"All The Years Between" by Amy Fortuna
Mar. 10th, 2015 12:23 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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b2memB2MeM Challenge: General Prompt: a picture of a hawthorn tree.
Format: Short story - 1800 words.
Genre: Fluff, slash, family reunion
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Characters: Maedhros, Fingon, Elrond, Celebrian
Pairings: Fingon/Maedhros, Celebrian/Elrond
Creators' Notes (optional): Also inspired by this post on Tumblr.
Summary: Elrond has newly arrived from over the Sea. Maedhros is terrified that he might hold a grudge. He really doesn't.
“Do you think he will be very angry?” Fingon turned to look at Maedhros as they walked toward the house where Elrond, newly arrived from over the Sea, now lived. It was a long and low rambling house on the flatlands of Tol Eressea, a short distance from the eastern harbour where those who came from over the Sea entered the island. Fingon and Maedhros themselves dwelt in a small house of their own in the hills, near the northern shore, a few hours’ walk away.
Maedhros shook his head. “I do not know. Alas, we did not part as well as I could have wished. He was wroth with me over my choice to pursue the Silmarils, and we exchanged angry words before we parted. For all I know, he may not wish to even see me. He would hardly be alone in that.”
Fingon sighed, taking Maedhros’ right hand in his own. Life had not been easy for Maedhros, even re-embodied, even healed and whole as he was now. Many of the Noldor refused to even look at him, and many of the Teleri had actively protested his re-embodiment. This was why they lived an isolated life on the empty northern shore of Tol Eressea, mixing little with their kin and former friends.
“Of course he was entirely right in what he said,” Maedhros went on, musing. “It was a fool’s errand that would only lead to great sorrow.” A look of great sadness crossed his face. “He said also that we were abandoning them, like everyone else they ever knew. We were the instruments of removing them from those who loved them in the first place, and then, ’tis true, we did abandon them for the Silmarils.”
Fingon stopped walking, pulling Maedhros to a halt as well. They were now only a few moments away from Elrond’s house, not quite yet in the grounds, and beside the path a tangled ancient hawthorn tree grew.
“If you worry so, love, perhaps I should speak with Elrond first. If he truly does not wish to speak with you at all, then my visit will be brief, and I will return soon. Wait for me here?”
“I will. I do think it best. I do not wish to cause him further grief,” Maedhros said. “Thank you, dear one.” Quickly, he kissed Fingon’s lips and then stepped off the path, and climbed into the tree, taking a seat on the wide trunk where two main branches divided. “I await you.” He took a deep breath. “Tell him, if you will, that always he has been dear to me?”
Fingon smiled. “Of course, beloved.” He turned away, walking away down the path, looking back once to see Maedhros with his head bent to his knees in an attitude of despair. Almost he turned back again, but thought better of it, and went on, entering the grounds surrounding Elrond’s house.
The House of Elrond, built years before under Celebrian’s direction, was covered in the bushes of roses, trained all the way up to the thatched roof. Summer roses bloomed bright, red, pink, white, and yellow in the sunlight, and the scent of them filled the air. Fingon knocked, and the door was opened by a fair lady in a silver gown to match her silver hair - the lady of the house, Celebrian, daughter of Galadriel.
Her smile, so rarely seen before, could now not be restrained. “Ah! Fingon, come in!” she said.
“Little cousin, how fare you?” Fingon asked, taking her hand as he walked into the house.
“Very well,” Celebrian said. “Ever sorrow mingles with bliss, for my children do not come home, and one never will, but at last my Elrond is here.”
“It is Elrond who I wish to speak with,” Fingon said. “For I come on behalf of one whom I love, to bring him a message.”
She smiled. “I will find him for you.” She gestured to a comfortable-looking chair nearby. “Please, sit. I will be but a moment.”
She left the room swiftly, and Fingon sat, looking around. The room was pleasant and airy. Sunlight streamed in from the windows set to the West and North. There were many seats, as though friends often gathered in this room to talk and laugh together. All throughout the scent of roses was discernible, and Fingon could hear the pleasant buzzing of bees just outside. It was a fair and lovely place in the bright afternoon sun, and Fingon wished he had taken more time to come and visit, before. He was not sure if he would be welcome, later.
