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

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Chapter 39

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Maedhros woke up early. It was a habit and even vacation did not alter his internal clock. He chose not to get out of bed right away. He knew he should get up and speak to his father, preferably before the whole family was awake.

Instead Maedhros stared at the ceiling, noticing the small cracks and imperfections he remembered from years before. He dreaded the upcoming conversation. The cold fury of last night had left him. There was just resignation now at his father's anticipated decision.

Running through the possible scenarios and arguments in his head did nothing to diminish his agitation. He threw off the covers.

Enough. Even his eloquent words were unlikely to sway his father, if Fëanor's decision had already been made in the night. He may as well just go and get it over with.

Still he found ways to delay the inevitable. He took a shower. He returned to the room to find Maglor still burrowed in his blankets, his tousled hair barely visible within the cocoon he had made for himself.

Maedhros dressed and then regarded his other clothes. May as well pack, he decided. If he was going to stay true to his word and depart if his father remained inflexible then it would be better to just leave after his conversation with Fëanor.

He began to pack. Despite his attempts to be quiet, his movements soon woke his brother.

Maglor peeked out of the comforter at Maedhros. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Packing," Maedhros responded.

Maglor sat up abruptly, scattering the blankets. "What do you mean 'packing'? Did you already talk to Dad?" There was a note of panic in his voice as he pushed himself up out of the bed.

"No," Maedhros replied. "I haven't gone downstairs yet." He stuffed a rolled up pair of jeans into his duffel bag. "I can't avoid it forever though."

"If you haven't talked to him why are you packing?" Maglor asked, hurriedly pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Just in case. I can make a better dramatic exit, if my bags are already packed." Maedhros mustered up a smile at his attempt at humor but it didn't reach his eyes. They were stormy, clouded with anxiety. Maglor could see the tenseness of his older brother's posture and the set of his jaw.

"I don't think Dad's going to be that bad," Maglor said, scrabbling under the bed to find his running shoes. "He cares more about you than who you date."

"You weren't the one who talked to him last night," Maedhros said.

That wasn't accurate but Maglor wasn't about to correct him.

Maedhros shoved a t-shirt into the bag and then looked at Maglor curiously. "You going somewhere?"

Maglor had layered a turtleneck over his T-shirt and was rummaging in the chest of drawers for socks. "I'm going for a run with Tyelko."

"You're doing what?"

"Going for a run with Tyelko." Maglor hopped on one foot as he put his sock on. He checked the time on the clock by his bed. "He usually goes around this time so I thought I'd join him."

"You hate running," Maedhros said, crossing his arms and leaning against the dresser to observe his brother. "What's this really about?"

Maglor gave him an exasperated look. "I told you last night. I didn't get a chance to catch Tyelko alone." He waved his arm around vaguely. "Didn't get to talk to him about all this Fingolfin business." He ran a hand through his already unruly hair. "So I thought I would catch him this morning. If you're going down to talk to Dad then I'm getting Tyelko out of here. The last thing you need is Tyelko listening in and flying into one of his rages."

Maedhros paled. "No, that wouldn't be good at all." He frowned at Maglor, annoyance radiating from him as he continued. "Which is why I wanted to talk to him last night."

Maglor looked up from tying his shoe. "Like that would have been any better? Come on, Maedhros. The only way we can avoid a Tyelko meltdown is if he's not here when you talk to Dad." Maglor stood up. "I'll talk to him. While we're out. Detonate the bomb away from home base, so to speak." He glanced at the clock again. "Gotta go, if I'm going to catch him."

He gripped Maedhros' shoulder as he walked by him. "Give Dad a chance, Maedhros. He may surprise you." And then he was gone.

---

It was a close thing. Tyelko was in the kitchen, drinking orange juice directly from the container, when Maglor found him.

"Seriously, it's disgusting when you do that and then put it back in the refrigerator," Maglor complained

"Who said I'm putting it back in the refrigerator?" Tyleko said, rinsing the container out before tossing it in the recycling. "This is early for you, no wonder you're being a pain in the ass. Why are you even out of bed?"

"I was going to see if you wanted to go for a run," Maglor said to his younger brother.

"You're kidding, right?"

"I am not kidding. Are you going for one or not?" Maglor asked.

"Short one today," Tyelko replied. "I need to head out to the stores for a bit."

