DARE TO HEAL by Erulisse (one L)
Mar. 29th, 2019 07:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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b2memB2MeM Prompt, Card and Number:I24 Ginger (30-Red), Green tea (33-Green), Torture (51-Darkness, Darkness), Human sacrifice (103-Horror), Exhibitionism (136-NSFW & Kink – unclaimed)
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mild mention of torture.
Characters: Fingon, Maedhros
Creator’s Notes (optional): We’re getting to the end of this year’s B2MeM, and I hadn’t touched on the Fëanoreans, at least not much. Sacrifice doesn’t have to be on the altars of Numenor.
Summary: Maedros was rescued and his body has been returned to his camp, but his mind is still on that cliff. Maybe it’s time to rescue that as well.
DARE TO HEAL
Fingon walked through the field at dawn. Sentries snapped to attention as he passed nearby, while to the south, the watch was changing. After Maedhros had been taken and his father and the others had arrived, the two separate camps had instituted a staggered schedule of guard shifts and an open area, unclaimed by either camp. It seemed to be working well, though, and kept them alert. There had been no feints from the enemy lately, but everyone knew that was merely temporary.
After a stop at the stables where he spoiled his steed with a treat, Fingon turned toward the main portion of the Fëanorean camp. Entering through the stockade, he looked to his right, catching a glimpse of coppery-red hair in front of a tent on the northeastern periphery. He shifted direction and headed toward his cousin.
Maedhros faced the northeast with a cup of cooling green tea on a nearby table. He didn't acknowledge Fingon as he drew near, although his hand tightened into a fist, then relaxed once again. The stump of his right hand was still healing and the older scars, remnants of his torture under the heel of Morgoth, blazed with unexpected depth in the sun and shadows. They were craggy, ill-healed reminders of more than thirty years of imprisonment and torture in Thangorodrim.
Fingon walked around and sat down across from his cousin, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "If you were planning on being a sacrifice, perhaps I should have left you hanging on that cliff."
Maedhros started and glared across at Fingon. "Then perhaps you should have done so. I've thanked you and acknowledged you. I've even given the rule over to your father, much to the disappointment and anger of several of my brothers."
"Yes,” Fingon acknowledged, “you've placed your 'sacrifice' at the forefront of all else making sure that everyone knows you are unable to be the elf you once were.” Fingon stood and leaned over his cousin, holding his chin firmly so that he couldn’t look anywhere but eye-to-eye. “But I don’t believe that you are any less an elf than you were long years ago.”
“In earlier days, you would strut in front of the guard. You would inspect, you would scold, you would rip apart if necessary, and by being particular, we would all be improved. Now you sit in the shadows, seemingly afraid to be in the light and under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes. Exhibitionism used to be something of no thought for you. Now you shy from the mere thought of moving away from your immediate surroundings."
Fingon stood and moved closer, putting his hands on Maedros' shoulders. "Get yourself back, cousin. Find yourself once again. I'll help you as best I can, but work to recover the exhibitionist that you used to be. Show bravery in the face of despair, and raise the spirits of those who accompany you, support you, and protect you. Be the elf you know you can be once again."
Maedhros closed his eyes and ignored the tear trickling down his cheek. He nodded his head in agreement. It was time.
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mild mention of torture.
Characters: Fingon, Maedhros
Creator’s Notes (optional): We’re getting to the end of this year’s B2MeM, and I hadn’t touched on the Fëanoreans, at least not much. Sacrifice doesn’t have to be on the altars of Numenor.
Summary: Maedros was rescued and his body has been returned to his camp, but his mind is still on that cliff. Maybe it’s time to rescue that as well.
DARE TO HEAL
Fingon walked through the field at dawn. Sentries snapped to attention as he passed nearby, while to the south, the watch was changing. After Maedhros had been taken and his father and the others had arrived, the two separate camps had instituted a staggered schedule of guard shifts and an open area, unclaimed by either camp. It seemed to be working well, though, and kept them alert. There had been no feints from the enemy lately, but everyone knew that was merely temporary.
After a stop at the stables where he spoiled his steed with a treat, Fingon turned toward the main portion of the Fëanorean camp. Entering through the stockade, he looked to his right, catching a glimpse of coppery-red hair in front of a tent on the northeastern periphery. He shifted direction and headed toward his cousin.
Maedhros faced the northeast with a cup of cooling green tea on a nearby table. He didn't acknowledge Fingon as he drew near, although his hand tightened into a fist, then relaxed once again. The stump of his right hand was still healing and the older scars, remnants of his torture under the heel of Morgoth, blazed with unexpected depth in the sun and shadows. They were craggy, ill-healed reminders of more than thirty years of imprisonment and torture in Thangorodrim.
Fingon walked around and sat down across from his cousin, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "If you were planning on being a sacrifice, perhaps I should have left you hanging on that cliff."
Maedhros started and glared across at Fingon. "Then perhaps you should have done so. I've thanked you and acknowledged you. I've even given the rule over to your father, much to the disappointment and anger of several of my brothers."
"Yes,” Fingon acknowledged, “you've placed your 'sacrifice' at the forefront of all else making sure that everyone knows you are unable to be the elf you once were.” Fingon stood and leaned over his cousin, holding his chin firmly so that he couldn’t look anywhere but eye-to-eye. “But I don’t believe that you are any less an elf than you were long years ago.”
“In earlier days, you would strut in front of the guard. You would inspect, you would scold, you would rip apart if necessary, and by being particular, we would all be improved. Now you sit in the shadows, seemingly afraid to be in the light and under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes. Exhibitionism used to be something of no thought for you. Now you shy from the mere thought of moving away from your immediate surroundings."
Fingon stood and moved closer, putting his hands on Maedros' shoulders. "Get yourself back, cousin. Find yourself once again. I'll help you as best I can, but work to recover the exhibitionist that you used to be. Show bravery in the face of despair, and raise the spirits of those who accompany you, support you, and protect you. Be the elf you know you can be once again."
Maedhros closed his eyes and ignored the tear trickling down his cheek. He nodded his head in agreement. It was time.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-29 04:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-29 06:29 pm (UTC)- Erulisse (one L)
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Date: 2019-03-29 04:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-29 06:30 pm (UTC)- Erulisse (one L)
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Date: 2019-03-30 10:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-30 01:35 pm (UTC)- Erulisse (one L)