Notes: This is the first part of what will probably be a multi-chapter ongoing story covering Maedhros' life between Valinor and up to his return from Thangorodrim (and possibly further if the plotbunny is still going by then). It's focussed mainly on Maedhros' turbulent relationship with his brothers and his father, and how those were affected by his relationship with Fingon. Yes this will probably get very slashy, you should know by now that this is my OTP.
All first-person from Maedhros' POV, simply because that's the way he prefers to tell it. And as usual, Quenya names throughout; see list at the bottom for translations.
RIFTS
Things were perfect then, or so we thought. I never imagined, in my youth, that there could be hate in Valinor, but I was soon to learn that indeed there was, and much of it was in my house. I had long noticed that my parents no longer slept together, and barely spoke to one another, and even when they did, their words were short.
Still, so long as Findekáno was by my side, there was nothing but bliss, for me. We struggled to disguise our relationship sometimes, for I wanted nothing more than to tell the whole world just what he meant to me. But such a love as ours was unheard-of so we kept it hidden out of fear, and snatched what time together that we could, in the secret hidden places of Valinor.
Often, a day's horse-riding would be our excuse, I would take my bow and we would bring back game, and Ambarussa often commented how poor a hunter I was, that I could hunt all day and bring back so little. I would smile and agree with them, and remind them again how I could never match their skill, and that would be the end of it. Findekáno and I returned late from one such ride, as Telperion was already waxing. This time we had no game at all since we had been so distracted and lost track of time. My ammë was busy in the kitchen preparing supper, I was hungry and snatched an apple from the table as I came in.
"Maitimo!" she slapped my hand and scolded me lightly. "Can't you wait?" She smiled, but her eyes were filled with concern and if I was not mistaken it seemed to me as though she had been crying. "Your atar wants to see you, Maitimo. He's in the forge." She glanced at Findekáno. "I think you should go home," she added.
Findekáno looked crestfallen. "But Maitimo said I could stay for supper," he protested.
Ammë leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. "Not today," she said sadly.
"Tomorrow then," he said to me. I nodded and tossed him an apple which he caught and shoved into his mouth. He hesitated at the door, as if to say something else, then he just shrugged and walked out.
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Atar was in his forge, with Turcofinwë. He was hammering at a large piece of bronze, part of his latest sculpture, though I could not tell what it was supposed to be. The air was hot and smelled of coal-dust and metal. I had always hated being in there. I hovered by the open door, hoping it would not take long. "Atar?"
Fëanáro did not look at me. Turcofinwë gave me an ugly sneer. "Sit down, Nelyafinwë," he said, still with his back to me, continuing to work. I reluctantly took a seat on a stool too close to the heat of the forge for my comfort. It was many long impatient minutes before he finished what he was doing. He tidied his tools, washed his hands in a bucket of water and wiped them on his leather apron. When he turned to me his sweat-beaded face was as dark as thunder, his anger so vivid that I flinched.
"Findekáno is not welcome here any more," Fëanáro said bluntly. "You are not to see him again."
"Atar!" I rose to my feet in protest.
"SIT!" he bellowed. Stunned, I did so. Turcofinwë chuckled. "You will not defy me in this, Nelyafinwë."
"I certainly will!" I retorted. "I am well past the age of majority and so is Findekáno, and if we choose to spend our time together then we will."
"You will not!" Fëanáro glared at me, his face red with heat and anger, and a vein throbbing in his temple. He clenched his fists and then relaxed them again, as though trying to force calmness upon himself. "Turcofinwë has recently told me some news that disturbs me greatly, and I seek to know your opinion on it."
I frowned at my younger brother and he folded his bare arms, looking down his nose at me in the same way he might look at a piece of dirt. An uncomfortable queasiness settled in my belly and I began to understand.
My father closed his eyes and took a breath. "Turco tells me that your friendship with your cousin is..." he hesitated as though searching for a way to say it that did not disgust him. "...more than meets the eye."
I shifted uncomfortably on the stool and chewed a fingernail. "What do you mean?" I asked, knowing full well where this was leading.
It was Turco who answered. "You've been rutting with each other like animals!"
"No!" I leaped to my feet again, livid with sudden rage, and I swung my fist at him. Atar caught my arm before my blow connected and he twisted my arm uncomfortably. A little sob escaped my throat. "Not like animals," I said quietly.
Fëanáro's eyes widened and I met his glare with my own. "Like what then?" he demanded, wrenching my arm still further. "Like lovers?"