Maglor gaped at him. "Are you still not done with your Christmas shopping?"

Tyelko flushed, which was unexpected. "No, I'm done with the family. I just wanted to get something for Aredhel, before I see her again." He continued at Maglor's curious look. "I wasn't sure if I should get her anything," Tyelko said, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking down.

He needed to clarify with Aredhel what exactly this was between them. But he hadn't dared to yet; he really didn't want to think about what a punch in the gut it would be if she considered this just something casual.

"And you decided to after all?" Maglor queried.

A darker flush came over Tyelko's face. "It's Christmas, you know? I thought I should get her something."

"You really like her, don't you?" Maglor said, a fond smile on his face.

Tyelko cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck again before meeting Maglor's eyes. "Yeah, I really do."

"Good. I'm happy for you, Tyelko," Maglor said. "So is it ok if I join you for a run?"

Tyelko's eyes widened. "You're serious."

"I just want to get out of the house and clear my head," Maglor said.

Tyelko's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who's in for it?" he asked, tone clipped.

"No one's 'in for it', Tyelko," Maglor said, hoping his words remained accurate. "I just want to get out and thought you might like some company."

Tyelko's head tilted and appraising look came over his face. "Ok, then. Good thing it's a short run today."

They hadn't gone very far from the house when Tyelko gave Maglor a side-long look. He was purposefully keeping his pace slow, so Maglor could keep up. "Can I ask you something?" Tyelko said.

"If you want to go for a longer run then the answer is no," Maglor huffed.

"No, it's not that. I need to keep you alive for Christmas, after all," Tyelko said.

Maglor glared at him. Despite his joking words Tyelko looked more serious than Maglor expected. "What's up, Tyelko?"

"It's about Aredhel."

"Ok."

"She's a bit freaked out about the whole Maedhros thing with Turgon this weekend." Tyelko was frowning now.

"Ok. That's not too surprising," Maglor responded.

"She's got it in her head that Mae's 'volatile', Mags. She's all worried he's going to do some freak lash-out at Fingon." Tyelko gave him another side-long look. "I hate her thinking that about Mae. I told her he's not like that. But I'm not sure she really believes me."

They pounded down the pavement for a few blocks before Tyelko spoke again. "I don't know how to convince her, other than telling her about Mae but I don't feel like I have the right to do that. That's his business. I think she'd understand and not worry so much if she knew but I don't feel I can tell her. It's not my place."

"You're right. It's Maedhros' decision who knows, not yours, even if it's for a good reason."

Tyelko huffed out a breath of air. "That's what I told her. That it's personal." He frowned again. "She said she would talk to Fingon about it." Tyelko turned his head to look at Maglor. "You think Mae's told Fingon the whole story yet?"

Maglor knew he had. He and Maedhros had stayed up, late into the night, talking like they used to years ago when they had shared a room. Maedhros had confided that he had told Fingon everything.

"Fingon knows," Maglor said.

The tension sapped out of Tyelko at his words. "Good. Finally."

"Yeah. It is good," Maglor agreed.

"All right then. She can take it up with Fingon. Since he knows."

"I don't think he'd tell Aredhel either," Maglor pointed out. "Not unless Maedhros told him he could. It's not your job to convince her, Tyelko."

"It's my job to stand up for Mae," Tyelko said, slowing to a stop to face Maglor, who also paused his run. "It's my job to say something when people make assumptions about him." Tyelko's eyes were cold and hard. "I know what he's been through. I'm not going to stand by and let people say things . . . not even Aredhel."

"Hey." Maglor put a hand on Tyelko's shoulder. "I feel the same. Don't let this come between you guys. She's looking out for Fingon like you're looking out for Maedhros. She can take it up with Fingon."

"But I have to say something," Tyelko argued.

"Say the truth. Bad things happened. He has some involuntary reactions. He's not volatile. He's not dangerous. The reasons behind it are his business. End of story."

Tyelko deflated, shoulders slumping. "That's pretty much what I told her," Tyelko said. "I'm not so sure it made a difference."

"Listen, you did the right thing. If Maedhros gives you clearance to talk about it with her fine. . ."

Tyelko cut him off. "I am not going to discuss this with Mae," he stated. "That's the last thing he needs. You know he's already paranoid about what Fingon's family thinks about him. He doesn't need confirmation that he's on someone's shit list."

