Title: A way back to Innocence
Author: BJMalata
BJMalata@aol.com
Pairing: Maedhros/Fingon
Fingon frees Maedhros, his friend, and discovers he returns his long
hidden feelings.  
Rating: NC17
Betaed by Rawley, thanks!

Fingon stood at the foot of Thangorodrim, but he found no trace nor a way
on.

"Oh my cousin, where are you?", he cried, but there was no answer.
He was near despair and didn't know how to carry on. He had sneaked
through the enemies lines, had avoided orc after orc and had never been
detected. But now that he had reached his goal, he couldn't think of a way
how to go on. In his despair, not knowing what to do, he took out his harp
and sang a sad song of Valinor.

Then he strained his ears, because he thought he heard an echo, faint and
far away. It was his cousin answering, singing the song of Valinor with a
voice broken by weakness and pain.

Quickly he rushed on and looked up. High up a straight mountain he saw a
figure hanging from its wrist from a ledge.
The misty dawn of Thangorodrim revealed the nasty work of Melkor.

"Maedhros!", Fingon shouted. The naked form moved slightly, but Fingon
could hardly believe he was living. His cousin was emaciated, dried blood
covered his right arm and the expression of pain and despair in his dirty
face broke Fingon's heart.

The tangled copper hair nearly reached his feet and moved slightly in the
wind.
"Fingon, my!", he heard the faint voice.

"I'm on my way! Hold on, my cousin!" Eagerly he was searching for a
way up to the ledge. But there was none. For hours he tried to climb up the
mountain, but it was impossible.
"Maedhros, how did they put you up there?!", he screamed, nearly
panicked.

"Flying creature of Melkor", he choked, and seemed to be so weak that
Fingon feared he would die right away.

"Please...", Maedhros pleaded and needed some time to restore enough
strength to go on.
"Please, my cousin. You came to rescue me... but you can't... there is no
way... please, help me, anyway. Stop my suffering."

Fingon swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "No", he whispered, inaudible
for Maedhros. He didn't move, so Maedhros repeated his plea.
"Fingon! I need you! Help me! Don't leave and... don't hesitate! They will
find you, too, if you stay too long. Release me." He stretched out his free
arm and revealed his chest to his cousin, tears glittering in his eyes.

Fingon looked up to him. The body he adored for so long, loved secretly,
hanging crushed and pained from a mountain ledge, brought there by the
dark magic of Melkor, and suffered loneliness and incredible pain for
fifteen years.

"I... I didn't come to kill you!", he screamed, tears rushing down his
smooth cheeks. "I can't, oh cousin I can't!" Because I love you, he thought,
but he didn't dare to tell it to his cousin, not even now.

"I know, Fingon, please! Look at me, will you leave me here for fifteen
years more? You can't do that to me, can you? Believe me, it's better for
me, I beg you!"
Fingons heart clenched as he took his bow in his hand. Slowly, very
slowly he pulled an arrow out and put it on the sinew. He bent and aimed
at the helpless figure of his cousin, who courageously lifted his head and
closed his eyes. He wanted to die. Fingon believed it. But the tears made
his vision blurry and his heart pounded wildly in his chest. You can't kill
the man you love, can you? How will you live without him... and with the
knowledge that it was you who took him from yourself?

The bow sank. "Oh Manwe, I can't!", he whispered. "O King to whom all
birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the
Noldor in their need!"

With all the effort he raised his bow anew. He clenched his teeth and
blinked away the tears. "It is what you wish, my cousin!"

Maedhros only seemed to sigh deeply.

So I will never have you, my love, Fingon thought and the lump in his
throat nearly suffocated him. This was too much. He couldn't stand it. "I
will die with you, my cousin", he screamed, "I will follow right behind
you to the halls of Mandos!"

"No!", shouted Maedhros desperately. "You don't need to! Believe me, I
thank you for it! And now shoot!"

Fingon's normally strong arm was trembling, holding the mortal arrow.
Yes, he was determined. He would go, too. He would shoot, now, and then
take out his knife and make and end to it all. There was no other way for
him to stand the loss of his dear friend.

Suddenly a hoarse croak caught his attention and he winced, as a large
shadow crossed the Thangorodrim. He looked up and saw Thorondor, the
king of eagles, taking a sharp turn and heading towards him. He only just
had time to put the bow away before he was clutched by the mighty claws,
but no harm was done
He shivered and had nearly screamed, when he was lifted high in the air.
But the grip of the claws was secure and gentle at once, and they carried
him high up on top of the mountain on which side Maedhros hang.
There, the king of eagles let him go and sat down on a near peak himself.
Fingons heart was hammering and he looked down the mountain with
wide eyes. But there was Maedhros, and the expression on his face chased
away all doubts that may have shattered Fingons courage. Fingon
carefully watched out for ledges to step on and climbed down the short
distance towards his bound cousin. He didn't dare to touch the suffering
hand, it was motionless and chalk white. But he reached down to touch
Maedhros' face. Oh, the stormy grey eyes captured him immediately, full
of pain and yet now brightened with a touch of hope. Again, there were
tears now on his cheeks. "What to do now?", he whispered and cursed
himself for his stupid thoughts of kissing and loving. Bringing himself
back to reality, he examined the steal sleeve and found there was no way
to destroy it or get it loose.

