Category: Tolkien-Universe

Rating: M

Couples: -

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

Chapter: 50

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

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In the two days until Gorthaur tired of them taking up his inn - his words - uncle Finarfin did not talk with any of them beyond Curo and Moryo. Moryo too did not address them anymore now that his brother could play go-between. Maedhros had a hell of time to keep most of the others from respecting that.

He looked over, to where his brother was helping Finarfin join Fingolfin on Rochallor on the evening they were heading out. Between his general state, and the sheer number of hooks, their golden-haired uncle still had to wear all the jewelry he had accumulated these last ten years, and consequently, could not wear most clothes without discomfort from fabric pinching. They'd arranged a long thin cloak, which he'd hopefully be able to wrap around him against the heat.

Risking a quick glance up, he saw that the Maia was still on the balcony, still watching them. He held out his hand to Caranthir, who was the only one who could easily move himself... though Curufin still tried it, to his frustration. He pulled his brother up behind him, feeling a disproportionate sense of relief when the other tucked himself close.

Curufin was seated in front of Maglor, not curled in or pulled away, but it was far better than what he did any time their father came close.

"Good journey." Gorthaur leaned forward a bit, eyes on their golden uncle. He felt the urge to move forward, interpose himself somehow, but also didn't want to draw attention to the elf who still only reacted to 'Schilder'.

"Thank you." Finarfin tucked himself into the cloak, osanwë passing between them, a firey line between their eyes.

"If you ever tire of them..."

"I'll remember you, yes." Fingolfin tightened his grip some, but the form in front of him gave no indication he noticed.

The Lord of these lands pushed back from the railing. "Be seeing you."

He hissed at that, but didn't think it wise to challenge by reacting. Instead they started moving downriver, to the harbor-city that supplied this region. Hopefully they would be able to get a boat there, because none of the three were in a state to make a push through the desert, not when it had taken the other five at full health nearly everything to manage it.

Their group went single-file along the river's edge. There was no real road, as all travel was apparently done by boat around here and the few people that did travel on land were on foot. There was a drastic shortage of large livestock-animals, the largest they'd found being goats - not counting the horse-sized wolves.

No one spoke as they traveled, finding themselves trailed by the massive wolves on the ravine-sides. Red eyes followed them, glowing faintly in the moonlight. Huan circled the group, but thankfully didn't have to actually fight anyone.

They found a cave large enough for all of them early the next morning, where they settled in for the searing midday sun. Maedhros settled in to guard against any mischief Angband's former Lieutenant might send their way, occasionally looking over the resting piles. The three had yet to change their habit of sleeping together, though he noted briefly that Finarfin was not actually sleeping despite the other two probably being asleep themselves.

Tilting his head some, he wondered if he should approach because his uncle looked actually upset about something. "Uncle...?" This had to be the first tears he'd actually seen during their time here.

Realizing he'd been spotted, the youngest son of Finu sharply turned his head, burying his face in Moryo's black hair. In turn, Fëanor's middle son murmured something, tucking himself more firmly against the body at his front.

He certainly got the hint from that, turning his attention back outside, where Arien was baking the rocks in her light. It was a marvel that there was any water in this heat, as it felt more like it should all be long gone with these temperatures. The air trembled above the stones, and practically nothing living that could move was left outside.