I'll Be Yours If You'll Be Mine by NelyafinweFeanorion

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Chapter 31

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This chapter ended up being huge so I split it into two parts. Next chapter should he coming soon. Thanks to Cheekybeak for input and feedback!

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At least Aredhel waited until they were out of earshot of Maedhros and his brothers. "What the hell was that, Fingon?"

He kept on walking, his eyes on Turgon and Argon just ahead of them.

"Fingon," she repeated, smacking him on the arm to get his attention.

"What do you want, Aredhel?" he snapped.

"I want you to tell me what the hell happened back there and what the hell is wrong with your boyfriend."

Argon glanced back at the two of them and then leaned towards Turgon. "He's really Fingon's boyfriend? When did that happen?"

"Yeah, he is. Right before Thanksgiving, I think," Turgon confided, his voice sounding thick and indistinct from the swelling.

"There's nothing wrong with Maedhros," Fingon answered Aredhel.

"Are you serious? He fucking goes to town on Turko, for no reason, and you think there's nothing wrong with that? What the hell!" Fingon darted a look at her as she spoke. Aredhel's eyes were flashing and her expression was furious.

He frowned at her. "It wasn't intentional. It was just an accident. Lighten up, will you? I've done worse to Turko and so have you."

"Give me a break. What happened was totally uncalled for." She caught his eye and glared at him. "I can't believe you're defending him."

He stopped and turned in her direction. "I am not going to have this conversation with you, ok? He got startled, he hit Turgon, he apologized, and Turgon's going to be fine. End of story." It was his turn to glare at her. "If you can't handle some roughhousing maybe you shouldn't play."

"Did you seriously just say that? To me? What the hell, Fingon!" She shoved him hard enough to make him stagger and stalked off towards her other two brothers.

Turgon stopped walking as she drew near him. "Ok, everybody hold up," Turgon said. He waited for Fingon to approach before he continued speaking. "Aredhel, thanks for the concern but I think I can handle this myself, ok? It was an accident. Kind of a freaky one but whatever. It happens. Stop harping on it."

"Are you serious?" Aredhel turned her fury on Turgon now. "You're just going to brush it off? Fingon's dating a guy who can turn violent like that over nothing and you're not concerned?"

"It's not over nothing!" Fingon roared, startling them all.

"Then what is it?" Aredhel asked.

Fingon stared at her, the fight abruptly going out of him. His shoulders hunched as he jammed his fists in his pockets. "I wish I knew," he said, his voice lower now.

"What do you mean, Finno?" Argon asked.

"I don't know. And I wouldn't tell you if I did, it's not my place." Fingon met Argon's eyes. "I just know something happened to him, something bad. It's not something he's over yet but I don't know any more than that." He looked at Turgon. "I'm so sorry you got stuck in the middle of it, Turko. It's probably why he wanted all of us on his team, so something like this wouldn't happen." He exhaled. "I know he worries about losing control."

"And you're ok with that? Him just losing control?" Aredhel asked. Her brows were drawn together, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at Fingon but she couldn't keep the bewilderment out of her voice.

"Of course I'm ok with it," Fingon snarled at her. "It's not who Maedhros is. It's just something that happened to him that's left its mark. It's not like he can help it." He scowled at her. "I'm not going to judge Maedhros about things he has no control over."

She opened her mouth to answer him but was interrupted by Turgon.

"Aredhel, drop it," Turgon spoke again, his voice far sterner than before. "I'm not upset about it. I'm more worried about what Mom's going to say when she sees me. You know how she is about the blasted Christmas photos. So, can you please just shut up and let me go home and get some icepacks?" He met her eyes, his gaze as icy as her own, until she gave him a brief, furious nod.

"What are we going to tell Mom?" Argon asked.

Turgon rolled his eyes. "We're going to tell her we were playing snow rugby and I got an elbow to the nose. Which is exactly what happened. Don't you start too, Argon."

