Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death, Loss of bodily autonomy (no Non-con)
Chapter: 25
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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He could not get rid of his - hated, he tried to prefix 'hated', but failed every time - half-brother, but it was just so nice to be held when the nightmares tore at him and kept him from reverie.
"Are you trying to crush me?" He grumbled, but did not release his arms around the more muscled form.
"You pulled me on top." Ñolofinwë murmured, face tucked into his neck.
That did sound like something he was wont to do, as it had happened often enough when he still slept with his wife and sons, back when the only light in Eä were the stars and Trees. It just somewhat boggled his mind that apparently his subconscious mind considered his half-brother worthy of the same thing.
"Well, get off." Something to consider at a later time. They had split up, just briefly, when they'd come across a great river, too wide and strong to cross. He and Ñolofinwë were traveling two days north to look for a cross-able place, while his sons traveled south to do the same.
Indis' eldest son pushed himself up, briefly meeting eyes before obliging. Their horses were grazing a short distance away, their gear a small pile beside the dead fire.
Ñolofinwë headed for the river, not even pausing to scoop up their water-skins. This left Fëanáro to prepare a simple breakfast. Aside from a store of lembas that Melian had given them when they left, the food they'd taken from Beleriand had ran out a while back. He'd foraged some last night, only slowly learning which plants were edible on this side of the Sundering Seas.
By the time his brother returned with water, he'd restarted the fire and was grinding the wild oats for porridge. They both heated part of it, he for porridge with berries, Ñolofinwë for some tea. By midday, they'd have to turn back downstream, so they had to hurry to cover as much as they could before that.
He'd carved bowls and cups during their rests, elegant things made of soft beech and other woods. He's even added some small decorations.
"Why did you come?" The former King of the Noldor in Beleriand asked softly as he ate, eyes following a berry in the porridge as he stirred. "For your sons?"
Finwë's once-heir took a sharp breath at the question. The other four in this rescue-mission had been ignoring him too much to even consider asking such questions, but clearly that no longer was the case now.
"Does that sound mean Tyelko was correct?" His once-rival's face was carefully - diplomatically - blank.
He had hoped that he'd only have to admit these things to his sons... perhaps Nerdanel. He could have dealt with Arafinwë, after everything his youngest half-sibling had done, that would have been the least repayment.
He took another deep breath. This was not what his half-brother would beat him in. "A couple years ago... it might have been." He looked up, through the leaves at the red sky of a slowly dawning new day. "But now? Now I pleaded to be allowed to do anything for all three of them."
"Oh?" His half-brother's blue-grey eyes narrowed some.
"Do you truly think I'd have wanted this for any of you?" He hoped not, but considering he'd waved a sword at this half-sibling, and slaughtered almost the entire law-family of another, he figured it might not be such a stretch. "I wanted you lot gone, not... not this. I did not want some... some dark lord to get his filthy hands all over you."
"Before or after you learned what you owed Ara?"
Fëanáro hissed at that question. "How dare...?"
"You were not exactly around during his first time, were you? He had to be released!" Ñolofinwë pointed out, stabbing at him with his spoon. "I do not doubt it simply was impossible for you to be reborn when Nelyo was taken, but..."
"Don't you dare." He nearly overturned his breakfast when he surged up in anger. "Do not dare, Son of Indis!"
"So you may level ridiculous accusations at my feet, but I may not do the same!?" His half-brother met him at his highest point, and then some. "Am I supposed to believe you came out of the goodness of your Indision-hating heart rather than the excuse to get out of the Halls!?"
He roared in anger. This time, his sword did not end up anywhere near his half-brother. His fists did however.
It was deeply cathartic, that he had to admit as they wrestled on the mossy forest-floor they had made their camp on. Neither was going all out, otherwise both of them might have ended up with broken bones by the end of it. But neither were they going easy on one another.