Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death, Loss of bodily autonomy (no Non-con)
Chapter: 12
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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They continued to travel more or less South until the mountain-range beside them ran into a different one running perpendicular to it, though a gap separated the two.
There they had a whopping 2 days of rest, though they spend most of it resting beside the river in the gap, only moving enough to drag themselves down to the shore for drinks. Though their uncle was not yet being forced to run as they did, he could move again already and they woke to a small fire on the second day, some roasting fish and a pile of fruit he managed to find somewhere.
With only Thuringwethil as guard, it was the closest they had been to being alone with him in centuries.
"Eat." He told them, gesturing with his head to the food. Caranthir looked over at his little brother, still curled up. His legs hurt, the continuous exercise catching up to him.
"Curvo..." He reached over, gently shaking his sibling. "Curvo, wake up."
The smith murmured something, but finally came out of reverie. "Oh..."
"Food's waiting." The fish alone would already be better than anything they had on their journey, and not just because it was actually prepared.
The two managed to join their uncle at the fire, reaching for two of the sticks he'd used to put the fish over the fire.
"Thanks." He murmured softly, trying to find a comfortable position.
"Not sure that is an appropriate thing to tell me, Moryo." Their father's youngest half-sibling poked at the fire, before reaching over to the side opposite them, where he had been roasting some edible roots. "This situation is hardly a thank-able one."
"We decided to put ourselves into it, though." Curufin accepted one of them, tearing into it. "We didn't even know of you when we swore ourselves to him."
"Had I been able to handle things better, he wouldn't have put you in these circumstances." The golden-haired son of Finu chuckled self-deprecatingly. "We'd be in the Leaguer, awaiting the arrival of the Valinorean army so I could return the Silmarils to your family."
He had told them, both of the original plan and how it had turned out this wrong.
"Pretty certain it was Fingolfin." Thuringwethil butted in. "Master could have forgiven a lot, if he hadn't murdered the wolves."
That, they'd also learned already, that the wolves were connected to Gorthaur somehow, though everyone was rather sparse on explaining how exactly.
Both sons of Fëanor fell silent, eating what they could of the food their uncle had managed to find for them.
One of the surviving puppies toddled up, curling up against the older of the three. He absentmindedly started petting it, scratching the rough fur. They had seen enough of Huan to be able to tell the signs of grief in the small canine form. Considering twenty others had not made it out of Tol Sirion, they could figure out why.
Caranthir sighed softly, looking at the half-eaten fish in his hands. "So what will happen now?" They couldn't keep running forever... could they?
"Now, we'll find a nice place to live... in perpetuity." He nearly flinched at the voice, looking up at the Maia that had arrived at some point.
"Mairon." Finarfin greeted the redhead, eyes on the fish that he was still tending. "You have found a place then?"
"I have." He swept past them, stopping beside their uncle. "It's lovely... Though it will take a good while to get there, it's a good distance still."
Now he did flinch, nearly dropping his food. He looked over at his brother, who shared his look of quiet dread. They had sworn not to escape, but they kept the hope of being freed. If it was a 'good distance' from here, it'd likely take them another several months still to get there.
And any rescuers would not be able to do a straight journey there, unless the trail would still be traceable by the time they came. Considering they had started their journey by being swept through fires and flame, by the time anyone even found the starting-point...
It might take a good while.
The Maia was toying with their uncle's golden hair, several strands between his fingers. "Rest a bit more, tomorrow it's moving time again." He chuckled, looking at the two black-haired Finweons behind him. "But not to worry, I'll do the first bit for you lot."
He nearly bit his lip bloody at that. Even if anyone found the first trail, it'd end here and Eru only knew if they'd find the new one at some point.
By the grin, the former Lieutenant of Angband knew the direction his thoughts had taken.