"They forged it close...", whispered Maedhros and his eyes were following
Fingons every move.
Fingons blood was getting cold. So far he had come, and now there was
still no solution!

Maedhros sighed deeply, his skinny chest heaving, and he took his eyes
off of Fingons face and looked down. "There we are, anyway", he said,
and Fingon found no sign of regret or fear in his voice. Strange. Did he
really want to leave this world? Now, as rescue was so near?!

"Do what you have to do, my cousin." The soft tone of his voice sent
shivers down Fingons spine.
Fingon desperately looked up for help to Thorondor. The wise golden eyes
of the eagle seemed to fix on the hand in the steel sleeve. Fingon followed
his look and winced. The hand seemed to be dead. He carefully touched it
now, but Maedhros didn't react. Fingon found no pulse in any of the slim
and limp fingers.

He took a deep breath. "I won't leave you here, Maedhros. Not alive nor
dead." He carefully bent over, the metal sleeve being his only hold. He
stretched out his left arm. "Give me your hand, cousin."

Maedhros looked up, irritated. But he did as he was told and took Fingons
hand.

"Hold on tight!", Fingon said, and his grip on Maedhros forearm was of
steel. Then he took out his knife and led it to the cold bound hand.
Maedhros bit his lip and looked away. Fingon took a deep breath. "I will
take you with me, Maedhros, no matter the cost." And with that he cut the
bound hand off by its wrist.
Maedhros screamed, more of shock than pain.  The sudden weight at
Fingons left arm made him struggle to hold his balance, but the strong
metal of the sleeve carried them both, and with all his strength, Fingon
pulled the slim form of his starving cousin up to the ledge.

Maedhros was shivering and his legs couldn't carry him anymore, so
Fingon put an arm around him and helped him up to the mountaintop. It
took them two hours to get there. Fingon had to drag and carry Maedhros
most of the time, and he feared for his cousins life, so weak and cold was
the tortured body.
But at last they were up and Maedhros was lying in his arms, shaking and
clenching his cousins' doublet desperately.

Fingon was crying, whilst watching his friends' tormented body. The
whole world seemed to shrink to this windy, lonely mountaintop that had
heard so much suffering and would now see the death of its bearer.
Fingons lips moved slightly, as he mouthed words he didn't dare to speak
out aloud.

*So here we are, my cousin. You're free. I rescued you. Only to find that
we won't make it out of here. Your body feels strangely, wrongly light in
my arms. And cold. So threateningly cold. Please. Open your eyes once
more. For me. I want to sink into their spell once more, one last time. Oh,
I want to kiss these pale lips goodbye. And I want to say I love you. But I
don't dare. It would be too embarrassing, shaming you with my odd
feelings in the hour of your death. I will give you all I have, Maedhros.
My warmth, my heart, if I could. I would gratefully die, if you could live
for me.*
There was the hoarse croak again, ripping him out of his miserable
thinking. It was only then he realised that he had cried bitterly and his
tears had fallen on Maedhros face, washing the dirt from it. Maedhros eyes
were watching him witch a mixture of bewilderment, thankfulness and
love. Yes, love.

Fingon tried to subdue his embarrassment. "I'm sorry", he whispered and
wiped away the tears.

But a powerful slapping of enormous wings disturbed them out of their
private misery, and Fingon looked up into the calm golden eyes of
Thorondor, who stood high right behind him. He was stretching out his
wings and tilted his head. Fingon understood.

"Dear Manwe, I praise you!"
He struggled to get on his legs again and touched the beautiful head of the
king of eagles carefully. "You will carry us, won't you?"

The golden eyes closed shortly, as to say "Yes".
And Fingons strength returned with the little hope he got. "Come,
Maedhros, be brave." Lifting his cousin easily, though he was a whole
head shorter, he climbed on the back of Thorondor. He took Maedhros on
his lap and held him tight. When they were both securely settled,
Thorondor jumped off the mountain and slid through the air easily. Fingon
bent over his cousin, trying his best to save him from the cold wind as he
breathed deeply, trying to get himself under control again.

The landscape changed quickly beneath them.
They crossed the Sirion where it only was a small brook and got across
Ered Wethrin to see the Mithrim lake shimmering in the sinking sun.

Fingon whispered very near to Maedhros ear: "We're nearly there! Hold
on, Maedhros, stay strong!"
Maedhros sighed weakly, his left hand clenched to Fingons armor, which
was smeared with blood.

Thorondor brought them to the northern shore of the lake.  Many of
Fingolfins people saw them coming and went for the king. So Fingolfin
himself stood there waiting, when Thorondor landed in the camp. The
expression on his face was stern, but happiness, that his son was alive,
won over the distrust towards the child of Feanor.

Fingon, though exhausted from his long and draining journey, held his
friend tight to his chest. He was unsure of his father's feelings towards 
his
action and still afraid for Maedhros. His long dark hair fell around him in
wild tangles, the knots having fallen open on the flight. And his dark
brown eyes watched his approaching father with care.
Fingolfin looked at his son, calm but content. He didn't seem to or didn't
want to acknowledge Maedhros. He only had eyes for his son, Fingon the
valiant, returning from the dreads of Thangorodrim.

"My dear son...", he began, but Fingon interrupted him.

