Category: Tolkien-Universe

Rating: M

Couples: -

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

Chapter: 53

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

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There was a pile of pillows on the back-end of the ship - stern, if he remembered his visits to Alqualondë and the Falas properly - where he carefully set his brother down on. There was a piece of fabric above, to shelter them from the sun.

"I..." They hadn't really spoken, because he did not know what to say. "I'll go help with the horses." It did not help his lost words that his brother always looked at him like he could not believe what he was seeing, and not in a positive manner.

Fingolfin left the ship again, passing by his law-sister, who was rejoining her husband. Curufin and Caranthir had been settled in a similar place at the front, curled around one another.

"Well..." Fëanor was standing on the docks, looking up at the mast. "I guess this is it." He had yet to unsaddle his horse, the mare standing fully loaded beside him still. "Guess it's just a matter of getting them back now."

"Yeah." The two eldest sons of Finu stood together. "Shouldn't you get your stuff onto the boat?" He gestured at the brown shape beside him. "Having her carry that up the gangplank seems highly unsafe."

"Yeah... no." Miriel's only whispered. "Nolo, I somehow doubt they'll let me get on a boat after what happened to the last one." They couldn't actually see Eärwen, Alqualondë's swanmaiden, but his brother's eyes were focused in her general direction. "I am just grateful they'll at least take my sons, I am not going to ask for more than that."

"You're intending to travel north on your own?" Indis' eldest son demanded sharply, but lowly. "You are still recovering..." From what I did to you, from the blood I spilled...

"It's fine, it's just a matter of following the coast." His once-rival waved it off. "We perfected the Song needed to remove salt from seawater, and there'll be enough hunting and plant-life in the dunes to get back to Beleriand."

"You can barely use your hand." He would have grabbed it, but it was hidden under fabric. But he could hardly sneak his brother on board, even if the other would consent to trying. "I'll go with you."

"I appreciate the offer, but you should stay with Ara." Fëanor smiled gently. "I'll manage. It won't take nearly as long this time around." He glanced over to where his three eldest were working their own horses onto the boat, which was easier said than done because Maglor's seemed to very much not like the boarding-planks. "Just make sure they don't notice I am not present before you head off?"

"You are not giving them enough credit." Fingolfin shook his head. "I am going with you. Ara's safe with his wife and this entire crew... and probably would not want me around him anyway... after... everything." Rochallor was also still waiting in a shaded part of the harbor now that they didn't have to move anymore. He had no idea where Huan was, but was simply hoping that he was not in the water.

"Well, neither would my sons me." Came the counter. "A valid opinion, after everything I caused." The gnarled hand was pulled out of the folds of the southern style coat. It was not a complete mess, but if he'd ever be able to hold something more delicate than a hammer with it, Fingolfin would be surprised. "Better to let them heal before they need to deal with seeing my face again... or at least give them the option to never see my face again if that is what they prefer." The hand twitched a bit, but could not even fully close anymore. "I need to be in exile still anyway, at least now the Valar don't have to discuss whether whatever it is counts."

"Naro..."

"Did you know that Vairë spoke for me? She wanted me to make sure there would be some happier tapestries under her hands now."

"Well... they are all safe?"

"Are you two coming any time soon?" Both nearly jumped at the voice, looking up towards a cascade of silver.

"My Lady...?" Fingolfin found his words as his eldest brother shrunk behind him.

"We can't exactly set off while you two are just standing here." Eärwen leaned on the railing, eyes unreadable.

"I assumed you would prefer me far from any ships." Fëanor softly admitted, still half-sheltered behind his sibling.

"Certainly, but this is not my ship. It's Ciryatan's, and he's grateful to you for some reason." She pushed off from the pale wood. "So get moving will you? We need to catch high-tide or we're stuck in here."