'm always inclined to touch this particular piece of art, indeed I find it hard to keep my hand to myself when I gaze upon you.

Don't keep your hand to yourself. At least, not when you don't have to. Your touch is a balm against the evils of the world and I always long for it.

I won't, not unless I have to. I like touching you to much for me to do that.

I am going to be close to you so much when we are home that you will wonder that I have not yet glued myself to you. [They were close like this, too, with Maedhros held securely on his horse by Fingon who rests his head against his shoulder, mindful to not catch him with his helm or armour. His fingers that are not directing the horse idly stroke Maedhros's arm still, tenderly touching where his wrist abruptly stops.]

I would not mind if you did. [He thinks he'd find it to be quite a comfort to be so close to him. He smiles at the touch, it brings him some much needed comfort after this whole ordeal.]

You must tell me if you need a break on the ride home. The horse may not tire quicker than you for once and I will be upset to exhaust you before you're well enough for it to be for any fun reason.

I will. I don't think I have it in me to be my usual stoic self and pretend I have no limits. I'll let you know when I start to tire.

Good. [He was satisfied that Maedhros actually would tell him for once. Mostly because Maedhros no doubt knew how upset with himself Fingon would be if they ended up slumping off of the horse or something equally as awful.

Fingon settles in, alert to their surrounds but unconcerned. A few of his guard catch up and ride not close to him (out of respect for whatever privacy they may wish to have, or pretend they have) but keeping watch for orcs or fell men or simply wolves while their King's mind was on his cousin.

They will ride like this, occasionally chatting but more resting together as his horse gracefully picks his way back towards home until Maedhros is tired.]

[He does know how upset Fingon would be should that happen and he has no wish to distress him further than this entire situation already has, so he'll be more responsible with his own health than he usualy is this time.

And for once he'll leave it to others to keep watch for danger. Prefering to simply lean back against Fingon to draw both strength and comfort from his steady prescence.

They go on like that for an hour or two before exhaustion starts to set in. Making Maedhros feel tired to his very bones and far too keenly aware of the dull ache of his injuries.] Finno... [He mumbles. Tired enough that he feels he's at risk of simply blacking out.] I... I think I need to rest for a while. I don't think I can keep myself upright much longer.

[As time goes on more and more of his soldiers return to their group carefully riding with the rescued, though the trail extends far behind them with only Fingon, Maedhros and Fingon's personal guard at the head.

He watches for signs of tiredness and is glad when Maedhros actually speaks up, right as worry is beginning to gnaw in Fingon's belly. Dawn was cresting over the horizon as he stopped his horse, the rest of the company stopping too.] Then we shall rest for a few hours. [He says privately for Maedhros before speaking to his men.]

Set up camp here for the day. We will rest and eat. Make sure there are enough blankets, send riders to the rest of the company if you run short.

[There is no hesitation in his men. They start talking to each other, cleaning out the meadow in which they have stopped, setting up fires and bed rolls and a tent for Fingon and Maedhros. It was only small, but Fingon thought it would bring comfort to his love to not be watched while he rested.

Getting off his horse, Fingon keeps his hands on Maedhros and then helps lift him off, scooping him up like he weighed less than a child and sitting by the freshly made fire while the tent is fully arranged.]

Could you eat? I have bread if nothing richer can be managed. There are more coming to help with the other rescues so there is no shortage of supplies. Do not hesitate to make use of them.

[He had promised he would and he'd rather not end this night falling face down on the ground because he was being unreasonably stubborn to the point of passing out.] Thank you. [He murmurs softly to Fingon as he feels his head starts to go fuzzy from tiredness.

He's vaugely aware of all the hustle and bustle of the guards setting up camp for them. He is very thankful for the privacy of the tent they set up for them, he does not want to have too many people's eyes on him right now. He just wants to lay down next to Fingon and rest.

Maedhros leans his head against Fingon's shoulder as he carries him, breathing in his comforting scent.]

I don't know. [He says. Tears pricking at his eyes for the first time since his rescue. For he'd not truly eaten in so long and he remembers how hard it had been to get used to food again the last time he'd been starved. It was unfair. So very unfair to face that struggle again.] But I shoud probably try. Just the bread, though... I'm not likely to be able to keep anything else down.

[At least it had not been years this time. Fingon had gotten on his horse the moment the panicked missive from Maedhros's men had made it to him. It had been too late in the day but they were elves, not men, and needed little rest under normal circumstances and so they had gone, giving men instructions to follow once they had time to grab more than the scant handful of supplies Fingon and his guards took.

Regarding Maedhros lovingly, he sighs, brushing his thumb over his cheek and brushing off his tears. He presses a soft kiss to the top of his head and then rests his cheek there.]

If you cannot keep it down we will just give it time and try again. I will rest with you in the tent, you can use me to keep yourself warm. [Often it was (physically) the other way around, but Fingon knows Maedhros needs time to rebuild his fires and he is never unwilling to help him keep going until he feels capable.]

[There is that. It had been such a struggle to get used to food again after that and, he had to admit, the memory of having to repeat even a fraction of those struggles scared him.

He leans into the touch and just let's himself feel cared for and protected for a little while.]

I'll try. If the bread proves too much perhaps I could try some broth when we get back home. Sleep is what I most need, though, I feel so worn out. [He even felt the chill for once. The fires inside of him feeling like little more than a few small, sad embers at the moment.] That sounds nice. I think I'll need to do so for now.

[Fingon supposes that a lot of Maedhros's fears about eating now have less to do with this relatively short captivity and its cost and more to do with the decades he was left to hang in hunger from the top of the mountain.]

They are making broth too, for the others. You can start with that when it is ready if you wish. We brought some from home.

We can sleep though. I am happy to hold you as long as you need me to and then a bit longer still.

[Food was difficult for him even at the best of times. Less for any physical reason than because of those terrible memories of hunger and depravation.]

Yes. I think... I think I'd like that better. [Broth was easier. Less likely to turn his stomach.]

But... maybe sleep first? I'm so tired and I just want to feel your arms about me for a while while I rest.

[The tent was finished by now. It was small by the standards of a king but more than enough to fit the two Noldor even with their impressive height. They had made up a bed, wide and soft and made of several bedrolls, furs and blankets. Fingon picked Maedhros up again from their place at the fire.]

We can sleep first. We will keep this camp for as long as you need to rest. There is no rush. We are protected. [That seems more important than usual as he ducks beneath the tent flaps and brings Maedhros into the much more private space, lit by a single lantern and the daylight that skims under the edges.

He gentle sets him down on the makeshift bed and begins to undo his armour, not calling for help so that they can have privacy.]

I can keep you warmer without all of this.

[He was honestly just thankful there was a tent at all. He needed the privacy. Needed to be able to cling to Fingon in a way he would not wish for others to see, and not for the usual reasons. He'd kept his emotions in check so far but now he was tired and could no longer keep it up. He would not be able to hide how badly this had affected him and he did not want anyone but Fingon to see that.]

Thank you. A long time, then. I am weary to my bones and I hurt. [And he wants nothing more than to rest beside Fingon and feel like, maybe, everything is going to be alright despite all of it.

Once he's on the bed he turns slightly to the side so he can watch as Fingon discards his armour.]

Yes. And you'll be a whole lot softer as well.

Do you want to see if the healer has arrived before we rest? I can offer you some help but not much. [Making war wasn't good for healing hands. He had long been out of practice of everything but the little healing they had been taught as children.] I left the palace without them because I wanted to travel quickly but they were coming straight after us, they may be here by now or at least within sight.

[Fingon asks, listening to see if he can hear them but there is too much chatter and horses for him to be sure. He undoes his bracers and shrugs off his breastplate.]

Yes. Much better to curl against.

...It would probably be for the best. [He admits, though he is not too thrilled at the prospect.] Better to make sure it is just bumps and bruises instead of something more serious. [He had, after all, taken more than just one beating there. Not to mention the other things he'd suffered there...

Despite his discomfort he manages to scrounge up the strength to give Fingon a fond smile.]

It is, in my opinion, the most comfortable place to curl up against. I never rest half as well as I do when I am curled up against you.

I agree. [He wanted the healer to come the second they arrived but if Maedhros was to refuse he would have held off until they were at home and Fingon could insist on it without the full company having to witness them arguing.]

I will send my squire to find them. [He is still taking off parts of his armour as he rather literally but surprisingly gracefully hops out of the tent flap and calls for his squire and then gives him his orders before coming back, now free of more metal which he gently places in the corner on the floor.]

We are going to have a wonderfully long nap just as soon as you have been looked over, I promise. I will even sing to you if you wish.

[He'd never much liked being seen by healers, but he knew it would be foolish of him to put it off. If he had something more serious than bruises and tears letting such injuries to remain untreated could make them worse.]

Thank you. [Maedhros keeps his eyes on Fingon as he goes, simply enjoying the sight of him. A sight he had always found comfort in.]

A long, long nap. [He mumbles tiredly.] Would you? I have missed your singing, love.

Thank you for being willing to see someone. [Fingon knew better than perhaps anyone how much Maedhros did not want to deal with healers or show any vulnerability to anyone currently outside of this tent. He finishes unbuckling all of the armour on the top half of his body and everything down to his plated boots. He bends down to undo them.]

I will. I forgot my harp in my rush but I can sing for you. [As he pulls off his boots the healer appears at the door, hesitating until Fingon motions him in.

He was a lovely, golden haired elf. As tall as Fingon but with the softer Vanya features that had been drowned out but Noldo blood in Fingon's line.]

My Kings. [He says, with a small bow before he looks between them and then settles on his patient.]

My lord Maedhros. May I come over? [All of Fingon's people had already learned the lesson of how to handle Maedhros, and really any survivor of this horrific war.]

I need to do it, I know. I... I don't like it but I know I must. [It's hard to be vulnerable around anyone but Fingon, especially when he is not feeling well. It is hard to trust others with such obvious weaknessess when he can't entirely bring himself to believe they won't use them against him. Which he knows is irrational. Few elves would do something so dishonorable, and even fewer still would be anyone who's devoted themselves to healing.]