Oh, how I wanted to say yes! How I wanted to tell him the truth, all of it, and bare to him all the joy I held in my heart for my Findekáno. But I feared my father and all I could do was give one tiny nod. Fëanáro raised his free hand and struck me hard across the face, hard enough to send me sprawling to the floor. Turco laughed loudly, and then fell silent as Fëanáro threw a stony stare at him too.
"This is not a matter for laughter," he growled. He turned his attention back to me as I scrambled back to my feet. "I could expect such a thing from my fool brother's ignorant sons, but never in my worst nightmares could I imagine such a thing of my own son! My eldest son!" I felt myself flush and looked at the floor, saying nothing. My face stung from his blow and my eyes stung with tears that I was determined not to show. "Why, Nelyafinwë?" he continued to rant. "Why do you defile yourself so? Why do you bring such dishonour to my House?"
I clenched my jaw and met his glare. "Because we love one another." There. It was said. No going back now. I felt physically sick.
"Impossible! He is... male, Nelyo! He is your cousin!"
"Half-cousin," I pointed out. That earned me another blow to the face, this time I saw it coming and rode it out without falling.
"It is wrong!" Fëanáro continued, waving his arms in the air. "It is evil and despicable in every way imaginable. You shame me, Nelyafinwë. You shame me and my House, and I will not stand for it."
I glared at him. "You can't stop us," I said.
"Indeed I can and I will." His voice was a low, wolf-like growl. "There is an unwed maiden of the House of Ingwë. Her name is Hecilë. I have already sent a message to her father to begin arrangements for your marriage to her. You shall be wed within three months and you shall dwell with her at Taniquetil. At least this way your shame may not become public and you might retain the outward appearance of being... normal."
My heart lodged itself in my throat and I could not speak. Marriage was unthinkable to me. How could I marry, when my heart and soul was already bound to another? How could I bear to live the rest of my life separated from him in such a way? Fëanáro turned his back to me and started to work the bellows, making plain that the discussion was over. I touched my bruised face and bleeding nose, turned and walked away, slamming the door behind me.
------------------------
Quenya Names:
Nelyafinwë (Nelyo) Maitino: Maedhros
Canafinwë (Cano) Macalaurë: Maglor
Turcofinwe (Turco) Tyelkormo: Celegorm
Moryofinwë (Moryo) Carnistir: Caranthir
Curufinwë (Curvo) Atarinke: Curufin
Pityafinwë (Pitya) Ambarussa: Amrod
Telufinwë (Telvo) Ambarussa: Amras
Ambarussa: the twins, collectively
Findekáno (Káno): Fingon
Curufinwë Fëanáro: Fëanor
Atar: father
Ammë : mother
All first-person from Maedhros' POV, simply because that's the way he prefers to tell it. And as usual, Quenya names throughout; see list at the bottom for translations.
RIFTS
Things were perfect then, or so we thought. I never imagined, in my youth, that there could be hate in Valinor, but I was soon to learn that indeed there was, and much of it was in my house. I had long noticed that my parents no longer slept together, and barely spoke to one another, and even when they did, their words were short.
Still, so long as Findekáno was by my side, there was nothing but bliss, for me. We struggled to disguise our relationship sometimes, for I wanted nothing more than to tell the whole world just what he meant to me. But such a love as ours was unheard-of so we kept it hidden out of fear, and snatched what time together that we could, in the secret hidden places of Valinor.
Often, a day's horse-riding would be our excuse, I would take my bow and we would bring back game, and Ambarussa often commented how poor a hunter I was, that I could hunt all day and bring back so little. I would smile and agree with them, and remind them again how I could never match their skill, and that would be the end of it. Findekáno and I returned late from one such ride, as Telperion was already waxing. This time we had no game at all since we had been so distracted and lost track of time. My ammë was busy in the kitchen preparing supper, I was hungry and snatched an apple from the table as I came in.
"Maitimo!" she slapped my hand and scolded me lightly. "Can't you wait?" She smiled, but her eyes were filled with concern and if I was not mistaken it seemed to me as though she had been crying. "Your atar wants to see you, Maitimo. He's in the forge." She glanced at Findekáno. "I think you should go home," she added.
Findekáno looked crestfallen. "But Maitimo said I could stay for supper," he protested.
Ammë leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. "Not today," she said sadly.
"Tomorrow then," he said to me. I nodded and tossed him an apple which he caught and shoved into his mouth. He hesitated at the door, as if to say something else, then he just shrugged and walked out.
------------------------
Atar was in his forge, with Turcofinwë. He was hammering at a large piece of bronze, part of his latest sculpture, though I could not tell what it was supposed to be. The air was hot and smelled of coal-dust and metal. I had always hated being in there. I hovered by the open door, hoping it would not take long. "Atar?"
