#tehhumi october

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Maeglin didn’t get a wide array of visitors to his house in Tirion, but there were a few regular guests. His parents - separately, of course. Turgon, every year or so. A few old friends from the House of the Mole. Smiths who were able to focus on technical discussions rather than old history and politics. Nolofinwe and Anaire, once, who invited him to move into the palace but didn’t bother him afterwards. 

Very rarely anyone else from Gondolin. Never Idril, Tuor, or Earendil.

So he was quite surprised when Lord Elrond of Rivendell knocked on his door one day.

“Hello Uncle Maeglin. I happened to be in this part of town and thought I’d stop by for a visit; is now a good time?”

“As good as any, I suppose.”

“I can come back later, if you’re in the middle of a project.”

“No, come in. I’ll get us both something to drink.” Maeglin did so, and readied himself for a shouting argument or another painful retread of the past.

Once they had drinks and were seated, Elrond asked, “So, do you have any embarrassing stories about Earendil as a child?”

Maeglin blinked as he tried to figure out where this was going. “A few.”

Elrond waited a moment, then prompted, “Well?”

“He thought that the mountains on the west side of Gondolin were the Pelori and that Valinor was just the other side until he was nine.”

Elrond smiled. “That does have a certain childish logic to it. Elrohir, my oldest, had the Greenwood and Nan Elmoth confused for quite a while.”

“Ah, yes.” Maeglin took a sip of his tea for something to do with his hands, then gave up. “I’m sorry, but why are you here?”

“Like I said, to get to know my family, including the things they won’t tell me themselves but are great family jokes.”

“I really don’t think I’m the best one to be telling you about Earendil, given everything. Why not just talk to him, or Idril, or anyone else from Gondolin?”

“Earendil is my father who I barely remember; we’re trying hard to build a relationship but there’s no space at the moment for anything like mockery. Idril is supporting that, so she’ll only share complimentary stories or ones from before he could talk. The rest of the Gondolindrim are either accustomed to him as their lord in Sirion or don’t like to think about the last few years in Gondolin at all. Besides, you presumably knew him better; you’re family, after all.”

“Family that tried to throw him off a cliff after betraying our city.”

“If I disowned every family member that attacked another family member, or overthrew a city, or threatened a child, I would have to cut off half my relatives.” Elrond made a thoughtful hum. “I suppose I have a lot more family here than I did in Middle Earth, but I’d still rather not.”

Maeglin would have objected, but something in that list was distracting. “Who else threatened a child?”

“Maedhros, though he only drew his sword the once. Elros and I were complete and utter brats, I’m actually surprised he wasn’t pushed there more often.  And of course people say Celegorm, but since Elrued and Elurin were killed after he was already dead, I'm not inclined to blame him.”

“And you still count Maedhros Feanorian as family?”

“Of course. You should understand - Turgon says that Eol still visits you.”

“He’s my father.”

“Maedhros is essentially mine; he and Maglor raised me after all. And he never actually attempted to kill me.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I asked Maglor, in the early Third Age. And if he’d tried without Maglor knowing, I’d be dead.”

“You have a rather disturbing childhood.”

“I’m well aware.”

#maeglin #tehhumi october #elrond #silmarillion #my fic #cw threats to children

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

There’s a lot of argument about how binding Oaths are in the Silmarillion. One interesting theory is that Elves are literally incapable of breaking their word, but Men are just as capable of swearing falsely as in our world.

I don’t want to debate that theory right now, I just want to look at the implications if it were true.

Specifically, why Dior decided to play chicken with a hurricane. If the Oath of Feanor is unbreakable, then the Feanorians had literally no choice but to obtain the Silmarils or die trying. They might go after Morgoth first, but still would come eventually to Doriath. So why did Dior refuse? Sure, he was angry, but the Feanorians were literally incapable of leaving him alone, so why didn’t he negotiate a solution to the Oath?

What if he didn’t know the the Oath was unbreakable?

