Hurt (sequel to "A way back to innocence")
By Malata
Email: BJMalata@aol.com
Rating: R-13
Pairing: Maedhros/Fingon
Genre: Angst
Summary: Fingolfin learns about his sons' love to his nephew and freaks
out. After a nasty argument, Fingon threatens to fade. Can Fingolfin get
him back?
Betaed by Rawly, thank you!

Fingolfin sighed and rose from his desk. He blew out the candles and at
once the room was completely dark.

To be a king was a hard job.

It was after midnight - again. There were so many things to do, so many
reports to read, so many actions to organise. Just a few days ago Maedhros
the tall had come to him, to the city north of Mithrim, and had given up all
his claims to the crown. Fifty of his best horses had he brought as a gift.
For peace' sake Fingolfin had accepted. His own heart screamed at him he
should transport Maedhros out of his realm with a nice kick to his butt, but
their situation here was far too dangerous to hold on to personal
grievances. Fifty horses. For four hundred and sixty eight elves who had
lost their lives in Helcaraxe.

Including his younger sons' wife Elenwe.

Anger rose in him, but it subsided again, unlike so many times before. He
realised he was simply too tired to rage. It was time for bed.

He stepped out and went along the arcade, up the stairs and to the corridor
where  the private quarters of the high lords and ladies were. His own was
at the very end. He yawned as he trotted down the deserted corridor.

But suddenly all his senses shot up to total awareness again. He listened
carefully. A sound had alerted him, and now it came again: A quiet,
miserable whimper. The kings' pointed ears twitched and he searched in
the direction the sound had come from. Halting in front of Fingons door he
listened for a moment.  Movement and rustling could be heard, giving the
impression that something was going on inside.

The sound repeated. A small, heartbreaking wail. Fingolfins heart beat
sped up. Was his son ill? Was he in pain? Or did he suffer from
nightmares? At least he had only come back from an exhausting and over
all dangerous adventure three weeks ago.

Fingolfin listened carefully. The whimpers now turned into groans and
deep sighs. The king raised his hand to the handle, but something stopped
him from opening the door. Something was strange about these sounds.
They were... rhythmic.
Blue eyes narrowed. These were not sounds of pain but sounds of sex!

A rush of thoughts stormed his mind. His brave little son was not married
and Fingolfin had not been aware of any relationships with women before.
How did his innocent Fingon came to have sex without marriage at all?
Fingolfin had always thought Fingon very far from lecherous.

The king chewed his lips, uncertain. What should he do? Storm in right
now? No, that was too harsh. He would question his son about this in the
morrow. Fingolfin sighed angrily. Another night of calm sleep gone. He
already knew he would lay in his bed awake, thinking about this. He just
turned away when the groans grew louder and rougher. And Fingolfin
halted immediately. This was Fingon himself! Though it was by now
fairly long since his last encounters with his wife, Fingolfin couldn't
remember himself groaning and whimpering like this. It had always been
his wife who had been noisy, because he had other things to do.

Fingolfin looked at the door suspiciously. Something was wrong about
this, he felt it, something was very wrong.
He closed his eyes and momentarily thought about leaving immediately
and ignoring the whole incident. After all, his poor nerves could not take
much more. But just in this moment it was to late.

"Oh! Oh, deeper, Maitimo, deeper!"

Fingolfin froze, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Maitimo? That was
the name Nerdanel called her son Maedhros...

Fingolfin turned back to the door sharply. His heart pounded wildly in his
chest, his eyes were slits and his ears were drawn back. His anger rose to a
full elven battle-rage when he heard a deep voice chuckle behind the door.
"Like that?"

Some pitiful screams followed, and then it was quiet.
The king shivered, his hands closing and opening frantically. No. He
couldn't stand it any longer. Pictures came to his mind he would have
preferred to have never seen. Snarling curses he dashed away.

He couldn't be sure, could he? Maitimo... every beautiful elf could be
called that by his lover. But still this nagging suspicion drove him, and he
finally knocked at the doors to Maedhros guest chambers. No matter if he
embarrassed himself in the case he was wrong.

After a few minutes, a ruffled and sleepy servant opened. "My lo... your
majesty!", he bowed low. "What can I do for you?"

"Is your master here?"

"Uhm... of course he is! But if I may say it... t'is rather late..."