Argon backed up a step, hands in the air. "I'm not starting anything, promise. I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page before we got home. Don't snap at me, Turgon."

Fingon sighed. He put an arm around Turgon's shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered to his brother. "Thank you for understanding."

Turgon nodded at him. "I get it. Don't worry about it. I know it wasn't intentional." He dropped his voice as he leaned into Fingon. "You're sure everything's ok with you guys, Finno?"

"It's good. Better than good," Fingon whispered back. "There's nothing to worry about, Turko. Really." He squeezed his brother's shoulder.

"If you say so," Turgon said quietly. He tilted his head at Fingon and smiled. With the smears of blood and dried snot still on his face it came out looking more menacing than reassuring. "Now, can we finally go home so I can wash this shit off my face, please? It feels disgusting and I'm sure it doesn't look any better."

"Fine," Aredhel said, crossing her arms over her chest and leveling a stare at Fingon. "But this discussion is not over, Finno, not between you and me."

---

Fingolfin hung up his coat and wandered into the kitchen. "I'm back," he said, smiling at his wife and kissing her as she turned from the sink to smile back at him.

"You finally finished your Christmas shopping then?" Anairë asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I'll have you know I had most of it done before today."

"Right. That's why it was imperative that you have time to shop by yourself today?" She grinned up at him. "I know how busy you've been. And I know you. It's not like this is the first time you've done this. You're actually ahead of schedule this year." She went up on tiptoe and kissed him on the nose.

"I didn't say I had all of it done before today, just some of it," he said, sliding his arms around her. "Kids home?"

"They are. And about that—they were out with friends this morning playing some crazy snow game. Turgon got clocked in the nose." She waved off Fingolfin's attempt to interrupt. "He's fine, it'll probably be bruised up by tomorrow but it's not a big deal, so don't make one out of it, ok?"

"Your lack of faith in me is not reassuring," Fingolfin replied.

"Like I said, I know you." She poked him in the chest. "Don't harp on it."

"Fine, I won't even mention it."

Anairë rolled her eyes. "You can mention it, just don't dwell on it."

"Who were they out with anyway? Finrod and his crew?"

"No, Finarfin and Earwen took them all to Alqualondë for the holiday. Remember, I told you I met some new friends of Aredhel and Fingon's around Thanksgiving? They were out with them," Anairë said, leaning back against the counter.

Fingolfin reached up into the cabinet to grab two glasses. "Have I met them?"

"No, although Aredhel mentioned having them over sometime while she's home," Anairë said, watching her husband open the bottle of wine he had pulled from the small wine refrigerator under the counter. "Any special reason for that bottle?" she asked.

"I'm home, I don't have to go back to work until after the holiday and I have my whole family here. That's something worth celebrating," he replied, pouring wine into a glass and handing it to her.

"I like the sound of that. How did you get any days off next week?

"Another settlement instead of heading to court. Now I just wait for the paperwork from their side." Fingolfin clinked his glass to hers before drinking. He tilted his head as he looked at her and frowned. "When is Aredhel having this guy over?"

"She didn't say yet. Why do you have that look?"

"I just want to make sure I meet him. That last guy she dated was a creep. I thought I was going to have to threaten him with a restraining order or something. He was getting into stalker territory there, with all the phone calls, texts and unexpected visits after she broke up with him." Fingolfin face darkened at the memory.

Anairë put her hand on his forearm. "I know he was. But he's out of her life now." She squeezed his forearm and added. "This new guy seems nice. Very straightforward. Granted I've only met him once but he and his brother were charming."

"What's his brother got to do with Aredhel?"

"His brother is seeing Fingon. Didn't I tell you that?"

Fingolfin made a vague gesture with his hand. "You said he was seeing someone. But usually Fingon's relationships don't last long enough for me to bother remembering anything about them."

Anairë laughed. "That's not a nice thing to say!"