"Father, please! Help me." He looked down to Maedhros, who seemed to
be unconscious. Fingolfin's face went sour. He sighed angrily and held out
his arms. Fingon put the limp form of his friend in them thankfully and
slid down from the eagles back. "Thank you!", he whispered, watching as
Thorondor spent his wings and rose up into the air again.

Then he staggered after his father, who had turned immediately, carrying
Maedhros towards the house of healing.
Wordlessly, Fingolfin laid Maedhros down on a bed in a small room with
a window facing west. He turned to his son, not caring for Maedhros' well
being. His face eased, when he looked into Fingons tired eyes and
stretched out a hand to place a tangle of dark brown hair behind his sons'
ear.

"Dear, I'm happy to have you back. I was so afraid."

"Thank you, my father. I wouldn't be here, if Manwe hadn't been very
gracious with me." He thought of his decision to kill himself at the food of
Thangorodrim and decided his father wouldn't have liked to hear that, not
at all!
His eyes searched Maedhros as he bit his lips. "May I... he needs help..."

Fingolfin sighed. "For you, my son. Only for you."
And he left the room quietly.

Fingon fell on his knees by the bed and took the stump of Maedhros right
arm into his hand. He stroked the messy copper hair out of the still face
and patted the pale cheeks lightly. "Maedhros? Maedhros! Wake up!
You're safe!"

He fondled the soft lips carefully. So long he had waited. Though he felt
bad, using the moment, abusing his cousin this way while he slept - or
worse - he could not seem to help himself.
Slowly he bent over and touched his lips to the pale, broad mouth of his
cousin. Tasting him for the very first time, he totally forgot where he was
and shrank back, when his sister suddenly entered the room, looking up at
her guiltily. Had she realised what he was doing? It didn't seem so. She
carried a large bowl and a pitcher with warm water.

"Fingon! I'm so happy to see you alive!"
She winced, when she realised the cut-off hand and the blood on Fingons
armor.

"What happened?"

"He was bound to a mountain with a steel sleeve. I couldn't do anything
but to cut his hand off", he said wearily.

"Almighty Ilúvatar!" She bent down and quickly examined the motionless
body, while out of the corner of her eye she watched her brother and
realised the bad state he was in, mentally and physically. "He lives, but he
is in danger", she said.  Without hesitation she began washing Maedhros,
son of her father's worst enemy except Melkor himself, as if he was her
own brother.

*For you, Fingon*, she thought.
Fingon was too worn out to help her, and he seemed to be very far away in
his mind. He simply watched his sister cleaning his injured friend and
placing a warm blanket over his lean body. "He needs to drink as soon as
possible. But we should only try when he is awake," she explained, while
she washed the wound and bandaged it.
Fingon nodded slightly.

Next she stepped up to him and helped him out of his armor. She carried it
away and soon came back with two mugs of steaming tea. "Here. Come
on, you need it, too!", she said and pushed one into Fingons hand. She
placed the other one at the table by the head of the bed. Then she watched
her brother drinking the tea.  Fingon gulped it down quickly, hoping it
would make her content and she would leave. Whether she read in his
mind or his hope was answered - anyway, she left, when he had finished.

Alone at last, he took a deep breath and studied the face of his friend. It
was still pale and the cheeks were hollow. Fingon stood and collected the
very long tangles of reddish hair. With soothing words he combed them
with his fingers and plaited them loosely.
"Please, Maedhros, wake up. We made it, we are back to Mithrim."
He stroked the face adoringly. Oh how he loved the straight features, the
strong chin and high cheekbones. His own face was rather smooth and
rounded. His father had once exclaimed, "He looks like he couldn't harm a
fly, but his sword is quick and his mind determined". It had hurt him, then,
somehow. And now he loved his cousins face for its expression of
strength, courage and dignity, only deepened by the years of suffering.

"Beauty!", he whispered, and suddenly the closed lids fluttered and
opened. The grey eyes shortly searched the room irritated, but then they
caught sight of Fingon and seemed to be glued to his face. Maedhros
mouthed words Fingon couldn't understand. But he guessed that it was
time now for the tea. He grabbed the mug.
"Maedhros, I'm so happy! We managed it, you see? We're in the camp...",
he babbled nervously, because he feared his cousin could have heard his
last word and seen the lust in his eyes.

"I suppose you are thirsty...", Maedhros shook his head weakly. Fingon
looked at him in surprise. "Not? But it was fifteen years..." Maedhros
opened his lips and a strong desire to kiss them overcame Fingon. He
stopped himself from giving in the desire but could not control the colour
that rushed up his cheeks. "Please, try it. You need it...", he tried to 
divert
his shame.
Maedhros gave in and Fingon carefully set the mug to his lips. Maedhros
swallowed hard and tears came to his eyes, as the hot water touched his
dry throat. He managed three mouthful of tea, but then turned his face
away.
"It's alright", Fingon tried to soothe him.

Maedhros took a deep, shaking breath.
"We're at the Mithrim...", he said with hoarse and broken voice.

Fingon nodded. "Thorondor brought us here."

"Tell... brothers..."

Fingon winced inwardly. He had forgotten everything. He only wanted
Maedhros to be well again and hadn't even thought about sending message
to the southern camp of Feanor's sons. Despite his fathers aversion
towards Maedhros and his brothers, he hoped that the king had taken care
of this.
"I think it has already been done. It hasn't been long since we came here.
Is there something else you wish?"