Dior’‘s parents were human at the time they raised him. He himself aged like a human, and may have been a human in terms of afterlife. They lived on an island in the woods, with little outside contact besides rare messengers from Doriath. So any oaths Dior swore were just words, as were any sworn by his parents who were 90% of his social contact. Elves who came by for matters on the level of “your grandfather the king is dead” probably didn’t stop to explain the metaphysics of verbal contracts.

Dior would have known that Oaths were important. Beren risked both Luthien’s life and his own in order to fulfill his oath to Thingol. If he hadn’t, they would have been shunned by everyone who knew them.

But it would have been possible for Beren to back off. Luthien suggested it, when he was reluctant to lead her into danger.  “You must choose, Beren, between these two: to relinquish the quest and your oath and seek a life of wandering upon the face of the earth; or to hold to your word and challenge the power of darkness upon its throne. But on either road I shall go with you, and our doom shall be alike.” That is the context Dior has on Oaths.

Dior knows that breaking your word is dishonorable. But attacking innocents is even more so. If the Sons of Feanor are truly motivated by their honor rather than bloodthirstiness, they will leave Doriath alone even if it means renouncing their authority. And if they are just looking for an excuse, handing over the Silmaril won’t stop them.

So Dior refused to hand over the Silmaril, and the Feanorians were compelled to retrieve it.

#glowfic #casteth afar #The Silmarillion #silmarillion #silm #dior eluchil #second kinslaying #tehhumi october

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Dying for the cause or killing it

To turn your back on your family is as good as death.

Amrod was the first. He wanted to return to Valinor, speak to the followers of Nolofinwe, even seek pardon for Alqualonde rather than risk repeating it. He had been asking questions cautiously around the camp, trying to find out who would help without revealing his plan, when Feanor burned the ships and rendered it moot.

Amrod was angry enough to tell his father what he had been planning, so that Feanor would fully understand what he had just destroyed.

But Feanor was enraged. “I thought you were loyal, and instead you were plotting to undermine me, to abandon our cause and bring the usurper here.”

“More soldiers will help your cause, though I myself no longer believe revenge worth the price. If the only permitted steps are those that you plan, and the only permitted goals those from your thoughts, than it is you, not Manwe, who seeks to be master of thralls.”

“If you see duty to your family as no more than thralldom, you need not take it; but family does not exist without duty. If hate so terribly being my son and subject, you may leave behind both.”

“Then I shall,” Amrod said, and walked off.

Amrod abandoned his Oath. He did not seek out his father, or his brothers, or any in the Feanorian host through all the years of the Watchful Peace. They in turn followed Feanor’s word, and Amrod was dead to the house of Feanor.

~~~

The Feanorian army gathered outside Doriath. There was a Silmaril hidden in that kingdom, and the young king would not yield it. The Sons of Feanor met to plan their attack.

“I'm not doing it,” Caranthir said.

“The Oath compels us to retrieve the Silmaril,” Celegorm said. “We all agreed so, even Maglor.”

“We tried negotiating, and it didn’t work,” Maedhros pointed out. “Why else would you come all this way?”

“I thought Dior would see reason when there was an army on his doorstep. But he has not, and I attack Doriath.”

“We have little choice, with the Oath.”

“I know full well what Feanor’s Oath demands of his family.”

Maglor put the pieces together. “Feanor’s Oath and Feanor’s family, but not yours?”

“Unless what counts as heresy has changed in the last five centuries, no. Not mine.”

“You are certain of this?” Maedhros asked.

“I am. If Feanor’s sons must destroy a peaceful realm for the sake of a gem, I will have no part in it.”

“And if your loyalty depends on never having to do things you don’t wish to, the loyalty is false.”

“Loyalty must be deserved. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Caranthir son of no one.”

~~~

Celegorm’s armor was splattered with blood and guts; there was even a pink tinge at the end of his hair. But his look of disgust was due not to his own state, but directed at two elves restrained before him. They had been in his command for centuries, and one had even hunted with him beside Orome in Aman.

Celegorm bent down as if to look them in the eye, and slit both of their throats in one easy motion.

“I quit,” he said conversationally as he stood up.

