Jubilee by polutropos

“He did not return to his people,” the messenger says. “He is gone, Finwë.”

Míriel slips her hand into his palm, threading her fingers between his. He feels her eyes on him. But Finwë’s spirit has drifted up to the stars, as if he might find Elwë among them. Elwë had never truly wanted to return to Aman; he went for Finwë. If the Dark Rider has claimed him, he cannot be saved. But Finwë will not give up hope that he will be found.

But not by him.

“We journey onwards,” he says, and his fingers curl around Míriel’s. 

Chapter End Notes

Prompt: A Sky Full of Stars by Coldplay for the Potluck Bingo 'Music of the Ainur' card.

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The journey to Himring will take them through Thargelion. Since his defeat, Caranthir’s dreams have been haunted by images of his ruined lands. He hoped never to look upon them again; never to face his failure. But Maedhros has called them to war.

He has carried the little shrub, one known for its resilience, in his saddle bag all the way from Ossiriand, settled in a clump of soil and peeking out to catch the sunlight. It bloomed along the way. Amrod teased him for it, but Caranthir paid him no mind. Amrod had not even come into the world the last time Caranthir had sunk his hands into the dirt. He had loved to nurture, once.

It is worse than his imaginings: the landscape scraped clear of life by Glaurung’s breath. Caranthir slides down from his horse, stoops and takes a handful of the soil. It is rich and healthy. With bare hands, he hollows out a pit, a place that will invite the rains to gather. Amrod and Amras keep their distance, mercifully silent.

At last he sets the shrub into its new home, patting the soil around its tender roots. A breeze flutters its soft pink blossoms, and Caranthir prays to whatever power might hear him that it will grow strong; that they will be victorious, and Thargelion will bloom again. 

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“I was only seeing if it would fit in my mouth!” Elros pouts. Elrond gives the lie away with a muffled snort.

Maglor pulls his brows together and holds the line of his mouth flat, affecting sternness. But laughter tickles at the back of his throat: Elros knows exactly what he meant by inserting the squash in his mouth in that particular manner.

But he certainly did not learn about such things from Maglor. An oversight, Maglor thinks, that he will now have to work to undo – they have grown far too quickly!

“Who told you about that?”

“About what?” Elros snickers.

He is really going to make Maglor say it. That is fine. Maglor has endured far worse than confronting a child – a youth – on the subject of fellatio. “Who told you about putting privates in your mouth?”

At this, both twins dissolve into embarrassed giggles. To his dismay, Maglor hears another laugh rumble from somewhere behind him. He need not turn to know who it is, but he does anyway.

“Maedhros!” he cries – but it has been so long since he’s seen anything like a smile on his brother’s face that it is impossible to hold onto his anger.

“They asked,” says Maedhros. “Would you have preferred if I lied?”

Maglor clucks and shakes his head. “Next time, send them to me. Or anyone else!”

Maedhros shrugs. “I will consider it.”

Chapter End Notes

Prompt: 'Obscene Gestures' from the Taboo challenge bingo card.

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