Maglor shook his head. "No, you're right about that-he doesn't need to hear about this from you." He motioned to Tyelko and resumed running, his brother a few steps behind at first but catching up easily.

This was probably as good a time as any to tell Tyelko. If Maedhros' conversation with Fëanor did not go well, Tyelko would hear about it anyway.

And if it did go well? There was still a chance that Fëanor would make some comment about it that would rub Tyelko the wrong way. Might as well avoid that. This is why he had him out here alone, after all.

They ran in silence for the next few blocks, reaching Thargelion Park and swerving to the right, to skirt around the park itself.

"You know Aredhel's father knows Dad," Maglor said casually.

"Yeah, he mentioned he was at Cuivienen with Mom and Dad when I met him," Tyelko answered.

"You met him?"

"When I picked Aredhel up yesterday."

Maglor jogged along as he thought how to present the next piece of information. "He was Grandfather's attorney."

"Why didn't I know that?"

"You wouldn't remember. It was awhile ago." Maglor wiped his forehead. "You weren't around much to know, but he was pretty involved in the lawsuit and settlement too."

"Oh." Tyelko's tone was clipped. "I take it Dad doesn't like him then. He never has anything good to say about any of that."

"No, Dad doesn't really like Fingolfin. For a lot of reasons-most of which I don't know or understand," Maglor said.

Observant Tyelko was in evidence today. "That's why Dad was asking about Maedhros yesterday, isn't it? Why you're talking to me about him now?" Tyelko asked. At Maglor's silence he continued. "I take it since Dad doesn't like him, by extension he doesn't like his kids."

"Something like that," Maglor agreed. "But . . ."

Tyelko interrupted. "That's why he wanted to talk to Maedhros. He doesn't like Maedhros seeing Fingon, does he?"

"No, he doesn't. But Dad and Maedhros are working through that."

Tyelko stopped. Maglor ran on for a few steps before he realized he had. "They're hashing it out now, aren't they? That's why you came out here with me."

"Tyelko."

"No, Maglor, answer me. Tell me straight. Stop skirting around it. What the hell is going on?" Tyelko's face was flushed.

Shit. This was not playing out the way Maglor had intended.

He paused to catch his breath before replying. "Dad and Maedhros had a talk last night," he began.

"A talk?" Tyelko crossed his arms and glared at his brother. "Which is why we never saw Maedhros, Mom or Dad after dinner? Or you, for that matter?"

Maglor cursed internally. Of course Tyelko would figure it all out. "Tyelko. Dad found out about Fingon being Fingolfin's son. He wasn't happy about it and wasn't happy Maedhros hadn't told him. Maedhros was pretty irritated at Dad about the whole thing. They're resolving their differences about the issue this morning." Maglor modulated his voice to make it smoother, more soothing. "There's nothing for you to be concerned about. Just a head's up. Dad may be a bit of a bear today. That's all."

"I'm going to assume Dad said something pretty raw to Maedhros if they didn't 'resolve' this last night." Tyelko narrowed his eyes at Maglor. "He told Maedhros to stop seeing him, didn't he?" He punched his fist into his other hand. "Damn it, Maglor. Tell me-is that what Dad said?"

Maglor's uncomfortable silence was answer enough.

"He did, didn't he? Without knowing anything about him, about them, without meeting him, without realizing what he means to Mae?"

"Tyelko," Maglor tried again.

"No, fuck that, Mags. Dad doesn't get to do that." He turned around. "Come on. We're going home. I've got some things to say to Dad."

"Tyelko, stop," Maglor raised his voice and grabbed Tyelko's arm. "You don't have to say anything to Dad. I already did."

"You already did?" Tyelko was incredulous.

"Yes, last night, after Maedhros told me about it," Maglor said irritably. "Maedhros doesn't know and so help me, I will beat you bloody if you tell him."

"I won't tell him," Tyelko said. "You actually talked to Dad? For real?"

"You think I would just sit by?" Maglor let go of Tyelko's arm. "Trust me, I got it across to him, far better than one of your explosions would. Just give it a rest. I took care of it, ok?"

"Give it a rest? How am I supposed to give it a rest? Fingon's the best thing to happen to Mae in forever and I'm going to sit back and let Dad fuck with that?" Tyelko stepped closer, his face inches from Maglor's.