Elrond entered after a moment, face calm, with a quiet smile for his guest. Fingon stood to greet him. He did not look at all like someone who had ever dared exchange harsh words with Maedhros, so calm and kind was he from the very first look. Fingon found himself thinking of Turgon his brother, and remembered that Elrond was his great-grandson.
“Welcome to my home, kin of mine,” Elrond said.
“And also my friend, if you will consent to be,” Fingon found himself saying, holding out a hand. Elrond took it with a smile.
“I will indeed, of course,” Elrond said. “But Celebrian said you bring a message,” he went on, looking at Fingon with keen eyes. Fingon arched an eyebrow - indeed, Elrond wasted no time in getting to the point!
“I come bearing an apology,” he said carefully. “For harm was done unto you in your youth, and it is deeply regretted.”
Elrond dropped Fingon’s hand abruptly, stepping back in shock. But after a moment, he shook his head, recovering his composure. “The harm that was done is long forgiven and forgotten,” he said. “There is nothing to regret.”
Fingon took a breath. “That is not all. For there is one who has missed you and longed for you, who has always held you dear in his thoughts, even as his own child.”
Elrond smiled softly, a light coming into his eyes. “And there is one - an exceedingly stubborn one - who I have always loved as a child loves a father, who I parted from in anger long ago without ever telling him what I so longed to say. So now I ask, where then is Maedhros?”
Fingon’s smile could have eclipsed the Sun itself. “He waits to hear what you would say,” he said, taking Elrond’s hand and pulling him to the door. “Come with me.” Elrond followed, and they swiftly left the house, Fingon walking as fast as he could, Elrond beside him, matching him step for step.
Maedhros sat still in the hawthorn tree, his long bright hair shading his face. He looked away in the distance, in the opposite direction of the path, as if he did not wish to know, just yet, who approached. At last as they drew near he turned, and his face filled with light and joy.
“Elrond!” he exclaimed. Leaping down from the tree, he ran toward them. Elrond held out his arms, and Maedhros embraced him, both of them laughing for very joy. “My little Elrond!” Maedhros drew back after a little, looking at him. “So many years lie on you now,” he said slowly, seeing the wisdom on Elrond’s face and the kindness in his eyes.
“Not enough years to make me forget all the thanks I owe you and all the love I bear you,” Elrond said seriously. Catching the look on Maedhros’ face, the guilt and regret starting to creep back, he went on. “Do not dare say I do not owe you thanks or that I should not love you. You are family. You raised me, trained me, comforted me after ill dreams, bandaged my injuries, saved my life, defended me with all your strength and will, provided for me, cared for me.” Maedhros’ breath caught, almost in a sob. “What matters is not how we began nor yet how we parted, but all the years between, and all that we can be now to each other, Ada.”
“You far exceed my every hope, yonya,” Maedhros murmured, looking near to tears. Fingon stepped to his side, taking his hand gently.
“Are you well, my dear?” he said softly to Maedhros, and then, to Elrond, “He suffered greatly, as you know, and dwelt long in the Halls of Mandos.” Elrond’s hand tightened on Maedhros’ shoulder, holding him steady. “You bring so much healing to him this day.”
“Come with me,” Elrond said, suddenly turning into the practical healer rather than the long-lost son, and together the three walked back to the house, Maedhros visibly struggling with his emotions, trying to keep the tears back every time he looked at Elrond.
Elrond led them not to the large sitting room Fingon had been in before, but to a smaller room, cozy and dim, with a large comfortable couch opposite a fireplace.
“This is familiar, somehow,” Maedhros said, sinking down onto the couch and curling up against Fingon, who put an arm around him. Elrond sat down next to Maedhros, slightly turned to face him.
“It should be,” Elrond said. “I designed this room in remembrance of the house you built for us, in the hope that one day you and I, and Maglor, might sit here together in peace.” A shadow crossed his face. “Maglor still lives, and still walks in Endor. I know not when or how we shall ever see him, but I hope someday we shall.”
“I will share that hope,” Maedhros said. “For dearly would I love to see him again, my long-missed brother.”