Fingolfin shoved the poor servant aside and stepped in. "Look if he is
there!" he demanded. The servant closed the door, but still hesitated to go
to the sleeping room.

"I take all responsibilities! Now go!" snapped the king, his veins filled
with pure adrenaline. If it was true...

The servant hurried now and stepped into the adjoining room quietly. And
after some seconds he came back, still bowing low. "I'm afraid he is not
here at the moment, your majesty."

For several heartbeats silence hung thick in the room.
Fingolfin took a deep shaking breath, but it did nothing to calm his rage.
"Go away!", he ordered the servant. The poor elf immediately obeyed,
thankful to escape the uncomfortable situation.

Fingolfin let himself fall into a plush chair, clenching his teeth to keep
himself from screaming. He was ready to tear apart the furniture here, but
he tried to calm himself. He wouldn't lose his composure, no...

Three hours later a shadow appeared on the balcony. A tall figure emerged
from the dark outside, opened the door with his left hand and stepped in
noiselessly. He was careful not to wake the servant, who should be
sleeping now on the couch in the corner.
Fingolfin could make out knee-length wavy hair, a sharp profile with a
long, even nose, broad lips and high cheekbones, and eyes glittering with
mirth.

Fingolfin bared his teeth involuntary. This was so disgusting.
He heard Maedhros sigh and saw him turn to his sleeping room.
"Had fun tonight?", growled the king and the dark figure froze. Only
seconds later he turned and realised the king in the plush chair.

"Your majesty?"

"Don't dare to deny, Maedhros."

"What should I deny?"

Fingolfin jumped to his feet.
"How dare you?!", he snarled, and Maedhros stepped back, feeling the
kings wrath. Sweat shone on his forehead now.

"Your majesty, I suggest you better leave now and we talk in the
morning..."

"You want to send me out? You want to get rid of me? You won't! You
dirty, wanton, plotting bastard! How dare you taint my son?"

Maedhros felt more than uneasy in this moment. "This is nothing of your
concern!", he brought up.

"What?! Not of my concern when you seduce my poor innocent son and
use him for your advantage beneath my roof?"

"Fingolfin! There can be no talk of use in this..."

"Shut up! I know you too well for this. He may be blind, but you can't
convince me with your acting! Now pack your things! You leave with first
light and don't ever dare to show up here again! You will never see him
again, I will take care of that!"

"Fingolfin! How can you do this to us? We love..."

"I said shut up! And I promise... if you should still be here in the
morning..." He wrung his hands, only barely keeping them from throttling
his nephew. Maedhros ducked instinctively and tried to merge with the
shadows. Fingolfin was dangerous, no doubt!
The king now turned and stormed out and left Maedhros the tall shivering
and despairing.

Maedhros didn't dare to go against royal order. He had to leave or risk
castration by the raging king.  That is if he didn't 'accidentally' fall 
down
the stairs and break his neck. He desperately tried to find a way to contact
Fingon, but there was none. He felt he was supervised. Every message
would be found, every attempt to reach him personally would probably
end up in disaster.
So he left mithrim early in the morning, his heart so heavy he felt like he
couldn't carry it anymore.

"Bring my son to me!" ordered the king as he leaned back in the chair in
his study, a room far-off from the rest of the buzzing castle, quiet and
hopefully not too easily eavesdropped.
The coming confrontation would be a hard one, he feared.

He tried to calm himself down, but the emotions were too intense, raging
under the surface.

Finally the servant came back and brought prince Fingon with him.
Dismissing the servant Fingolfin stared at his son. Fingon was small, but
his shoulders were broad and his arms muscular. His face was round, his
lips full, his little nose snubby and his brown eyes big and trusting. He
wore his dark brown hair in several thick braids which nearly reached his
thighs.

He was simply nearly impossibly sweet.  Like always.

But this time it drove Fingolfin mad. The normally innocent smile seemed
silly happy to him today, the lips darker, swollen, the eyes dreamy.

"Fingon."

"My father?"

"There is something I have to speak about with you."

"And that is?"

"Maedhros left this morning."

The smile immediately vanished and a hint of insecurity appeared in the
dark eyes, reminding him so much of his dear wife.

"Why is that? Have you argued?"

"Well... you could call it that."
Fingon cocked his head, but Fingolfin saw the hints that were clearly
showing that it was more than fear to be separated from a mere friend. The
glittering eyes, the trembling lips, the clenched fists...