Fëanáro did not look at me. Turcofinwë gave me an ugly sneer. "Sit down, Nelyafinwë," he said, still with his back to me, continuing to work. I reluctantly took a seat on a stool too close to the heat of the forge for my comfort. It was many long impatient minutes before he finished what he was doing. He tidied his tools, washed his hands in a bucket of water and wiped them on his leather apron. When he turned to me his sweat-beaded face was as dark as thunder, his anger so vivid that I flinched.
"Findekáno is not welcome here any more," Fëanáro said bluntly. "You are not to see him again."
"Atar!" I rose to my feet in protest.
"SIT!" he bellowed. Stunned, I did so. Turcofinwë chuckled. "You will not defy me in this, Nelyafinwë."
"I certainly will!" I retorted. "I am well past the age of majority and so is Findekáno, and if we choose to spend our time together then we will."
"You will not!" Fëanáro glared at me, his face red with heat and anger, and a vein throbbing in his temple. He clenched his fists and then relaxed them again, as though trying to force calmness upon himself. "Turcofinwë has recently told me some news that disturbs me greatly, and I seek to know your opinion on it."
I frowned at my younger brother and he folded his bare arms, looking down his nose at me in the same way he might look at a piece of dirt. An uncomfortable queasiness settled in my belly and I began to understand.
My father closed his eyes and took a breath. "Turco tells me that your friendship with your cousin is..." he hesitated as though searching for a way to say it that did not disgust him. "...more than meets the eye."
I shifted uncomfortably on the stool and chewed a fingernail. "What do you mean?" I asked, knowing full well where this was leading.
It was Turco who answered. "You've been rutting with each other like animals!"
"No!" I leaped to my feet again, livid with sudden rage, and I swung my fist at him. Atar caught my arm before my blow connected and he twisted my arm uncomfortably. A little sob escaped my throat. "Not like animals," I said quietly.
Fëanáro's eyes widened and I met his glare with my own. "Like what then?" he demanded, wrenching my arm still further. "Like lovers?"
Oh, how I wanted to say yes! How I wanted to tell him the truth, all of it, and bare to him all the joy I held in my heart for my Findekáno. But I feared my father and all I could do was give one tiny nod. Fëanáro raised his free hand and struck me hard across the face, hard enough to send me sprawling to the floor. Turco laughed loudly, and then fell silent as Fëanáro threw a stony stare at him too.
"This is not a matter for laughter," he growled. He turned his attention back to me as I scrambled back to my feet. "I could expect such a thing from my fool brother's ignorant sons, but never in my worst nightmares could I imagine such a thing of my own son! My eldest son!" I felt myself flush and looked at the floor, saying nothing. My face stung from his blow and my eyes stung with tears that I was determined not to show. "Why, Nelyafinwë?" he continued to rant. "Why do you defile yourself so? Why do you bring such dishonour to my House?"
I clenched my jaw and met his glare. "Because we love one another." There. It was said. No going back now. I felt physically sick.
"Impossible! He is... male, Nelyo! He is your cousin!"
"Half-cousin," I pointed out. That earned me another blow to the face, this time I saw it coming and rode it out without falling.
"It is wrong!" Fëanáro continued, waving his arms in the air. "It is evil and despicable in every way imaginable. You shame me, Nelyafinwë. You shame me and my House, and I will not stand for it."
I glared at him. "You can't stop us," I said.
"Indeed I can and I will." His voice was a low, wolf-like growl. "There is an unwed maiden of the House of Ingwë. Her name is Hecilë. I have already sent a message to her father to begin arrangements for your marriage to her. You shall be wed within three months and you shall dwell with her at Taniquetil. At least this way your shame may not become public and you might retain the outward appearance of being... normal."
My heart lodged itself in my throat and I could not speak. Marriage was unthinkable to me. How could I marry, when my heart and soul was already bound to another? How could I bear to live the rest of my life separated from him in such a way? Fëanáro turned his back to me and started to work the bellows, making plain that the discussion was over. I touched my bruised face and bleeding nose, turned and walked away, slamming the door behind me.
------------------------
Quenya Names:
Nelyafinwë (Nelyo) Maitino: Maedhros
Canafinwë (Cano) Macalaurë: Maglor
Turcofinwe (Turco) Tyelkormo: Celegorm
Moryofinwë (Moryo) Carnistir: Caranthir
Curufinwë (Curvo) Atarinke: Curufin
Pityafinwë (Pitya) Ambarussa: Amrod
Telufinwë (Telvo) Ambarussa: Amras
Ambarussa: the twins, collectively
Findekáno (Káno): Fingon
Curufinwë Fëanáro: Fëanor
Atar: father
Ammë : mother