Quality time with Fëanor.
Warnings: implied abuse. Slash for those who look for it.
Please read and review.
-A
Love of a Father
Amrod
shuddered, curled up in his cloak just outside of Fëanor's
tent. He heard muffled cries from inside, the occasional muted scream. Amras, his twin, was in there now, at their father's mercy.
Last night had been Celegrom, Caranthir
and Curufin, and before that had been Maehdros and Maglor: tonight it
was the youngests' turns. Amrod
flinched when a scream cut the night air, but just as quickly it was silenced.
There was little he could do but wait until it was over so that he could sleep
and begin to heal. He moved the cloak carefully away from his slender frame.
His fine but simple clothes were torn in a few places, beneath which pale skin
was bruised or broken. His face, however, had only a small mark along his jaw. Fëanor was careful in all that he did.
He sighed softly, pushing a few strands of his dark hair away from his face. It
could be much worse. Fëanor was doing his children a favour. Much worse could and would be done to them if they
were ever captured by Morgoth's minions. Right? His thoughts drifted into oblivion as he looked up,
seeing Amras pulling his clothes back into place,
covering new bruises and blood as he did so. He had forgotten his cloak and Amrod sympathised. His brother
moved carefully, lacking his customary grace in favour
of comfort. Amrod got up carefully and slipped over,
planting a comforting kiss on Amras's mouth. They
would always have each other, if no one else.