"Does that enrage you?" asked Fingolfin innocently.

"What have you argued about?"

Fingolfin clenched his teeth. He had to come to the point.

"About you."

Fingons mouth opened. "... me? About me?", he croaked.

"Yes. About you. See, I know you're inexperienced. But you should know
to be less noisy if you don't want to be caught."

Fingon began to tremble violently. "Why is Maedhros gone?" he
whispered, already guessing the truth behind those words.

"I sent him away", said Fingolfin firmly. "I forbid you to see him again."

Fingon shook his head, speechless.

"I don't want you in such contact with him."

"No... no, you can't do that! You can't tell me who I see!"

"I can. I am your father."

"That's no point! I will see him whenever I like!"

"You won't. He left and he won't come back. I will take care of that
personally, if you lack the reasonability to obey me voluntarily."

Fingons form was shook now by fierce tremors, and he helplessly hugged
himself for comfort. "Why do you do this?! We love each other!"

Fingolfin closed his eyes. He had feared this to come.
"Love? You love him?"

"Yes, I love him! With all my heart."

The king rose from his seat, eyes flashing. "How can you love this man?
You forget he is the eldest son of someone who once put a sword here", he
pointed to his own heart, "Who betrayed us all! Who fought our kin in
Alqualonde, spilling their blood in the holy lands, and burned the ships at
Losgar, forcing us to go through helcaraxe, practically killing our people,
too, and your brothers wife! How can you be heedless of that?!"

"He did not betray us!", screeched Fingon, tears dwelling in his eyes. "He
defended his father in Alqualonde, wouldn't you have done the same?"

"Not if my father had been Feanor", muttered the king.

"And he didn't burn the ships! He was the one who wanted to send them
back, the only one who dared to fight his father, but it was useless! He
wanted to fetch us!"

Fingolfin growled and pulled at his own hair. This boy was driving him
insane!
"Fingon! How can you possibly be so naive? He can lie the heavens down
on you! He can tell you anything! Who should confirm this?"

"His people do!"

"He is their lord! He can make them tell so!"

"No! It is true, he wanted to send the ships back, he can't lie to me!"

"Completely blind, you are completely blind!"

"Perhaps you are the one who is blind here, if you don't see the love for
me in his eyes. He is true!"
"I shouldn't have kept you this innocent, my son. Love is something
different."

"How would you know?"

"He seduced you, Fingon. He doesn't love you. The only thing he desires
is power."

"What? Nonsense! He just gave his power to you!"

"That's why he seeks it in other ways."

"No, that's it not. He loves me."

"Son! Don't be stupid. He is an actor, he can wrap you around his little
finger, and I'm ashamed of you that you fall for him that easily!"

Fingon sobbed hard. Ashamed of him? "You don't know anything, father!
Stop chiding on me!"

"What is there that I should know? He's he murtherer, a traitor, a maniac
and hungry for power."

"You only transfer your rage for Feanor to him! He is not Feanor! He is
only his son, and you can't chose your own father. But our love is older.
Older even than your hate. Why do you think I went to Thangorodrim?"
Tears streamed down Fingons cheeks now. "I went there to die!"

Fingolfin took a deep, steadying breath. "To die?"

"Yes, to die! I didn't want to live without him anymore, though we hadn't
revealed our true feelings for each other in those days, I knew it deep in
my heart. I couldn't live without him. So I went to see him one last time
before I died, but accidentally happened to be able to free him. It was the
night after we came here when we revealed our love to the other."

"Son! Don't do this to me! Not only is he male, but he is your cousin,
bound to a desolate vow and the son of your fathers worst enemy!"

"Your brother, Fingolfin, your brother. Am I supposed to hate you because
you are brother to Feanor?"

"Hopefully not."

"What's so terribly wrong about being cousins? If one of us was female, it
wouldn't be a problem."

"But you are not, and the mere thought of you being fucked by him makes
me sick!"

Fingon cried out and pressed his hands to his ears. He made his father
sick? That hurt!

"There is nothing wrong about it!", whined Fingon miserably.

"If the Valar would want the two of you together, they would have made
one of you female. Like this it is sick."

"If they didn't want us together, they wouldn't have given us the love we
have!"

"He doesn't love you!", screamed Fingolfin, all patience gone. "How can
you be too blind to see it? He uses you!"

"Nooo!"