Maedhros shook his head. "No... thanks", he coughed, "I'm quite
comfortable... in contrast to the last years..." And a little smirk lit up 
his
eyes and made Fingons heart jump. Beautiful you are.
He quickly stood, not willing to let his cousin see his nervousness, and
left. He nearly fell into his father's arms, when he came running to the
kings' halls. "My father! Oh..."

There were several other important high servants of the king in a sort of
discussion watching him with expressions from disgust to admiration and
he was suddenly very aware of his tousled hair and stained clothes. His
father must have thought the same, because he quickly took him aside and
out of sight of the council.

"Dear Fingon," he hissed, "Don't lose you're head! You're the oldest son of
the king, but you look like the youngest child of the playground. This is
not the appearance of the courageous warrior I told them you were."

Fingon took a sharp breath, and embarrassment mingled with
disappointment in his voice. "I'm sorry, father, excuse me."

Fingolfins face eased, and he smiled and stroked his sons' loose hair. He
sighed. "You are my emotional Fingon and will always be. It's alright,
forget about it. What did you want to say?"

"I... have you sent to Maglor?"

Fingolfins face darkened just as quickly as it had eased before. "Yes, I
have, son. Little son", he muttered. Fingon blushed. He wanted to shout:
Father! I didn't sleep for three days, I went through the enemies land, in
permanent danger. I found my once best friend so miserable it broke my
heart, and I nearly shot him dead because we couldn't find a way to free
him until Thorondor came. I climbed around on that mountaintop, I cut off
my cousins' hand and held him for hours on the back of the king of eagles.
Can't you simply say: My son, I'm proud of you and it is alright that you
can't think of everything right now?

But he only said: "Yes, I am, I'm sorry to disappoint you." And a lump of
anger and disappointment formed in his throat. "And now, with your
permission, I will retire and recover from my exhaustion." He turned on
his heel and strode away.

Instead of returning to his own room, his feet carried him back to the
house of healing. He carefully slid into Maedhros room. It was dark now
and there was no light except the silvery glitter of a half moon finding its
way through the open window. Someone had obviously been here. There
was a bowl with fresh fruits on the bedside table, and a goblet with cold
water. But it wasn't touched, and Maedhros didn't move when Fingon bent
over his bed. Fingon brought his face close to his cousin's to feel if he 
was
still breathing. He was, calmly and deeply. Fingons heart pounded. He was
so close to the slightly parted lips... With much effort he drew back. No.
He wouldn't do this. He couldn't stand to look into Maedhros eyes again, if
he caught him. And he didn't want Maedhros to turn from him because of
such unconventional feelings. No, by all Gods, he wanted at least the little
bit of relationship between them to be unspoiled. He sank into a chair by
the bed and laid back his head unhappily. He would never be able to touch
this elf he loved in the way he wanted to. And he felt a large, wide hole in
his heart that would never be filled.
He bit his lip to suppress the sobs, but the tears ran down his face anyway.

Maedhros woke up deep at night. Terrible nightmares still sweated and
shivering through him. He looked around confused, but then saw a still
figure hunched in the chair beside his bed. Only then did he remember
where he was. After long years of torture and fear he was back at Mithrim,
though in the northern camp, Fingolfins lair, and beside him sat Fingon,
the king's son, obviously fallen sound asleep. Maedhros took a deep sigh
and felt his strength returning. He hadn't eaten for a long time, but he
wasn't hungry, but thirsty, yes; very thirsty. He tilted his head and saw 
the
goblet. He wanted to take it and realised with shock that there was no hand
to grab it. Damn Melkor. This was what he had done to him. Not only that
he tortured him, giving him up to years of pain and loneliness.  No, even
then he didn't let him go completely, once he was rescued. He took his
right hand away, his swords hand. Maedhros clenched the other, the left
fist. "No, Morgoth, I won't give up!", he hissed, forgetting the sleeping 
elf
beside him. "I can still fight, and I will." He raised the left hand and
watched it in the pale starlight like he had never seen it before. "I will."

Fingon awoke from a hissing voice and winced, suddenly ripped out of his
pleasant, hurtful dreams.
"Fight? Where?"

Maedhros looked at him with surprise. "Sorry! Excuse me, I woke you
up!"

"Maedhros! How are you? Your voice seems to be stronger."

"I'm alright. I already feel the strength of my body and fire of my soul
returning."

"Very good."

"But..." He hesitated.

"But? But what? Tell me, my cousin, everything", demanded Fingon.

"I'm cold."

"Cold? I can fetch you a second blanket, if that..."

"No." The look that he shot through his young cousin was intense. "It is
my heart."

Fingon gulped. "What do you mean?"

"I was left alone for fifteen years, suffering all on my own. My soul has
grown cold. I was so lonely."

The pleading tone of his voice was sending shivers down Fingon's spine.
"I'm sorry", he whispered, "I didn't have the courage...There was so much
danger here, I couldn't leave, my father..."

"You came, Fingon. And only you. That's most important. But still my
heart is cold." Maedhros was writhing now uncomfortably.

"How can I...", Fingon begun, but his mouth was to dry to speak further.
He winced under the intense glare his cousin gave him.

"Fifteen years without anyone to talk to but the clouds... always clouds,
everywhere. No sun. Does the sun still shine in Mithrim?"

"Y-yes, sometimes." Fingon wasn't sure if Maedhros was perhaps in fever.
He talked like he didn't really know where he was.

