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phynckeTitle: Of Love’s Recovery
Chapter: Two
Author: phyncke
Beta: khylea
Characters: Fingon/Maedhros, Glorfindel/Aegnor, Fingolfin, Turgon, Caranthir (mention)
Warnings: AU, Slash, eventual NC 17
For: Ardor in August 2011
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate. I have borrowed them for my own amusement and for yours I hope.
Summary: Maedhros is rescued from Morgoth’s captivity on Thangorodrim and must find recovery in body and spirit by Mithrim Lake…
Of Love’s Recovery
Chapter Two
Fingolfin met with Turgon, Finrod and Aegnor, his most trusted advisers. Usually such a counsel would include Fingon but he was occupied with the care of his cousin. The substance of their meeting was thus, that technically, Maedhros held the kingship of the Noldor in exile and because of this would have their loyalty and fealty. They would wait and see what he decided to do when he was well but until then, Fingolfin would lead the Noldor on his behalf relinquishing power to his nephew at the appropriate time. No document was drafted about this as it was decided verbally. This edict so enacted was no less binding to the parties.
/---/
Glorfindel could not imagine the horrors that Maedhros had lived through and so tried to keep the conversation light as he visited the recuperating Elf while Fingon was elsewhere.
“We have been encamped here for some years, since we arrived to Middle Earth from the North journey. It is good to see you, cousin, alive and here with us. Much has happened and there are tales to tell but we have time enough for that.”
“Glorfindel, have you any food with you? All they will give me is this infernal drink and I wish something solid to eat, like meat or bread. Anything!”
“Are you allowed to eat that? The healers know what is best, Maedhros.” The visitor looked worried at the request but understood wanting sustenance.
“How can food be bad for me? Does it not sustain one, and provide nutrition? Please, cousin, just a small amount…do me this favor.”
“Alright, there is usually something in the kitchen. I will be right back.”
Glorfindel hurried off, only leaving for a few moments. He came back with a plate full of hearty food, freshly made from Fingolfin’s own kitchens. After all, who was Glorfindel to refuse a request from the reigning Noldor King in Middle Earth?
“Here is some fresh grilled pheasant with root vegetables. The bread is fresh from the oven and still warm.”
“Blessings upon you, Glorfindel. Truly.” The Elf’s eyes lit up at the sight of all that food and he took the plate eagerly, beginning to eat with his fingers, ravenously.
He did not stop for polite conversation or small talk but ate steadily until most of the food was gone. He let loose with a glorious belch upon concluding his meal. This had them both laughing uproariously.
“Do you remember that time, at Granpa Finwë’s house when Caranthir and you tried to out burp each other?”
“I do, I do indeed. Mama even laughed behind her napkin.” Maedhros recalled.
“She did.”
“That was before it all.”
Maedhros handed him the plate and curled around his pillow, suddenly tired, the food taking full effect. His body was still not used to digesting such a complex meal so he found it exhausting.
“I am done for, I fear. Thank you for the meal, Glorfindel, it was delicious.”
A healer returned with towels and supplies and so the golden haired elf felt comfortable leaving Maedhros to slumber.
/---/
Fingon returned later to find Maedhros curled up on the bed with the sheets fisted in his good hand. His skin appeared clammy, though he was sweating profusely. The healer on duty wiped his brow and applied herbal compresses.
“I don’t know what is wrong, my lord. He has taken a turn.”
“Nelya…tell us what is wrong….can you?”
“Ph-ph-pheasant…”
The other two elves caught a glance but did not understand the cryptic reference.
“Ate pheasant and f-f-food. I feel ill from it.”
With that explanation, Maedhros bolted from the bed with a strength neither Elf knew he possessed, barely making it to the chamber pot where he regurgitated the contents of his stomach. Kneeling, he vomited into the porcelain container a few more times until his stomach emptied. By the time he finished, Fingon had reached his side with a clean, wet cloth to wipe his face and neck.