"He uses you, he used your innocence, he seduced you, he fucked you up
and now you think that is love, only because it was your first experience
with sex!?"

"Noooo...." Fingon cried and rocked himself, utterly helpless.

"I should have brought you together with women before, honourable
women.."

"Don't want anyone else...we love..."

"Stop that babbling about him loving you! He uses you! He had to give up
his claim for the crown and now he searches for other ways to torment me,
to influence me, to pressure me... through my sons' ass!!!"

"Nooooo!", screamed Fingon, not able to take anymore, he pressed
himself to the wall, nearly suffocated with sobs and tears. How could his
father do this to him? Say so cruel things? Break his heart like that? It
hurt, it hurt so much!

Fingolfin sighed, watching is son who nearly drowned in his tears. Yes, he
had been right, this was a hard one.

"Fingon, I only want to beware you of being hurt!"

"Ha! Beware me... of hurt? What did you just do then? You hurt me like...
nobody has ever... before!"

"He could have made you do everything for him. I know it. He is his
fathers son, he can convince other people, make them do things for his
advantage, and you are a perfect victim! He was able to fascinate you with
his skills... sexual skills in this matter, and now you fell for him and are
blind to his plots."

"There are no plots!"

"And one day he will be sick of you and drop you like a glowing coal."

"Never!"

"Until then you will embarrass our family by running after him with a silly
smile on your face..."

"Father!", wailed Fingon and sank to the floor, no longer able to support
himself. He pressed his hands to his heart, as if he could hold the tiny
pieces in which it was shattered together through his chest.

"And that is why I forbid you to see him again."

"How will you? Tie my braids to my bed?"

"If it is necessary. But I thought you cleverer than trying me."

"I can't take no more..." Fingon jumped and staggered towards the door.

"Stay! Fingon, stay here, you look like..."

"Leave me!", screeched Fingon, pulled open the door and fled, heedless of
his bedraggled state and the tears still streaming down his cheeks.

Fingolfin shivered and closed the door quietly. Suddenly his anger took
the better of him. With a shattering scream he threw over his desk, all
things on it falling to the floor in a crashing waterfall.

Fingon locked the door and barely had the strength to reach his bed. He
threw himself onto it and sobbed hoarsely.

"Ashamed of me... me? Blind? Nooo, nooo, I may not see him again, I
may not... oh Nienna, help me! It hurts, it hurts so horribly", he clutched
his pillow and cried into it. "Naive... he uses me? Never! We made such
sweet love... through my sons ass... nooo, nooo, I can't stand this, I 
can't..."

Maedhros slumped to a chair, drained. Maglor approached him carefully.
They were by now alone in the study, at last. When his older brother had
suddenly returned from Mithrim, he had told them stories that the king had
important matters to tend to. But Maglor didn't believe him. He knew his
brother well enough to know that something much deeper was going on
here.

Kneeling in front of him he placed his hands on his knees, like he had
often done when they were little. "What ails you, brother? What his really
going on in Mithrim?"

Maedhros closed his eyes, pained. "The king is angry at me."

"Still?"

"Again."

"What happened?"

"He doesn't want to see me in Mithrim anymore."

"Why?!"

"I... he..."

"Maitimo? What's wrong?" Maglor felt his brother was really miserable.

"He forbid me to see Fingon", sighed Maedhros finally.

"Why did he do that?"

"He thinks I have a bad influence on him. He thinks I use my... friendship
to his son to pressure him." Maedhros didn't have the heart to tell Maglor
the whole truth. He believed it was safe with his brother, but still... The
sad grey blue eyes looked up to him with this "little-brother-trust", he
didn't want to endanger their relationship with this delicate matter.

"This is nonsense, how did he come to that?"

"Lets... just leave the matter for today, would you? I'm tired and sad and
afraid..."

Maglor nodded. He stood and embraced his older brother tightly. "Do not
despair. There will always be a way."

Fingon poked his food but was not able to pick it up and eat. Five days
had passed. Five days in utter silence, a silence that seemed to have
infected the whole palace. The kings' bad mood hovered above the realm
like a cloud. Nobody dared to approach him.

Fingons silence was even deeper. He didn't fear his father, but he didn't
want to talk to him. He couldn't. He barely was able to stand his presence
at the table and normally retreated as early as possible.