"Tyelko. Shut it," Maglor growled. "I told you-I took care of it. Yelling at Dad isn't going to help and you know it. Dad's just blustering. He's venting whatever frustrations he has about his relationship with Fingolfin on Maedhros." He put his hand on Tyelko's chest and pushed him back slightly. "Let it go, Tyelko. It's under control. You aren't going to make anything better if you go toe to toe with Dad on this. It will only make things worse. Trust me."

The brothers glared at each other. Tyelko finally spoke again, grinding out his words. "So help me, Maglor, if Dad says one thing about Aredhel."

"He won't. Letting him resolve this with Maedhros means he'll drop the whole thing. That includes you and Aredhel."

"When has Dad ever dropped anything?" Tyelko countered.

Maglor raised his voice again. "He'll drop this. I told you. I spoke with him. It's not worth hurting Maedhros and Dad realizes that."

They regarded each other in silence for another moment.

"Come on, let's go," Maglor said. "I think you need a longer run today, after all." He shoved Tyelko's shoulder. "Don't let this get to you, Tyelko. And for fuck's sake, don't talk to Dad-it will make things worse. He's going to accept this so just be content with that, ok?" He moved closer. "Ok?"

"Ok," Tyelko finally said.

"Come on," Maglor repeated. "There's a new breakfast place at the other end of the park. My treat."

---

Maedhros zipped up his duffel bag and dropped it by the bed. No more procrastinating. It was time to go speak to his father.

The kitchen was silent and empty, his mother's studio the same. It was unlikely they were still in bed so they must be in his father's study, Maedhros surmised. He found his coat and boots in the laundry room and trudged along the short path to his father's workshop.

He put his ear to the door-no raised voices. He could hear the faint murmur of conversation. So they were both here. He knocked twice, waiting for his father's response before opening the door. Maedhros had walked in on them more than once in his youth and knew better than to barge in, even now.

His mother was seated on his father's lap, one arm curved behind his neck, his arms circling her waist. They appeared to be looking at something on his father's computer, his mother's free hand working the mouse.

Nerdanel slid off Fëanor's lap as Maedhros entered the room, moving to stand behind her husband's office chair, her hands on his shoulders. She met Maedhros' eyes and tilted her head, her warm smile encouraging him to come closer.

"Good morning, Maedhros," Fëanor said, as Nerdanel echoed his words. Maedhros responded in kind and then his father motioned to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit? Your mother and I were just reminiscing over old photos."

Maedhros sat down, somewhat perplexed at his father's mild demeanor and his mother's iron grip on Fëanor's shoulders; he could see her fingers digging in.

"Old photos of what?" Maedhros asked.

"You. Your brothers. Family," Nerdanel said, her eyes staying focused on Maedhros.

He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that but found he didn't need to, as Fëanor spoke up instead.

"You know how important family is to me, Maedhros," Fëanor said.

Here we go, Maedhros thought. "So you've said," Maedhros replied curtly.

"It was always been important to me," Fëanor paused and Maedhros saw his mother's hands grip his father's shoulders again. "Ever since . . . ever since I lost my mother."

Maedhros felt a chill come over him; it was rare, if ever, to hear Fëanor speak of his mother. He knew he was staring at his father but he could not come up with an appropriate response. Again he found he didn't need to do so.

"I don't know if I have always made it clear how important you and your brothers are to me," Fëanor continued, his silver eyes fixed on Maedhros' own. "I may not have always expressed it in the most obvious way."

Maedhros could see Nerdanel's fingers release their iron grip and gently stroke his father's shoulders instead. "Not always," Maedhros confirmed. He kept waiting for his father to bring up the unsuitability of Fingon but it appeared Fëanor had more to say before he got to that.

"It goes beyond that," his father continued. Fëanor tilted his head back and regarded the ceiling, as if for inspiration. "You are all precious to me as individuals but your happiness is as well." He returned his gaze to his son. "I have come to the realization-and your mother concurs-that I have not always made that clear either."

Maedhros nodded. Where was this going? This was not how conversations usually went with his father. Fëanor seemed almost hesitant-a word typically incongruous in regard to him.

"I know I push, sometimes too hard." Fëanor resumed speaking, Nerdanel's hands continuing their gentle, reassuring movements on his shoulders. "I demand too much. I've never thought it was more than any of you could handle." Fëanor winced as Nerdanel's fingers dug into him again. "But I don't know that I've communicated that the effort was enough for me."