“We will give you food when we can but for now liquids are all your body can process. You have been starved and dehydrated for years and need to take this slow, Nelya, as you can see from what just happened.”
“I hate it when you get so didactic and superior, Káno. Just put me to bed.”
The healer took away the chamber pot while also bringing a glass of water so that Maedhros could rinse his mouth out and get rid of the taste of bile.
“Spit.”
Maedhros did, turning to crawl back into bed, groaning,
“I submit to your treatment. I will drink your incessant liquids. No food for me until you say. I have learned my lesson.”
Fingon remained silent but raised an eyebrow, standing with folded arms.
“Mayhap, my lord, he could try lembas tomorrow, just a bit of that.”
“Perhaps, we shall see.”
After some discussion and work tidying the room, the healer departed, leaving Fingon alone with Maedhros as he was each evening. He changed for bed, joining his charge in slumber. He observed the red hair on the white linens and still thin countenance. He wondered, not for the first time, how he had survived all that time and at such great peril. It was a miracle or determination of a strong spirit.
/---/
“Lembas is food, you know, Maedhros, don’t give me that look.”
The Fëanorian’s diet expanded slightly to include one minute serving of lembas a day. It was all they dared to introduce to his delicate stomach. They cooked broths with vegetable stock to include more nutrients but the basis of his sustenance was still liquid. This frustrated the eldest child of Nerdanel. Maedhros was more inclined to argue and Fingon took this as a sign his strength returned. The testy patient was on the mend.
“I get one little piece per day and more drinks. I am tired of the drinks. I want a roast chicken, or leg of lamb…something I can bite into or cook over an open fire.”
He flounced back in a fit of ire, tormenting himself with imagined food and phantom aromas of delicacies he could not partake in. It was maddening!
“When you are well, we will have an enormous feast and serve all of your favorite bits, I promise.”
“And well you should.”
“I will begin planning it now and have it all to ready.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
Maedhros nibbled on his rationed portion of the elvish waybread, delicious true but no substitute for fatty meat on the bone. He felt the effect of the nutritive grain almost instantly, the gift of Yavanna to the elves. This was meant to sustain their kind in times of need and Fingon used it as a curative for his cousin, simple to digest and easy on his stomach. Just a small amount each day would provide Nelya with strength and healing.
“Aegnor would like to speak with you, if you will allow it. He can come in after your hand is tended. “
“All to the good, I will see my cousin.”
The healer present came forward to remove the dressing from his right arm and clean the wound.
“It will heal nicely and you will have full use of this arm.”
“That is very well.” Fingon said.
“I am useless now. What good am I without my fighting hand?”
“I think that is what Aegnor wants to talk with you about. He has a plan for you to recover your skill.”
“Ahh.”
The injured elf looked skeptical but held more hope in his eyes than before.
/---/
Fingolfin looked out from his porch in view of the lake. The elves encamped at Hithlum had built temporary structures to last the years they would be there while they decided whither to go in Middle Earth. He was glad that Maedhros lived though this brought up the vexing issue of the kingship. What would happen were he to take up his rightful place as High King? Would he set all the Noldor on his quest for the jewels? For those blasted Silmarils? Beautiful as they were, there were bigger goals to achieve and not just their retrieval. Fëanor’s obsession could not be the sole aim for his people. This folly should not become the overarching ambition of all the Free Noldor in Exile. He would not be so treasonous as to take the crown but he could continue to lead his host and his followers. He did not have to blindly do as bid by his nephew in recovering the gems, to the ill of all.
These heavy thoughts beset Fingolfin on this lovely day, in Spring when the Sun was shining.
/---/
“Cousin! You look better. I see more color in your face and you grow fat there.”
Maedhros burst out laughing at this outrageous statement by Aegnor. He knew the Elf spoke in jest but it felt good to laugh. He was still thin but less so and he gained weight little by little.
“Fat and lazy, no doubt.”
“Well, I have a plan for you, to get you fit and fighting in no time. Mark my words. You will be the most able warrior in Arda, but for me.”