"Yes. The sun is shining in Mithrim. You are there. Here."

One part of Fingon told him Maedhros was out of his mind, but the other
one insisted on listening to his babbling whilst carefully searching for
implications that would give proof to his intense longing... the sun shining
only where he was? A heart so cold... he wanted to warm it up, oh yes, he
desperately wanted to.

"No one to talk to. No one to feel... to touch..." Maedhros went on and
Fingon's hands were cold and sweating. This stare... he isn't out of his
mind. He knows exactly what he is doing!

"No...one... to... touch..." repeated Fingon hoarsely. How could he begin
this? "I... missed you, my cousin", he said carefully. Maedhros smiled
warmly.

"I missed you, too, Fingon. Very much." His lips were quivering as he
looked up and down his cousin's tensed form. "My heart is so cold..."

"Maedhros!" Fingon nearly snapped. All this implications were so near the
point, so unequivocal!

"Fingon?"

"Tell me, what do you want me to do?"

"Tell me first what you are willing to give!"

"Everything!" Fingon sobbed. "Everything you want."

Maedhros eyes became slits. "Everything?"

Fingon fell to his knees at the side of the bed. "Yes, everything!" Gods,
here he was, nearly begging to be fucked by his older cousin.

Maedhros looked deeply into his eyes and he felt as if he could see
everything in there. His expression eased and his voice was very soft,
when he said: "Warm my soul, my cousin. I'm cold, so cold."

Fingon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Misunderstanding was
nearly impossible now. He had seen greed and lust in the grey eyes he
loved so much. Never before had he seen such desire in them. His heart
hammered wildly, as he rose and turned his back to Maedhros. He played
with the hem of his doublet and then suddenly found the courage to pull it
off. Shirt and trousers quickly followed and soon he was naked, clothed
only in a shimmering fall of long dark brown hair and his dignity.

Maedhros drank in the sight of the light skin, palely illuminated by the
shining stars, a stark contrast to the dark hair and the warm brown eyes,
looking sheepishly over the softly rounded shoulder.
He smiled satisfied and lifted the blanket. Fingon hesitated, but only for a
moment. Then he turned and slid into the bed.
He winced, as their bare skin touched, and fear overcame him.

"I'm so afraid!" he whimpered.

"Afraid? Afraid of what?" asked Maedhros, watching his younger cousin
with wide eyes and parted lips. He carefully reached around the slim body
and felt it shake, as he pulled Fingon closer.

Fingon closed his eyes and didn't dare to move.

Maedhros stroked his forehead lightly, relishing the smooth, clean skin
and the silken hair. "What are you afraid of, my cousin?" he whispered.

"Of... that is not... alright!"

Maedhros sighed. "We are cousins, yes. We call the same person our
grandfather."

"Yes."

Suddenly Maedhros took Fingon's head between hand and stump and
looked deep into his eyes. They were shimmering with tears. "I love you,
Fingon. That was what tortured me most, all these years. I couldn't see you
anymore. Oh, how I missed the sight of my beautiful cousin, the swift
movement, the cheeky eyes, the flowing hair of ebony. And the crystal
clear laughter that always set my heart on fire." Maedhros took a deep,
shaking breath. "Fingolfin came. I know. I heard him. They reached
Angband and I screamed, but they didn't seem to hear me. And then I
waited. Waited for years and years. And I survived hunger and thirst,
because I had you. I thought of you. I remembered the sound of your
laughter, and I smiled, despite pain and fear. And I wished to see you at
least once more. I didn't want to go as long as I hadn't told you I love
you."

Fingon stared at him wide-eyed. "You love me?" he whispered.

"Yes, my dear, I do."

Suddenly Fingon cried. He closed his eyes, nuzzled against Maedhros lean
chest and heart wrenching sobs shook his body.

"Cousin! What is it you cry for?" Maedhros asked, shocked.

"I...love you, too, Maedhros. Love you... came to see you.... one last
time.... They said I would die. I didn't care. I missed you. And may all the
troops of Angband be behind me, I wanted to rush forward to you to see
you again before I died. But then... I got through to you without being
noticed, and wanted to free you. Or die. I said it, I wanted to come right
behind you. You said I should kill you..." Fingon's sobs became so
miserable, he couldn't say more.

"Oh my dear!" Maedhros kissed his head softly. "What did I do to you? I
didn't know... I'm sorry! I had never hoped my feelings would be
returned."

"They are! They are, love you. Love you." Fingon looked up to his older
cousin and they sank into each others eyes. Maedhros moved slightly
forward. The wet swollen lips where so irresistible, he had to kiss them.
He closed his eyes and carefully touched them with his own. They were,
oh, so sweet!
He felt his cousins' heartbeat race. Fingon eagerly met and answered the
elders' offer.

Maedhros discovered Fingons body with his left hand, stroking his
shoulders, his back and his ass lightly. It was so well-formed it nearly
drove him out of his mind. The fine curves and taut muscles built such a
wonderful landscape.

"You're definitely the son of a king," murmured Maedhros, and Fingon
suddenly winced and drew back. Maedhros looked at him with surprise.
"What is it?"
Fingon bit his lip and Maedhros pulse raised even higher. He was so cute!

"I'm still afraid."

"What is it troubling you?"