“Excuse me?” Maglor asked.

“I said I quit. Like Caranthir and Amrod.”

“Attacking Doriath was your idea in the first place! You can’t be regretting it now.”

“I don’t regret attacking Dior and his army. But I have been so obsessed with the Silmaril that my people thought I hated the whole line, even the innocent.”

“I would hardly call Nimloth-”

“Those two -” Celegorm gestured to the bodies of his soldiers “- killed two boys and thought I would pleased. Not boys like the dead boy-king, too young to understand the impact of his choices but old enough to command armies. Children, barely six years old, killed to get revenge on their dead idiot father.”

Maedhros had arrived, and listened impassively to Celegorm’s speech. “I never knew you to care so much about other people’s opinion of you.”

“I’m not g=begging them to reconsider their wrong opinion of me, I’m stopping before it becomes the right one. I have done what it takes to pursue the Oath, unstoppable and uncaring as a forest fire. That was necessary, but going back and burning the few trees left standing merely so the destruction would be complete is not.”

“The actions done in your name are only your fault to the extent you permit them. You have made it quite clear you disapprove.”

“Oh, and I suppose our actions here will never be laid at Father’s feet. He started us down the path, and saw after Alqualonde where it led, never turning aside. I am.”

“Do you think you’re special for having cruel soldiers? Do you think no one ever thought the Warlord of Himring would appreciate knowing enemies were tortured in payment for my torture? Men have brought me the mutilated bodies of their traitorous neighbors expecting I would like the trophy. Being thought monstrous is the price of command.”

“I don’t want command. I can make my own path, with no elves or men to obey me or oppose me.”

“If you wish to be a nameless wilderness creature rather than an elven prince, I will not stop you.”

“You’re right, you won’t.” He turned and walked off into the woods.

Curufin chose that moment to speak. “He has the right idea.”

“You too?” Maedhros asked. “How can you reject this after everything?”

“We’re doing nothing but repeating history with ourselves as the villains.”

“How is that a change from yesterday?”

“The king has been killed in his home by those who would take the Silmarils, his greatest treasure, and the city lies in ruins around him. Do you not see echoes of Formenos?”

“No. We have no Ungoliant, and more importantly no Silmaril.”

“But Father was justified - we were justified - in pursuing Morgoth, seeking retribution for his crimes against us.”

“Of course! If you doubt that, you should have turned back when Olwe refused us, not Dior.”

“I don’t doubt it! But if we are righteous for hating Finwe’s murderer, than so are the surviving Iathrim righteous for hating us.”

“What does it matter? They will hate us if it is just or not.”

“It matters for who we are! Are we nothing but brigands, stealing what cannot be defended because we wish for it? Is that not the very thing we set out to oppose?”

“We set out to reclaim the Silmarils and kill Morgoth. If Father had a noble reason underneath those, I never heard him say.”

“It is obvious! I will not be a prisoner of the letter of his Oath and therefore betray his spirit. Celebrimbor was right to say we were going astray.”

“Celebrimbor renounced you, not just Feanor. You won’t get him back.”

“I know, but maybe he can achieve the greatness I haven’t, with no Oath dragging him down.”

“And you? What would be left of Curufinwe Atarinke when you take away everything that came from Curufinwe Feanaro his father?”

“I suppose I will find out.”

Maedhros, Maglor, and Amras stared at each other in silence. Than Maedhros shook his head, and said, “Keep searching for the Silmaril. Celegorm’s people can search the woods for hiding places, if they’ll listen to me. You two search the east and west wings of the palace, and I’ll check the main square.”

