Fanworks Tagged with Bëor/Finrod

With Nargothrond’s might diminishing and the Elves’ borders hard-pressed, Finrod welcomes the first Men into his ranks, but when their chieftain, Bëor, becomes dearer to him than mere vassal, Finrod faces sending his lover or himself into deadly peril as the Enemy breaches the Elves’ leaguer.

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That it was returned, he did not question. He could look back now and see everything arranged in its full image, he could trace the careful dance they both wound through this past year; every word, every silence, every touch ringing through with that steady truth. How had he been so blind?

Springtime has come to Estolad. Finrod is struck with a realization he has been avoiding and faces the decisions that lie in its wake.

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“Let us not perish here in the long darkness,” Balan said softly, crossing back to take one of the waiting wreaths and set it upon his own brow, “these creatures you chose to form. Remember us, here in our frailty.”

It is Yuletide. The Atani and Finrod celebrate throughout the night as they stay awake to greet the dawn after the Longest Night. Balan's people settle into Estolad, Atani traditions abound, and Finrod faces some memories.

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It was a custom done in scorn of death, Balan would tell Finrod later that night as they sat beside the fire in the hush of the midnight watch. He might come ever ravening among them, but they would scorn his maw. Even in their rotting they would lay claim to life.

Balan's people are on the road to Estolad. Finrod begins to suspect his own feelings, there is danger on the road, and we witness Atani burial rituals.

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In that moment he envied for the first time the mortality of Men. He coveted a death that came upon you softly, death that whispered and held out a hand and let you slip into his arms in sleep. Death that passed his fingers over your eyes and left a visage in peace. Balan’s death.

It's the Fen of Serech, more or less. An oath for an oath, blood for blood.

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Finrod watches his lover sleep and things about their coming deaths. Luckily, Balan wakes to comfort him.

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Finrod felt the other’s panic strike his perception like a blow and was running even before Balan’s cry reached his ear. In a glance, his eyes took in the scene before him: the camp in sudden stillness, one of the Laiquendi staggering through the clearing, a limp body slung in his arms, Balan and Baran sprinting toward him.

It was Belen in his arms.

The Edain and the Laiquendi cross paths in the woods of Ossiriand and are faced with immediate conflict. Finrod and Estreth work to heal the damage, Balan (Bëor) tries to learn the communication of thought, and the Edain choose where their loyalty will abide.

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It was danger only if the goal was avoidance, and Balan had no desire to escape. The urge to laugh returned and his heart dared Estreth’s cautions to be true so he might find himself ensnared forever, held motionless on this hilltop, a statue cradled within the other’s hands till the world’s ending. If his soul was consumed in the process, then let it be so. It was a fair price.

A few months after Finrod discovered the Edain near Thalos, he continues to dwell with them and form friendships. Balan (Bëor) attempts to learn multiple languages, some old folktales of the Edain come up in conversation, and Balan and Finrod discuss grief with a side of constellations. Balan has a crush.

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“I convinced myself the situations were different. I built labyrinths within my reason to justify the pretense, and in their twisting ways I wandered blind till faced with her grief—the tribute paid in pain, as thou hast named it. Till then I could contend that I suffered so thou might be spared; I grieved so that thou might hold love in memory untarnished. That I learned at the feet of Doom to thus keep its step from thine own neck, and so should goodness come of it. Eru forgive me, I was wrong.”

After his conversation with Andreth forces him to face his own rationalizations and hypocrisies, Finrod realizes he needs to come clean to Aegnor and confesses to him both the consequences of his former advice, as well as his own secret grief that motivated it.

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Balan, in hopes of comforting Finrod and reminding him of the time they still have together, gifts him a lullaby passed down among his people. The memories of the Elves are unfading, Balan knows- as long as Finrod remembers, Balan will continue to live.

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A story about the two times that Bëor called Finrod “lad” and one time he didn’t. Or, after the angst of the Helcaraxë, Finrod finds some love and happiness at last. A sequel to Same Shade of Gold. But also stands alone.

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