Your voice will be sweet enough for me, but I will be very happy if you play for me once in a while when we are home. [He stiffens a bit when he hears the healer approach and he needs to fight the impulse to burry himself in the furs and blankets to hide.

The man looks kind, though, and that eases him some. He still spends some time observing him before he nods slightly in assent to his question.]

[The elf easily could have been one of their cousins. More than the golden hair, he had the kindness and soft eyes of Finrod and that same gentle approach. Only, it was Fingon who had taught him, advised him in how to handle the very ill and traumatised after he had been forced to live through several crash courses in the art with no forewarning or practice.]

I am Haldamir, my lord. [His tones were hushed and gentle as he approached, kneeling beside the makeshift bed and shifting his pack he had been carrying around to his front. He frowns softly as he looks at Maedhros, sure that there is more than what he sees.] What if we start with these cuts and bruises? [He asks, letting the fact he is worried there might be more sit, unspoken, in the chill morning air as Fingon pretends to be busy adjusting the last of his armour and then arranging the pile of silver metal into something that won't send his squire into fits if he sees it.]

[His long recovery after Thangorodrim had been one long lesson on how to deal with and treat such trauma. His mood had fluctuated so swiftly and suddenly back then. Going from rage to fear to grief with little to no warning even for himself. Not even he was always sure what would set him off in a panic at first. But Fingon had always been so patient with him, so kind, even though he knew he had been hurt and scared as well.

His eyes follow the healer silently, only breaking away from him to scrutinize his pack instead when he sets it down.] Yes... that's probably the best place to start. [Not too invasive and easy to pull away from if it get's to be too much, yes that would be a good place to start. It would help him get used to the healer poking at him. Fingon's prescence would help as well, even if he kept to the background.]

[Fingon rarely let on what he had truly felt in those days aside from the obvious and unavoidable like how sad he had been. In truth he had been terrified. It was true, he had known Maedhros had a softer core than most people thought he did and that he had known that since he was a child but that still had not prepared him for the horrors that would come of being so soft in such a harsh land. He had had to put aside his own softness, and he did so again now, slipping closer, sitting beside Maedhros on the furs and smiling kindly at Haldamir.

The healer was from Valinor but he had been a boy when they set out. He has been maybe eighty years old at the time, tall and strong enough but not grown, not really. Not to elves. Now he was an elf, fully grown and with a sadness in his heart and gentle hands that wanted to fix all of it.

He would not be able to, but like many others Fingon could call his people, he would try.

Haldamir starts with the bruises and wounds on Maedhros's wrists and hand. He was gentle and slow and asked when he wanted to touch before he did. His salves smelt sweet, like honeysuckle and roses and he applied them with the same tenderness he did everything else as he hummed softly, healing warmth pouring from him as he did.]

Try not to leave him too many dashing scars. [Fingon says, feigning levity while they still can.] He already has so many he won't be able to pry the ladies off of him. [You will always be wanted no matter what has happened.]

[Softness was a thing not often rewarded in these lands. It, he'd found, more often than not made you a more tempting target. And so he'd learned to build an iron wall around that soft core of his, in a vain attempt to try to shield it. When Fingon sits next to him he breathes easier, his prescence becomes something to ground himself with and helps to keep his mind from drifting to darker memories.

Young. Too young, this healer, to have faced so much darkness. For he knows no one so obviously of Vanyar descent had come across with his fathers host. He must have had to walk across the ice with Fingon and the others.

His approach is much appreciated by Maedhros, and makes it much easier for him to allow this examination. It makes him feel more in control of it, less like it is something that is simply happening to him.

Fingon's jest actually makes him laugh, though his voice is weak from exhaustion and pain.] I'd hate to have to break too many hearts. [For I only really want to be wanted by one.]

[It was luck, mostly, that had kept Fingon from a similar fate. He was certainly no less of a tempting target for Sauron or Morgoth, especially now, but he had slipped by them unnoticed. A gift of the Valar, perhaps? He tried not to think too hard about it because he could never believe even the most fell of the children of Eru deserved this sort of fate.

He was not even sure that the orcs deserved it.

Haldamir smiles softly at the joke but keeps working, gently turning Maedhros's hand over in his own, smaller hands to check for any broken bones now that the bruises are fading before their eyes.]

I'm sure a lot of them would be heartbroken by the thought of going to Himring. It is very cold there and not so many flowers grow. And your pretty face in all that cold with not a flower to be seen? A tragedy. [It was easier to joke than to face the truth of things. So much easier.]

You have had my heart since I first heard your voice. Though it is funny to watch ladies flirt with you. [Maedhros was nowhere near as comfortable or smooth with interested elves as Fingon was. Sometimes to the point that it meant dinner came with a show. It could be quite entertaining.]

May I check your upper arms and shoulders? [Haldamir asks quietly when he is content that he is not missing a smashed finger somehow.] Is Himring very cold? The King never takes me. This is as far east as I have yet come. [His speech is light but he does shoot a look at Fingon as if to say and I have survived it just fine. Haldamir was one of the elves Fingon kept safe and hidden from danger, deep within the walls of his protected city. Almost like he was his own son, one Fingon would never have.]

[They would have danced in glee had they ever gotten their hands on Fingon, even more so now that he'd deprived them of their prize captive the way he did. Some power had wanted Fingon to find him, it seemed, there were so many small coinsidences that helped him along for Maedhros to believe otherwise. Though it frightened him a bit what purpose he was being saved for.

Maedhros sighs in relief when some of his pain fades away, even if just a small part of it.]

I'm sure a lot of people are heartbroken to go to dark, drab Himring. It is, very much, an aquired taste in location. And no flowers, just the odd scraggly bush. [Much easier.]

And glad I am of it. Though I'd be gladder still if you did not take so much joy of my awkward attempts to let them down gently. [Dealing with anyone but Fingon being interested in him had never been an easy feat to him. As wrong-footed as an adolescent youth he turned when that occured.]

Allright. [He says, starting to feel more comfortable around the young elf.] Very cold. Especially at winter when the snow sets in. It's more a military outpost than anything else, in truth, even the staff is made up of mostly auxiliary soldiers. [So he can understand why Fingon has not brought this healer there. It is a dangerous place, far too close to Angband to risk having many civilians there.]

It is not my choice of climate but the company is good enough to excuse that. [Haldamir gives him another look but is quickly back to his work, now gently moving Maedhros sleeves up so that he can look for any wounds.] I may take you sometime if you really wish, it is not as drab as my dear cousin pretends but it is not Dor-lómin either. Some of the plants I took to you took root though, did they not? [Distraction, thy name is Fingon.]

It is not my fault you are so funny. You cannot blame me. I have given you ample chances to learn how to flirt. [:)]

Perhaps the king in his great wisdom and mercy will allow me to see it some day. [Definitely an elf raised around Fingon, he had the same incredibly polite sass.] Are your joints troubling you my lord? Have they been pulled or strained too hard? [Or worse?]

Edited 2025-04-26 15:48 (UTC)

[Maedhros glances at Fingon out of the corner of his eye, amusement and fondness glimmering within them.] Quite a few of them took, actually! [He says with obvious pride. The hot houses built for their plants were one of his most treasured projects there.] The hot house gardens I've managed to set up, I think, is one of the few sights truly worth making the journey for. But then I am very proud of them, so I might be biased. [Well, it works well enough to make Maedhros perk up a bit at the mention of his pride and joy.]

But I don't want to flirt with anyone but you. [:/]

I'm sure he will. [Maedhros says with a small amused smile. He can see why Fingon likes this healer so much.] The ones on my right side hurts. [The old injuries there had not held up as well as his left side with the new abuse put upon them.] I spent some time... restrained in ways that put a strain on my shoulder there.

I love to garden. [Haldamir says, smiling easily as he fixes an especially dark bruise with a mix of a salve and his healing.] The king built us hot houses as well to grow the plants we need for our salves and tinctures. When he was prince, I mean, they're quite well established now.

Father was too busy to handle the gardens. I found it quite a relief. I think we will need to build more soon. Perhaps you will help with that, Maedhros? [He asks, as if he doesn't already have plans and architects spilling out of his fine ears. If Maedhros was to stay for even a while he would need more projects than scheming with the blacksmith to make Fingon better armour.]

Which is good, since you do not manage to my love.

[Fingon frowns softly, helping the vanya move Maedhros's tunic to better see the muscle that is strained and giving his cousin the comfort of his touch while he does.]

Do you think it is dislocated? Or broken? [Haldamir asks, tenderly probing the area to find the greater injury.]

It is a very soothing passtime, I've found. [Maedhros agrees, he'd certainly found himself enjoying it when he had the time.] Aye. He did tell me about that. They are good to have so you can plant things unsuited for the climate or that are simply not suited for the season when you need them.

Seeing how much I enjoyed building the ones at Himring I don't see how I could say no to that. [Fingon knows him so well to know just what sort of projects to tempt him with to make him less likely to change his mind about staying. And he is indeed already imagining all sorts prelimenary ideas on how to go about such a task.]

That is exactly how I wish it to be.

[He winces a bit despite their care. There is almost always some level of pain in his right side, but this is worse than usual and so he knows it's something other than just his old injury troubling him.]

Maybe dislocated. It does do that at times when pressure is put on it the wrong way. [He hopes it's not broken, but he can't be sure of that either.]

I think so. It does not snow for us the way it must for you but still the winters are cold and long. [Especially if Morgoth is influencing the land, but Haldamir is hardly going to bring that up while his King is clearly enticing Maedhros to safer lands by dangling projects in front of him that might appeal.] And there is seldom too many healing herbs in stock. Even with peace there is still many an elf who does something foolish like shoot their friend in the foot. [The relative peace didn't mean the rest of the elves didn't find ways to make trouble for themselves. Haldamir has not been learning all of this time by healing deer and bunnies.]

