Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death, Loss of bodily autonomy (no Non-con)
Chapter: 52
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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The city was more elaborate than the village upriver, but it still bore the hallmarks of Gorthaur's hand... or eye, rather. Long banners stood at the river-docks, black with one red eye standing out sharply from the background.
"How we're supposed to get a ship is something she forgot to mention." Fëanáro murmured looking around some as they wound their way through what seemed to be a market-throng. A feat made easier by the fact that horses were a relatively strange sight in these lands and everyone made wide berths around their group, though he noticed that quite a few of the more well-dressed people looked at the form in front of Ñolofinwë first of all.
"We're not repeating... that." Their uncle lowly countered.
"I was not about to suggest it." His father was the only one who had yet to share his horse. Uncle Arafinwë was not being relinquished by their other uncle, and both his brothers were refusing to get close to their father. Not that his recovering back would have made it viable to put someone behind him.
"We won't need to." Their golden uncle spoke up as they drew closer to the harbor for the open sea - for all that he doubted these people did more than just go up and down the coast yet.
"Mh...?" The two elder sons of Finwë turned their attention to their sibling.
"We have a ship." The youngest child of Indis whispered, pointing behind him, to their right.
"How in...?" Makalaurë blinked a few times at the sight on the furthest dock. There were a few ships, similar to those he'd known as one could not get too creative before the things sank, but the very last in the short row was far larger than any of the others... and far more elvish. Smooth timber gleamed white in the morning sun, a golden-embroidered sail having been pulled up.
The group shared glances at that, but turned their horses down the causeway.
He spotted Ciryatan, talking with some Secondborn and what he recognized as Gorthaur's herald. The vampire was gesturing lightly, eyes dark and sharp.
The Lord of the Falathrim spotted them, blinking a few times at their group.
"Cirdan." The currently-absent High King of the Beleriandic Noldor switched them to Sindarin. "How did...?"
"I received the order from Eönwë." The Shipwright briefly inclined his head at the two he had been talking with. "To travel south along the coast with the largest ship of my fleet, almost a month ago. So here I am."
They had freed the first of their kin at most a week ago, how on Arda had Eönwë been able to send Ciryatan south weeks before that!?
"I guess he really had some faith in our success?" Tyelkormo murmured behind him, having been the last in the group with Huan.
The elf shrugged lightly. "But if you don't mind getting aboard on your own, I am in the middle of something." He gestured with his head to the two patiently waiting people beside him.
They moved past him, sliding off their horses on the dock leading to the ship. The wide gangplank would allow them to bring their horses on board, but they felt obliged to first check how the accommodations were.
Arafinwë was unable to walk still, the deep wounds on his thighs slow to heal. It meant their uncle had no where to run when another silver-haired form appeared on deck.
He made an undetermined sound when realizing their aunt was also here, looking down on a group that literally held only one person that had not killed any of her people.
"Pearl." Their golden uncle whispered, barely audible over the rushing waves.
"We're still preparing horse-accommodations." After the once-sweep, she ignored them all, only addressing their uncles. "You made better time than expected." She swept down the gangplank with ease, drawing up beside the horse holding her husband. "A few hours, unless you intend to help."
"Of course."