The only one who seemed to be heedless of all this was his sister. Aredhel
chattered about her rides, hunts and training happily, like always.

"It's tasty, brother, try it!", she babbled when she realised he was shoving
his meal around on his plate. Fingon could only shake his head weakly. He
couldn't eat. It stuck in his throat, he had the feeling everything he tried
suffocated him. Stained him. He became sick by the lightest meal, even by
fruit or drink. And felt himself becoming weaker with every day. His heart
still beat, but he felt dead. It was broken into tiny pieces, a constant 
pain in
his chest, only pressing a shivering cold through his body instead of warm
blood.
Maitimo! Maitimo, I need you!

Fingolfin observed his son carefully. He was playing the heart-broken
lover really well. Perhaps he was really suffering, but it had to be. There
was no way around it. He would thank him for saving him from Maedhros'
touch one day. Though it was obviously too late to save his pure body.

Five more days later.
After midnight again. A knock at the door.
"Enter!", sighed the king and finished another report. And he was
surprised to see his daughter enter.
"Aredhel? Still up this late?"

"Yes, Ada. Please, I want to talk to you."

"Sit." Her sober face didn't please him. Aredhels good mood was normally
completely unbreakable.

"It is about Fingon."

Fingolfin sighed. "Yes?"

"You fought, didn't you? Servants told me they heard screaming and
shouting ten days ago."

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"What did you fight about?"

"It is Fingons personal matter. I may not talk about that." Not really. But
he really didn't want Aredhel to know about this. Then the whole court
would know it within two days. She was so trustful... too trustful.

"But he is really miserable, Ada. He needs help."

"I can't help him."

"Didn't you solve the problem?"

"He... is still working through it."

"No."

"No?"

"No. He is dying."

"Dying? Aredhel, what are you talking about?"

"I fetched a healer, since I saw he was growing worse and worse. He
doesn't eat, he doesn't drink, he doesn't talk. I visited him this morning,
after he failed to show up for breakfast. And he was still in bed, fast 
asleep
with closed eyes. I called a healer and he carefully examined him whilst he
was still sleeping. He told me that Fingon was completely undernourished
and in desperate need of drink and food."

"You should not mess up things when you don't know..."

"I should rescue him", she said firmly, no argument possible. She had
inherited defiance... his defiance. "And I demand that you clear this matter
up between."

She looked at him unblinking and he averted his eyes. "He is wrong,
Aredhel", sighed Fingolfin.

"That doesn't matter at the moment. Even if he is, we can't leave him like
this."

"Alright, alright, I will try to talk to him again. But he proved to be very
stubborn about this matter."

"Then you give in. Even if you think you're right." She rose. "Good night."
And left.

Fingolfin stared at the door. Had he been... helpless? Against his own
daughter? Nothing to bring up? Against her determination? Her firmness?
This must be like Fingon feels towards me. He is so tender, so sensitive,
just like his mother. And has no chance against me in an argument.
Damned, he had to think this over. But there were more important matters
to tend to at the moment.

Fingolfin let himself fall into the chair heavily.
After midnight, again.
Something was wrong. What was it? He had felt... lost the whole  day. His
life had seemed to be so empty. Why?
Now, after he thought about it, he realised the silence. It was his constant
companion, as if it was glued to him. It hadn't been this bad before, for 
his
daughter had never been silent. But now even she was. Fingon didn't even
show up for the meals anymore. And she stubbornly avoided to talk. A
very unfamiliar thing with Aredhel.

He was tired and couldn't bring himself to work though the piles on his
repaired desk only grew higher.  He sighed again. His dear personal
servant Halkim had tidied up his ravished study after his fit of rage two
weeks ago. When he had come back to it, it was all perfect again.
Everything like before, except the carpet had changed, for it was
impossible to clean the ink from it.

He felt weak.
This was so wrong. Why did life have to be this difficult?
He let his head fall onto his arms, folded on the desk. This family affair
drained him and made him incapable of working properly. This was all
Maedhros fault.

A knock at the door startled him. He tried to raise his head and nearly
failed for his neck was completely stiff. The brightness in the room made
him blink. Was it morning? Yes, the sun had just risen, it was morning and
he had slept on his desk and crumpled some important papers on it.
Perfect.

The knock was repeated.  "Enter!", sighed Fingolfin, expecting Halkim.
But it was not his servant, it was Curucamba, his master healer.