"My father... anyone... if someone finds out... he'll hang me with my own
hair!" Tears were again glittering in the clear brown eyes.

"He simply won't. Nobody will know."

Fingon looked around like there could be someone appearing out of
nowhere only to betray them to the king.

"You can't be sure! Things can... happen! Who knows? Perhaps my sister
decides in this very moment to look after you and comes in and finds me
in your bed! Naked and... crushed... She would run screaming right into
my father's bedroom to tell him."

"Nah, she would not. I don't think so. Doesn't your sister love you, too?"

"Well, yes, but I'm afraid she wouldn't think about it in that moment. And
then... I don't want to imagine it! My father would jump right out of his
bed, come in here to rip you into pieces and screaming at me what the hell
I think I was doing. And he would know. Yes, my father can see the things
he wants to see. He would know I was aroused. I would have to listen to
his screaming for hours, or worse, he'd lock me up somewhere and be
ashamed of me and wouldn't speak to me at all. I don't want my father to
be ashamed of me." Tears were flowing now once again, and Maedhros
desperately tried to soothe his distressed cousin.

"He has no right to do that," he murmured and kissed the wet face
lovingly, stroking the long hair.

"He is the king. And I'm damned again his oldest son." Fingon sobbed,
and Maedhros felt it was more to it than only fear for their love to be
discovered.

"What is it that wrenches your heart?"

"He... he always wants to be proud of me. And every little mistake I make
is grave to him and he is disappointed and shows it to me rather obviously.
I don't dare to move anymore in his house, always afraid of doing
something wrong! It's terrible." It all broke free from the disturbed soul 
in
the arms of his lover.

"Oh Fingon, Fingon! You were suffering, too, very badly, I feel it now,"
said Maedhros grimly. "Yes, I know your father. He is a great warrior, a
politician and a scholar, all at once. And he demands everything from his
sons. Yes, I know this all too well. Feanor was similar to him, in another
way. And there was nothing to break his pride. It's the same with
Fingolfin, isn't it? It's me. You rescued a son of Feanor. And I guess he
didn't even say he was proud of you."
Fingon nodded miserably. Maedhros kissed his snub nose. "I'm proud of
you. You have done very well. Much better than me."

Suddenly Fingon grabbed his cousins head and kissed him wildly. "Thank
you!" he hissed. "Need you."

He threw Maedhros on his back and explored the lean body. Maedhros
began to breath harshly, as the slim hands were rushing all over him, fear
of getting caught forgotten.

"I love an elf," Fingon murmured, "who is proud and tall. His heart is on
fire. He knows the light of the trees and the light of the silmaril. And his
father made him swear a vow he doesn't really believe in." Maedhros
moaned full of pain. "And he followed his father across the ocean because
he felt he had to. But then... then...", Fingons face darkened, he suddenly
looked deep into Maedhros eyes and his gaze was clear and sharp. "And
then?"

Maedhros understood.
"Then he asked: Now, what ships and rowers will you spare to return, and
whom shall they bear hither first? Fingon the valiant? But his father was
something very near to mad, and he shouted: None and none! What I have
left behind I count now no loss, needless baggage on the road it has
proved. Let the ships burn! And all of Feanor's folks listened to him,
nobody daring to speak up against him. They set the ships on fire and I
stepped aside and sent a helpless prayer to Manwe to forgive me. And
thought of you."

Fingon closed his eyes and took a deep breath through clenched teeth. "I
know. Deep inside I always knew. But doubts, raised by the anger and
hate that was my father's, scared me. Do you know I had nightmares about
that? For years? I saw Elenwe die, again and again, and then saw your
face. And I asked myself how you felt. My heart said: He must grieve! It
is not Maedhros who wants that! It is Feanor. But my father cursed all of
you. "Eternal darkness for Feanor and his breed!" he screamed, as Elenwe
was pulled out of the water, cold as ice. We lost so many, Maedhros, so
many..."

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Now it was Maedhros' turn to cry. He couldn't
stand to listen to his cousin any longer. He knew they had caused pain and
suffering, but it hadn't touched him as deeply as it did now.
Fingon nuzzled against him and soothed him, while tears of anger,
frustration and hate for himself poured out of Maedhros eyes. They lay
together for a long time, both thinking about the past.

At last it was Fingon who raised his head a bit and kissed Maedhros throat
lightly. "It's alright," he mumbled. "I believe you. Your father I know as
well. He could move mountains with his word. And he seduced you. You
could have done more against him, but I think your guilt has been
punished. It is... how can I say it? You wished you could turn back the
time and make a different decision, but that is impossible.  Manwe offered
you another chance. I believe it was not by accident that you had to suffer
for so long. It was your chance to pay for Helcaraxe. And you did. By all
Vala, you did. For me, you are clean now of blame." He planted a soft kiss
on his lips to underline his words.

"Thank you." whispered Maedhros. Fingon granted him a sweet smile like
the first rays of sunlight on a cold winter morning. "And thank you, too,
Manwe." he chuckled, and pulled his cousin down for a long passionate
kiss.

