Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death, Loss of bodily autonomy (no Non-con)
Chapter: 16
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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Finrod was clinging to the crown that his mother had brought from Valinor. It had been his father's, and now, it'd be his. At least until his father came back. If his father came back.
"Finrod..." It had been a long discussion, lasting weeks, about who would be the ones to go and try and find their relatives. He had lost, unable to refute the fact that he was Finarfin's heir, and therefor now King of the Noldor in Valinor. He looked up at the one that had spoken.
"Russo." His bright-red haired cousin slid down beside him, tucking his large frame onto the couch. They only barely fit, bringing to mind tucking themselves in an armchair in Tirion together.
In the end, the party had become Celegorm with Huan for tracking and general wilderness-know-how, Maedhros for his painfully intimate knowledge of how one recovered from any time under Gorthaur which would be dearly needed for all of them, Maglor for his power with Song - since Finrod could not go himself - and Fingolfin, because their shared uncle could not not go after everything that had led to this point.
Fingon would join him in being temporary monarchs of Noldor, while his siblings were joining him back to Valinor out of solidarity. None of them had been allowed to join either, forced to wait alongside him. Ambarussa would administer the Fëanorian holdings in Beleriand until their elder siblings came back, together with their mother.
"You going to be okay?" The eldest of Finu's grandchildren softly, asked, leaning into him.
His hands tightened around the crown of the Valinorian Noldor. "Not until dad gets back." He had gotten Fingolfin involved, and it... The metal dug into his hands, as he hunched his shoulders. "I should have been allowed to join you." He was going to have to wait until they all came back... if they all came back.
"I think your father would murder us all if we took you on a wild goose-chase across the continent for years." Maedhros pointed out, wrapping one arm around him.
"It might not take years if someone with a parent-bond joined." It was an old argument, one of the first he'd voiced when trying to be allowed to go as well.
"No parent-bond has the range necessary, if what little we learned already is indicative... and that is assuming your father even opens his end to help you go confront Gorthaur." Unspoken the very real worry that Finarfin might simply be unable or unwilling to open his end by the time they got into range.
"So I just have to wait." He nearly threw the crown across the room, needing something to vent the mess of emotions in his heart. "I just have to wait."
"Yes." There was no kind way to answer that would not be a lie. "And keep your siblings safe, and alive, as Finarfin asked of you."
They were adults, they could do that themselves... He deflated, drooping against his family-member. "I just..."
"I know." Red and gold hair mingled around their heads. "I will bring him back for you, Ingo, right alongside my brothers. I promise."
"Not swear?" He managed a weak chuckle, tucking himself against the taller elf.
"Considering how well the last one went..." The one remaining hand petted his head for a bit. "I shan't risk a new Oath being turned to evil, not with what is at stake."
He hummed at that, melting at the touch.
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Fingolfin looked at his wife, who was busy with something. They had come to an agreement, but she clearly did not like any of it. She was intending to stay in Beleriand, at least until he returned, taking over Nargothrond from the Arafinweans.
He was gathering what supplies he could take, that would be enough for potentially - but hopefully not - years of travel.
"Here." She threw something at his back when his attention had turned back to the saddlebags he was filling.
He flailed a bit to catch it, managing to get a hold of it before it ended up on the floor. It was a traveling-cloak, a two-layered one. "This...?" It was also chockful with Songs of various kinds. "Did you...?"
"If you're already running off again, you can as well take good gear with you this time." He stood there somewhat dumbly with the deep blue fabric in his hands, suddenly noticing far more what she was working on.
"Are you...?" He dumped it on the bed beside the saddlebags. "Anairë."
"I get it. I even got your damn decision for the Helcaraxë..." She pointedly did not look at him, stabbing the fabric in her lap with a needle. "Does not mean I have to like it."
"I'm sorry."