Category: Tolkien-Universe

Rating: M

Couples: -

Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death, Loss of bodily autonomy (no Non-con)

Chapter: 46

Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me

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Their father had brought Curufin over an hour ago, only to return immediately to the Mansion again. The youngest of the five brothers in the south was murmuring something, twitching as Maedhros swiftly carried him to a bed and the skilled hands of Maglor and Celegorm.

Caranthir was sitting on the far bed, wrapped in one of the blankets. Aside from bouts of nightmares, partially born from the last decade - and partially some sense of foresight - he was silent and unresponsive.

He ate and drank what was put in front of him, but the son of Fëanor that had perhaps reveled the most in a Lordship was despondent most of the time.

A good subservient tool, Maglor once in a while could not help but think. He thought it again now, as he and Celeg applied bandages and Song were needed. The fourth son of Fëanor was looking over, but he wasn't moving a muscle and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"Ssshhh..." He leaned down, soothing their father's favorite. "Ssshhh, Curu..." He started another song, with no power this time, but a lullaby their mother had sung to all seven of her songs.

The little smith whimpered some, melting into Maedhros' hand.

"Can't you put him to sleep?" Their white-haired brother demanded softly, as he bound off the last bandage around one of their sibling's ankles.

"We need to know what Dad's doing." It was their eldest that answered, caressing the black hair spilling over the pillow. "Why did he go back when uncle's the one who is paying...?"

What a way to phrase it. Maglor settled at the head-end of the bed, dropping his song to a hum so the others could speak.

"You can't really think that..." Celegorm took a deep breath. Knowing their brother, he'd been about to level a good many curses against the Lord of these lands. "Would keep a promise right? That lady said he'd give uncle a chance, but you don't honestly believe that, right? None of them would do fair parlay." As we already learned, he left unsaid.

"He does." All three looked over to Caranthir sharply. His eyes were still empty, aimed at the floor between the two beds rather than them, but this was about the most he'd said unprompted since he'd woken. "He kept his bargain with us."

"Oh yes, because you bargained for years of torture, mistreatment and slavery." The third son of Fëanor hissed, only kept from a true tirade by a bop on the head from the first son of Fëanor.

"We knew what to expect." The former Lord of Thargelion murmured. "So yes, yes we did."

"Moryo." Maedhros breathed it softly, lips tightening when the blanket-covered elf looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Brother." Maglor was relieved that that gave a better reaction. It pained him that it would take some time for their sibling to reclaim any of his true names, but at least he still felt familial bonds with them. "At some point, we'll have a long discussion about that, most likely. For now, we must find out what exactly is happening in that building. Perhaps he is a fairer bargainer than Morgoth, but he is not a kind bargainer and we will need to be able to travel through harsh terrain for months, years perhaps. If he asks too high a price..."

"He is kind." The first rescued whispered, curling up under the off-white sheets. "Fëanor declared the Oath for one dead parent... what would he have declared for twenty slaughtered children?" Maglor wondered when he'd also reclaim the familial bond with their father, who could barely approach whenever he'd been here.

"Perhaps." None of them pointed out that Gorthaur had done enough dark things to earn their distrust a thousand times over. Maedhros in particular likely remembered a fair few incidents during his own captivity he'd never told any of them about.