They cuddled and teased each other for a long time, and Maedhros
secretly admired the innocent beauty of his cousin. His moves were so
light, and his voice was so clear and free of every dark undertone. He
stroked the round shoulder carefully, while Fingon was playfully fondling
his nipples. He enjoyed the childlike glee he saw in Fingon's eyes. Oh,
how he wished he could ever be so innocent again. The untainted heart
made Fingon so beautiful. Why did this elf love him? What did he,
Maedhros, have to offer but a headless vow and the fire that was Fingon's,
too? They both had lived in Aman. They both had seen the light of the
trees, but they had chosen different paths. Maedhros had sworn and was
blinded by the fury of his father. He had killed several Teleri at
Alqualonde, and since then, he had the feeling his sword was bloody
forever. He didn't do anything against the burning of the ships, though he
assumed Fingolfin would try to cross the ice. Though he feared for
Fingon, who was now laying on him and playing with a loose tangle of his
hair.
He took Fingon in an embrace as strong as he could manage after the long
starving years, and pressed his lips to his forehead. "I don't know what I
had done if you hadn't survived Helcaraxe."

"Now, let's quit speaking about it. It is like it is and we should take it 
like
this. Love you. Am happy to have you back."

Maedhros smiled happily. He stroked up and down Fingons back and
fondled his ass, tapping it teasingly. "My beauty."

Fingon giggled shyly. "Not me. You are beautiful." He ran his tongue
across Maedhros chest and circled his nipple. He kissed it and sucked it.

Maedhros left hand ran through his hair and he hissed, as his nipple was
skilfully caressed. The grip in Fingon's hair tightened. Maedhros moaned
and Fingon was rather surprised that he was able to cause a reaction so
quickly, inexperienced as he was. A hot flame of desire was lit in him. He
could please Maedhros. He could make him happy. And he wanted it,
desperately.

He closed his lips firmly over the hard nub and sucked with more
enthusiasm. Maedhros stretched and writhed. His grip of Fingon's hair
tightened nearly to the point of pain, and he pulled his cousin up to his
face to lick his lips and nibble at them. Then he kissed Fingon wildly,
playing with his lips and tongue.

Fingon let himself fall into the sensation completely. He had never loved
anyone before and had never experienced physical love at all. It was
foreign and very exiting!
He felt his arousal rising between his hips, warm with a tickling feel of
urge. His hand massaged the lean body of his lover and explored it in all
its details. Suddenly Maedhros grabbed him firmly and rolled over. Fingon
found himself on his back, and his cousin between his spread legs. A
sudden rush of arousal made him dizzy.

"Gods, these lips!" purred Maedhros and started a new assault on his
cousin's swollen and welcomingly opened lips. Fingon responded
willingly and their bodies were moving and shifting. Fingon moaned for
his genitals were crushed and rubbed and Maedhros had an easy game
arousing him fully. He enjoyed looking into his young cousins eyes,
glittering with excitement and lust.

"Oh, Maedhros! What do you do to me?" whimpered Fingon and the older
elf smiled meanly.

"I deflower you."

Fingon groaned deeply, as he felt Maedhros erect penis pressed between
his legs.
Maedhros arms clutched him vehemently and he was pulled up until the
tip of his nose touched the long even back of Maedhros' nose. The stormy
grey eyes seemed to pierce him. "Do you really want this?" hissed
Maedhros.
He nodded, a little scared.

"It will hurt!" Maedhros warned him.
But he nodded again, he needed it now! His whole body was screaming
for completion and he craved for Maedhros touch. Yes, he wanted him.

"Take me!" he whispered, watching Maedhros wide-eyed. The upcoming
fear only increased his arousal, as Maedhros took a deep breath and led
one finger to his lips.  He pushed it inside his mouth. Fingon circled it
with his tongue and when it was wet enough, Maedhros pulled out again
and led it to his anus. He pushed into his body and Fingon hissed sharply
at the new sensation. His muscles spasmed and he groaned when
Maedhros massaged them rigidly. Maedhros pulled back and Fingon
pouted disappointed. But then Maedhros positioned himself between his
cousins welcoming spread legs, Fingons wide eyes on him. A mischievous
grin slid across his face, as he watched his cousin, long ebony hair shed
like a halo around him. Fear and lust were mingled in his expression, "Do
it!" screamed his eyes.

"Not so innocent anymore" Maedhros murmured when he took Fingon in
a firm grip and pressed the tip of his penis against his anus. Fingons
answer was a shaking sob and a slight encouraging movement of his hips.
Maedhros felt his heart pounding wildly, and for one short moment he
thought he was not worthy to take the beautiful untainted prince of the
Noldor. But Fingon eased his doubts, clutching him so madly and
whimpered shy words of encouragement.

"Relax," he commanded, "Don't cramp!"
And he carefully moved forward.

Fingon's body was really virginal. "Shsh, calm down, let me in" murmured
Maedhros and pushed a little more. Fingon whimpered heartbreakingly.
His legs fell open and he tried to relax his muscles. Maedhros saw the lust
and need in his eyes, and pushed. His glans slipped through the tight
passage and he pushed his penis into the warm and welcoming body.

Fingon screamed and Maedhros quickly pressed his hand onto his mouth.
"Quiet!" he hissed. Fingon stared at him with wide open eyes, tears
gathering in their corners. He nodded hastily and Maedhros let go.
Promptly Fingon bit into his own hand. Maedhros murmured soothing
words and nudged his face with his nose. Then he began thrusting, very
carefully. Fingon rolled his eyes and his breathing was harsh and deep. His
body clenched around the invader, and it hurt, it hurt so horribly! To feel
Maedhros in him, moving, pulsing and pushing, it was nearly driving him
mad. His hand clenched in Maedhros long red hair, holding him tight, he
moaned deeply and waves of heat and lust washed over him.

