第 18 页

“Easy,” he said, but his eyes were bright and eager. “I can take all the time in the world, you know me – ”

“I don’t want you to take your time.” She straddled his hips and tugged his boxers down.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah,” murmured Aredhel, and leaned forward to kiss him hard as she pulled her underwear to the side.

"I guess that's a no to foreplay, then?"

"What part of 'now' don't you understand?"

“Got it. Hey, I'm not complaining. Hang on, hang on - Condom.” Celegorm reached for the bedside table while Aredhel forced herself not to snarl at him impatiently. She snatched the condom from his hands and busied herself with it while he watched her appreciatively. Celegorm wrapped his hands around her waist, sliding up under her shirt. “God, you feel good. You look good. C’mon, you could be a whole lot more naked…” But she resisted as he made to tug her shirt up over her head, tightening her thighs around his waist.

“Leave it.”

“I – ”

“Leave it.” She leaned down and bit his lip, rocking back on him as she did so, and whatever he was going to say was lost in a groan.

“Irissë,” he whispered, “goddamn, you’re so hot, you feel so good, I want…”

“You talk too much.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told.” Celegorm grinned, irrepressible as ever, as he let his fingers dip beneath the waistband of her underwear. She closed her eyes and braced her hands on either side of his head, letting herself slide down on him. She caught her breath and he groaned, his hands settling on her hips. They moved together easily, but all too soon she was grinding her teeth in frustration. Too slow, not enough, too damned gentle... She straightened up, leaning back for a more intense angle, and Celegorm ran his hands over her hips, sliding her shirt up around her waist. She flinched as the material was dragged up, and saw his eyes widen.

“Jesus.”

She grabbed his hands and tugged them away. “I told you to leave it – ”

But Celegorm was pushing himself upright now, frowning as he gently lifted the hem of her shirt.

“Stop, Tyelko.”

Celegorm froze, but too late. He had seen the massive, spreading bruise on her ribcage. He swore. “Fuck, Irissë, what happened?”

“Nothing,” she spat, pushing his hands roughly away, pinning them to the mattress while her shoulder protested at the movement. Celegorm held still, but he was staring up at her, horrified.

“That was handprint, Irissë.”

“Fuck this. I’m out.” She slid off him and tried to stand next to the bed, but her legs were shaking so badly she had to drop back down again. “Shit.”

Celegorm sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting quietly next to her.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said, and coughed to cover the sensation of bile rising in her throat.

He didn’t touch her, but looked at her, distressed. “Irissë…who were you staying with in New York?”

“A boyfriend,” she said, and closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness hit her.

* * *

Elenwë was looking more baffled than angry now, and Aredhel realized she hadn’t spoken in several minutes.

Tell her.

“Don’t…don’t mind me,” she mumbled. “I was over-reacting.”

Tell her the truth. It’s what normal people do.

“Irissë – ”

“I was being an asshole, sorry. Forget it, okay?”

It’s what people who love each other do.

It’s what…

…people who love each other do.

It’s normal.

* * *

“Why do you do this to me?” he would ask. “Why do you drive me so crazy? Why do you make me love you so much?”

“Love is supposed to hurt,” he would whisper, as she tried to turn away from him in bed. “If it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t count.”

“This is what loving someone means,” he would tell her, and pull the shades. “Just the two of us. Just you and me, against the world.”

She forgot what natural light looked like; the curtains were always closed.

It was when he found out about the abortion that he dislocated her shoulder.

It was after that that she ran.

* * *

Telling the truth to someone you love is what normal people do…

But you are not normal.

“Just call me when you get back,” she said, and left Elenwë looking confused and anxious on the couch.

She let her feet lead her along the sidewalk, effectively blind to everything around her. She counted her steps, because it kept her from bursting into tears. She counted her breaths, so that she wouldn’t lash out and hit one of the people who came too close and brushed against her. She looked at the busy street, crowded with rush hour traffic, and considered darting into it. If she made it to the other side unscathed, it would mean…something. And if she didn’t…

Her phone rang.

Elenwë, Elenwë, please let it be Elenwë…

Wiping the back of her hand impatiently across her eyes, Aredhel pulled out her phone. It wasn’t Elenwë, but she answered it anyway, her voice as casual as she could make it, forcing back her disappointment.

