Accepting

Author: BJMalata
BJMalata@aol.com
Rating. NC-17, explicit sex
Pairing: Maedhros/Fingon, Amrod/Amras
Some hundred years have passed since the feast of reuniting and a couple
of years since the Second Born have entered Middleearth. The tension
between the elven people have lessened somewhat, also the rift between
the two houses of Finwe closes as time heals some of the old wounds.
Turgon and Aredhel are gone and only Fingon is left beside his father. Yet
the relationship between them is more difficult than ever before...
Warning: mild incest (see pairing) and hurt
Besides: It would perhaps emphasise emotion greatly if you could listen to
"Coma" of Apocalyptica whilst reading and imagine it was a rainy day and
now under whipping wind dark grey clouds are storming across a nightfall
sky - that were the circumstances under which I wrote the story.

Fingolfin marched through the corridors of the Symmetrical City, the
capital of the realm of the twin sons of Feanor.
It was located in the great plains south-east of Doriath, grassland and
rocky hills as far as the eye could reach. The twins had specialised on
horse breeding, since the ground was not fertile enough for harvesting, and
their city had been predestined for the Riderfeast the elves held all four
years. The one before had taken place in Hithlum with prince Fingon as
host, the feast before that in Nargothrond.
Fingolfin had never seen the city before since he still avoided close
contact with the sons of his half brother, this mad breed of incapable
Elvelords - bound to a desolate vow and therefor, so thought Fingolfin, to
their own destruction.
The King of the Noldor reached a balcony and couldn't resist the urge to
step out and breathe in the fresh air. Though he didn't like to admit it, he
had enjoyed the journey and his stay here so far. The nature was
breathtaking - especially the sunsets, the wide sky one could see from the
city, built high atop one of the few higher hills. Fingolfin breathed in
deeply as his gaze travelled along the threatening grey clouds rushing
through the sky. It had been a rainy day, turning the turf around the inner
city into a muddy sliding course. An all-consuming wall of dark purple
clouds was coming from the west and devoured the clear dark azure sky
and the few stars which shone in it.

Fingolfin shivered, though he knew he felt no cold.

It had been three hundred years since they set foot on Arda, having gone
through Helcaraxe after Feanor had burned the ships at Losgar.
Much had happened since - Feanor was dead, killed by a Balrog not long
after he had began his pursuit of the silmarils. The noldorian crown, a
simple circlet of silver, had passed to Maedhros first, then for many years
it was not seen on anyone while the eldest son of Feanor was captured in
Angband, hanging from his right wrist from the Thangorodrim.

The clouds reached the space just above Fingolfin and it rapidly darkened.

Until one man had succeeded in freeing him.
After long years of suffering, Maedhros had been freed by Fingon, the
valiant, his son.
Fingolfin sighed angrily as he tasted bile. Only afterwards had he finally
found out why he once had found only a sheet of paper in his rooms
instead of his son.

I'm gone, it said, do not follow me because where I go nobody will be able
to follow.
Aredhel had nearly gone mad with fear. Fingon was nowhere to be found
and nobody understood his ominous letter. Also he, Fingolfin, hadn't. He
had paced his study, pondering the question over an over. Why and where
had Fingon gone without saying goodbye? He had taken his rangerhorse
and an equipment for long swift journey with him, yet he didn't show up in
any elven settlement, they didn't hear from him for weeks and Fingolfin
already feared he had been killed on his journey.
The time had stirred him much. The emotions the loss of his oldest son
awoke had startled himself - some nights he had cried bitterly, though that
was normally absolutely not his style, and the mere remembrance of his
son's face had made his heart ache. Was he really dead? Would he never
come back? And why on all Arda couldn't he at least learn where he had
gone?
That was what had moved him most - the strange message told of things
he didn't understand. It seemed that his son had reasons to go somewhere
he didn't knew.

Though father and son, they had been strangers.