There was the group that fought a boar and lost, as well. Last month, I believe? [Fingon supplies. None of them had died so he merely rolls his eyes before going right back to frowning.] If you thought it dislocated you could have told me. [THAT he could fix. He sighs. Haldamir is gently testing the shoulder, and then with a sudden movement and a quick "this will hurt, I'm sorry" he pulls the arm back into the socket correctly, immediately pushing healing warmth through it when he is done to try and take away the edge.]

And some healing plants are very sensitive to temperatures, I wager. [Especially if it comes on swiftly and with little warning.] Now that I do not find hard to believe. Six younger brothers have taught me long ago that they are most dangerous to their own health and safety when they are bored and have too much time on their hands. [No doubt they are not alone in getting themselves into enough trouble to supply more than enough training opportunities for apprentice healers.]

A boar?! Truly? Hunting accident gone wrong or were they just bored? [Sounded like something his brothers would get up to, honestly.] Ah... I'd grown so used to it that it honestly slipped my mind. [The pain had been there, of course, but it'd been there so long it had just become part of his normal state after a while and once rescue came he'd just been so relieved it had not even occured to him to mention it. He takes a couple of deep breaths in anticipation of the comming pain and then swears loudly once his arm is pushed back in place.]

They are. [If Maedhros, an elf who many feared suddenly cursing and raising his voice startles the healer he doesn't show it, not even faltering in sharing his healing touch to sap that pain away as quickly as he can.]

They were bored and hunting. And cousins, too. I'm sure you both know how that goes. [Haldamir says with a sudden bright smile because what trouble were all the grandchildren of Finwë, even the ones who behaved more like Fingon and Maedhros. Fingon snorts in amusement, though his face is serious as he keeps gently touching Maedhros, patting and trying to soothe him.]

Is this helping? I can try something else if it is not enough.

[He closes his eyes and takes deep breaths through his nose until the pain fades. Once he comes back to himself a bit he is mildly impressed by how unfazed Haldamir is by his outburst. A lot of people unused to him usualy fled the moment he raised his voice, whether they were the cause of it or not.]

Oh, I do. I guess we should all be thankfull they did not get it into their minds to attempt to ride the thing. [If trouble did not seek out the grandchildren of Finwë then those same grandchildren would seek it out instead if things were calm for too long. Maedhros leans into the touches.]

It is. It's helping.

[Haldamir had still been in Fingon's company when Fingon had rescued Maedhros and brought him back. He hadn't been a healer then or even really an apprentice but he had heard the screams nonetheless. And in truth, as fearsome as the Fëanoreans were he had heard and seen worse in the centuries since. Many a horror came back to their lands even if evil never breached their walls.]

They may have, in truth. We could not get much out of them they were so ashamed. Fingon came to check on them which made them even more unable to speak. He did not even yell at them and still they quaked. [Since it's helping, Haldamir focuses his efforts on this, putting his energy into it and letting his warmth and power press through Maedhros's weary bones and muscles.]

Showing fools I am watching them is usually more effective than yelling at them. It even sometimes works on Celegorm.

Sometimes.

[Whatever the reason Maedhros was thankful for it. Despite the fact that his fearsome reputation could be useful he'd be lying if he claimed it did not hurt at least a little to see people flee from him as if he were a wild and unpredictable animal.]

Well... can't say I'd have been to generous with the information had I ever thought to attempt something like that. Certainly not in the face of Fingon's disappointment. [The feeling of pain leeching out of him is soothing enough he needs to lean against Fingon just in case he loses his battle with his exhaustion and falls asleep in the middle of this examination.]

Yelling rarely works with him... makes him feel defensive and self-righteous instead.

I'm surprised you never did attempt something like that. [Fingon teases. There had been hunting in Aman, after all, and many a brother to goad him on.] Clearly my looming disappointment prevented you from trying to break in any swine as a steed.

[Haldamir smiles but he is still looking over Maedhros, trying to see what else may be wrong other than the battery of bruises that are slowly changing colour and fading as he works.] What else hurts, my lord?

A swine would be to small for me, even if it were the biggest boar around. [No amount of brotherly goading could entice him to do something that, even should he succeed, would make him look utterly ridiculous.] And I'd not be able to live down the ridicule that would come with attempting that. Now a stag, on the other hand...

[There are other places that hurt, and not all of them places he want's to talk about. So he simply motions to his abdomen to begin with.]

I don't know, you weren't always a tree... There was at least a few years there when you could have managed it. [The conversation is light but Fingon's worry deepens as Haldamir moves, still asking when he comes to a new place if he can touch, still as tender and gentle as if he were handling a newborn babe.

Fingon had been trying not to think about it much because there were things men considered that most elves could barely conceive of, but he worries as Maedhros grows quiet again. He captures his lower lip in between his teeth, pressing the pink flesh white with concern.] Did you really try to ride a stag? A wild one?

My love if you tell me what happened I can guide him, you need not say another word. I assure you he has seen... many results of the war. He will not be repelled. Nor will I.

Managed it, yes. Managed it without looking like an utter fool? Less likely. [Maedhros keeps his tone light and jovial but there is a visible tension on his face. He knows he can't postpone the conversation of what happened forever, but that does not mean he dreads it any less.

The worst is he knows he does not need to dread it. He has nothing to feel shame for... and yet still he does. Still he feels as if there is a stain that's been put upon him by it.] Tyelko, the little rat, had assured me the stag had agreed to it. Turns out it most assuredly had not.

[Maedhros turns his face towards Fingon before he awnsers with his own mind. Bitter tears welling in his eyes.] I... they... they hurt me. They took what wasn't theirs to take. Bent me to their whims whenever they felt like it. It hurt so badly, Finno... it still hurts.

[The story of the stag is quickly forgotten, or at least filed away for another day when the mood hasn't turned so suddenly dire.

It was what Fingon had feared, one of the few evils that to his knowledge no one in Aman had ever dreamt up even at their darkest and yet it had come up time and time again here in Ennor. Sometimes even amongst their kin.

But it had never been this close to him. His eyes turn glassy but he doesn't let himself cry, he simply stroke's Maedhros's cheek tenderly and through their bond shares the immense feeling of love he holds for him regardless of anything else.

Haldamir cannot avoid noticing something is happening, but what he is not sure and to give them a moments privacy he goes back to sorting through his bag for more salves and then sticks his golden head out of the tent to ask for some water and, if they have it, broth. He waits there for a soldier to fetch him some.]

I feared as much. That placed wreaked of it, sounded like it too. There were cellars I think. [Fingon had not checked himself, he had come in, "bought" Maedhros and then sent his army barrelling down on the place while he extracted his love to safety but he was sure he had heard people beneath the floor.]

Will you let him help? We often see this in refugees and the secondborn we rescue. You do not need to be ashamed.

[Once upon a time they had not even had a word for it. So unthinkable had it been. He missed that ignorance of such terrible actions.

He'd learnt before this, of course, that such things occured. Had had to bear witness to such depravities in Angband, feared that it would happen to him also but for all that he had suffered there he had managed to escape that. Even though the threat of it always hung above him.

Leaning into that soft, comforting hand he let's his own tears fall. Weeping silently except for a few miserable sniffles. He leans into the bond too, clinging to it almost as he let's some of the fear and grief and confusion he feels show through it as well.]

It was never quiet there. The smells were unbearable, as were the sounds... [Worst of all was knowing the people who came there paid to violate them. Made a commodity of their suffering. Made what should ever only be given freely into a thing to be bought and sold at a whim, made it something filthy and wrong.]

I'm going to have to. Sometimes there would be blood... and it hurts inside of me. My fëa aches as well and I am afraid. I try not to be, but I am.

[Fingon presses a kiss over those tears. Haldamir isn't looking, and in any case the younger elf is as loyal to him as a son and would never say anything if he took it for less than platonic. Gently, Fingon pulls Maedhros closer so that he can rest his head on Fingon's shoulder or even fully slump against him if he wishes to.]

Do you want me to tell him? I can bear the words if you cannot. I do not want you to suffer.

[If he was not so hurt, so unmoored by what had happened perhaps he would care that they do not exactly make for a platonic picture right now. But he does not care, he want's this closeness, he want's the intimacy of it. He want's the comfort of his husband without having to be careful about it.]

Please? I... I can't. I just can't bring myself to say those words.

Haldamir... [Fingon says softly as the healer receives a pot of water that had been bubbling gently over a fire not moments before and a metal cup with a lid and spoon that doubtlessly contained some kind of broth. The Vanya ducks back into the tent, securing the flap behind him for the modicum of privacy it at least allows them to pretend they have in a camp almost wholly occupied by elves before he looks to his King as he sets both items down, the pot on the floor and the cup of broth on a small stool that had been places in the tent near the bed.]

Your grace? [The soft, worried tone of Fingon's voice is enough to make him go back to titles even if he had been only a minute or two before teasing Fingon and calling him by name. If Fingon and Maedhros's positions seem unusual to him, he makes no sign that he thinks so.]

The place I rescued Maedhros and the others from was a place of great harm and human vices. [Fingon begins, his voice still hushed to keep the whole camp from overhearing him even if it is almost inevitable that someone will if they are choosing to be nosy.] Being a King did not spare him the brutalities of it all. They have assaulted him. Intimately. I believe he is hurt inside as well as out. He has said there was sometimes blood.

[Haldamir pauses, thinking through how best to respond to that when this is not just a Fëanorean but at the very least his King's favourite cousin and dearest friend, but he settles after a moment on treating this like he has treated many other things: with gentleness.]

My lord Maedhros... I can help you. Would that I could say that you are the first but you are not and I have practice and a sad amount of skill in this area. If you will allow me to help you, we can go as slowly as you wish. I will stop any time. You are no longer amongst monsters.

[Maedhros waits as Fingon speaks to Haldamir, his hand picking nervously at one of the pelts upon the bed. He does not look at either of them as Fingon quietly explains things to the healer, instead he pretends he's somewhere far away where none of this can touch him. Back home in Valinor, perhaps, where it would all have been naught but an evil dream.

He's brought out of those idle fancies when Haldamir's gentle voice brings him back to the here and now. Back to reality. He gives the healer a weak smile, for the kind gentle way he goes about this.]