“Hey, Findekáno. What’s up?” She sat down on a bench, suddenly exhausted. “Uh huh. Oh yeah? Oh, shit, you finally asked him?” She pulled her hand through her hair, feeling a lump rise in her throat. “…That’s great. Do you think he’ll actually follow through? No, I’m really happy for you.” Tears were dripping from the end of her nose now, and she scrubbed at it, still trying to keep her voice even. “What? No, it’s probably just a bad connection. I – ” Her voice cracked, and she bent forward over her knees, phone still pressed to her ear. “Are you at your place, Finno? Can I – can I come over?”

-

When she stepped into Fingon’s small, brightly lit apartment, there was a hot cup of Tension Tamer tea waiting on the counter, and Fingon was sitting next to it.

“I could hear it in your voice,” he said, as she came in and looked at him in wordless gratitude. “Just tell me what you need. Comfort, tea, talk?”

“A hug would be nice,” she said in a small voice. She felt for a moment like a tiny child again, when Fingon would soothe her after a fall, even if he’d been teasing her the second before. She could always count on him when she was hurt.

And so when he folded her into his arms, she finally let herself cry.

* * *

It had been the three of them that had dragged her back from the brink that year.

Celegorm was something solid to hurl herself against; he gave her an outlet for her rage to burn out in pure physicality. They would go on twelve-mile runs in the rain, returning soaked to the skin and covered in mud. He’d show her the drills he did with his rugby team, and she’d do them until she was heaving from exhaustion. Other times, he would take her to the boxing gym and show her how to throw a punch. She got so good a crowd would sometimes gather to watch her practice.

And when she needed it, Celegorm was easy, familiar pleasure, and he never asked too many questions.

Fingon was her rock, her comfort, her safe place. He was home, and family, and reassurance that no matter what happened, someone would love her. On bad days, he would come by her place with take-out and movies from their childhood and make her laugh with wild stories and terrible jokes and make sure she was drinking something other than the bottles she kept under bed. On bad nights, he'd sleep on her couch, the steady familiarity of his breaths an unspeakable comfort whenever she'd slip into the living room to make sure he was still there. Fingon was her big brother; always there when she needed him.

And Galadriel had kept her alive.

Galadriel had listened to all of it, all the mess and horror and humiliation, and never once flinched or looked appalled. Galadriel, seemingly older and wiser at 18 than Aredhel thought she would ever be, had taken her fear in stride, and asked the questions no one else would ask. Galadriel, who worked in the Women’s Center on campus and volunteered on a domestic abuse hotline, had helped her to change her phone number and later, to file the restraining order. Galadriel had taken her calls in the middle of the night, and Aredhel would forever associate the moment of returned reality following a panic attack with Galadriel’s low, calming voice.

With the three of them at her side, she had survived. But Galadriel had been her lifeline.

* * *

“Can you just talk about other things?” Aredhel asked, when she was wrapped in an afghan on Fingon’s couch, the mug of tea in her hands. “Stupid things. Funny things. Happy things. Anything. Oh – tell me about you and Maitimo. Did he really say yes?”

“Sure did,” said Fingon, settling in next to her. He went on lightly about the conversation, and how they thought Fëanor might react, and how soon it might happen – “Provided Maitimo doesn’t freak out, which, let’s face it, is almost certain to happen” – and whether they’d need a bigger place, and what Maedhros’ brothers would say…but all the while, she could tell that he was watching her out of the corner of his eye, only half paying attention to his carefully mundane conversation.

“Oh, and Makalaurë had to go to the urgent care center for a sprained ankle, did I tell you? There was video footage, but then Makalaurë destroyed Tyelko’s phone…” He broke off as his phone buzzed. “Hang on.” He glanced down at the text. “It’s from Turno. He wants to know if I’ve seen you, and if you’re okay.”

“Why?”

“Elenwë called him.”

Aredhel felt a blank rush of panic. “She called him? Why did she call him? Are they still in touch? What does that mean– ”

“Slow down,” said Fingon gently. “She called him because she was worried about you, Ireth. Something must have happened that made her want to know you were okay. Look, this is your history, and your relationship, and that means whatever you do is totally your call. But I think she’d want to know – ”

“No, she wouldn’t,” said Aredhel flatly. “Who would want to know something like that? No, don’t, Finno. I’m not ready, okay? But can – can you give me a ride?”

“Yes,” said Fingon, getting up at once and not pressing her further. “Back to Elenwë?”

“No,” said Aredhel. “To Artanis.”

