Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: Egalmoth/Rog, Maeglin/Salgant
Warnings: AU, canon-levels of Everything
Chapter: 9
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate and/or mynameisjessejk, Plot & OC´s © by me
Authors note: Set in the Otter(less) Mayhem Universe of abovementioned mynameisjessejk on AO3. Unofficial sequel to 'The House of the Mole'
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He grumbled a bit, seeking the warmth of the nearby body. It had certainly been a good while since he had felt this cold, but he supposed it made sense that healing drained their energy-levels to zero.
"You're affectionate." Egalmoth chuckled, but gladly curled into him. Together, they managed to pile their furs on top of oneanother to keep the warmth in better.
"This forest gets cold at night." Rog muttered darkly, relaxing a bit now that it felt less like he was back in the cold river. "Colder than New Gondolin ever got... and that is next to the mountains. I feel there's something wrong if mountains are warmer than the lowlands."
Both of them gave no more reaction when hearing claws scratch the rocks that made up the center of the room, where there was a central firepit. The black tamed wolf of the village-leader had gave them a small fright the first time they noticed her; she was midnight-black, looking for all intents and purposes like a beast of Morgoth. Yet clearly, the leader had tamed her somehow.
The large form settled down beside Egalmoth, forming a source of warmth against the cool air under the treetops that manifested in cold for the wounded and recovering elves. "I do not recall you ever being this drained in New Gondolin." Egalmoth had strengthened enough to now speak in full sentences again, but his voice was still far softer and weaker than its' wont.
The smith grumbled again, looking at the wolf. The animal had been taking turns on which side it'd lay on, but that did not mean he had to like being cold whenever it was not his turn. He wondered how much longer until he did not feel temperatures as sharply anymore. He hoped it was soon.
Egalmoth just laughed softly at his face, the traitor. "I guess you got spoiled, hanging out in hot smithies all the time?" While perhaps true, it did not change that it was cold here and that he would have prefered there to be another wolf to warm him.
"I thought you felt you owed me something, for saving your life?" He frowned, almost annoyed at feeling his mouthcorner quirk up in a smile at the look the other was giving him. "Are you sure it's wise to annoy me then?"
"And I thought we agreed that any and all food-based expressions of that could wait until we were back in the city?" The other snuggled back, soaking up the warmth of their personal furnace for as long as the she-wolf would deign them with her presence. It usually wasn't that long, though luckily the fire got turned on when night fell and it was dinnertime. Between that and what seemed the whole number of this group appearing in the building, their sleep was usually not spend in cold.
"I feel she favours you." The white-haired elf chose not to answer that question, but did follow the other to keep at least some source of his warmth. "She gets grumbly whenever I try to move closer."
"I am softer." Which was true, especially these days. Rog was still well-muscled from his work in the forges of New Gondolin, but Egalmoth had let slip his own training-regimes... though luckily, not enough that his secretary still made comments about his waistline, so there was that.
"See how well that worked out for you." He ever so lightly rested his hand on the absolutely mangled mess that was the Lord of the Heavenly Arch's leg. His horse had shattered the bones with her hit, and from how the healer was treating it, there was something wrong with the hip of it as well. But none of them knew the other's language well enough to be able to explain that.
"As if you could survive a horse crushing you unscathed." Both mourned their steeds, because though they had not been as close and devoted to one another as Asfaloth and Glorfindel, they had greatly liked them.
"Considering some of the messes my apprentices cause, I think I actually might." Rog removed the hand, settling it on the other's flank instead. "An anvil is heavy, let me tell you."
"I would not have guessed." Both chuckled at his attempt at seriousness.
