Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death
Chapter: 53
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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Between Morgoth's armies having been broken less than a year ago in their attempt to avenge his pride on Gorthaur and Finarfin, and the armies that had come from Valinor, Finrod was not surprised that soon they had a proper siege going, only waiting for the massive siege-engines that would take down the gates of Angband.
He was equally delighted with his parents, as they seemed joined at the hip. After his father had told them how poorly Eärwen had taken the entire thing, he had worried that she'd repudiate him like Nerdanel had Fëanor. That, thankfully, seemed to be a worry he could let go off.
It was also utterly hilarious that his grandfather - who had come as the head of the mariners - was now a little brother, and Thingol seemed intend to make up for lost time. The entire family was learning that clearly, Angrod got his big brother-act from his great-uncle.
Still, there was tension between them and Eönwë, almost palpably whenever the three of them were in a room together.
"Do you blame them?" He asked his father over breakfast once. "The Valar for letting you be taken, I mean?"
Finarfin for a moment did not say anything, before taking a deep breath. "No. No, I do not." He smiled faintly, looking out the window. They were alone, his mother meeting with Nerdanel and Anairë and the Maia of Tol Sirion was working on something in the forges.
"Oh, good... Good." He breathed softly, leaning over the table to reach the eggs.
"But?" The older golden-haired male chuckled softly. "You noticed the tension between myself and Eönwë, I guess?"
"Well, yes." He admitted with a awkward chuckle himself. "If not that, why then? It's... rather obvious."
"A lot of things, I think mostly my... cooperation with Mairon." Honestly, his father was about the only one that called the Maia Mairon, everyone else called him Gorthaur, or Sauron for those that were still learning Sindarin.
"Still amazed you managed to just... steal him." He offered some more bread, which the other accepted with a nod.
"I guess Fëanor is not the only wordsmith in the family." His father was still loathe to talk about his time in Angband, which was fully fair.
Argon had told the family some of it, in private, well away from Tol Sirion and Finarfin - who hardly ever left the island. Finrod had nearly sworn an oath to disembowel Morgoth himself over it. Maedhros had nearly tackled him, half-jokingly and half-seriously pointing out that they really had enough messy oaths in the family.
So he had made a solemn promise to disembowel Morgoth - and look for an opening to punch Gorthaur just once, for starting the whole thing by stealing his father.
"I do wonder how he managed to steal you..." He murmured into his breakfast-tea, eyes falling a bit. It still did not compute, one Maia surpassing protections erected by twelve Valar. Especially because he showed little aptitude for those levels of strength in any other context. It had taken him weeks to claim an island! It boggled the mind still.
He hoped he'd get the answer to that question at some point.
His father did not answer that, instead turning his attentions back to his food, prodding at his eggs. They were still on his case about regaining his strength, as Angband - no matter how long - drained a person... and then there had been the Silmarils.
The healers had pretty quickly realized that his father's first quick recovery had been facilitated by the Silmarils in his body. Everyone had quickly realized that after he'd lost them, his health had first deteriorated before recovering again as if his body was punishing him for essentially cheating.