Not the first, no, and not the only one brought out of that place to need such aid either. [He murmurs softly.] I... I would be grateful for your help, Haldamir. And I'll try to remember things are... not the same here when it get's difficult.

[Then he looks up at Fingon with pleading eyes.]

Stay? [He begs, even though he knows Fingon is unlikely to leave him unless he asks for it.]

I rather thought you might like to use me as a pillow and something to grab while Haldamir tries to help you. In case you panic. [Fingon doesn't even bother to call him ridiculous for implying he would ever leave unless Maedhros threw him out. He understood that he felt vulnerable and stripped down in a way that only marginally had to do with clothes or their lack. Of course Fingon would have gone if Maedhros truly could not bear him to be there but he would have only been outside, waiting to see if he was needed.]

The other healers are helping them. I am Fingon's favourite, sent to help Fingon's true favourite. [He says kindly, not smiling because this situation is dire and he is unhappy at the news even though they are neither friends nor kin but there is a soft warmth to his tone like the heat of embers on a fire that had almost burned out. There, but gentle, not enough to disturb or burn.]

Is there a way you would like me to start?

Yes, I'd like that. I need to... need to feel that you are here. [So that he does not start screaming, or worse. He does not want to end up kicking poor Haldamir in the face in a moment of blind panic.

His lips twitch slightly upward. Fingon's favorite. He does like the sound of that despite the circumstances and he's quite determined to hold on to whatever brings him even the slightest bit of joy right now]

Just... just slowly. And... perhaps if you kept speaking to me. They never spoke to me. [He's not sure it would help, but he thinks he'd have an easier time to keep his head straight if there was something to remind him he was not there.]

[If Fingon was anyone else he might have felt a little abashed at Haldamir's astute observation, but he merely shrugs slightly because it is true. Of course there were older healers that were just as good or better but Haldamir had a certain warmth that still reminded him of home and a gentleness that in many got worn down by the cruel passage of time. He was a good choice for Maedhros, and maybe enough like their cousins to comfort him in that way as well.

It was hard to look upon a Vanya and not feel affection, especially when you had been raised amongst Finarfin's children.]

You may use me for an entire mattress if you need too. He will not tell anyone or shame you, no matter how you react. Though I would prefer if we don't accidentally eject him from the tent with great haste. [As had happened to many a healer before for far lesser problems.]

Ah, yes. Well your dear cousin likes to tell me that sometimes I talk so much I'm going to wear the tips of his ears off so that I can do.

You had been explaining your new salves to me for twelve hours, somehow without pause.

There were quite a lot of them! [Haldamir protested, fondly but also somewhat embarrassed.] In any case, if it is okay with you we may have to pull down or even pull off your trousers. I am sorry to ask but it is hard to assess otherwise. [Power only helped so much. It was not as thought he were one of the ainur.]

[Maedhros would not like for any of the older healers to see him, he'd developed a dislike for many of them after his first captivity. Not so much because of any fault of their own but simply because there was too many hard and painful memories tied to those faces. Besides, Haldamir had a better bedside manner in his opinion.]

He seems kind. [Kind enough that he is willing to allow him to see to his injuries without turning into a rabid animal at the mere mention of the prospect.] So I'll... try to keep myself in check.

And I'd thought he'd be immune to such by now, considering the kinds of cousins he's grown up with. [One could say a lot of things about the grandchildren of Finwë, but he does not think 'quiet' was a good descriptor for any of them.

He's quiet for a long time after that question, his hand clinging to the hem of the aforementioned garment before he relaxes it again. He does not really want to, no, but he knows it is needed. He knows Haldamir won't hurt him either.] Yes... yes it's allright. Just a bit uncomfortable, but I'll be allright.

[There was that, too, and Fingon hadn't been sure what they were rushing into. Simple captivity might have upset Maedhros but it may not have been bad enough for him to relive his years in Angband, but Fingon hadn't been able to trust it wasn't bad and wouldn't remind him of his time. There had been flashes of darkness through their bond before Fingon had been able to track him down that he didn't understand until now.]

He's very kind. I knew him in Aman when he was a child, and when Artanis found him in our ranks on the ice she sent him up to find me and keep me company. It was after I had failed Turgon and could not help him save Elenwë... [Something that exactly zero people other than Fingon held him responsible for. But Turu was his little brother and Fingon had hated to see him so grieved, and especially young Idril.] I suppose she thought I needed a reminder that the world was not all ice. [Artanis though stricken with pride her whole life was also often wiser than her older cousins. She saw them and everyone else in a way that few did.]

I would also tell them they were wearing my ears out if it wouldn't bring them the utmost joy. [Not that he truly minded people talking his ears off but it was at least a little funny to tease them about it.

Thinking for a moment, Haldamir pulls a small blanket out from under his pack where it had been tied in a roll. For Maedhros it wasn't big enough to be a proper lap blanket, it certainly wouldn't have covered him from lap to floor if he were to sit up and try to keep his legs warm but it was more than ample enough to cover his nakedness.]

We will put this on your lap first so I only see what I must, would that help? We can go a little bit at a time. There is no rush. And if you need a break we can take that and I can leave you with the King if need be so that you can calm down and remember that you are safe. I also got them to bring you some broth in a metal cup so that it will not cool too quickly.

[He'd done his best to shield the bond between them, he'd not have been able to bear the thought of Fingon feeling what they did to him, but even so he'd not been able to keep himself from reaching out in a blind panick for him from time to time.]

I like him. [Which was high praise from him when it came to healers.] Even more so knowing he was a comfort to you in those times. Artanis is both wise and kind underneath that haughty exterior, I'd send her my thanks for sending him your way if it weren't for the fact that I'm sure she does not really want to hear from my side of the family.

True. Never wise to let them know they got under your skin. [But all in all such things were just in good fun.

The blanket is a welcome addition. Makes him feel a bit less exposed and it was warm and comfortable as well.]

Yes, thank you. It... it makes me feel a bit less vulnerable. Hopefully I'll be able to get this over with without needing a break, but... it's good to know I have that option. I'll be sure to try to drink some of that broth as well, but that too I feel is best done slowly.

I was afraid you wouldn't, despite that he is saintly. You've always had a thing about healers, even before we came east. They made you twitch even when were children. [Of course that had not been for the same reasons or to the same degree, but still Fingon had worried. He felt protective of Haldamir and wouldn't have been happy if the two of them hated each other for some asinine reason.]

I can help you keep it on. Do not worry. [Fingon said, taking the blanket and adjusting it so it covered Maedhros well over his hips and thighs. He allows himself to rest his head against the top of his cousins. Haldamir offers them a soft, brief smile that is comfortable but sad. Fingon helps him by loosening Maedhros's trousers and shuffling the fabric under his rear so that can be pulled away by Haldamir who does, but only a bit.]

You'll always have options with us. [Haldamir says, softly.] I do not treasure this suggestion but might it be easier if you roll over and use the king as a pillow? I will examine you gently. No probing without permission, I will ask before every touch. If you saw blood I fear they might have torn you internally. It happens if men do not use enough oil and especially if they are rough.

A fair worry to have. I've always been finicky when it comes to healers. [Has never liked being confined to one space while people poke and prod at him, even with the best of intentions. Haldamir didn't have the same brusque manner that a lot of healers had, the types that got his hackles up like hissing wild cat.] I couldn't take them making me sit still when I was a child.

Thank you. [Maedhros says as he takes comfort from the steady prescence of his husband. His breath hitches a little when his trousers are removed, though whether it's from anxiety or for the cold he's so unused to feeling it's hard to say.]

I know... or my head knows, at least. It's just good to hear it said out loud, I think. [To let it truly sink in that he's away from there. That he is once again the master of his own life and choices.] Allright... allright. [He swallows around a spike of fear and turns, pressing his face into Fingon's lap as he takes a few steadying breaths.] Could you... could you stroke my hair, Finno? [He asks in a small voice.] I think they might have as well. It... hurt. A sharp rending pain that became a dull, throbbing ache afterwards.

[Fingon adjusts his position as Maedhros rolls, sitting more fully on the bed so that Maedhros has his whole lap to cling to and rest on. He adjusts the blanket too, bringing it around so that Haldamir can lift it only when he needs to see and Maedhros won't catch a chill.]

Of course. [He had been fussing over him already and stroking his hair is no trouble. His fingers are gentle as he strokes him from scalp through to the ends of his long hair. He had not bathed yet so it is knotted and dirty so Fingon tries to gently untangle it as he goes.]

That does sound like a possible tear. [Haldamir agrees, wondering if he will need anything that had not fit on his pack. Hopefully not. He moves closer, his hand resting gently down on Maedhros's thigh so that the elven King could track his movements even without sight.]

May I lift the blanket to see if there is external tearing as well? I will not touch where it is delicate. Not without warning.

[And cling to him he does, desperate for the comfort Fingon's prescence always provides him with. Despite how anxious he feels Fingon's care draws a small smile out of him.

He'd never doubted Fingon would agree to his request, still it was nice to hear him agree. Sighing he closes his eyes and focuses on the gentle fingers in his hair. Gentle, not grasping and pulling, could only mean Fingon.]

Yes... [He says, giving Haldamir his consent to continue his examination of him. Forcing himself to relax his body.] I'll... I'll tell you if I start to grow uncomfortable.

[Fingon watches as Haldamir gently looks over Maedhros. He's not entirely sure why Maedhros had let him put him on a horse. It must have hurt? Fingon tries not to stare but cannot avoid looking either as he works out a rather large knot in Maedhros's usually silky red hair, holding it so that it does not tug at his scalp as he works. He begins to hum softly, a song he often used to sing in Aman to Maedhros in their little grove.

Haldamir for his part tries to be as gentle as he can, talking through his movements in a quiet, reassuring voice. There was blood and other evidence when he gently parts Maedhros's cheeks, and clear tears even from the outside. He frowns, catching Fingon's eyes for a moment before they dart away and back to his bag and then the pot of hot water. He pulls out a wash cloth and dampens it.]

If it is alright I would like to clean you up a little. It is just warm water for now, nothing that will sting.