"Don't cramp!" Maedhros demanded. "I don't want to hurt you. Relax!"

"Hurt... hurts... wonderful..." babbled Fingon, and Maedhros sensed he
was already very close.

He kissed him and pressed their bodies together with all his strength.
Fingon clenched around him, but now he was so near the point himself,
that he didn't care anymore. His thrusts became deeper and rougher and
Fingon whimpered now constantly. The small body under him stretched,
lifted his hips, pressing up against him, and with a sudden flinch, Fingon
came. He threw his head back, presenting him his long, perfect throat,
thrusting wildly, burying Maedhros deep into his body and sending him
over the edge with his rhythmic spasms. They were one climaxing unity
and for some seconds they felt the whole world crashing down on them.

Only after minutes of lying still and taking breath, they dared to move.
That meant Maedhros dared to pull his softening penis out of Fingon's still
hot and now thoroughly relaxed body, what caused an unwilling grumble.
He chuckled, feeling the whole fifteen years of suffering blown away by
one wonderful, awesome night. He tucked the blanket over their sweating
bodies and led Fingon's widely spread legs back down to the mattress.
Fingon took a deep breath and embraced his cousin with slim but still
strong arms.

"Almighty, that was... no word.... thank you..." he murmured, very
exhausted.
Maedhros chuckled again as he watched the younger elf falling sound
asleep, tousled hair a wild mane around him, his face so peaceful and
content it touched his heart deeply. He sighed and nuzzled against the
regularly heaving chest.

A sound woke Maedhros in the early light of the morning. He tilted his
head, still drowsy, and realised his lovely cousin sleeping right beside 
him,
seemingly dreaming of beautiful things. Then the sound repeated and
Maedhros nearly jumped out of the bed. Someone was knocking at the
door and was now quietly speaking. "Maedhros? Are you awake?" It was
a male voice he didn't know. He hastily shook Fingon and suffocated his
protest with a kiss.

"Someone outside!" he hissed, "Quick!" And he pushed him out of the bed
without further ado. Then he threw Fingons clothes under the bed.

"Hide!" he commanded, and all of a sudden Fingon realised the capability
for trouble of the situation and slid under the bed, too.
As soon as Maedhros had pulled the blanket back up and closed his eyes,
the door was carefully opened. He heard someone coming in and felt him
standing at the side of the bed.

"Lord Maedhros?" the soft voice said again. He took a deep breath and
pretended he was just waking up. Beside him stood a slim, copper haired
elf with pale blue eyes. "I'm sorry to wake you. I'm Eldhron. Master
healer."

Maedhros only nodded, pretending to be weaker than he really was, after
this night.

"How are you?"

"Rather well. Strength is coming back to me."

"May I look for your wound?"

Maedhros pulled out his right arm from under the blanket and realised the
bandage was rather messy and a bit bloodstained. He hadn't even realised
he had opened up the wound again last night.

The master healer looked rather sceptic. "What did you do? Aredhel said
the wound was already closed and securely bandaged!" He began
unwinding the tissue.

"I... uhm, it seems I have been moving much in sleep. The nightmares of
Thangorodrim are still troubling me..."

The master healer didn't seem to be really convinced, but he asked no
more questions. He cared for the wound and asked if he could help
Maedhros in other ways. Bath and food would be brought to him, soon.
Maedhros thanked him and he left.
Fingon immediately popped out from under the bed and began clothing
himself. "Could have imagined a more appropriate morning after such a
night" he muttered. He hastily closed his doublet and smoothed it.

"The hair!" said Maedhros.

"Can't help it," replied Fingon. Some of his various braids had fallen open,
and he couldn't plait them all now. So he took the braids and loose hair
together in one thick ponytail. Then they heard footsteps outside and
Fingon quickly dropped into the chair, moaning painfully for the
inconsiderate movement. "Maedhros!" he said, as if he had just come in.
"I'm happy to see you awake!"

A young healer assistant came in. Fingon was happy not to know him.
Because someone else may have found his hairstyle, his clothes, still the
same like yesterday, the bitten lip and the a little uncomfortable posture a
bit strange...

The healer assistant sent him out, so he couldn't even kiss Maedhros good-
bye. He left, carefully avoiding too-hasty movements. His belly still hurt.
He rushed to his rooms and was thankful for the healer's attitude to stand
up early. He didn't meet anyone important and made it to his room
undiscovered.
When he had closed the door behind him, he sighed deeply and closed his
eyes, leaning against the door. Memories of the last night rushed through
his mind and he smiled. He had never felt such strong feelings, such a
storm of emotion.
He walked across the room and took a look out of the window. A slightly
bitter taste mingled with his happiness. He would never be able to walk in
the gardens, hand in hand with his lover, teasing him with blossoms and
playing with him in the grass.
No. Their time together would be very rare.

The End

Thangorodrim: Dark Mountains of Melkor
Melkor: Bad guy, fallen God
Valinor: Home of the Gods
Manwe: God of the air
Noldor: an elf tribe (to which Maedhros and Fingon belong)
Mandos: God of Death
Sirion: River through Middlearth
Ered Wethrin: Mountains
Ilúvatar: Highest God