Title: Rain
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: orchydconstyne@hamena.org
Website: http://www.hamena.org/naiteiru/
Update List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nairn_orchyd/
Fandom: LOTR
Archive: LoM, OEAM, Galadhrim.net, AFF.net, Melethryn
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any characters, lands, or items from
the Tolkien world.  They belong to their respective copyright holders.
Rating: R
Beta: Khylaren
Cast: Maedhros/Fingon
Summary: Maedhros thinks on the fallen King.

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"Every time it rains
I fall to pieces
So many memories the rain releases
I feel you... I taste you
I cannot forget
Every time it rains... I get wet..."
	"Everytime It Rains" - Ace of Base

He stood on the balcony, the thunder rolling above.  The air was heavy
with moisture; the sky was a great expanse of black, lightening
splitting the clouds.  Here in the dense woodland of Ered Lindon he
wandered, a broken Elf.  His brothers rested, regaining their strength
and plotting their return, but Maedhros' heart was burdened and he
could not look forward; he could only look back.

They did not know.  They could not know.  His siblings would never
understand his melancholy.  A drop of cool rain hit his cheek and he
felt the sting of bitter tears.  He knew he was dead.  Lying on the
cold ground, trodden and beaten; his hair was no longer dark and
luminous, but dusty and matted with the red of his blood.  The vision
had brought him to his knees, and Maedhros wept for the loss of his
King.

Maedhros recalled that last night in Himring, before Fingon returned
to his own lands.  The night they had decided to march to war side by
side.  Fingon came to his cousin's room.  It had been years since they
touched, and now...  In Maedhros' home, they were free.

He could still taste the sweetness of his lover's mouth, the softness
of his submission.  The great Noldor King whimpered and arched, begged
and loved like no other Maedhros had shared his bed with.  His cousin
kept his heart, and always had.  Even in those sun-drenched fields of
Aman where they had tumbled and kissed, stroked and claimed, Fingon
had possessed him, heart and soul.

A great storm had swept through Himring that night.  They made love
before the hearth, their movements in cadence with the rumbles of
thunder and the fall of the rain.  Maedhros could still vividly recall
the sight of his dark god astride him, bringing them both closer and
closer to that edge, that place where their hearts beat as one and
their souls merged.  The bright eyes, the smooth skin, the strong,
corded muscles.  Maedhros felt warmth run down his cheek and realized
he had begun to weep again.

The morning had come so soon, and whispered words of love and
reverence were exchanged.  Maedhros could still hear the dulcet tones,
warm with love, rough with spent passion.  That last deep, sweeping
kiss Fingon had given him before he donned his cloak and strode from
their nest.  He could still feel those petal-soft lips, and his heart
tore a little more.

Rain fell steadily, and Maedhros wept, reliving memories of his King,
of his love.  He had left him on the Ice.  He had left him again on
that battlefield.  Maedhros knew he would never see his love again. 
Should he fall in Middle-Earth, he would forever be kept from his
heart's only desire.

His head hung, his chin resting on his chest and his sopping red locks
obscuring the sight of his anguish.  He would never see that liquid
kindness only Fingon possessed; he would never know that completeness
again.  Maedhros knew he could never forget the dark-haired Elf who
had taken him and refused to give his heart back.

The rain fell and Maedhros the Tall wept.

The End