"It's true! You know that as well as I do. You think I'll actually meet this one?"

A thoughtful look came over Anairë's face. "I think you will. It's different somehow, this time. Anyway, they met the two of them and all their brothers this morning over at Thargelion Park. Other than Turgon's nose, it sounds like they had a good time."

"All their brothers? How many brothers do these guys have?" Fingolfin laughed.

"Six or seven I think. Big family of boys."

Fingolfin's face grew serious. "Six or seven brothers?"

"Something like that."

"What were their names again?" The serious look was still on his face, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Maedhros and Tyelko. I don't know the names of the other brothers."

"I was afraid of that," he said, taking a large sip of his wine and pouring more into his glass.

"What do you mean, Fingolfin?" Anairë was looking at her husband inquisitively.

He met her eyes. "Is Maedhros a tall, striking red-head?"

"He most certainly is." Anairë started to smile but it faded as she saw the concern grow in her husband's face.

"They're Fëanor's sons. I'm sure of it now. He has seven sons and two sons with those exact names." Fingolfin pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers before meeting his wife's eyes again. "I'm sure they're nice boys but I'm not sure I like the idea of our children dating them." He sighed. "They've had some rough times in that family. Especially . . ." He stopped. "Never mind. Let's just leave it at that."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that. That family just can't catch a break. Oh, they're fine financially and all but things have not been easy for them since Finwë was killed." He took another large swallow of wine. "I don't know really know Tyelko at all but Maedhros. . . never mind. I shouldn't be talking about this. I'm just not sure this is the best idea."

"I think you're overreacting. It's been years since Finwë's death. I'm sure it wasn't easy for any of them but time helps with things like that." She took Fingolfin's hand in hers. "I haven't had much of a chance to talk to Fingon yet but Aredhel says he's quite serious about Maedhros. She's pretty smitten with Tyelko herself but you know how she is about admitting that kind of thing." She touched his jaw lightly. "Hear what they have to say before you say anything, Fin. I know you're concerned. But unless these boys are a danger to our children I think you should back off."

He exhaled and squeezed her hand. "They're not a danger. That's not my worry. Is the family eccentric-yes. Volatile-definitely. Troubled-most likely, but dangerous? No, they're not dangerous. Just more of a challenge than I'd like to see for my children, I suppose. There's a lot of baggage with that family. Our kids aren't used to that."

"I think at this point it's their decision. They are adults, as much as you would like to forget that."

"I know." Fingolfin rubbed his forehead. He was starting to get a headache. "Listen. You know I worked on that case."

"How could I forget? You worked so many late nights back then." Anairë moved closer to her husband and gently stroked his hair back. "What are you getting at, Fin?"

He took her hand and intertwined their fingers, his grip tightening as he spoke. "There's a lot that went on, a lot I can't discuss. Attorney-client privilege."

"Yes?" She questioned. "But what does that have to do with who our kids are dating?"

Fingolfin tilted his head back to look at the ceiling before meeting her eyes again. "Do you remember why I got taken off that case?"

"You and Fëanor had one of your famous 'differences of opinion.' Did you really think I would forget that?" She looked at him curiously. He had been incensed at the time, furious and hurt, but as she recalled it now there had been a depth to his frustration that seemed more than just professional or even personal outrage. She had not thought much of it at the time, grateful that his change in status meant he was home more, but it appeared that something still lingered from that confrontation.

"That's one way of putting it," Fingolfin said, raking a hand through his hair. "Fëanor and I had our . . . difference of opinion, as you say, before the case finally settled. He did not particularly like my ideas about settling and we had a bit of a falling out." He sighed. "More than a bit, if I'm going to be honest."

"That doesn't surprise me," Anairë said. "We haven't been close to them since college, but you've always known he was never one to keep his opinions to himself. If you disagreed with him about something important I can imagine things got heated." She touched his shoulder gently. "But he has always been like that, Fin. Even about trivial things. I remember the 'debates' you two would have when he was the grad assistant for your classes at Cuveinien. His bark was always been worse than his bite. I can't imagine it's gotten any better in the years since then. Likely worse."