Fingolfins heart missed a beat. "Curucamba? What is it?"

"Your majesty, I know it is not my place to interfere, but I have to talk
with you about your son."

"What's wrong with him? I realised he doesn't eat properly..."

"He fades."

Silence.

Fingolfin gaped at his master healer. "Fades?", he whispered, shocked.

"Yes, majesty, he fades. He is already very weak. I suggest you see him
yourself."

Fingolfin jumped and groaned at his stiff neck. "I am coming."

Upon entering Fingons rooms Fingolfin wasn't surprised to find Aredhel
in here. She looked at him unmoving and cold. "You nearly come to late,
father."

Fingolfin paled. He stepped up to the bed, where Fingon lay lifeless. His
eyes were closed, the lids grey, his lips pale and his chest heaved only
weakly.
"Fingon?" Whispered the king and fell to his knees. He took one of the
slim hands in his and shrank at their coldness. "Fingon?" he repeated and
rubbed the skin carefully. No answer, no reaction. By the Valar, this was
all a horrible nightmare!
"This can't be, why does he do that to himself?", he stuttered.

"I thought you know that, father", stated Aredhel icily. He looked at her
and was ashamed for the tears glittering in his eyes. This was not what he
wanted! He only wanted to help Fingon... and well, yes, he didn't like the
Idea of having him loving Maedhros.

"Save him, Curucamba, do something!?"

"There is no medicine against fading, my lord. It is an illness of the fea,
not of the hroa. I'm afraid I can't do anything."

The whole world crashed down on Fingolfin. No. This must not happen!
Fingon must not fade!

"Don't do this to me, Fingon!", whispered the king and his head sank to
the mattress.
Curucamba bowed and left.

"Father! Whatever is between you and him, erase it!", said Aredhel, her
voice shaking. "Only you can save him."

Fingolfin bit his lip and looked at his sons' still face. So beautiful, so
sweet. So pure.

He nodded. "I will." He jumped to his feet and rushed out.

"Generin! I need you!" Fingolfin came to a breathless halt by the stables,
where his friend and bodyguard had been working.

"Fingolfin?"

"You have to go to south Mithrim. Fetch Maedhros. Immediately. Take
the swiftest horse. Rush. Every second counts."

"You forbid Maedhros to come here, majesty", said Generin but was
saddling his quickest horse anyway. He knew this tone of total urgency.

"No matter! He has to come! I will tell the guards to let him in, you have
to hurry, Generin, please! Urge him on! He must not hesitate!"

"Yes, my lord." And he was away.

Fingolfin stumbled back to Fingons rooms. Aredhel sat on the edge of the
bed and stroked the princes' face lightly, mumbling soft words of love and
encouragement.
"Please, Aredhel", Fingolfin sat down beside her. "Leave me alone with
him for a moment, will you?"

She sighed and nodded. Then she kissed Fingons snub nose and left.

Though it was normally not his habit to use body contact to soothe his
children - that had always been his wives way to deal with them -
Fingolfin curled up beside Fingon and stroked his soft cheek carefully.
"Do you hear me?"

No movement.

This was sheer horror.

"Fingon? It's me. Listen to me. I'm sorry. I have said some really ugly
things to you. I didn't mean to hurt you like this. I'm sorry. Please, come
back to me. We won't talk about it anymore. I will close my eyes to what
ever you do with Maedhros, as long as you do it secretly. Fingon? Do you
hear me? Please, come back to me!"

It was a long way to get around Mithrim lake, taking at least five hours.
Generin came to the southern city in the afternoon, his horse coughing and
foaming. He immediately strode to the main palace and asked for
Maedhros with an urgent royal message. He was led to the oldest of the
brothers within a few minutes and met him in the study.
"My lord", he bowed quickly, "I am to send forth message to you from the
king. He wishes to see you in Mithrim north as quickly as possible."

Maedhros cocked his head. "I may not go there."

"He allowed it, no, he demanded it. And he wanted you to hurry. He
seemed to be more than serious."

"What's this about?"

"I don't know, my lord, but please, do as he says. It must be important."