His two remaining brothers nodded.

~~~

The three of them stood on the cliffs at Sirion and watched the bird that had been Elwing fly away.

“Well now what,” Maglor said.

“What do you suppose Valinor being fenced against us really means?” Maedhros asked. “Would we be physically stopped, or would it simply go terribly if we did reach there? And barred by something we can fight, or more like a cliff?”

“I assume we would never reach land; we barely made it across the Sea last time.”

Maedhros sighed. “And none of us learned to sail. I will have to think of some other way.”

““Some other way for what?” Amras asked.

“To retrieve the Silmaril from Valinor, of course.”

“You’re joking.”

“Do you think she’s headed somewhere other than to Valinor, or to her husband who was seeking the same?”

“No, we’ve sacked anywhere else she might feel safe.”

“So we need to find a way across the sea.”

“And then fight all fourteen of the Valar?”

“What, are you becoming pious all of a sudden?”

“Not pious, just realistic! We are not strong enough to do open battle against Morgoth on his own, what makes you think we can win against the rest of them?”

“We’ll have the element of surprise, for one.”

“And that will be enough to kill the gods?”

“I’m not saying we need to kill Manwe - I’m not sure that’s even possible. But we could distract them, and reclaim what is ours by right.”

“You’ve proven that you’re not able to out-think a Vala, either at the Nirnaeth or at your royal parley.”

“Morgoth is the Vala of lies and darkness, I should have expected him to be cunning. But it is said that Manwe cannot comprehend evil; he will not understand betrayal until it is too late.”

“You are a fool. If we attempt combat with the Valar, we will lose.”

Maglor said, “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourselves? We can’t be sure we need to fight the Valar at all. Maybe Elwing will reach Earendil, and the two of them will return to Sirion.”

“Even if they did, what would that help? Elwing is clearly favored, and likely  Manwe will intervene again if we try to kill her - unless you think elves just tun into birds on their own?”

“Well, no. But I don’t think it’s as hopeless as all that, Uncle wounded a Vala on his own, and there are three of us.”

“We’ve lost, whether or not you can see it.”

Maedhros said, “Our Oath doesn’t let us give up. We win, or we fall into darkness and death.”

“Or we give up the Oath.”

“No. We can still win.”

“We can’t. Even if we could, we shouldn’t.”

“I won’t abandon everything we worked towards just because it became difficult!”

“And I won’t kill in pursuit of a goal I know is impossible. Yes, we have done evil, but we knew why, and knew it would end if we obtained the Silmarils. Now they are all beyond our reach, and we could burn the world and not be one step close to victory. It is madness to keep going.”

“Madness or no, it is our path.”

“It may be the path for the Sons of Feanor, but not for me. Amrod had the right of it, even if it took me longer to see. I would say until we meet again, but I doubt we shall.”

“Farewell.”

~~~

"They burn us," Maedhros said hollowly.

Maglor gave a bitter laugh. "You can't have doubted that we were marred and evil by now."

"I didn't really. I just thought it would be - different. Less empty."

"Seriously? You honestly thought it would feel good to succeed, like we'd accomplished something! That is the most naive thing I can imagine. We've only had a foolish excuse to keep going since the Nirnaeth, getting more and more frail ever since Caranthir left. Now there's no purpose at all, how did you expect to feel?"

"...Peaceful?"

Maglor laughed so hard he couldn't stand. "Lord Maedhros of Himring, Orcsbane thought we could experience peace. There's no peace for us, only battle or surrender. You chose battle, and here we are."

"Then I choose to end it, if there is to be no peace."

"We can still surrender."

"No one would accept it."

"We can’t surrender to someone, but we could surrender our Oath."

“And where would we go? To those who’ve we attacked, or those who followed us past the point of reason?”

“There are five elves who would not shoot us on sight, if we can find where they went. Or at least four, Amras may still be angry.”

“They hate everything we stand for.”

“So do I. Can you think of anything we’ve fought for in the last century that you still believe is worth it?”

Maedhros shook his head.

“So that’s something we all have in common then.”

“They hate me. I told them all to go.”

“You did and they might, but they’ll forgive you for being such a complete idiot.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’ve forgiven you for being an idiot and just an hour ago we destroyed our only chance of ever going home, because you commanded it. The rest of the will come around.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

Maglor shrugged. “What else is family for? Now, shall we find the rest of ours?”

