Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death, Loss of bodily autonomy (no Non-con)
Chapter: 14
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"Please." It had become a near mantra for him, pleading to the Lord of his prison to be released.
"Thou art not to leave my Halls." Namó, dread Namó, Lord of the Slain, loomed over him on his throne. It spoke of some courtesy that the Vala did not simply force his removal from the throne-room.
In his more desperate moments, Fëanáro wondered if he was just enjoying this. He was pretty certain he'd never pleaded with any Ainur beforehand.
"They are my kin!" He could not watch it all over again, could not watch his kin suffer for a third time without being able to do aught against it. First Nelyo, then Arafinwë and now...
"They swore themselves to Mairon." The Vala stated calmly, so deathly calm he wondered if he understood aught of what he said.
"They..." He did not know what to say to that. Even if it were the truth, he would see them saved. Would see himself in their positions before anyone else. "Please."
He had been a wordsmith as much as any other kind of smith once. But there were no words that would change the Vala's mind, he suspected. The latest tapestry had been a family-picture - barring the three that had been lost and the two still in the Halls - which Vairë had informed him was their discussion about how to best go about getting the former back.
But he'd seen his sons' tapestry, and knew they were far from Beleriand. It'd likely take years to get to them... Years in which the Maia that had taken them could do untold damage.
He could not watch it all again. He'd nearly broken under his Firstborn's, and his brother's had only been light because in hindsight Sauron had ensured it was.
"Let me go..." So he was left trying to wear his Keeper down with pleas rather than curses as he once had.
"Thou art not meant to be reborn." It tore at him, and he nearly clawed at the larger form in his desperation.
"Is that a judgement, or a fact, My Lord...?" The mere presence of his wife brightened the throne-room. "Your Doom has been broken, husband." Fëanáro looked up, watching the pastel-clad Valie glide by, a tapestry on her arm.
"It has." He conceded the point as she sat down on her own throne. "There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you." He quoted his own words. "Two centuries of the Sun I would not call long, in the manner of the elves."
"Fëanáro's judgement was Exile, as we spoke it first." She countered, and the fëa in front of them came to the slow realization that she was arguing in his favor.
"It was."
"It will take years to find them." He whispered, looking up. "Let me be useful in my exile, then... let me save your ordained King of the Noldor. After that..."
"Wouldst thou be offering to save our ordained King, if not for thy sons that happen to be with him?" The black-clad Vala demanded, sounding almost curious.
"I..." He did not know how to answer that question. He'd pleaded to be released when Nelyafinwë had been caught early on. He had only pleaded for action - and even that left the definition of 'plead' up for debate - when Arafinwë alone had been captured.
"I will confer with Manwë upon this." The Aratar residing in the Halls faded into shadows of his domain.
Fëanáro slumped a bit, staring at his spectral hands for a time. "Why did you...?" He finally turned his attention to the Weaver, still on her throne, seemingly studying the tapestry she'd clearly been about to hang up somewhere in the Halls before she decided to get involved.
"I grow rather tired of weaving depressing scenes." She mused in answer. "I am counting on you giving me some better subject-matters."
He blinked rather dumbly at her, because she'd have to be about the only Vala at this point who thought his presence would improve anything.
In answer, she tilted the tapestry so he could see it. He moaned in pain at the image that greeted him.