Elrond smiled. “For that we must trust, and wait. At least now I have you here and,” he gestured to Fingon, “to see you with the one you always loved gladdens my heart.”
Fingon smiled, twisting a lock of Maedhros’ hair around his finger. “Always loved?” he said to Maedhros. “You spoke of me, then?”
Elrond laughed, and Maedhros grinned up at Fingon. “I may have mentioned you once or twice,” he said.
“In a day perhaps!” Elrond said, laughing. “It was ever ‘Fingon this’ and ‘Fingon that!’ Fingon the valiant, the brave, the beautiful. But I am pleased to see that the reputation does not disappoint.” Fingon smiled, dipping his head in a motion reminiscent of a courtly bow.
Maedhros looked from one of them to the other. “I suppose it is not obvious to you, but it is to me, how like Findekano when he was young you two were, especially you, Elrond. I spoke of him often to you because you were the only one I could speak of him to without grief.”
Fingon stroked Maedhros’ hair softly. “I am here, love, there is no more need for grief,” he said softly.
“And every day less need,” Maedhros said, reaching out and taking Elrond’s hand.
They sat in the light and warmth of the fire, quietly talking or simply being silent, for a long time, until the shadows grew, and Celebrian came to find them for supper.
Format: Short story - 1800 words.
Genre: Fluff, slash, family reunion
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Characters: Maedhros, Fingon, Elrond, Celebrian
Pairings: Fingon/Maedhros, Celebrian/Elrond
Creators' Notes (optional): Also inspired by this post on Tumblr.
Summary: Elrond has newly arrived from over the Sea. Maedhros is terrified that he might hold a grudge. He really doesn't.
“Do you think he will be very angry?” Fingon turned to look at Maedhros as they walked toward the house where Elrond, newly arrived from over the Sea, now lived. It was a long and low rambling house on the flatlands of Tol Eressea, a short distance from the eastern harbour where those who came from over the Sea entered the island. Fingon and Maedhros themselves dwelt in a small house of their own in the hills, near the northern shore, a few hours’ walk away.
Maedhros shook his head. “I do not know. Alas, we did not part as well as I could have wished. He was wroth with me over my choice to pursue the Silmarils, and we exchanged angry words before we parted. For all I know, he may not wish to even see me. He would hardly be alone in that.”
Fingon sighed, taking Maedhros’ right hand in his own. Life had not been easy for Maedhros, even re-embodied, even healed and whole as he was now. Many of the Noldor refused to even look at him, and many of the Teleri had actively protested his re-embodiment. This was why they lived an isolated life on the empty northern shore of Tol Eressea, mixing little with their kin and former friends.
“Of course he was entirely right in what he said,” Maedhros went on, musing. “It was a fool’s errand that would only lead to great sorrow.” A look of great sadness crossed his face. “He said also that we were abandoning them, like everyone else they ever knew. We were the instruments of removing them from those who loved them in the first place, and then, ’tis true, we did abandon them for the Silmarils.”
Fingon stopped walking, pulling Maedhros to a halt as well. They were now only a few moments away from Elrond’s house, not quite yet in the grounds, and beside the path a tangled ancient hawthorn tree grew.
“If you worry so, love, perhaps I should speak with Elrond first. If he truly does not wish to speak with you at all, then my visit will be brief, and I will return soon. Wait for me here?”
“I will. I do think it best. I do not wish to cause him further grief,” Maedhros said. “Thank you, dear one.” Quickly, he kissed Fingon’s lips and then stepped off the path, and climbed into the tree, taking a seat on the wide trunk where two main branches divided. “I await you.” He took a deep breath. “Tell him, if you will, that always he has been dear to me?”
Fingon smiled. “Of course, beloved.” He turned away, walking away down the path, looking back once to see Maedhros with his head bent to his knees in an attitude of despair. Almost he turned back again, but thought better of it, and went on, entering the grounds surrounding Elrond’s house.
The House of Elrond, built years before under Celebrian’s direction, was covered in the bushes of roses, trained all the way up to the thatched roof. Summer roses bloomed bright, red, pink, white, and yellow in the sunlight, and the scent of them filled the air. Fingon knocked, and the door was opened by a fair lady in a silver gown to match her silver hair - the lady of the house, Celebrian, daughter of Galadriel.