Just when Fingolfin was ready to despair, a messenger told him that one of
the wonderful eagles of Manwe was heading towards the capital in
Mithrim in high air. Everyone felt that this was important and Fingolfin
had immediately left the palace to await the eagle on the terrace toward
the lake Mithrim. Already when he drew nearer the people began to shout
and Fingolfin made out a form on the eagles' back.

A small, broad form with many thick braids.

He had nearly gone mad with relief and anger at the same time. He would
question his son about this! How dare he set the whole royal family into
maddening fear...
The eagle just landed and Fingolfin stepped up to it, not believing his
eyes. His son was obviously tired, stricken and blood smeared... and on his
lap he firmly held a lean figure, a poor picture of an elf, wrapped only in
Fingon's bloody cloak and some meters long wavy red hair.

Fingolfin closed his eyes and inhaled the cold air deeply.

In that moment most of his happiness had been blown away by the fact
that he understood that they had suffered the fear for Fingon because of
him - Maedhros, Feanor's oldest son.
It had proven true. Fingon had made a long and over all dangerous journey
only to free his cousin. Had endangered his life and put Fingolfin into an
amount of fear he had never felt before for Maedhros' sake.

Fingolfin didn't understand why Fingon had done that until a few months
later Maedhros gave the crown to Fingolfin, giving up all his claims for
the kingship.
The festivities and formalities had already thinned Fingolfins patience,
since he had not accepted Maedhros offer out of forgiveness but for his
peoples sake.
Fifty horses.
He would never have accepted the crown from Maedhros left hand hadn't
it been the best for the torn elven society.
And then that - late at night, after finally deciding it was time to leave
work for the day, Fingolfin had accidentally overheard sex in his Fingons'
chamber, realising that it had been Maedhros who had fucked his son
under his very roof.
He had nearly gone mad with fury, had thrown Maedhros out, forbidding
him to see his son ever again, and had had a long talk with Fingon,
resulting in his son nearly fading out of heartbreak.
The only possibility to save him had been to allow Maedhros back to his
side and let them love.

The clouds had swallowed the most part of the sky now, leaving only a
thin line above the mountains in the east in shining blue.

Their hidden relationship had lasted ever since, despite Fingolfin's belief
Maedhros only used Fingon to regain power over him, now the king of the
Noldor. They had followed his order to keep their love utterly secret - a
too embarrassing scene it would make to have the love between the prince
and somewhen to be King of the Noldor and the son of fallen Feanor
revealed.
Fingolfin ripped his eyes off the thinning line of light in the east and
stepped back into the unpretentious palace of Amrod and Amras

Not twenty seconds later he stumbled right into exactly them. Turning
around a corner into a gloomily lit corridor he found them entangled in a
mindblowing kiss, alike hands crawling in red hair, slim hips pressed
together.
In the first moment the king was too shocked to do anything but take in
the sight of the two similar bodies entwined, the mirrored faces relaxed in
a kiss of two pairs of broad, full lips.
Only some seconds later Amrod, who was pressed against the wall by his
younger brother, realised their audience from the corner of his eye. He
pulled back and flushed quite prettily, making his brother aware of the
king, too.
Amras smiled broadly at Fingolfin, white teeth flashing, green eyes
sparkling.
"Oh! I'm sorry, my uncle, we should have retreated into our rooms.
Forgive our hastiness."
With a bow, he pulled his brother away, disappearing behind a door and
closing it firmly behind them.
Fingolfin stood struck there for quite some time, then straightened his
composure and marched towards his own rooms.

He shared a living room with Fingon whilst they had own sleeping
chambers.
His son sat on the sofa and read the stud book Fingolfin had borrowed
from Amrod.
Fingolfin sat down across from him, trying to sort his thoughts.

Fingon set aside the stud book, sensing his father's troubled mind.

"Do you know what I just saw?", asked Fingolfin.

The prince shook his head.

"I walked in on Amrod and Amras kissing madly in the corridor."

