Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death, Loss of bodily autonomy (no Non-con)
Chapter: 54
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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Fëanáro was resting against the pillows at the front of the ship. His sons seemingly had only been here a few moments, before scurrying across to their golden uncle. So now he, his brother and his eldest three had this pile, though both Tyelkormo and Makalaurë were not present, the former being with the horses, the latter up on the mast, singing some Falathrim-song.
"Well, at least he's talking to her?" Nelyafinwë murmured, watching the pile opposite them. Arafinwë and his wife had not spoken a word, that they'd heard, but the faint glow in their eyes made it quite clear they were deep in their marriage-bonds. He could still see the dried tear-tracks on his brother's cheeks.
"It's about all we can hope for." Nolofinwë answered, while trying to keep his eyes firmly on his lap. He felt his once-rival tense briefly when leaning against him.
"It's good enough." Finwë's eldest conceded, letting his sibling hold him up. "It's all that matters." 'The only one of us worth a damn', he'd slammed into the other's brain with osanwë over a week ago in sheer desperation when learning the price for their baby-sibling's freedom. He stood by that, even now.
"Mhmm..."
What had to be a mere hour later, the other two returned as night rose around them. They needed some time to find a comfortable way to pile that did not put them in the way of the few mariners that would stay awake at night to make sure the ship did not drift off Eru knew where.
He slept deeply still, his body recovering from what had happened at Sauron's keep, tucked against his brother most of the time. It was in that position that he was woken the next morning when Arien just started cresting the horizon. He faintly wondered if travelling north by horse had not been the better choice, from the look he got from his law-sister.
"He wants to talk to you both." She declared sharply, both her nephews behind her.
"He...?" He pushed himself up slowly, looking past them to where his golden brother was looking over from in between the pillows and blankets of that pile. "I..." If he wanted to talk... well, he could hardly deny him that. It took him a bit to get to his feet, as well as a hand from Nolofinwë, with his painful back.
Neither of his sons looked at him as they found spots in between their brothers, flanking their eldest with the other two at their backs. Secure... securer than he'd ever left them, clearly.
She did not follow them, instead marching to the far end of the boat to sit on the railing.
"You... asked for us?" How awkward, how strange, to tower over his brother once more, but to dread the confrontation. He'd once utterly disregarded Arafinwë, but that had changed completely.
"Yes." Bejeweled hands patted the pillows beside the slender form. To their credit, they only briefly hesitated before deciding to accept the invitation. Shifting awkwardly, the three sons of Finwë did not speak for some time.
"Why did you save me?" In the end, it was the youngest to break the silence, aiming the question at the blanket covering most of his body.
"Ara..."
"Wouldn't it... wouldn't it have been better to leave me?" Their younger brother had never been the most assertive person, but now he was actively shrinking as he talked. In the privacy his mind, Fëanáro cursed himself again for having caused this with his creation of the thrice-damned Silmarils. "More convenient...?"
"Never." Nolofinwë had a degree of bravery he did not, reaching out to clasp one hand. "Even if there was some convenience to be found, it would not be worth you."
"A pile of trash?" Self-hate dripped from those few words, the once sky-blue eyes now dark like a storm.
"Our brother." He countered, feeling like a rather large pile of trash himself these days. "The only one of us worth a damn, worth our father's legacy."
"I..."
"Don't argue. It's true." The other black-haired son of Finwë pointed out. "Me and Náro were just fighting all the time, getting people killed left and right. Hell, it's basically our fight that got dad killed to begin with! And here you are, fixing all our messes and then some... by yourself."
"I did not..."
"And that's on us too. You shouldn't have had to do it all on your own. You're better than us in this as well, helping us despite all the crap we landed on you." Their brother was trembling, eyes once more firmly aimed at the blankets and not them. "Ara, we can neither thank you enough, nor apologize enough to ever make it up to you... It's all on us. Not you."
"I..." Finwë's youngest broke off in a sob, and Finwë's eldest did not need to look over to know that this would have put his two present youngest on high alert. "I..."
Deciding to take a leap, he gently pushed the head up enough to make eye-contact, and from there, to open his mind to his sibling. Into the storm of Arafinwë's mind, he gingerly poured out his emotions, his love and guilt, his grief at what he had wrought and his faint sliver of hope that maybe he could at some point in the far future make it up to his relatives.
As he held their brother's mind steady and safe, Nolofinwë carefully closed in to hold him physically, using his large frame to securely tuck their little sibling into a hug.