Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death, Loss of bodily autonomy (no Non-con)
Chapter: 32
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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Curufin felt a wave of cold dread when the Maia appeared in the door-opening to the small dungeon. Something was wrong, something was very wrong.
Their Master was glowing, and while usually the thick walls kept the heat of their desert-home out well enough, a wave of it followed him inside.
"Master?" Finarfin addressed the angry form, drawing up to his cell-door.
"Your rescuers are here." Gorthaur informed them, filling the door-opening. "To bargain with me for you."
The youngest of the three hissed. Whoever it was, did they truly believe they could offer him aught he'd want in exchange? After ten years, he very firmly doubted they'd ever be able to return to the north. Too much of this little kingdom was build on their crafts, their Power and their Song. There was nothing in Eä worth trading them for.
He pressed his eyes closed briefly, hoping they'd at least be allowed to quickly see whomever it was that had come all the way South for them, useless as that devotion would prove to be.
He opened his eyes at hearing one of their doors unlock, looking over to Caranthir's cell. His brother was sitting neatly on the thick, simple carpet that was the bed for that cell, posing elegantly. His skin-tapestries were on full display at all times.
"Master?"
"I am just wondering..." The red-head reached down, tilting his brother's head to spot the Silmaril-skintapestry on his cheek. "Why should I give them, what they can't give me?"
It was phrased so innocently, spoken so gently, that it took him several moments to make the connection.
By that point, his brother was already choking, clawing at the luxuriously clad arm of their Master. His dark-blue eyes were blown wide, but the elder of the two black-haired elves simply did not have the leverage to do much more than use his hands to try and free himself.
"Mairon!" Between them, their uncle surged to standing, reaching through the bars. "Stop that!" Some semblance of the former King of the Valinorean Noldor came to the fore, some Power that had remained to the golden-haired son of their grandfather.
"I lost twenty children, Arafinwë... I will never get those back." The Maia seemed to grow some, grip tightening. "Why should I return to Fëanáro his!? Why should I let either of your accursed brothers be successful here?" If asked later, Curufin would have to admit he did not even register the reveal that his father was alive, for obvious reasons. He was helpless, unable to reach his sibling and do aught but scream breathlessly.
"Then ask a price too high for them to pay!" The golden slave demanded, one hand managing to reach the arm choking the middle one. "Don't do this! Don't kill him!"
"You dare order me!?"
"Yes!" The Power echoed, rattling the bars. Curufin recoiled on brief and sheer instinct, falling back onto his own carpet. "Remember, Mairon, remember what was my price! Dare not go back on our bargain!"
Their uncle's challenge worked, as Gorthaur had to abandon his hold on Caranthir to face this new challenger. The Smith of the three was relieved that his brother was coughing as he collapsed on the ground, dragging himself away from the burning form.
"You dare." The temperature rose even more, the bars between the cells of his brother and uncle starting to melt.
"If you dare, I dare." His uncle, his pretty and gentle uncle, looked about ready to attack with bare hands and teeth. "Do not dare go back on our bargain, Mairon."
He could do nothing as the two faced off, trapped as he was. The Maia seemed to grow in size and malice, while Finarfin glowed golden with all the power innate to him. He'd seen Finrod on the battlefield just once, during the Dagor Aglareb. Several of the more pessimistic Eldar had joked that clearly the power of the line of Finu had skipped his father, for the youngest son of Indis to have turned back in Araman. He was now pretty sure they had been very wrong about the matter.
"What can you do if I kill you first...?" Their Master was a cloud of malice and darkness, and still their uncle glowed. "Perhaps I should."
"You know you won't." The golden-haired elf called his bluff - or at least, Curufin sincerely hoped it was a bluff and not a certainty - standing tall and proud. "They will suffer more if they cannot pay, rather than just having to wait some years to have us be reborn."
"Fine." Though Gorthaur left them in the dungeon, alive and mostly unharmed, he was certain it had not been a defeat on the Maia's end.