There was a long pause. Fingon didn't knew what to say since he knew for
long that the seven brothers had sought comfort in each others arms ever
since their father had died. All of them - not only he twins. He didn't have
the energy to feign surprise.
The stare of his father seemed to pierce him and it made him feel
vulnerable.

"It seems I missed something", growled Fingolfin, feeling that his son was
far from being shocked.
"Did I miss that the whole world has become crazy, horny, gay and
perverse?"

Fingon didn't blink while his heart grew cold in an instant. So that was
what his father thought of him then? He felt as if he was too cold to cry, 
he
was frozen into an icy cold shock of rejection.
Finally he blinked and swallowed the lump in his throat. There had been
times when his father had turned him into a feeble crying bundle with his
words, yet he didn't feel like it now. His emotion was dominated by a
feeling of separation.
To be moved into tears by his father had meant that he still had had a
relationship with him then but now he felt that the little bit that was left 
of
it had been quenched in this very moment. It was as if there had been a
rope of a bond between them, thinning with the years, receiving deep cuts
as his father had discovered his love to Maitimo, his cousin, and now
finally being completely severed. He felt like falling deep into a black
void, suddenly being dispatched from his family, not having a single one
of its members by his side anymore.

His mother had stayed in Aman, his sister was dead, his brother hidden in
the city of Gondolin and now finally his father had separated himself from
him too.
Fingon's vision cleared again after it had been clouded by wrath and
disappointment and sadness. His father was still rambling about the
ugliness of the world when his son suddenly interrupted him with steady
voice.
"Yes."

Fingolfin looked up irritatedly.

"Yes", repeated Fingon, "You have missed much in this world, Ada. I
sometimes adored your skill in not seeing things you simply don't want to
see. Yes, the world has gone mad. There has developed longing, love and
desire in this world between elves... male elves too, and many. Don't think
we are the only ones, Ada, we are only so close to you that you finally
*had* to realise. Do you want to know how many couples I know who
love secretly but nonetheless wholly and beautifully? It's not only Amrod
and Amras, me and Maedhros, it's not only Celegorm and Curufin, not
only Halkim and Cinkin,  Generin and Borgil... it's hundreds more. Can
you lie to me, Ada?"

Fingolfin stared blinking at his son, speechless.

"Has not Círdan, who you like and cherish, flirted openly with you? Didn't
you feel desire awake within you at first sight of him?"

The king lowered his eyes for a second and Fingon snorted.

"So why did you quench it? You could have had him!"

"You!? You, my son, tell me to... ally with Círdan, deceiving my wife,
your mother?"

Fingon was not willed to let himself be made angry and only gravely
shook his head.
"You desire him, you love her, at least I think so. It's something 
different.
You could still go to her, when you meet with her again sometimes, ask
for her forgiveness since you were only having a bit of fun. That's one
way. And for Amrod and Amras part - do you know how lonely they are?
They all are? How sore their hearts, how in need for comfort? Just as mine
and Maedhros'? I don't know how you survive this horrible world without
a bit of comfort unless the memory of your wife is enough for you - or
your heart really is of stone."
Fingon slowly rose, turned and left the room, leaving a gaping Fingolfin
behind.

He wandered the deserted corridors like in trance, naturally ending up in
Maedhros room.
His cousin was not yet asleep, he stood on the balcony, watching the
heavy clouds.
When he heard someone enter, he turned and smiled when he recognised
Fingon but his smile faded as it was not answered.
He embraced his cousin comfortingly. "What's wrong?"

For some scary seconds Fingon said nothing, then he stated coldly: "I'm a
crazy, horny, gay pervert. That at least is what my father thinks of me. He
walked in on Ambarosse kissing in the corridor and later on asked me if he
had missed that the world had grown crazy, horny, gay and perverse."

Maedhros looked into the unmoving brown eyes shocked. If that really
was true, didn't it hurt Fingon? Why did he stand there so motionless?
"My love, he doesn't know what he says!"