Her smile, so rarely seen before, could now not be restrained. “Ah! Fingon, come in!” she said.
“Little cousin, how fare you?” Fingon asked, taking her hand as he walked into the house.
“Very well,” Celebrian said. “Ever sorrow mingles with bliss, for my children do not come home, and one never will, but at last my Elrond is here.”
“It is Elrond who I wish to speak with,” Fingon said. “For I come on behalf of one whom I love, to bring him a message.”
She smiled. “I will find him for you.” She gestured to a comfortable-looking chair nearby. “Please, sit. I will be but a moment.”
She left the room swiftly, and Fingon sat, looking around. The room was pleasant and airy. Sunlight streamed in from the windows set to the West and North. There were many seats, as though friends often gathered in this room to talk and laugh together. All throughout the scent of roses was discernible, and Fingon could hear the pleasant buzzing of bees just outside. It was a fair and lovely place in the bright afternoon sun, and Fingon wished he had taken more time to come and visit, before. He was not sure if he would be welcome, later.
Elrond entered after a moment, face calm, with a quiet smile for his guest. Fingon stood to greet him. He did not look at all like someone who had ever dared exchange harsh words with Maedhros, so calm and kind was he from the very first look. Fingon found himself thinking of Turgon his brother, and remembered that Elrond was his great-grandson.
“Welcome to my home, kin of mine,” Elrond said.
“And also my friend, if you will consent to be,” Fingon found himself saying, holding out a hand. Elrond took it with a smile.
“I will indeed, of course,” Elrond said. “But Celebrian said you bring a message,” he went on, looking at Fingon with keen eyes. Fingon arched an eyebrow - indeed, Elrond wasted no time in getting to the point!
“I come bearing an apology,” he said carefully. “For harm was done unto you in your youth, and it is deeply regretted.”
Elrond dropped Fingon’s hand abruptly, stepping back in shock. But after a moment, he shook his head, recovering his composure. “The harm that was done is long forgiven and forgotten,” he said. “There is nothing to regret.”
Fingon took a breath. “That is not all. For there is one who has missed you and longed for you, who has always held you dear in his thoughts, even as his own child.”
Elrond smiled softly, a light coming into his eyes. “And there is one - an exceedingly stubborn one - who I have always loved as a child loves a father, who I parted from in anger long ago without ever telling him what I so longed to say. So now I ask, where then is Maedhros?”
Fingon’s smile could have eclipsed the Sun itself. “He waits to hear what you would say,” he said, taking Elrond’s hand and pulling him to the door. “Come with me.” Elrond followed, and they swiftly left the house, Fingon walking as fast as he could, Elrond beside him, matching him step for step.
Maedhros sat still in the hawthorn tree, his long bright hair shading his face. He looked away in the distance, in the opposite direction of the path, as if he did not wish to know, just yet, who approached. At last as they drew near he turned, and his face filled with light and joy.
“Elrond!” he exclaimed. Leaping down from the tree, he ran toward them. Elrond held out his arms, and Maedhros embraced him, both of them laughing for very joy. “My little Elrond!” Maedhros drew back after a little, looking at him. “So many years lie on you now,” he said slowly, seeing the wisdom on Elrond’s face and the kindness in his eyes.
“Not enough years to make me forget all the thanks I owe you and all the love I bear you,” Elrond said seriously. Catching the look on Maedhros’ face, the guilt and regret starting to creep back, he went on. “Do not dare say I do not owe you thanks or that I should not love you. You are family. You raised me, trained me, comforted me after ill dreams, bandaged my injuries, saved my life, defended me with all your strength and will, provided for me, cared for me.” Maedhros’ breath caught, almost in a sob. “What matters is not how we began nor yet how we parted, but all the years between, and all that we can be now to each other, Ada.”
“You far exceed my every hope, yonya,” Maedhros murmured, looking near to tears. Fingon stepped to his side, taking his hand gently.