Chapter End Notes

2. I realize I wrote this whole thing without actually naming Eöl. And that seems fitting, somehow.

Septembering arms of year extend

Chapter Summary

Fëanor and Maedhros have a long overdue talk.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Cuiviénen was always busy on Sunday afternoons; crowded with college students bent over their homework, their third or fourth refills of coffee sitting on top of a pile of textbooks. Behind the register, Maglor, his hair tucked back under a bandana, was studiously not watching his father and brother out of the corner of his eye. Maedhros blessed the noise of the customers and the hiss of the espresso machine – at least Maglor couldn’t actively eavesdrop. Still, he had to admit it felt a little comforting to have his brother there as a silent ally.

He tucked his legs uncomfortably under the too-small coffee shop table and fiddled with the stir stick in his cup of coffee, fighting the ridiculous sensation that he was on some sort of impossibly awkward first date.

“Nelyo,” said Fëanor quietly. “Look at me, please.”

Maedhros forced himself to look up, but couldn’t quite meet his father’s eyes.

Fëanor sighed, tapping his long fingers against his own mug. “You need a haircut. I can barely see your face with your hair in your eyes like that.”

Maedhros gritted his teeth. It was amazing how his father could reduce him to a squirming teenager in just two sentences. He straightened up and met Fëanor’s gaze squarely. Sitting upright, he was nearly half a head taller than his father – and besides, he told himself fiercely, you are a grown man, and you have outgrown being afraid of him. What can he do to you?

“It seems there are some things we should be talking about,” said Fëanor, as the stir stick snapped in Maedhros’ hands. “Nelyafinwë, what happened with your application?”

Maedhros opened his mouth, ready to go on the defensive, but he swallowed his words as he saw the genuine concern in Fëanor’s eyes. “…I didn’t get in,” he said, so baldly it surprised him, completely bypassing the preface he’d been planning. “I didn’t get in anywhere.”

He did drop his eyes again then, ashamed despite himself. I don’t want to disappoint you – not again.

“Nelyo.” Fëanor reached across the table and touched his hand gently. “I guessed as much.”

“You did?”

Fëanor smiled ruefully. “The number of months that had gone by without a word from you – I figured something like that had happened.” At Maedhros’ expression, he even laughed a little. “Don’t look so alarmed. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Look, son, the battle’s not over unless we decide it is. I have some contacts I can call, and I think perhaps if we lower our sights a little – There are other good schools out there with higher acceptance rates, and your LSATs are more than respectable – ”

“Dad – ”

“ – and now that you’ve done it once, you have a better sense of what to expect. I think some interviews would – ”

“Dad.”

Fëanor frowned. “What?”

“I don’t want to reapply.”

“Nelyo, I can help you with this – ”

“I know, and I appreciate that,” said Maedhros softly. “But…I’m not going to law school. I never really wanted to in the first place. I just felt like I needed to be doing something, and you seemed so pleased that I just…pretended it was what I wanted, too.”

“What are you saying?”

“I just said it. I didn’t make it into law school, and I’m glad. It’s not what I want to do.”

Fëanor drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “So you’re just giving up? Strange, but I thought I taught you better than that. How much longer do you think you can postpone adulthood? For heaven’s sake, Nelyafinwë, your eighteen year old brother has his life more figured out than you do.”

Maedhros focused on not letting his hands curl into fists. “Well, Curvo’s very lucky then,” he said evenly. “But I agree with you. I do need to stop postponing my own life. I’ve already started, in fact.”

“And how is that?” asked Fëanor, looking dubious.

Maedhros took a deep breath. “By deciding I’m moving out of the house.” As Fëanor’s eyes flashed, Maedhros went on stolidly. “It’s time for me to have my own place where I can focus on the things that are important to me. I’ve been so caught up in – ” he gestured helplessly, “ – in trying to be there for my brothers, and to do what I think you would want, and with everything that happened after the fire – ”

“Nelyo,” said Fëanor warningly, but Maedhros ignored him.

“ – that I’ve forgotten about what matters to me.”

“And your family isn’t one of those things?” Fëanor’s voice was dangerous now, and Maedhros flinched.

“Of course it is, it always will be, I just,” Maedhros broke off painfully. “I just need other things, too.”

“Such as your own place, apparently. Found one already, have you?”

“Yes.” Maedhros swallowed. “I’m moving in with Findekáno.”