"Not the end result?" Maedhros questioned, his mouth feeling unaccountably dry as he spoke.

"No," Fëanor said. "The effort is what mattered. If the end result was a success, so much the better. I did not intend for you to view those efforts as utter failure if the objective was not fully achieved. It is my failure to communicate that led you to that belief." Fëanor took a breath and exhaled. "And for that I am sorry."

Maedhros gripped the arms of his chair tightly. "Thank you," he said. "For clarifying."

Nerdanel nudged Fëanor.

"About last night, Maedhros . . ." Fëanor began.

Here it comes, Maedhros thought, sitting up straighter, steeling himself for his father's next words.

"I realize, based on our conversation last night, how important Fingon is to you."

More like confrontation than conversation but Maedhros let it go.

"I am sorry if I was dismissive of your relationship," Fëanor said. "That was inappropriate and insensitive."

"It was," Maedhros agreed.

"I allowed my feelings about Fingolfin to overtake me. It is unfair to judge the boy by his father."

"It is," Maedhros agreed, realizing he was basically echoing his father's words back to him but unable to muster the ability to do otherwise. This was one of the most unusual conversations he had ever had with his father.

Nerdanel nudged Fëanor again.

"I am sorry I let my emotions get the best of me," Fëanor said, leaning forward, Nerdanel's hands falling off his shoulders as he did. "I love you, Maedhros. You are my son. My beloved son and this is your home, no matter what. Fingon is welcome here-it was wrong of me to state otherwise. I apologize for that."

Maedhros nodded, now at a complete loss for words.

Fëanor stood up and made his way around the desk to stand in front of Maedhros. He held out his hand.

Maedhros stood, reaching out his own hand, and was unexpectedly pulled into his father's embrace.

"I am so sorry, Nelyo," Fëanor said, using the pet name from his childhood days.

Maedhros' arms went around his father; he closed his eyes and,relaxed against his frame. "I really care about him, Dad," Maedhros whispered.

"I see that," Fëanor whispered back, his grip tightening on his son.

Nerdanel rested her forearms on the back of Fëanor's vacated chair and watched them, heedless of the tears running down her face. She had expected to need to step in, to facilitate this reconciliation between her husband and her son.

But Fëanor had found his words, had spoken from his heart. And her son-always the one to strive for resolution and conciliatory behavior-had been met halfway by his father.

Fëanor let go of Maedhros and stepped back to look up at his tall son. "I mean it when I say he is welcome here. I would like to meet him." A wistful expression crossed his face. "His father was a good companion, before . . . " Fëanor shook his head. "Nevermind, I am all caught up in memories today, it seems. Thanks to your mother."

"I'd like you to meet him," Maedhros said. He glanced at his mother. "Both of you." His brows drew together suddenly and he turned back to his father, concern on his face. "Dad, you may not know this but Aredhel-Tyelko's girlfriend-she's Fingon's sister." His gaze hardened. "You can't be harsh to Tyelko about her, it won't go well. He really likes her and he won't . . ."

"He won't take it well," his father finished the sentence for him. "No, I doubt he would." He shook his head. "It was wrong of me to say what I said to you. I won't make the same mistake with Tyelko." Fëanor saw the tension lessen in his son's frame. "I never should have done that to you in the first place."

"No, you shouldn't have," Maedhros agreed. "But I should have thought to mention who Fingon was, knowing how you feel about Fingolfin." He looked down at his father, his gaze strong and steady. "Simply to inform you," he continued. "Although I think you were likely to have had the same response-whether you heard it from me or discovered it for yourself."

Fëanor grimaced. "You aren't wrong. But don't put it on yourself. I can't blame you for avoiding it, if you expected my reaction to be what it was. I am sorry I proved you correct in your assumption."

Nerdanel had moved to join them. She slipped her hand into her husband's. "Oh, Fëanor. You do let your mouth run away with you." She reached out to touch Maedhros' arm. "I've already told you I can't wait to meet Fingon. Please bring him by sometime soon." She gave Fëanor a side-long look and a nudge. "I can guarantee your father will not bark or bite."

"Good," Maedhros said. "Because if Tyelko hears about any of this I can't guarantee he won't."