[He'd let him because he wanted to be away from there. The pain was bad, but he was used to pain by now and knew how to ignore it even when it was bad. It was... probably not healthy for him to continously push such things away and ignore the limits of his body but it was practicaly second nature for him by now.

Fingon's song and Haldamirs gentle voice is enough to help him simply... float away for a bit, you might say. Pretend he is not really there when Haldamir examines the evidence of the indignities he'd suffered. He could almost imagine himself being in their little grove in Aman. Safe.]

That's fine... [Maedhros says. His voice sounding very far away from his own ears, like he was listening in on this conversation from another room.] I don't want their filth on me. [And he did feel, in a detached sort of way, accutely aware of it now that cleaning was mentioned. He wanted it gone. The blood and the... other things as well.]

[Fingon's humming becomes soft singing as he lets Maedhros drift in the warmth of his voice. He cannot seem to stop himself from watching Haldamir as he works, frowning and trying to fight back the tears that form in his eyes and want to fall. Not now. He could cry later, at home, when he could be away from Maedhros long enough to do it without distressing him.

For his part, Haldamir is undaunted and begins to gently clean him up, wiping down his thighs and buttocks, gently cleaning around his torn up hole which he sends his healing energy to as he works and tries to, with his knowledge and power alone, assess how much damage was done internally.]

[Maedhros himself starts to murmur the words of the familiar and well-loved song under his breath, not even really aware that he's doing so. He also starts to slightly caress Fingon's leg, as if he can sense some of his sadness and wanting to offer some comfort of his own or perhaps just because the motion feels familiar to him.

The first touch makes him flinch a bit, but it is a momentary thing and soon enough he starts drifting again. He'll be somewhere else for a while, he thinks, and when he returns to himself again he'll be clean. That does not sound so bad a thing.

The men in that place had not been kind in their use of him, less so perhaps because he had always fought back spitting and hissing at them whenever they held him down and kicking as well whenever he got the chance to.]

[Fingon lets Maedhros touch him however he wishes, using his fëa to wrap him in warmth and hopefully keep Maedhros from coming back to himself while Haldamir works.

The work takes a while, in part because Haldamir is trying to heal him at the same time and in part because he is making sure he is washed as thoroughly as he can be without the availability of a bath.

When he is finally done with the external issues, Haldamir covers him up, tucking him also in some furs and goes to get fresh hot water and dispose of the current water.]

I am so sorry my love. [Fingon thinks but does not push, Maedhros can stay floating if he wishes.]

[He is far, far away at the moment. Laying in the soft grass of their grove with the gentle light of the Tree's shining down on him and Fingon playing softly with his hair as he lays in his lap. Nothing bad can touch him here. Nothing evil could ever enter their place within him.

The passage of time barely registers with him, detached from himself as he is right now. Still aware things are happening around him and to his body but to lost in his own head to really pay them any heed.]

It's alright. [He thinks back, but his thoughts are distinctly fuzzy in a way they only are when he's not altogether there.]

[Haldamir does come back but he both gives them time to be alone and also gives himself time to mix together herbs and brew a tea that will begin to mend Maedhros without more invasive touching. When he comes back with large flask of it he offers it to Fingon, tells him how to use it and that he will be back in a while to check on them again.

Fingon doesn't press for Maedhros to wake up, not immediately. He bends his head to kiss him softly on the head and rest there against him.]

My love, do you think you could manage some tea?

Tea...? [Maedhros thoughts come through ponderously slowly as he returns to himself again. Could he manage some tea? Yes. Yes, he thinks so. He is, he realizes, now rather thirsty. So tea sounds nice, to him. Even the kind made from healing herbs.] Yes. I think I could at least try.

I could spoon it to you so you do not have to brave the whole cup. [He offers. The tea isn't the most beautiful smelling thing in the world but it is not rank by any means. Haldamir always did his best to make sure such things were actually edible by the ill and this was no exception.]

That'd be nice. [The fact that it does not smell like the bitter concoctions most of them make is a mark in Haldamirs favor, it only serves to make him like the healer even more. If nothing else could tempt him to make a permanent move from Himring then the fact that Fingon seems to have found the only acceptable healer out there may cement this decision for him.]

[Fingon takes the unused spoon from the broth cup and adjusts how Maedhros is laying on him so he is propped up enough to drink from the spoon before scooping up some and gently offering it to him.]

He said this should help you inside.

[He takes the spoonful without complaint. It doesn't taste bad, not good exactly, but not bad in the way that would make one sputter and gag the way a lot of medicine does.]

You sure? [He asks with a touch of humor.] I'm not sure it tastes bad enough for that.

He is a Vanya, they were always more gifted with sweetness than we. [And he was quite dedicated to getting people to actually take their medicines. Fingon offers him another spoonful, gently blowing on it to cool the liquid a bit.] He has probably befriended the plants and insisted that they taste better.

Makes ense. If I was a plant I'd likely grow bitter on purpose if most other healers would have asked me to be sweet. [Because he had a great capacity for pettiness when he was feeling uncooperative.]

[Fingon actually laughs.] Kano jokes sometimes that I came out so friendly just to make up for you grumping around. I am not sure that he is wrong. Imagine being a petty flower.

Your friendliness do provide a very nice contrast to my 'grumping around' as he so kindly put it. [He'll be sure to be extra grumpy towards his brother next time he sees him for that.] I'd be the prettiest of pretty flowers... I'd probably just be mildly poisonous as well.

[His fingers stroke gently through his hair and he kisses his forehead.] Perhaps you would be. But not for me. You would cure what ails me.

[Maedhros sighs, feeling his tiredness start to catch up to him now that he is safe and relatively well.] Good. Even as the most poisonous flower I would not stand to bring you harm. [His toughts are sluggish and his eyes start to look a bit unfocused as he is beginning to fall asleep.]

Rest my love, I will stay with you. [He urges, covering Maedhros with his warmth both in body and in fëa.]

Mmm. I know you will. [The warmth and Fingon's steady prescence is enough to finaly lull him to sleep. And he'll sleep for a long time, hurt and exhausted as he is.]

[Fingon lets him sleep and curls up around him eventually, trying best to keep the nightmares at bay with his warmth which was the only way he had ever known to help Maedhros.

His own thoughts are dark but he keeps them to himself, and sadly so many others need help too that it is no burden to the camp to stay for days or even weeks if need be. Not that they would complain to their king when he looked so heartbroken.]

[Even deep in sleep his spirit reaches out to latch on to Fingon's warmth, clinging to him for comfort.

Sometimes he'll frown or whimper a bit in his sleep, but Fingon simply being there is often enough to chase the nightmares away. For the most part, though, he seems to be having a dreamless sleep. To tired, perhaps, to even dream.]

[Throughout the day and night Haldamir comes to check on them, never commenting a single word but refreshing the tea and broth in case Maedhros awakes, and once insisting with gestures alone that Fingon eat some fresh bread he offers him because he fears from the look on Fingon's face that he will either turn catatonic or worse.

The night passes and the next day comes, Fingon does not try to wake Maedhros but does press a soft kiss to his ear and rest his head against his husband, trying to somehow will them back home where they were safe and whole once and might be again.]

Mmmn? [Maedhros makes a small questioning noise as he starts to stirr awake. He blinks his eyes up at Fingon a couple of times before he fully comes back to himself.] Finno? How long did I sleep?

A day and a night and part of the morning. [He would have stayed here for months without complaint if that is how long Maedhros needed to sleep. Unless his people were in peril, Fingon was not moving from his side.]

How do you feel my love?

That long? [He must have been even more tired than he'd felt then, though that was not an entirely surprising revelation.] Better, I think... less sore, at least, and more rested than I was.

You were tired. I was not going to wake you for anything less than an urgent need. [He says, kissing his temple softly.]

There is fresh tea and broth if you want either. Haldamir has stuck his head in to replace it every few hours and make sure you were doing well.

Thank you. I think I needed that rest. [He smiles at the kiss, feeling a bit more like himself again. Though he's sure he'll have his ups and downs in the comming days.]

I'd like to try some, at least. I'm feeling a bit hungry, actually...

[Luckily they had possessed the forethought to put both the tea and the broth where Fingon could reach the cups with one hand. He picks up the broth first, adjusting them so that Maedhros is propped up enough to be able to swallow without choking.]

It has smelt good all night. [He offers him a spoonful of broth, either to take himself to to let Fingon feed him.]

[The broth does smell good. Good enough to make his mouth water and his stomach to grumble a bit in anticipation.

If it were anyone else offering to feed him he'd refuse and simply take the spoon himself, but since it's Fingon he simply opens his mouth to accept the spoonful. It tastes just as good as it smells.] It's good. [He says with a smile.]

Haldamir has had his hands in this as well from what I have been overhearing. [He sounds amused, maybe even pleased as he offers him another spoonful. there was the smell of fires and the sounds of elves outside of their tent singing and talking and playing their instruments. It sounded like any old camp or village of elves.]

A good cook as well as a good healer? Consider me suitably impressed by his many skills. [There is a tinge of pleased amusement coloring his own voice as he gladly accepts yet another spoon. The sounds and smells of the camp creates a pleasant enough atmosphere that helps keep him in good spirits.]

I suspect he took up cooking because of how offensive many medicines usually are, to the point people will refuse them. He is nothing if not practical.

[Fingon will keep feeding him slowly as they talk, spoon by spoon, never pushing just waiting for him to be ready for the next.]

Many are downright foul. [He says and scrunches up his nose in distaste at the mere memory of them.] Bitter enough to make you spit it out unless someone keeps forces it down your throat. Eugh! I much prefer his creations now that I've tasted one of them.

[The slow speed is much appreciated, for even though he's hungry there's still that familiar thread of anxiety that always plauge him when it comes to food during times like these.]

You should try some of the tea as well, if you think you can keep it down. You only took a spoonful or two before you went to sleep.

I think if we ever build our little village we should beg him to come with us for we will inevitably break a bone or worse doing something foolish and vaguely entertaining.

I think I could manage it. [He says after some thought.] The broth went down well enough and it's not made me nauseous yet. I'd say that's a good sign, wouldn't you?