The snorted reply indicated no son of Fëanor would be second to a son of Finarfin, not in this lifetime or any other.
“Well, Sharp Flame, Champion of Doom, so named. I will let you aid me; I will put myself into your care as a warrior when I am able. It will be amusing, if anything.”
“You will not regret it, Maedhros. You must start immediately as you gain health and get your muscles in shape through movement. I will give you some exercises to do and you should try to walk daily. This laying around is not good for your body or spirit.”
Aegnor leaned forward on his chair and spoke earnestly. He truly felt that his cousin would recover faster if he performed some form of physical activity each day.
“Let me show you.”
He stood up and did a slow series of stretches with arms raised, then to the side and bending down to the toes, mildly exerting but designed to get him moving. He hoped that this would do much to focus his cousin’s strength, begin to tone him but not overwhelm him.
“That is all?”
“That is all. Why don’t you try it? You will do this and walk outside a little each day.”
Maedhros stood up from the bed and repeated the sequence, the difference being he was thin as a wraith and tired within moments. He could only repeat it twice the first time.
“ I am exhausted.”
“That is to be expected. You will get better each time and you can do more each day. This is something to work for.”
“I will do it, thank you, Aegnor.”
“Let’s go outside. Too much time inside is bad for the mind. You need to see the Sun and the trees. Just to the porch today.”
“I cannot.”
“Just to there? Surely. Let’s try. I will help you.”
They walked slowly to the door, Aegnor holding to Maedhros’ elbow and waist. A healer followed with a blanket in case of a chill in the afternoon air. Two hand-woven chairs stood just outside and each sank to one. The Sun was low in the Western horizon displaying the lateness of the hour but much light still remained.
“The air up there was rank. I never got used to that…the vile smell and odor.”
“I am sure.”
“Here you can smell the trees and the cleanness of the land, is nice.”
“It is.”
“I feel better, thank you.”
“I am glad. You will feel better each day,” Aegnor assured him.
Fingon approached from the ground and noted the sun shimmering red in his cousin’s hair. It was good to see him outside, in the light and enjoying conversation with family. Getting back to what he should be and what was right after so long in captivity. He ascended the wooden stairs and greeted them.
“Good afternoon, it is good to see you outside.”
Aegnor reported, “We have just begun Maedhros’ training with an exercise routine and walking program. He will be fit in no time.”
“I am a pathetic example of an elven warrior but it is a start.”
“You have to begin somewhere.” Aegnor said.
“This is true.” Fingon nodded as he leaned against the railing. True indeed. He tried not to worry that it was all too much for his cousin. Perhaps it was time to push him past what was comfortable.
‘I will try my best and soon have you groveling on the ground, Sharp Flame.”
“I am quaking here!” Aegnor laughed.
In the not so distant past, Maedhros likely would have bested Aegnor at sparring but now he could not even lift a sword or knife to defend himself. They had much work to do in the months ahead. Step by step they would shape him into a warrior.
“I would be scared if I were you.”
The healer approached with another nutritive drink for Maedhros and he drank it all down, his throat moving with the effort. Once finished he joked,
“I am even beginning to like the drink, kill me now.”
“Valar preserve you, cousin.” Aegnor rolled his eyes.
“That and the blessed lembas. Nothing but.”
“Wayyyyyyybread.” Aegnor entoned.
“You two are ridiculous.” Fingon folded his arms, irritated that his efforts with Maedhros were being ridiculed.
“We love you, Káno. You know that.” It was Maedhros who spoke, yet he sounded weary and sat with his head back, nearly asleep in the chair.
“I should leave you. He is tired.” Aegnor rose from his seat, sauntering towards the stairs. The afternoon shadows grew long as evening approached.
Fingon waved him off as his cousin descended to the forest floor, taking the vacant place. It was good for him to spend time outside and so he simply covered Maedhros with a blanket, letting him dream in the open air for a time.
