Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death, Loss of bodily autonomy (no Non-con)
Chapter: 28
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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Curufin felt cold dread settle in his stomach, for some reason. At this point, it'd been over a decade since they'd left Beleriand. It had been so long.
"Brother...?" They were having their daily meal, sitting in their part of the top floor. Their uncle was not with them. He had not been at their mealtimes for several days by now. He had also not been with the Master for that same stretch of time.
"Mmmh...?" There was something empty in Caranthir's eyes, something that concerned him. But there was pretty little he could do at the moment to deal with that, not with the Maia in the main room, able to overhear everything they said.
"Do you know where uncle is?" There were times when one of them was gone, for a day or two, but this was getting excessive.
"Can't say I do." He wondered if his brother legitimately had no idea, or if this was some kind of attempt at dealing with the worry.
The smith worried his lip, eyes flicking up to the top of the low wall that encased them. Was he willing to risk antagonizing their Master by asking, or was this another thing he could not deal with.
Turning his attention back to the food, he ate his bowl of porridge. Sometimes, the ache for Beleriandic dishes was a dull ache in his stomach, both the diversity of them, and the richness of the different flavors.
"Master." Thuringwethil's chirpy voice broke the silence. "We're back."
He perked up some, leaving the empty bowl in his spot of their small eating-corner as he quickly and quietly crept over to the gate keeping them contained. He felt somewhat relieved that whatever was wrong with his brother did not yet extend to a complete disregard for their kin.
He couldn't lean out too much, both because he wouldn't likely see anything anyway, and it ran the risk of being spotted by someone worse than a free-ranging wolf.
"Master." He send a mental prayer to Eru - vocal prayer had long been worked out of him - at his uncle's voice. The older elf still lived.
"Took your time, did you not?" Mairon greeted his valet, something in his voice that send another wave of shivers down Curufin's back.
"Forgive me, Master."
"So what's your excuse?" They heard a chair being pushed back, likely the neatly carved one of the small office-area. "This was supposed to be two days at most, you took almost a week."
"Actually, that's my bad... mostly." Thuringwethil pointed out. "Misjudged how fast we could go back upriver. On the upside, we found nice things."
"Thuri, send word next time then." Curufin felt his ears fold back a bit at the next statement. "I was about to send Draugluin on a hunt." It had happened before, with a servant that had run off after having been sold to the master a few years before. The wolves had brought only some of their blood back, smeared over their jaws.
"Yeah, I was used to those two who actually moved along. These Men are so sloooow..." She chuckled. "But anyway. Here, look at what we got."
"Mhh..." The Lord of the Region hummed for a bit. "Yes, superb. IJzer!"
He flinched at the sound of his new name, but obediently slid outside the elven pen. "Master?" He only briefly allowed his eyes to flick to the golden son of Finu, some tension leaving him when he couldn't spot anything obviously wrong.
"C'mere." The Maia beckoned him over, gesturing to a box on the desk. "Have you worked with this before?"
He looked into the box, only to nearly recoil. Only his uncle's hand on the small of his back kept him from retreating fully. Swallowing once, he caught himself. "I... have not, Master, forgive me."
"I suppose I did get the wrong brother for this." Mairon chuckled. "Figure it out." He ordered, closing the box again.
"Yes, Master."