“Are you well, my dear?” he said softly to Maedhros, and then, to Elrond, “He suffered greatly, as you know, and dwelt long in the Halls of Mandos.” Elrond’s hand tightened on Maedhros’ shoulder, holding him steady. “You bring so much healing to him this day.”
“Come with me,” Elrond said, suddenly turning into the practical healer rather than the long-lost son, and together the three walked back to the house, Maedhros visibly struggling with his emotions, trying to keep the tears back every time he looked at Elrond.
Elrond led them not to the large sitting room Fingon had been in before, but to a smaller room, cozy and dim, with a large comfortable couch opposite a fireplace.
“This is familiar, somehow,” Maedhros said, sinking down onto the couch and curling up against Fingon, who put an arm around him. Elrond sat down next to Maedhros, slightly turned to face him.
“It should be,” Elrond said. “I designed this room in remembrance of the house you built for us, in the hope that one day you and I, and Maglor, might sit here together in peace.” A shadow crossed his face. “Maglor still lives, and still walks in Endor. I know not when or how we shall ever see him, but I hope someday we shall.”
“I will share that hope,” Maedhros said. “For dearly would I love to see him again, my long-missed brother.”
Elrond smiled. “For that we must trust, and wait. At least now I have you here and,” he gestured to Fingon, “to see you with the one you always loved gladdens my heart.”
Fingon smiled, twisting a lock of Maedhros’ hair around his finger. “Always loved?” he said to Maedhros. “You spoke of me, then?”
Elrond laughed, and Maedhros grinned up at Fingon. “I may have mentioned you once or twice,” he said.
“In a day perhaps!” Elrond said, laughing. “It was ever ‘Fingon this’ and ‘Fingon that!’ Fingon the valiant, the brave, the beautiful. But I am pleased to see that the reputation does not disappoint.” Fingon smiled, dipping his head in a motion reminiscent of a courtly bow.
Maedhros looked from one of them to the other. “I suppose it is not obvious to you, but it is to me, how like Findekano when he was young you two were, especially you, Elrond. I spoke of him often to you because you were the only one I could speak of him to without grief.”
Fingon stroked Maedhros’ hair softly. “I am here, love, there is no more need for grief,” he said softly.
“And every day less need,” Maedhros said, reaching out and taking Elrond’s hand.
They sat in the light and warmth of the fire, quietly talking or simply being silent, for a long time, until the shadows grew, and Celebrian came to find them for supper.
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Date: 2015-03-10 01:46 am (UTC)“For I come on behalf of one whom I love, to bring him a message.”
I made a full stop here; okay I know it is from the film and the placement seems a bit of a jar when I read it, but then I thought, 'ok, Fingon loves Maedhros (not my pairing believe me!) and would think some meaningful lines to express his mission and really, that line does that full well. So all is forgiven, I smiled and moved on. It was appropriate too to stop and think about that line after Celebrian's “Ever sorrow mingles with bliss, for my children do not come home, and one never will, but at last my Elrond is here.” since no matter how much sorrow Maedhros and Fingon may have, Celebrian's sorrow will go on.
The denoument was just right here; the sense of family returned and remembered; a warm fire, and in my mind, the setting sun bringing it all together.
This was really good and I thank you for your hard work here. It shows in every line and word.
no subject
Date: 2015-03-10 10:57 pm (UTC)I really appreciate your comments about the setting contributing to the feel of the piece - setting can be one of my weaknesses, so I'm working very hard to improve my descriptions! :)
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Date: 2015-03-10 02:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-03-10 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-03-10 02:41 am (UTC)“It was ever ‘Fingon this’ and ‘Fingon that!’ Fingon the valiant, the brave, the beautiful. But I am pleased to see that the reputation does not disappoint.”
Awwwww!
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Date: 2015-03-10 11:05 pm (UTC)I see this particular story as set in the same 'universe' as my earlier two about Maglor that touched on this topic, Rhymes For Little People, and Nor Bid The Stars Farewell. (I really should make it a formal series at some point, especially as I have more ideas for the same 'verse.)
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Date: 2015-03-10 07:18 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2015-03-10 11:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-03-10 02:28 pm (UTC)- Erulisse (one L)
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Date: 2015-03-10 11:14 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2015-05-02 04:46 am (UTC)