Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: Rog/Egalmoth/Maeglin
Warnings: AU, blood, character death
Chapter: 4
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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He was inconsolable, as his mother had not lived long after his uncle's arrival.
He only became really aware again a good while later, at least if the fact he was in a house was any indication. It was a white marble room, elegantly carved furniture.
"How are you feeling?" Egalmoth, the in-law cousin of the in-law cousin of the family, was sitting at the bedside. He held out a glass of water. "Turgon thought you might appreciate some quiet for a bit, but said you can join the rest of the family whenever."
"She..." Maeglin managed to take some sips before the trembling of his hands became too bad. He hiccuped softly, burying his face in his knees. The older elf slid beside him, pulling him close carefully.
"She's been brought to the Healing Halls." The other informed him softly. "Rog's guarding her... probably with one or two more."
He hiccuped again, trying to catch his breath.
His mother was dead... his father probably as well, if she'd been accurate with how she'd paid him back... He was trembling, digging fingers into fabric he only later realized was an arm instead of a blanket.
"Can I see her?" He finally managed to breathe, voice muffled in the thick robes.
"Of course." The other immediately agreed. "Though perhaps clean yourself a bit? I will fetch you some clothes, if you prefer. You seem to be about a size to Pengolodh, so I could ask him for some if you did not bring any yourself."
"No... no... I have some..." He pulled himself back, wiping his face.
"Bathroom's that way." The darker-skinned form rose from the bed, heading over to the couch, where the saddlebags of his horse had been laid out. "I'll lay out some clothes then."
"Thanks..." Pulling himself together, he slipped through the indicated door, finding himself in an equally elegant bathroom. He found some towels which he used to clean his face from the worst of his tears, though the puffiness could not be helped.
By the time he returned to the other room, Egalmoth had picked an outfit, with some of the few jewelry-pieces he'd brought laid out on the table. "I am afraid I do not quite know the appropriate level of jewelry for your people, so I had to guess."
"It's fine." He took a deep breath, shedding his dirty riding-clothes and putting on these fresh ones.
"I'll have someone clean these." The Lord of Gondolin lead the way out of the room, through corridors hung with elaborate tapestries and exquisitely painted murals. In any other context, Maeglin would probably have been awed when he looked outside and saw the city sprawling out like a great forest of stone. Now he was mostly focused on the fact that coming here had condemned both his parents.
The journey was a short distance, he felt like, until they came upon a door with two guards flanking it... and two more standing in front of it. One of whom had to be part dwarf, from his bulk alone. The two guards inclined their heads, standing firmly at attention as Egalmoth approached, while the other two merely stepped aside.
He did manage to notice the brief hand-brush between his guide and one of them. He didn't pay too much attention to it, instead stepping through the door opened by the guards.
"Oh..." Egalmoth breathed softly behind him. Ahead, there was a bed he could just spot his mother on, but there were two more people at her side already. "Your uncle, Turgon, and your cousin, Idril Celebrindal." The tall form had to lean down some to be able to whisper it in his air. "I did not know they'd be here."
His kin had heard their arrival, looking up from where they had been tucked together.
"Nephew." His uncle rose from his seat. "I..." Their faces were mirrored, he had no doubt, the other's face equally grief-stained. "Come."
He appreciated his mother's brother not trying to find words, following him over to the bed. Behind him, the door closed behind Egalmoth again.
His cousin, golden-glowing hair a messy shrubbery, only briefly looked at him, her own face wet with tears.
His mother... looked as if she was merely asleep, covered up to her shoulder with a thin blanket.