(To be continued…)
Chapter: Two
Author: phyncke
Beta: khylea
Characters: Fingon/Maedhros, Glorfindel/Aegnor, Fingolfin, Turgon, Caranthir (mention)
Warnings: AU, Slash, eventual NC 17
For: Ardor in August 2011
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate. I have borrowed them for my own amusement and for yours I hope.
Summary: Maedhros is rescued from Morgoth’s captivity on Thangorodrim and must find recovery in body and spirit by Mithrim Lake…
Of Love’s Recovery
Chapter Two
Fingolfin met with Turgon, Finrod and Aegnor, his most trusted advisers. Usually such a counsel would include Fingon but he was occupied with the care of his cousin. The substance of their meeting was thus, that technically, Maedhros held the kingship of the Noldor in exile and because of this would have their loyalty and fealty. They would wait and see what he decided to do when he was well but until then, Fingolfin would lead the Noldor on his behalf relinquishing power to his nephew at the appropriate time. No document was drafted about this as it was decided verbally. This edict so enacted was no less binding to the parties.
/---/
Glorfindel could not imagine the horrors that Maedhros had lived through and so tried to keep the conversation light as he visited the recuperating Elf while Fingon was elsewhere.
“We have been encamped here for some years, since we arrived to Middle Earth from the North journey. It is good to see you, cousin, alive and here with us. Much has happened and there are tales to tell but we have time enough for that.”
“Glorfindel, have you any food with you? All they will give me is this infernal drink and I wish something solid to eat, like meat or bread. Anything!”
“Are you allowed to eat that? The healers know what is best, Maedhros.” The visitor looked worried at the request but understood wanting sustenance.
“How can food be bad for me? Does it not sustain one, and provide nutrition? Please, cousin, just a small amount…do me this favor.”
“Alright, there is usually something in the kitchen. I will be right back.”
Glorfindel hurried off, only leaving for a few moments. He came back with a plate full of hearty food, freshly made from Fingolfin’s own kitchens. After all, who was Glorfindel to refuse a request from the reigning Noldor King in Middle Earth?
“Here is some fresh grilled pheasant with root vegetables. The bread is fresh from the oven and still warm.”
“Blessings upon you, Glorfindel. Truly.” The Elf’s eyes lit up at the sight of all that food and he took the plate eagerly, beginning to eat with his fingers, ravenously.
He did not stop for polite conversation or small talk but ate steadily until most of the food was gone. He let loose with a glorious belch upon concluding his meal. This had them both laughing uproariously.
“Do you remember that time, at Granpa Finwë’s house when Caranthir and you tried to out burp each other?”
“I do, I do indeed. Mama even laughed behind her napkin.” Maedhros recalled.
“She did.”
“That was before it all.”
Maedhros handed him the plate and curled around his pillow, suddenly tired, the food taking full effect. His body was still not used to digesting such a complex meal so he found it exhausting.
“I am done for, I fear. Thank you for the meal, Glorfindel, it was delicious.”
A healer returned with towels and supplies and so the golden haired elf felt comfortable leaving Maedhros to slumber.
/---/
Fingon returned later to find Maedhros curled up on the bed with the sheets fisted in his good hand. His skin appeared clammy, though he was sweating profusely. The healer on duty wiped his brow and applied herbal compresses.
“I don’t know what is wrong, my lord. He has taken a turn.”
“Nelya…tell us what is wrong….can you?”
“Ph-ph-pheasant…”
The other two elves caught a glance but did not understand the cryptic reference.
“Ate pheasant and f-f-food. I feel ill from it.”
With that explanation, Maedhros bolted from the bed with a strength neither Elf knew he possessed, barely making it to the chamber pot where he regurgitated the contents of his stomach. Kneeling, he vomited into the porcelain container a few more times until his stomach emptied. By the time he finished, Fingon had reached his side with a clean, wet cloth to wipe his face and neck.
