Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death, Loss of bodily autonomy (no Non-con)
Chapter: 41
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
It took Caranthir almost two days to wake, resting on one of the beds in the small Inn beside Zwarte Donjon. In that time, Fëanor could not bear to leave for more business, but it seemed that Gorthaur would hardly notice his absence. There were several others that came to speak with the Maia, being ferried up the river from the larger city downstream.
Still, he couldn't delay much longer with getting back to trying to get the other two, because there was no doubt there would be consequences for this.
It was in the early morning, a few hours before he was going to drag himself back to the keep, that Moryo finally woke.
Though none of them would have noticed if for Huan, as his fourth son did not move at all when he came back to awareness save his eyes opening. The large wolfhound whined softly, ears perking.
"Brother." Maglor nearly scrambled over from where he was playing his small harp softly. It was just in time that he remembered how Nelyo had been in Hithlum, and the naked panic whenever he'd been surrounded by large groups in those first few weeks.
Fingolfin briefly caught his father's arm, slowing down Finu's eldest with a small headshake. Seeing Fëanor just like that might just make the middle brother believe he'd died.
"Caranthir?" Maedhros sat down gently on the bedside, Celegorm remaining on his spot at the foot-end.
"Who...?" His brother's blue eyes blinked, unfocused and dull. "You...?"
"Maedhros, remember?" The red-headed son of Nerdanel whispered. "Do you know what happened to you?"
"I..." It was concerning how little he moved, barely tilting his head as he took in his surroundings. "The... inn...? Why...?"
"Yes, the inn."
"IJzer...?" Maglor flinched when he realized that Caranthir was using Curufin's Gorthaur-given name, rather than any of the other ones. "Where...!?" He nearly cried out himself when his wounded brother surged up with some hidden reservoir of strength, clearly ignoring any pain his chest. "IJzer!?"
"Curvo isn't here." Their eldest brother did not hold him as such, just positioned himself in such a way that the elf on the bed could not get past him easily. "Not yet."
"You...?" His heart broke at the soft and pathetic outcry of his sibling. "Why would you...? Did I...?"
"Moryo...?" The lone hand gently settled down the nearest shoulder. "Please lay down again... you are hurt. I'll answer all your questions, have no worry."
Maglor shifted his music some, switching to some tunes he'd once played with back in Beleriand which his brother would hopefully remember.
"Why did you save me...?" Snake-teeth dug into one bandaged shoulder, wide eyes now firmly fixed in Maedhros. But at least he sank back onto the bed, though he looked stiff like a board. "Why would you...?"
"We're saving all three of you." The one-handed son of Fëanor whispered gently. "You, Curufin and Finarfin. Just... just not all at once."
"He... you..." From stiff like a board, to trembling like a leaf caught in the wrath of Manwë. "Why did you save me?" Their usually very unemotional brother looked about ready to burst into tears.
"Because you're worth saving." Maedhros softly pointed out.
"Am I?" Something dark came over their brother as he demanded it. "Before them?"
"Equally." He glanced over why his two brothers talked, to where their father looked about ready to burst with his urge to join. He vaguely wondered how long Fingolfin's hand would keep Fëanor from rushing over.
"A first." Caranthir's sharp demeanor returned some, but he looked more like a prey-animal driven into a corner than the fierce Lord of Thargelion that had created a Beleriand-wide trade-network in a few decades.
"To our shame." The second son of Fëanor was not entirely sure if that admittance would have been the best right now, and the fact that fat tears started running down their brother's cheeks did not help his opinion. "Moryo, you're all little brothers. If any of you thought that we'd be able to easily pick a favorite, that's our failing as your big brothers."
"And Father." Fëanor could no longer contain himself, slowly crossing over from where he had been sitting. "Moryo, I... I never meant to fail you this much."
"Dad...?" The eldest of the captured sons tensed, shrinking back towards Maedhros who let him shelter against his larger frame.
"My little boy." Finu's eldest sank through his knees beside the bed, offering a hand. "I am so sorry, Morifinwë."
"You...?" Deep blue eyes kept flicking between the hand and their father's face. "I... I can't..."
"That's fair." His father's hand disappeared from the bed.