"No", agreed Fingon and eventually his lower lip started to quiver. "He
doesn't know anything. He doesn't know how much I love you, he doesn't
know how much he hurts me and he doesn't know how much he has
estranged himself from me. Yet."

"Oh Fingon, I'm so sorry to hear that!"

Fingon raised his hands and cupped Maedhros face. "Don't. I am in the
mood to kiss you in front of everyone's eyes. I would like you to fuck me
in the great hall and I would scream my pleasure out to everyone and
gladly endure the ban they would lay upon us because then we could
finally love boundlessly." He stood on his toetips to reach up to Maedhros
and kissed him fiercely. The lean arms of his lover curled around him and
held him close.
"I'm so happy to have you here, Maitimo! Because I'm lonely, I'm so
horribly lonely except for you!"

"Hush, Fingon! I'm here and I will always be by your side."

"Come."
Fingon strode out, pulling his cousin after him.
They left the palace for the stables, fetched their horses and rode out into
the darkness.

Fingolfin closed his mouth.
The darkness outside suddenly made the impression it wanted to crawl in,
to swallow him, to make him lose his ground. He jumped up and stared
out with a startling feeling of dread in his heart. What was this? Why did
fear suddenly overcome him like a cold suffocating chill?
He felt as if something was taken from him but he couldn't figure out
what.
What had he done? What had Fingon said? Why had he suddenly talked
about love between elves in an icy voice he had never heard on him
before?
...It is not only Amrod and Amras, me and Maedhros...
Had he really called the twins crazy, horny, gay and perverse? Yes, and he
had believed in it wholeheartedly. But he didn't have his son and
Maedhros in mind when he had talked like that.
...not only Halkim and Cinkin,  Generin and Borgil...
Was he true? Did he really think that his personal servant loved his squire,
his personal bodyguard the swordteacher?
Was that important at all?, asked a warning voice within him which first
seemed to feel the dread that slowly consumed the king...

Except for the slim line of gloomy blue in the east the whole world had
sunken into complete darkness.
Fingon and Maedhros entrusted themselves to their horses and let them
carry them to a small woodland north to the city. There Fingon slipped off
of his horse. Maedhros followed straight and fell into Fingon's waiting
arms, welcomed by a fierce kiss.
The prince pulled his cousin down and they landed in the soft grass. After
a long kissing, Fingon breathed in deeply.
"I'm lost, Maedhros."

"What do you mean?", asked the older elf, nibbling at Fingon's ear.

"I'm lost in Arda with no one to turn to but you. My dear mother who has
always loved me is still in Aman, my sister is dead, my brother is gone
and my father rejects me. He has hurt me, Russandol."

Maedhros kissed his face. "Hush, don't let him hurt you. He doesn't
deserve such intense reaction to his stupid words."

"I can't help it. Can you avoid to feel the pain when someone is lashing out
at you, hitting you in a most sensitive spot?"

Fingolfin ran, pursued by the dreadful darkness. His heart screamed at him
about loneliness and losing.
There was only one way to rescue him from the horror: To find his son
and embrace him tightly.
At least he could guess where to find him.
Yet he found he erred, Fingon was not in Maedhros room. It was
completely empty. Had they both gone? But where? He had to find them
quickly, he felt as if he was running out of time!
Hurrying through the palace, he asked everyone who was still awake if he
had seen Fingon or Maedhros. Finally a stableboy told him yes, they had
taken their horses and left the city northwards.
Fingolfin immediately saddled his own horse and rode out.
There was no chance to see anything by now, but he encouraged his horse
to follow the relatively fresh trail of the other two horses in front of 
them.
Fingolfin shivered and felt suffocated by the darkness. It was engulfing
him! He was totally alone!
Sweating and shuddering with fear he rode on until his horse whinnied.
There! He heard to other horses! So he was near now!