“We will give you food when we can but for now liquids are all your body can process. You have been starved and dehydrated for years and need to take this slow, Nelya, as you can see from what just happened.”
“I hate it when you get so didactic and superior, Káno. Just put me to bed.”
The healer took away the chamber pot while also bringing a glass of water so that Maedhros could rinse his mouth out and get rid of the taste of bile.
“Spit.”
Maedhros did, turning to crawl back into bed, groaning,
“I submit to your treatment. I will drink your incessant liquids. No food for me until you say. I have learned my lesson.”
Fingon remained silent but raised an eyebrow, standing with folded arms.
“Mayhap, my lord, he could try lembas tomorrow, just a bit of that.”
“Perhaps, we shall see.”
After some discussion and work tidying the room, the healer departed, leaving Fingon alone with Maedhros as he was each evening. He changed for bed, joining his charge in slumber. He observed the red hair on the white linens and still thin countenance. He wondered, not for the first time, how he had survived all that time and at such great peril. It was a miracle or determination of a strong spirit.
/---/
“Lembas is food, you know, Maedhros, don’t give me that look.”
The Fëanorian’s diet expanded slightly to include one minute serving of lembas a day. It was all they dared to introduce to his delicate stomach. They cooked broths with vegetable stock to include more nutrients but the basis of his sustenance was still liquid. This frustrated the eldest child of Nerdanel. Maedhros was more inclined to argue and Fingon took this as a sign his strength returned. The testy patient was on the mend.
“I get one little piece per day and more drinks. I am tired of the drinks. I want a roast chicken, or leg of lamb…something I can bite into or cook over an open fire.”
He flounced back in a fit of ire, tormenting himself with imagined food and phantom aromas of delicacies he could not partake in. It was maddening!
“When you are well, we will have an enormous feast and serve all of your favorite bits, I promise.”
“And well you should.”
“I will begin planning it now and have it all to ready.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
Maedhros nibbled on his rationed portion of the elvish waybread, delicious true but no substitute for fatty meat on the bone. He felt the effect of the nutritive grain almost instantly, the gift of Yavanna to the elves. This was meant to sustain their kind in times of need and Fingon used it as a curative for his cousin, simple to digest and easy on his stomach. Just a small amount each day would provide Nelya with strength and healing.
“Aegnor would like to speak with you, if you will allow it. He can come in after your hand is tended. “
“All to the good, I will see my cousin.”
The healer present came forward to remove the dressing from his right arm and clean the wound.
“It will heal nicely and you will have full use of this arm.”
“That is very well.” Fingon said.
“I am useless now. What good am I without my fighting hand?”
“I think that is what Aegnor wants to talk with you about. He has a plan for you to recover your skill.”
“Ahh.”
The injured elf looked skeptical but held more hope in his eyes than before.
/---/
Fingolfin looked out from his porch in view of the lake. The elves encamped at Hithlum had built temporary structures to last the years they would be there while they decided whither to go in Middle Earth. He was glad that Maedhros lived though this brought up the vexing issue of the kingship. What would happen were he to take up his rightful place as High King? Would he set all the Noldor on his quest for the jewels? For those blasted Silmarils? Beautiful as they were, there were bigger goals to achieve and not just their retrieval. Fëanor’s obsession could not be the sole aim for his people. This folly should not become the overarching ambition of all the Free Noldor in Exile. He would not be so treasonous as to take the crown but he could continue to lead his host and his followers. He did not have to blindly do as bid by his nephew in recovering the gems, to the ill of all.
These heavy thoughts beset Fingolfin on this lovely day, in Spring when the Sun was shining.
/---/
“Cousin! You look better. I see more color in your face and you grow fat there.”
Maedhros burst out laughing at this outrageous statement by Aegnor. He knew the Elf spoke in jest but it felt good to laugh. He was still thin but less so and he gained weight little by little.
“Fat and lazy, no doubt.”
“Well, I have a plan for you, to get you fit and fighting in no time. Mark my words. You will be the most able warrior in Arda, but for me.”