We should. We'd need a healer considering the kind of shenanigans we can get up to when we are left to our own devices for too long.

[Glad of that much, Fingon swaps out the broth cup for the one with the gently sweet, herby tea.]

I'm sure we'd also somehow find the singular poisonous plant in Aman to eat despite the fact it should not exist.

[He needs the tea, he knows, less sore he may be but he's fully aware he's not fully healed yet.]

It would not surprise me. And we'd be too curious about how it would taste to even stop to wonder what this strange and unknown plant could even be.

There could be anything on the western shores of Aman after all. As far as I know, no elves have ever gone so far west. [He says, offering him a spoonful of the tea.]

Very true. Not even my parents traveled there during their time wandering about Aman, prefering to explore the northern and eastern parts of it instead. [He takes the tea dutifully. Not hating the taste of it the way he does most medicine.]

I am still convinced there must be a perfect place there for us with a nearby beach and a river and a forest. All of the things an elf could crave.

There might be. It certainly feels like it could be true when you say it.

We could grow a forest or a meadow if there is not one near the sea. I'm told elves are very good at such greener pursuits. Haldamir could surely talk the plants into cooperating since he can even make medicine sweet.

It would be nice trying our hands at it. I certainly enjoyed working at the hot house gardens at Himring. Haldamir would need to do the talking with them, though, I've never been much good at talking to plants.

I have had some luck. I got those trees to take even outside of the hothouse where the wind is against them.

You do seem to have a talent for it, love.

I could not have my husband living in a land without any trees. It is an offence to elfdom.

True. Entirely unnatural for an elf to dwell in a land bereft of trees. Luckily I have such a kind husband to gift me with the most wonderfull trees.

You would do the same for me if I put up in such a place. Even if it involved dragging every gardener you could find out there.

Of course. What sort of husband would I be if I let you live in a place with no trees? No gardener would have been spared from the task of remedying that situation.

So it is no wonder I did it for you, is it? [He asks, kissing his temple softly.] My love for you is without end.

No. Still it was sweet and I am grateful for it. [He miles up at Fingon, grateful too to be in his company again.] And that, my heart, is the greatest gift you've ever given me.

Clearly I do not spoil you enough if that is the greatest gift. I will endeavour to do better.

And what could be greater than your love, hm? [He teases, surprising himself by the joyful laugh that slips out of him. Oh. Oh but it feels good to laugh, he thinks.]

Obviously so much of my love shown to you that your room is full to overflowing with it, perhaps your entire keep.

Now that would be a sight to see.

I am going to spoil you when we are home to the point that you forget you might ever want to leave. [As if he wasn't "spoiling" him now. Though Fingon would argue that in this case it was a medical need.]

I can only imagine how you'll pamper me when we get home. [Not that he is not already doing so. Spoon feeding him as he rests against the softest bedding available in this place.] I bet before to long I'll be making the rest of the court green with envy for how I hoard your favor. [Not that he'd mind that. He could be like a dragon with it's gold when it came to Fingon's attention.]

They are already green with envy my love. Who else has had someone walk into Angband for them, and who else do I go visit even now as a King when they live so far away? Though it is never for as long as I would like.

They all know I would keep you for myself if they would stay. That the might Maedhros is all mine. My best friend. My cousin. My life.

Hmmm... that is true, I suppose. I have seen plenty of people sigh wistfully whenever that song Kano made about your rescue of me is being sung.

[He can understand it, in a way. It feels good to know someone cares enough about him to do something like that.]

Only yours. [He agrees, sounding incredibly pleased with himself.]

I will not lie, several women have swooned at me over it. [And perhaps in another life that would have taken his interest, but his love had been long ago claimed by the elf in his arms.] Many take up Kano's songs, I suppose to honour me or remind us that there is always hope no matter how grey and thick the clouds appear.

[Fingon kisses his temple softly.] I will have to protect you better than I have been. [It wasn't as if Fingon had had much choice given where Maedhros insisted on living, but it clearly wasn't something that could go on. Not after this.]

Your arms do make the prospect of swooning a very tempting one. [He might have had the thought to do so once or twice himself, but his dignity never quite allowed him to do it.] It is a nice song, even the songs he makes to tease or mock me are nice songs, but that ones one of the best he's done I think.

You protect me just fine, love. [He reasures him.] Sometimes bad things just happens, is all. The fact that I do not need to pick myself up from them all alone is a comfort enough for me. [But he's not so sure he want's to dwell alone anymore after this. Himring will always be special to him, a place he'd built and made a home out of, but he does not know if he still have the strength to be so far from Fingon any longer. Violations like these were not healthy for elven souls, he's not sure he'd hold up as well as he did now when their bond was stretched by such a vast distance.]

They do also quite like my arms. [Which is true, but his tone is gently teasing. It is not that he doesn't see them or their value but he truly had no designs on anyone but Maedhros. It was for the best, anyway, he is only likely to make a widow of a wife who is left behind when he goes to war.] I cannot listen to it long. It is still too real to me, even all these centuries later.

Bad things do not just happen, bad people and fell beasts design them and I have allowed you to be without my protection for too long and look what has come of it. I am sorry, my love.

They are very nice arms. [He does not blame anyone for looking at them and wanting to feel how it would be to fall into their embrace. It was just too bad that they were exclusively for him when it came to such things.] I understand that, though I fear Kano feels a bit affronted by it, it was a traumatic thing for you. [Just because Maedhros sees getting his hand cut off as a gift does not mean it was not a terrible thing for Fingon to have to do.]

No, I suppose not. It was not any fault of yours that this happened though, love. Even so I think I'd feel better for it to dwell with you from now on. I don't think I could bear the distance any longer.

It's all the archery. It gives you great arms. [And the whole being a Noldo of the royal line, so on and so forth, barely removed from the first elves compared to the many generations that have since come after them.] I did not feel terribly brave when I did any of it. I wept. He can be affronted if he pleases, but I cannot bring myself to sit through the whole thing even though I know it is a masterpiece. [For to Fingon, he was never the hero in that tale. If anyone was it was Manwë who granted him Maedhros and both of them a safe escape.]

It is not my fault I had to cut off your lovely hand either and yet I still feel the weight of it. [And the haunting feeling of his dagger cutting through his flesh and muscle.] I am sorry it happened but I am not sorry to keep you close, I admit.

And great shoulders. [He adds cheekily.] I know. It was a terrible thing you needed to do that day, I don't think anyone who was not actually there could ever truly understand how horrible that was for you. I was half-delerious then, it's easier for me to hear of it for it seems farther away in my mind. But for you, who had to be conscious and aware for all of it? I understand why that still hurts you. [It was a tale, he's certain, only the two of them will ever truly understand in full.]

I know, love, I know. [And he does. He does understand why Fingon feels that way, he's just never going to stop telling him that he himself does not blame him in the least for either thing.] I would not want you to feel sorry for that. I want you to keep me close, now more than ever.

All the better for dragging my much larger cousin around with. [He taps him gently on the tip of his nose.] And for you it was a reprieve after so many years of hell. [For Fingon it was the true discovery of what hell could be, even though he was grateful to get Maedhros back. As much as he had seen on the ice and in the battles after, he had not been prepared for seeing his love so tortured and diminished.] But Kano could romanticise anything if he tried. And I will not deny our people the tale since they love it so dearly.

You will have to peel me off of you if you wish to escape my company and protection.

You are very good at that. [He chuckles.] It was. It was freedom, a momentary pain at most and one that gave me more than it took. [And he'd been so used to horror then, conditioned to simply accept it as how things were. Fingon, he thought, for all that he had seen had not been so worn down that he'd see something like that and be so numb to horror as to find it just what is to be expected.] It is a skill of his to do so. The people like the song, I know, and that is well and good, I just wish they didn't sing it quite so often around you. They mean well, I'm sure, but it does pain you and I do not like that.

Perhaps I'll prefer to wrap you around me like a blanket instead.

As swift as Thorondor flew I was sure you were going to bleed out. I had no silk to stitch you with or fire to cauterise the wound. You bled through all of my clothes. I do not know how it is that you woke up at the end of all of it. [Everything had been so red. He shudders, then tries to regain full control of himself. He didn't have time to have feelings of his own. Not really. Not when the world was so dire. Maybe some day in Aman he could stitch himself back together.]

They do not mean any harm. They think it is my greatest feat. And I suppose they are correct. Heroes are supposed to enjoy being honoured.

I would like that.

That must have been terribly frightening for you. I'm sorry you had to go through all that alone. [Alone because Maedhros had been pretty much unconscious at the time. It hadn't been anyones fault, of course, but Maedhros still felt bad about Fingon having to deal with that all on his own.]

I know. They just want you to know how much they admire you, a wish I can certainly relate to. I'm just sorry that it is a thing that brings you pain.

So would I. Nothing would make me feel more safe and cared for than that.

Not quite as frightening as the prospect of leaving you there. But Thorondor has often been a friend to me, he brought us back, he spared father's body the indignities that were surely to come and scarred our great foe in the process...

You do not need to be so full of apologies. I can bear it and happily enough. I would not take the joy from them just because for me it was smeared with blood.

You slept quite well last night. [Especially all things considered.]

Thorondor is a brave and noble soul, he's done our people many a good turn when he did not truly have to risk himself in such a way. I'm glad he took uncle away from there, he deserved much better than what they would have done to his body in that place. [Fingolfin would not have deserved to have his body mutilated and put upon display as it surely would have been.]

It is not apologies so much as it is sympathy for your hurt, love. You are a good and kind soul, I hope you know, to care so deeply for other peoples happiness like that. It's one of the many, many reasons I love you so dearly.

You were there. I always sleep better when you are there. [It made him feel like he was safe, that all was right, no matter how dire the circumstances.]