"It was a bit more than heated," Fingolfin asserted. "The falling out isn't my point. I just know it was a hard time for his children, some of them more than others. I can't say much more than that but experiences like that leave scars." He shook his head. "I need to stop talking."

Anairë looked at him with concern. "If it's that important to you, then just talk to Fingon and Aredhel." She squeezed his shoulder tightly. "See what they have to say."

"I don't think these relationships are a good idea, Anairë."

She gave him a probing look. "Fin, you just said they aren't a danger to our kids. Other than an unfortunately misplaced elbow, I don't see a problem here." She tilted her head and stepped closer. "Unless there is more you haven't told me?"

Fingolfin exhaled. There was more but it wasn't his story to tell. Papers had been signed. Agreements had been made. Non-disclosures and settlements that he had written up. Being taken off the negotiations hadn't meant he was taken off the documentation side of things. That was his specialty, after all. He knew exactly what happened that summer and after. It had been the catalyst to finally settle the damn case.

Anairë gently touched his face to get his attention again. "Fin. Just talk to them. I know you're worried about something and it's fine if you can't tell me about it. I understand that." She looked up at him, the concern evident on her face. "But please don't let your past with Fëanor cloud your judgement. These are his sons—not Fëanor himself—don't inflict your issues and opinions on our children." Her look sharpened. "Those boys don't deserve to be judged based on their father's actions, Fin. You know that."

He frowned back at her but didn't respond.

"Fin?" Anairë questioned him again.

"Fine! Fine. I'll try to talk to our two a bit and feel them out." He squeezed her hand. "I understand what you're saying, Anairë. I just don't want them to get in over their heads or get hurt, that's all." He ran his hand through his hair again. He caught her dubious look and spoke again. "I'm a lawyer for good reason—I can be subtle and I'm really good at asking relevant questions. Trust me."

She pulled him into her arms and rested her head on his shoulder. His arms tightened around her. "I do trust you," she said. "I do."

---

Turgon looked up at the knock on his half-open door. Aredhel was leaning against the doorframe. He took his headphones off and motioned her in.

"Are you ok?" She asked him, not moving from her position on the doorframe.

"I told you before. I'm fine. Are you going to come in or not?"

She sat down on the edge of his bed, resting her elbows on her knees, glaring at the carpet in front of her.

Turgon sat up, moving his legs to give her more room. "What, Aredhel?"

She turned her head to look at him. "You look terrible."

"Did I miss a spot?" he asked. "I thought I got all the blood and snot off." He grinned at her. It didn't improve his appearance any.

She leaned towards him. "Your nose looks too flat." Aredhel narrowed her eyes and gave him an appraising look. "Or maybe that's just because the rest of your face is so swollen. At least we'll know which Christmas these photos are from."

Turgon just looked at her. "Fingon was right, you know. You've both bashed me worse than this and I don't recall you being all that upset about it at the time." He tilted his head questioningly. "What's this really about, Aredhel?"

She returned her gaze to the carpet.

"Arry?" he asked again, scooting closer to her.

She was chewing her bottom lip, unaware of how much she looked like Fingon in that moment. Turgon shook his head. "Spit it out. You know you're not going to settle down until you do."

She turned to look at him and her earlier fierceness was gone. She frowned then shifted to sit cross-legged on the bed, facing him. "Why aren't you more pissed off?" she questioned.

"What's the point? How would that help?" Turgon asked her. "It was an accident." His eyes met hers. "I think the real question is why are you so ticked off?"

She glared at him and then hunched over again, her eyes back on the carpet.

"Aredhel. What's this really about?" Turgon repeated. He had an idea what was bothering her but he wanted to hear her to say it.

"I'm just worried."

