Category: Tolkien-Universe

Rating: M

Couples: -

Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death

Chapter: 52

Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me

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Beleriand was beautiful, she supposed. It was night when they drew up to the island her husband was in charge off, looming against the dark-blue sky - and the further mountains in the distance.

There was a wolf on the walls, head poking between two tips of the stones. He disappeared when noticing them, and by the time they passed the open gates, she could just see his fluffy tail disappear between some open doors in the distance.

When they reached the doors, they were greeted by a gradient-haired male. A red-head she recognized, though at least the colorscheme of his clothes had changed, and he wore a brooch with her husband's seal on it. The wolf at his side was wearing a band around one of his paws, also bearing Finarfin's seal.

"Oh." The Maia that had taken her husband from Valinor blinked a bit. "I see." He made a face. "He's asleep, we expected your tomorrow."

"I was in a hurry." Eärwen stated evenly. Lalwen opened her mouth to speak, but she kept talking. "I'll wake him up."

"Daerŷn can show you the way to his rooms." He offered, gesturing to the brown shape beside him, slipping past her and catching her law-sister by the arm.

She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing as he towed Finwë second-youngest away under her protests. The wolf sat waiting, blood-red eyes considering her. She had heard of the trouble of wolves in the past few centuries, but considering she herself had not suffered under it... well, she was not liable to lob its' head off.

"Well, lead the way." She had just to hope it understood Quenya.

If the beast did not, it clearly could still get the gist of her words, as it rose to its' feet and trotted off. She followed through the fortress her eldest had build, looking around. She should have seen the gold coming, if she were entirely honest.

She was lead to an elegantly carved door, which she slipped through without knocking. It was a workroom, though there were some scorch-marks on the ceiling which she wondered about.

Still, she had come for her spouse, so she progressed through the rooms to the bedroom.

He was asleep, curled up on side... as if they were just back in Tirion, and nothing had happened. "Arafinwë." She whispered his name into the cool air of the room, before she could reconsider at leave him to his rest. He instantly became awake, shooting up from the soft mattress with a jerk.

"Eärwen..." He breathed her name, stumbling out from under his blanket. "I..." It was the same expression he had worn when returning from the North alone. His eyes, blue like the skies, were as wide and open as those.

"..." She could not find words, throat tight. Action however, she did find. The sound of her hand hitting his cheek echoed, and he flinched away briefly. He did not look at her again.

"I'm sorry..." His voice sounded weak and broken. "For what it is worth."

"It is hardly worth anything." She hissed it, trembling with her emotions, to many to name. "What... were you thinking!? How dare you!? I watched you burn as my father's ships did!"

"I know..." He sank through his knees before her, kneeling on the ground without ever so much as glancing at her face. "I did not know how to tell you."

"Clearly." The sole elder princess of the Teleri snarled, before sobbing once and joining him on the floor. "Why...?" She pleaded for an answer. She needed the answer, unless it all came to ruin around them.

"They were Doomed... and still my kin." Arafinwë, son of Finwë, brother of Fëanáro and Nolofinwë, breathed the answer... the admission. "I could not..."

Her husband, too kind by a fair margin... "They are mine too." She admitted in a whisper, leaning forward a bit. "My children, my law-siblings, my... niblings." Though she was yet unsure if she would ever truly count the Sons of Fëanáro among those with the same ease as the children of Anairë. "I do not begrudge you your wish to see them safe."

Now he did look at her again, eyes filled with a semblance of hope.

She had spend two centuries angry with him and his kin. The last three years had put matters into perspective... and so she tucked herself under his chin, into his arms.