Sometimes I selfishly wish he would come watch over us sometimes and not just Turu, yet I am also glad that Turu has the eagles. I would rather lay myself bare than my brother. [Things were so... complicated in this world. It was selfish to want for himself, yet he did, but never as much as he wanted for his siblings to stay safe and well–something they seemed to struggle to do when out of his reach but they were much too old to force back under his wing.] I am sure father would have claimed to not care if he was with us to say so... but it would have been a blow. I could not have born it. I would have gone for him. [Part of him thinks that, as much as how little his father deserved the disgrace is why Thorondor rescued his body. To spare Fingon the same fate, or at least hold it off for a time.]

I do not know how to be otherwise. There is little hate in me except for towards Morgoth and his monsters. I do not even hate your brothers. I could never hate my own people for trying to celebrate me, even if they unintentionally stick the dagger in deeper.

Then you will sleep much better going forward. Even when I am not tired I enjoy being able to hold you.

I don't think it's selfish to wish for such things. It would only become so if any were to try to bend the mind of Thorondor to make him abandon one he has decided to watch over. I'm glad, though, that your brother has found some measure of safety for himself and his people. [But it did not make things easier for the rest of them that were not as lucky.] Perhaps. The rest of us would have, though, I would not have been able to take seeing him in whatever state they'd have left him in. [Because Morgoth was cruel and he would have made sure they did see it.] I would have gone with you then. I could not have born the thought of you going alone to that place again.

Because you are good, my love, you are truly good in the way few people are.

I will, and even when I don't I'll still feel better for being with you. As much as I like feeling your arms around me, I'd wager.

I wonder how one does bend the mind of a great eagle of Manwë. I do not imagine there is any simple or kind way. But I am glad as well. It may well be that Turu needs him more and I simply do not see it yet. [As Manwë had more insight about the will of Eru, so, he is sure, do the eagles have more insight about the will of Manwë and so he must accept their judgement of the situation. Still. He did wish Thorondor could at least spare him the occasional visit. He was perhaps the only being other than Maedhros who truly understood the shadows on his heart. Only he had seen the great horror of finding Maedhros and the things he had done to save him.] I would not have asked you to come, Maitimo. I would have gone before you could be warned. I do not long to tread there again but I would not take you with me if that is where my path lead.

I am not so sure. If I were, perhaps I would still be in the west with Finafin.

I will sprawl over you like a cat now and then just to remind you how bony I can be. [He teases.] Perhaps then you will regret being in my bed all of the time.

No, not kind at all. Such things never are. Might be, he can't exactly easily trade with the rest of us and I'm not sure how much resources they have where he is. Perhaps the eagels are needed to help them in that capacity? [It was hard to say , knowing as little about where he was as they did. Or there might just be that Turgon had a biger part to play in all this than they knew.] You would not have needed to, love. I know you, I know what you would do in that case, you could have tried to leave me behind but I would have gone after you.

Just because your paths diverged does not mean you are less kind or good than he.

I will not complain. No matter how bony you may prove to be. [He smiles.] Never. It is the best bed to be in.

He has enough as long as he remains hidden. [Fingon had never been there but he was perhaps the only one outside of the city his brother would talk to about it at any length.] I fear that his defences are not impenetrable forever though, even with the eagles keeping watch. And while that is true, I had forewarning of father's going and you did not. As far as you could see then you would not have beat me there.

I am certainly less wise and far more guilty.

You're right. I should be threatening you with paperwork, not the body you enjoy so much.

Good. That is good to know. [Turgon and he might not be very close but he did care about his cousin quite a lot.] Few defences are. Perhaps so, still I would have gone.

Uncle Arafinwë got most of the wisdom in this family.

Cruel. [He teases.] But I'd do it if you saked me to.

I do wish we could go to him at least now and then. I miss him. I miss them all. [Fingon was so very alone. His siblings either hiding away or dead and many of the cousins who liked him did not fair any better.]

I would argue it is our aunts who were wisest. They did not stoop to get involved with the nonsense of their brothers at all. Arafinwë would have come if not for the kinslaying. His own children came.

Mmmn I know. Which is why you are the best husband.

As do I. [For Fingon's sake more than his own. Still it would be good to see Turgon again and little Idril as well, who probably wasn't so little any longer.] I miss them too.

True. The women in this family is on an entirely different level than the men when it comes to wisdom. So... the most sensible man in this family, then? That would perhaps be a bit more accurate.

You say the sweetest thing, my dear husband, but I'd argue that you are the one that holds that title.

[She hadn't been little at all by the time they crossed the ice... but then Fingon isn't sure that Maedhros had ever seen her after they arrived. At least not while he was fully himself and able to remember. Turu had understandably wanted little to do with war now that his daughter had no mother to lean into or run and hide with.] I know. I am sure they miss you as well.

Mmmn I think we can give him that much, yes. I just hate how our aunties always get ignored because they aren't fools like us. Or aren't like Artanis.

Well we will have forever to fight over who is the most deserving now. [He kisses his cheek softly.]

I was thinking... do you feel well enough for a bath if it is warm enough? Haldamir said a tub had arrived and we are near a creek so water is no issue. Haldamir will see that we are supplied well and kept warm if you wish to be cleaner. He said there are herbs, also, he could put in the bath to help you heal.

[He might have, he's not sure, he'd been both grievously hurt and not all there in the head from the medicines the healers had been forcing down his throat at the time. In his mind he could not picture her as anything but the little girl he remembered from Aman.] It is enough to know they are well, though, even if I do miss them.

It is a shame, and I did not mean to disregard them... it's just that I never got to know them as well as you. They were more sensible than to try to change my fathers mind but that unfortunately gave me little opportunity to spend time with them.

A fight I very much intend to win. For I cannot imagine a better husband than you. [He says, smiling at the kiss.]

I'd like to be clean. [Haldamir had cleaned away the worst of the filth but he still felt a bit like he wanted to scrape away his own skin to be rid of the memory of what had happened.] Warm would be good for I feel so cold, Finno. I'll likely need your help as well, for I think now that things have calmed down a bit this has all caught up to me and I feel a bit... weak and shaky.

I tell myself the same. [It's not really true though. If Fingon didn't feel responsible for all of this he may well have run away to Gondolin as well. Turu had certainly told him he could come in those early days when the city was a mere seed in his mind.

But all the princes simply could not flee. Their father needed a general and in any case, Maedhros could not come and so neither could he.]

They used to ask after you, knowing full well that I had become your shadow no matter what their brother thought of the matter. They loved us all, even those of us they could seldom meet.

Ah, but what if I am not the most deserving and you just enjoy making me blush??

[Nodding, Finno calls out to Haldamir that yes, they would like the bath please, as Haldamir has evidentially taken up the post outside of the King's tent door. He's quick to say yes and off his quiet feet go to organise everything.] I did not intend to dump you in the bath unassisted my love. I planned on helping you wash. I am here now to protect you, even if I wasn't when the need was most dire.

...It never quite works to convince oneself of it, does it? [It wasn't enough for him either, in truth. But what choice was there? They had all pretty much scattered once they got to Beleriand and going with one would inevitably mean leaving everybody else behind. Not that he would have been welcome in Gondolin, he thinks, and with good reason. But he missed his too serious cousin all the same.]

They were good aunts, from what little I knew of them, I'm just sorry I didn't know them better than I did. I think I would have gotten along well with Findis when I was young.

Oh but you are! Making you blush is just a perk of pointing out the obvious truth of the matter.

No. I did not think you were... but you know me, I can get so infernaly stubborn when I'm injured. [He grimaces. His wounded pride can make him do a whole lot of foolish things to prove he's capable, even if the only one that is doubting it is himself.]

No. Especially with father now added to our wall of the dead. [He was safe and buried peacefully, but all Fingon had was his name scribed on the wall, his things he left behind. None of his siblings were within his reach and the cousins who liked him weren't exactly fairing much better.]

There is still time to get to know them. We will go home eventually, my love.

Mmmmnn, if you say so husband.

Ah yes. That is definitely a thing you are not under normal circumstances. [He teases.] Besides you will bite anyone else who tries to wash your hair and it is in dire need of some help.

No. Certainly not after that. [It was still hard to come to grips with that. His uncle had always seemed like he would be there forever. Wise, noble and reliable as he was. But now he was just gone and Maedhros still did not know how to deal with that. How much worse, then, must it be for Fingon?]

Mmm. And this time I'll not be held back from getting to know them.

I do say so.

Oh, I am. Just marginaly less so than when I'm injured. [He teases back.] Anyone else is likely to lose a couple of fingers of their own were they to try. It's filthy and it reeks, even I can smell it and I've had time to grow used to it.

[It was a palace full of nothing but memory and echoes now. Yes, he had his people, his men, even the few children that they dared to have who sometimes followed Fingon around like little ducklings all in a row but there was forever distance between Fingon and most of them. For to them he was his grandfather, he was his father, he was as Maedhros had so long ago named him Fingon the Valiant, he who would go where all feared to tread. He was never just Fingon.

Facing Angband hadn't seemed that frightening compared to the loneliness that filled him now and would have filled him even then if he had been too late to save Maedhros, or if his arrow had been allowed to fly true.]

Even if your father was allowed back, Maitimo, at this point I would personally drag him by his ear if he dared utter one complaint. Any fear I had of him is long dead. [And festered into anger, but now is not the time for that.]

And yet I keep nuzzling you. Perhaps love does make us all fools. I will wash you clean of this, and then you will have time to heal. With me kissing your brow until it annoys you.

[Hopefully by staying Maedhros might help make it a little less lonely there for him. It is likely something he should have chosen to do a long, long time ago. Truly, no one but himself would have likely have held it against him if he had. Who could argue that one of Fingon's chief generals should not stay close by him, after all?]

Even if he was I'm not sure I'd want to do more than simply air my grievances to him and then just... go my own seperate way. Too much have passed between him and I for us to ever be able to be father and son in any meaingful way again. [Bound by blood they'd always be but Maedhros honestly just felt tired nowadays when he thought about his father.]

A bit, perhaps, but I find I do not terribly mind that kind of foolishness. You'll have to wait for a long, long time for that to annoy me.

[Fingon could think of at least five objectors, but he had never cared much for their opinions anyway. Not since he was a boy.]