Guessing it was something concerning Fingon he delayed all other matters
and set out on his swiftest horse, even leaving Generin behind in his hurry.
*The empty feeling in me hasn't betrayed me. He is in pain. I felt it,
something is wrong, so wrong that Fingolfin even calls for me. Oh please,
all Valar, keep him! Mandos, deny him entrance!*

Fingolfin waited impatiently and never let go of Fingon. His son was still
breathing in the evening, but he felt his condition had worsened even
further. He was colder, his heart beat slower and his skin was becoming
grey. Inevitably he was fading. He was really serious about this. He was
passing into the halls of Mandos.
And it was his fault.
Fingolfin cried. He had killed his own son! "Oh please, Maedhros, hurry!"

Finally, in the late evening, there was a knock at the door and Maedhros
stepped in before he had spoken. He kicked the door shut and rushed to
the bed.

"By the Valar!", he exclaimed and watched the still form of his cousin
with utter shock. Carefully he reached for his hand and his heart
threatened to stop beating.
He was nearly gone.

Fingolfin silently watched him when he lay down on the bed beside
Fingon, taking him in his arms. He clutched him strongly and gently
kissed his face, heedless of the king's presence. "Fingon! Fingon, come
back to me! I'm here! You can't go, you'd leave me!"

Tears ran down Maedhros' cheeks when he took the oh so familiar but
now so strangely lifeless face between his hand and stump and kissed it
tenderly. Fingolfin watched him as he opened the pale lips with his tongue
and slipped it into Fingons' mouth. And failed to be sick.
"Fingon, come back to me!", Maedhros wept silently, desperately
caressing his fading lover. "Don't do this to me, don't leave me here
alone!"

He took his cousin in his arms and pressed him to his heart. "Do you feel
this? I live! And you should live, too! With me, here!"

Fingolfins soul threatened to leave his body, too. But yes, be harsh with
me. I really hurt you. I deserve it. I have learned my lesson. "I promise to
let you be with him, do you hear me? Maedhros is here, Fingon, now
come back."

He watched the rivulets of tears on Maedhros cheeks fascinatedly. Perhaps
he was wrong. This seemed so real, so genuine.

"Don't leave me", pleaded Maedhros and kissed Fingon fiercely. And
suddenly a weak moan escaped from the pale lips when he pulled back.
Both Maedhros' and Fingolfin's eyes widened with hope.

"Fingon?" Maedhros stroked the round face and kissed him again.

"Ma... Maitimo?", whispered Fingon weakly and his eyelids fluttered.

"Yes! Yes, it's me!", shouted Maedhros, nearly mad with relief. "Wake
up."

"You... may not be here... if he finds you..."

"Fingolfin?"

"Yes...", the dark eyes fluttered open and tried hard to focus on Maedhros.

"I may be here. Don't fear, everything will be fine, Fingon. I love you",
Maedhros kissed him lovingly.

"No... it can't... we may not meet... he'll kill you... and me."

Fingolfin swallowed hard. This hurt.
"I won't", he said, hoarse. Maedhros grinned and helped Fingon to turn his
head. The dark glare nearly split Fingolfins heart in two.
"Go away!", hissed Fingon, full of hate.

Fingolfin bowed his head. "I'm happy you're back", he muttered.

Fingon observed his leave, and when the door shut, he looked back at
Maedhros.
"What was that... about?"

"He knows. And he accepts. Everything will be fine, I promise. Now
please, drink, here", Maedhros fetched a goblet from the night-table and
held it to his cousins' lips. Fingon sipped carefully, but the fluid didn't
make him gag anymore. His body allowed it in, and he already felt better
after drinking.

"Kiss me, Maitimo."

Maedhros happily obeyed. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

               **********************

Fingolfin lay rolled into a tight ball in one corner of his bed when Aredhel
found him.
"Ada?"
She shook him and he finally found the strength to raise his head.
"Is he alright, father?", she asked fearfully.

"Yes. Yes, he is awake and will hopefully be alright again in some days",
he explained weakly.

"What about you?"

"I was wrong."

Aredhel raise a brow. "You were wrong?"

"Yes, at least partially. And I hurt him so deeply. I feel miserable. Leave
me alone."

Aredhel patted her fathers' shoulder. "If you truly regret, he will 
forgive."

He watched her leave and slowly shook his head. "No. You are quick to
forgive, Aredhel. But he is not. He will never forgive. And I don't deserve
his forgiveness anyway." He folded his arms and hid his face in them. "I
ruined everything."

The end,
for now

Ada: elven word for father
Fea: spirit
Hroa: body
Valar: Gods
Mandos: God and halls of the dead.