"About me? I'm fine. I already told you that."

"I know you're fine, you idiot. I swear you have the slowest reflexes, Turko." The glare was directed back at him.

He just regarded her, not saying anything, crossing his arms as he waited.

"I'm worried about Finno," she finally said.

There it was, Turgon thought. The real reason she had been furious at all of them. He kept his eyes on her, his silence encouraging her to continue.

"It's just that he's never been like this about anyone before, Turko, and it worries me. He's totally crazy about Maedhros and I get it, really, I do." Her eyebrows drew together, a crease forming in the middle of her forehead as she continued to speak. "But that stuff he was saying? There's something going on with Maedhros, Turko, and I don't like it. I don't want Finno getting hurt."

"I think he's old enough to take care of himself, Aredhel. It's not like he hasn't been in relationships before."

"He's never been this serious about anyone before."

Turgon leaned towards her. "Fingon's not one to do anything stupid."

"It's not him I'm worried about," Aredhel replied.

"What? But you just said . . ." Turgon started.

She interrupted him. "I know what I said! I'm worried for him but I'm more concerned about Maedhros. Look what he did to you today."

"Come on, Aredhel. Stuff like that happens. Tell me you haven't gotten clocked on the field like that before. You're reading way too much into it. You seriously think Maedhros is going to hurt Finno?"

"Maybe if he loses control."

"Finno wouldn't be involved with him if that was an issue. He thinks things through. You know that."

"Do I? It doesn't seem like he's thinking this through. Did you know he's been spending every night with Maedhros in Formenos? Tyelko told me."

"I didn't know but I don't really see how it's any of our business where he spends his nights. You spent a night there too, you know. No one's giving you a hard time about it." Turgon pointed out.

"This is different!"

"How?"

She groaned in frustration and punched her fist into the mattress. "Because it just is. I don't want him to be involved with someone volatile, unpredictable. He deserves better than that."

"What are you really trying to say, Aredhel?"

She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, resting her forehead on her bent knees. He was going to have to say it for her after all, it seemed.

"You're thinking of him, aren't you?" That damn ex-boyfriend of hers again.

She nodded. "People aren't always what they seem, Turko."

"I don't think Maedhros is that kind of control freak, Aredhel."

"You heard what he said, Turko. There is a control issue here. Fingon even said so."

"Not the same thing. He said Maedhros doesn't like losing control. Not that he's controlling. That's completely different."

"I know." She lifted her eyes and met his. "I know. But it still worries me, Turko. There's something going on that Finno isn't telling us. What happens when Maedhros 'loses control'? Have you asked yourself that?" She hugged her knees tighter. "I think that's what happened today."

He sighed. "Didn't you hear Fingon, Aredhel? Maybe it's not his story to tell." He put his hand on her arm and shook it lightly. "I don't know what's going on with Maedhros but I do know he's had some rough stuff go on with his family. Maybe that's part of it. Finrod told me what he knew, which wasn't much. Has Tyelko said anything to you?"

She shook her head. "No. He mentioned they inherited the house from their grandfather who died. Nothing else."

"I get that you're worried," Turgon said. He mirrored her position, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them. "I'm not going to say I'm not a little concerned. I am. But I don't think you're giving Fingon enough credit. I trust him to know what he's doing."

"It's not that I don't trust him, Turko. I told you, I just don't want him to get hurt," Aredhel said.

"Then maybe he's the one you should be talking to right now, not me."

"He left already. He had plans with Maedhros."

"Then try to talk to him tomorrow. It's probably better to take a breather before you do anyway. Yelling at him isn't going to make him want to talk to you about this, you know."

"I know." She gave him a small smile and kicked at his foot with her own. "Thanks, Turko. I should be trying to make you feel better, not dumping all over you. You've had a shitty enough day as it is."

Turgon shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I get it, Aredhel. Really, I do. But I think you're underestimating Fingon."