I fear he never saw you as your own person, even before all of this laid out before us. You were his shadow that turned out too much like your mother and his siblings, despite the lesser connection. And you did not hate any of us. Not a bit. [Tenderly he brushes Maedhros's hair back behind his ear, stroking the tip of it lovingly.] Which to him was some kind of crime. But I am endlessly grateful. I suspect I would have followed you around like a lovesick puppy even if you had tried to throw me into a well.

Is that not the blessing and the curse of the Eldar? We have all the ages of the world to see if you will get sick of me.

[Well, he wasn't exactly in the habit of taking orders or advice from most of his brothers. Maglor might be the only one he did take any sort of advice from. The others were too volatile for him to listen overmuch to.]

No. Likely not. I was his firstborn and I don't doubt he saw me as an extension of himself, in a way, which was likely the reason it displeased him so much that I did not always see eye to eye with him. [He'd often suspected his father had wished, on more than one occassion, that Curvo had been born first instead of him. That would likely have pleased him more.] It was... betrayal in his mind, I think. Luckily for us both I never had such an inclination.

I suppose it is. The curse and blessing of having forever at your disposal. Still, I do not think I'd ever be able to tire of you.

I would try not to take it too much to heart. He saw most of us being merely born as a betrayal. It was not too high of a bar. [He probably had. Curvo was the man's true shadow, even now it was sometimes like bumping into Fëanor himself when they were near each other. A thankfully rare occurrence.] Your brothers did try to throw me down a well a few times. [There was a lot of attempted murder Fingon simply had never brought up... Oops.]

Good. I love my husband too much to ever tire of him and I think we have had time enough apart already.

I don't anymore. It hurt when I was younger but now it just... disappoints me, I suppose. [It was what it was and it had never been anything he could have done to change it because the problem did not truly lie with him. He'd just thought better of his father once upon a time, but he thought he might just see him more clearly now that he was older and arguably wiser.] Those little shits... it does not surprise me, though. I'll just have to remember to dump them in the darkest, slimiest pond I can find next time I see them. [Maybe he should even find a well or two for the worst perpetrators? It would certainly rid him of his two most frequent headaches for a time.]

The same is true for me. Yes, too long. Far too long. We deserve to be a little bit selfish now, don't we?

If only you could talk to father. I think he understood more than even I can. Perhaps someday. [Perhaps when they all are home and Fingolfin has come out of the halls. Though Fingon hopes he is already out, if only for the sake of his mother.] I cannot say I will stop you, though if we shove them into places we really wish to we may start a war on a second front.

Yes. This is not a selfishness that we should fear. It is a small thing to the world, even though it is everything to us.

[Haldamir calls out softly from the door flap and then comes in, dragging the bath with one hand. It was metal, ornately decorated and quite large. Suitable for one of two of their overly tall people, so easily big enough for Maedhros to relax in.] I will bring in the water myself as well so you two are not disturbed. [Says he, before leaving again. He will return repeatedly bringing buckets of water and emptying them in the tub. Fingon thanks him but does not try to move to help for once. He is helping as much as he can by being so close to Maedhros and keeping him safe.]

I wish I could as well. I miss him. He always seemed to know just what to say when I'd had a disagreement with father. [He does. He truly misses his uncle.] Heh. It's not like I haven't done it before. Too bad I love them too much to shove them from the battlements, though I do get the urge to do so from time to time...

That's right. It's so small a thing, but one that will give us so much joy. That can't be so bad a thing, can it?

[Maedhros musters up a small smile in thanks to Haldamir. It will be good to bathe, he thinks, to be able to feel somewhat clean again. To wash away the lingering memories of pawing hands, and worse, all over him.]

I suppose he had a lot of practice, as even when they did not think differently on a matter your father often decided they did, just because agreeing was somehow offensive. Mmmn. I know this urge well, yet I would not actually do it either.

I do not think so. It would be so petty of the world to count this amongst our biggest sins.

[Haldamir smiles warmly at Maedhros but keeps about his work. It will take some time, of course, but already the floral scent of the liberally flowered water is warming the tent as it steams away, hot water poured first so they can adjust it cooler after most of the hauling is done.]

I can imagine he did. Poor uncle... how frustrating and hurtful that must have been for him. My brothers do tend to kindle that feeling in others.

True. So I probably should not worry too much about it.

[It's a nice smell. Nicer than he'd had to deal with for quite some time now. He's content to just lean into Fingon and just enjoy that small luxury until the bath is ready for him.]

It is a wonder any of our generation gets along with their siblings given what we grew up watching. Though getting along with your brothers is really a matter of will, sometimes, for they do try to be obnoxious beyond all description.

No, do not worry. [He says and kisses the crown of Maedhros's head.] I have you now and that is all that matters. [There is a phrase he has had to utter too often in Ennor.]

It does feel like something of a miracle there wasn't more strife all things considered. They are an obnoxious, quarrelsome lot. I wish they could be more free with the sweeter parts of themselves, but I'm not going to hold my breath for that to change anytime soon.

I'll try not to. [He sighs softly and closes his eyes for a moment.] It is. I am where I was always supposed to be right now. By your side.

Luckily, the good relationships outnumber the bad. Even counting your brothers and not just Fëanor. I fear none other than Kano would dare show softness now. And he is mostly sad these days when he is not pretending to be our jester to tease us.

Yes. And you are safe here. It would take all of the armies of Angband to break my army and find us. More came while you were sleeping. We are quite safe.

I am certainly very thankful for that. I don't think I would have survived mediating any more bad relationships than I did. No. There's not much softness left in them now, at least none they are willing to show. I worry for him, at times.

Safe. [He contemplates that almost foreign concept for a while. It is hard to believe but it does not feel false. Feels like it is as true as it can be in this place where perfect safety does not truly exist.] Yes. I am always safest with you, I think. I must have slept quite deeply then for I did not notice. [It is... strangely relieving to realize he slept so soundly. He has not slept deeply enough to miss something like that for quite some time.]

I worry for them too. Despite everything they are my cousins and your brothers.

I sang to you softly and wrapped you safely within my fëa, to help beat back any nightmares. You seemed at peace. A little thing like the quiet growing of an elven encampment wasn't going to bother you.

Despite all the trouble they've caused we still love them. Wise or not that is the truth of it. Besides... they are absolutely useless at caring for themselves. Pretty hard not to worry about them when they constantly get themselves into trouble.

I thought I felt your warmth and light in my dreams. Chasing away the shadows. It always feels strange for me when I sleep well enough to miss anything going on around me, but it is a strangeness I would not mind growing used to.

We do. Unlike some of them, I think we are incapable of not loving them regardless of what we get in return. They are quite useless at it, yes.

Even when I sneak away to cold, old Himring more often than not you found yourself dozing through everything. You know that you can with me.

That is so. I find myself entirely incapable of hold anything but love for anyone I've held in my arms as a babe. Even when they bring me grief. Somtimes I wonder if they have any sense of self-perservation at all... or if they just have some sort of delusion of invulnerability.

Your presence always do put my mind and spirit at ease the way nothing else can. I always know I am safe with you.

I quite enjoyed when the younger ones were babes. [They had loved him then, briefly, before their father's opinion had managed to get past their own.] I think they do not care. They are already against the Valar and even your father died. They assume, as you have done many times, that the halls or other places dead elves go is their destiny. [He kisses his hair softly. Fingon knows better than anyone Maedhros's darknesses.]

As safe as anyone can be, at least. I fear I could not outdo father if Morgoth came knocking. I would try though.

( slave. non-con discussion isok, just would rather not play it out. )

[ slave ???? ]

( ota, 18+ could place her in either role with the right pitch. )

[ slave. morvay is an incubus summoned as a familiar, so he was basically Born For This. he's a baked-in 3, but he's also a decent spy and a slice of beefcake so 4, 6, or 7 are also totally viable. ]

[Want to be a maffia boss' plaything? Byakuran have his own kind of essence and he might very well have found a way to fuel it through sex. He simply needs someone that can handel him. An incubus should do nicely.]

[Slave - 3 is obvious, 6 is possible, and 7 is also likely given as how he was a soldier before he was a courtesan, pretty boytoy bodyguard is always a fun angle.]

[As the master, probably 2 with a side of 5 - as the slave basically anything except 1 or 4]

[ m/m. more likely to be the slave, but options for each anyway. for slave, most likely to be 1, 3, 5, or 7. for master, 2 or 5 fit him best. open to discussion! ]

( slave. adept at playing a good dog but he might be plotting to kill you/the person you bought him for. prefs/info & warnings )

[If a slave, it's probably a deal that LB was transferred into slavery after failing in her PMC/mercenary duties. She'll probably be more weirdly more accepting of this role (as she's confident in her looks, at the very least) as long as it gets her away from the horrors of the battlefield for a while.

Preferences for options 1, 3, or maybe 4 (though she'll be baffled if picked up for her competency with a gun and will probably try to convince her buyer to use her for other means instead).

If a master, I'm up for an AU of sorts where she's being prepped to eventually take over the head of a fairly prestigious family and is expected to own slaves as a symbol of her status (or something along those lines). Basically, more of an uneasy buyer that will not be immune to appreciating the charm or the looks of her potential slaves.

Preferences for options 1 (for this one, she'll probably feel extra guilty about buying more, but is being urged to buy more), 2, or 6. All will probably come with a bit of option 5 guilt that she's desperately trying to hide.]

Edited 2025-03-29 22:52 (UTC)

( either role! )

[ m/m. slave. more info ]

The Slave Auction Meme

Gale Dekarios // BG3 // M/M pref

Dorian Storm | Critical Role | OTA

Barcus Wroot | Baldur's Gate 3 | ota gen, M/M pref for shipping

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:D

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Matsuno Chifuyu ( Tokyo Revengers )

Asta ☘ Black Clover

Murderbot - the Murderbot Diaries

Umino Iruka | Naruto | m/m

akito sohma ― fruits basket

till | alien stage

Edwin Payne | Dead Boy Detectives

Atsushi Nakajima | Bungo Stray Dogs

spock | aos star trek

Maedhros | the Silmarillion | OTA

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