The snorted reply indicated no son of Fëanor would be second to a son of Finarfin, not in this lifetime or any other.
“Well, Sharp Flame, Champion of Doom, so named. I will let you aid me; I will put myself into your care as a warrior when I am able. It will be amusing, if anything.”
“You will not regret it, Maedhros. You must start immediately as you gain health and get your muscles in shape through movement. I will give you some exercises to do and you should try to walk daily. This laying around is not good for your body or spirit.”
Aegnor leaned forward on his chair and spoke earnestly. He truly felt that his cousin would recover faster if he performed some form of physical activity each day.
“Let me show you.”
He stood up and did a slow series of stretches with arms raised, then to the side and bending down to the toes, mildly exerting but designed to get him moving. He hoped that this would do much to focus his cousin’s strength, begin to tone him but not overwhelm him.
“That is all?”
“That is all. Why don’t you try it? You will do this and walk outside a little each day.”
Maedhros stood up from the bed and repeated the sequence, the difference being he was thin as a wraith and tired within moments. He could only repeat it twice the first time.
“ I am exhausted.”
“That is to be expected. You will get better each time and you can do more each day. This is something to work for.”
“I will do it, thank you, Aegnor.”
“Let’s go outside. Too much time inside is bad for the mind. You need to see the Sun and the trees. Just to the porch today.”
“I cannot.”
“Just to there? Surely. Let’s try. I will help you.”
They walked slowly to the door, Aegnor holding to Maedhros’ elbow and waist. A healer followed with a blanket in case of a chill in the afternoon air. Two hand-woven chairs stood just outside and each sank to one. The Sun was low in the Western horizon displaying the lateness of the hour but much light still remained.
“The air up there was rank. I never got used to that…the vile smell and odor.”
“I am sure.”
“Here you can smell the trees and the cleanness of the land, is nice.”
“It is.”
“I feel better, thank you.”
“I am glad. You will feel better each day,” Aegnor assured him.
Fingon approached from the ground and noted the sun shimmering red in his cousin’s hair. It was good to see him outside, in the light and enjoying conversation with family. Getting back to what he should be and what was right after so long in captivity. He ascended the wooden stairs and greeted them.
“Good afternoon, it is good to see you outside.”
Aegnor reported, “We have just begun Maedhros’ training with an exercise routine and walking program. He will be fit in no time.”
“I am a pathetic example of an elven warrior but it is a start.”
“You have to begin somewhere.” Aegnor said.
“This is true.” Fingon nodded as he leaned against the railing. True indeed. He tried not to worry that it was all too much for his cousin. Perhaps it was time to push him past what was comfortable.
‘I will try my best and soon have you groveling on the ground, Sharp Flame.”
“I am quaking here!” Aegnor laughed.
In the not so distant past, Maedhros likely would have bested Aegnor at sparring but now he could not even lift a sword or knife to defend himself. They had much work to do in the months ahead. Step by step they would shape him into a warrior.
“I would be scared if I were you.”
The healer approached with another nutritive drink for Maedhros and he drank it all down, his throat moving with the effort. Once finished he joked,
“I am even beginning to like the drink, kill me now.”
“Valar preserve you, cousin.” Aegnor rolled his eyes.
“That and the blessed lembas. Nothing but.”
“Wayyyyyyybread.” Aegnor entoned.
“You two are ridiculous.” Fingon folded his arms, irritated that his efforts with Maedhros were being ridiculed.
“We love you, Káno. You know that.” It was Maedhros who spoke, yet he sounded weary and sat with his head back, nearly asleep in the chair.
“I should leave you. He is tired.” Aegnor rose from his seat, sauntering towards the stairs. The afternoon shadows grew long as evening approached.
Fingon waved him off as his cousin descended to the forest floor, taking the vacant place. It was good for him to spend time outside and so he simply covered Maedhros with a blanket, letting him dream in the open air for a time.
(To be continued…)