He left his mount with the other two and proceeded on food, carefully
listening for any elven sounds.

"It is what he thinks of me. In his eyes I am an unworthy dirty whore who
let himself be seduced by the cunning oh so malicious oldest son of
Feanor, his hated half brother. His world's so small, Maedhros, so small.
Only the few things that he thinks are right exist, every other thing is
abhorrent and perverse. And I stand outside his narrow point of view. Far
outside, I guess. He doesn't know me, Maitimo, there are hardly two elves
who know each other so little as we do."

Tears trailed down round cheeks and were licked away by a well-trained
tongue.
"I don't know words to soothe you, I'm afraid there are none."

"Then soothe me in another way, Maitimo. Show me that you love me."

Broad, soft lips covered the prince's mouth, tenderly opening it and letting
a skilled tongue slip into him.

He huddled into the soft grass and let his cousin care for him, totally open
for the comfort he received and thankful for every kiss, every stroke, every
nibble.
Maedhros opened his tunic and bared his chest, stroking the soft pectoral
muscles, sucking at the little dark nipples and then bending lower to caress
his navel. Then he opened his trousers, too, and gently stroked his soft
genitals until his cook stood up.
"Maitimo!", sighed Fingon and finally his tensed body relaxed. The tall elf
covered him with his body and kissed him, letting all the love he felt for
his little cousin pour into him.

Fingolfin sat against a tree, listening to their lovemaking.
...there are hardly two elves who know each other so little as we do...
That hurt. Oh how he had hurt his child again! Unintentionally in this
case, he hadn't thought of him at all when he raved about gay perverts. But
Fingon couldn't know that of course and now he thought his father loathed
him.
I do not! Screamed Fingolfin silently to the night, I love you, Fingon, and
I don't want to be separated from you!

"Oh yes, love me!"

"I do", murmured Maedhros and gently invaded his cousin. Fingon relaxed
utterly for him, letting him dive into his body, full of trust welcoming him
into his very core. Maedhros was thrilled by the intense need and love he
felt between them. How much he loved his little Fingon!
"Oh yes, how I love you!", with a final shudder he came and brought his
semen into the body beneath him. Fingon embraced him tightly, pressing
his body up against him, and came, too, with a deep, contend sigh.

For several minutes they lay there and enjoyed the feeling of being united.
But suddenly Fingon jerked and Maedhros' head snapped up. There was
someone very close to them! In fact Maedhros sensed that the person was
bent over Fingon right in front of him!

"Hush, it's me."

With shock, the two recognised the voice of Fingolfin. Fingon blankly
stared up into the darkness when he felt two long slender hands cupping
his face. A kiss was pressed to his forehead.
"I didn't mean to hurt you, Fingon. When I spoke those stupid words I
never had you in mind since I know that you share a pure and gentle true
love with your cousin. I'm sorry, Fingon, forgive me. I again spoke before
I thought. A foolish father you have, poor boy." Fingolfin pressed his face
against the warm, round cheek, but accepted the silence that followed. If
Fingon really thought that their relationship had ended, so be it. The king
felt that he deserved punishment. Slowly he rose and left them to the
comfort they savoured.

Waiting until he was sure no one was around anymore, Fingon raised his
head. "Was he really here? Did you hear what I heard, Maitimo?"

"I did."

A deep, relieved sigh escaped Fingon's bruised lips.
"Then not everything is lost."

The tickling of swinging hair told him that his cousin shook his head. "I
don't think so. Fingolfin spoke true, a foolish father you have. He really
often speaks before thinking. Do not take him too serious Fingon. And
give him contra. I beg you, do not let yourself be hurt by him without
telling him how you feel. He seems to understand you only then."

The prince nodded.
"Oh why can the world not be simple?"

Maedhros chuckled.
"That would not be the concept of Iluvatar. But I understand he just
admitted that we truly love each other. He is accepting it, Fingon. 
Finally."

The End.