“Yes, let’s.”

ao3 link

#silmarillion #sons of feanor #My fic #tehhumi october #feanorians #maedhros #maglor #Celegorm #caranthir #Curufin #ambarussa #silm #disowned #tw death reference #though less character death than canon #this is nearly an everybody lives au #maedhros gets the ceremonial role accept renunciations because he ishead of house #*is head #tw suicide #no actual suicide but a whole lot of metaphorical suicide and depressing thoughts #now on ao3

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Dior woke up after the Feanorian attack, much to his own surprise. He was in a bed somewhere in Doriath, though he didn’t recognize exactly where. His feet were tied together and his left arm was in a sling. His arm had been bandaged,  with more bandages wound tight around his torso – where he remembered a sword slicing open just before he lost consciousness.

An armored guard – obviously Noldorin in features even if the context didn’t make it obvious – was standing at the end of the bed. The guard called out something in Quenya as soon as he noticed Dior’s eyes were open.

Dior asked, “What’s going on?” but without much hope of an answer. The guard, as expected, said nothing in reply.

After a few minutes, Celegorm the Cruel entered the room. He had apparently washed since the battle—he was no longer covered in Nimloth’s blood—and was wearing an outfit that, if not for the colors, would not be surprising on an Iathrim scout.

“Good, you’re alive. Where is it?”

Dior didn’t see a point in playing dumb. “You tried pretty hard to kill me, for someone who wants me alive. And I have no desire to work with my wife’s murderer.”

“She killed my brother; I have no guilt over her death.”

“Why are you here? I heard that your brothers forbid you from acting alone after you humiliated yourself over my mother.”

“Your people slew both Maglor and Maedhros. I am the leader of the house of Feanor.” Celegorm bared his teeth in a grin. “Now tell me where the Silmaril is.”

“No.”

“That wasn’t a request.”

“I am the King of Beleriand, you have no right to order me.”

“You are tied up surrounded by my soldiers. Where is my father’s Silmaril?”

“I don’t fear you.”

“You’re lying. But even if you don’t care on your own behalf, I expect you wish to protect your children.”

“My children?”

“Yes. We haven’t found the girl, but the twins are in the next room.”

“You would torture children?  Coward!  Orc-kin!”

“They are alive and unharmed, though terrified. If you give me the Silmaril, you and they can go free.”

Dior wanted to consider things carefully, but there seemed little point. The Iathrim had fought bravely, but they had lost. If he refused, Celegorm could burn the city and sift through the ashes at his leisure. “Fine. I can show you where it’s hidden, though I don’t know if I can walk. And I want to see my sons first.”

Celegorm said, “Sicilir, carry the man-elf.” The armored guard from before did so, legs over one arm and back over the other; easy enough as he was nearly a head taller than Dior. Dior wondered for a moment how he would survive being ‘set free’ with two small children in his conditions, but one problem at a time.

The next room was a store room. There was one guard outside, but the elf inside had taken his armor off and was sitting on the floor. Elured and Elurin were huddled on a mattress in the far corner, looking out warily from under a heap of blankets.

“Ada!” Elurin cried out, but didn’t come any closer to the intimidating figures at the door.

“Please set me down, I think I can sit against the wall.” Dior said when Sicilir seemed inclined to walk right up to the twins.

Sicilir looked at Celegorm for direction. “I said you could see them, not have a family picnic.”

“I can hardly know how they’re doing when they’re too terrified of your soldiers to come within twenty feet of me.”

Celegorm sighed. “Fine. Sicilir, set him down and go out in the hall. Talmon, you as well. I’ll call you back when I need you.” He added in Quenya, “Lord Carnistir knows the plan if Dior proves unexpectedly skilled.”

Dior considered asking Celegorm to leave too, but it was would likely do nothing but anger the Feanorian.

Dior checked over his sons, and they indeed seemed unharmed, in the strictest sense of the word. When he asked they had apparently been offered food a few hours ago, but not eaten it because they were afraid the evil elves would poison them, and were now very hungry. They had been ordered to turn out their pockets and patted roughly, but no worse in the search for the Silmaril. Elured had tripped and skinned his knee at some point, either in the attempted evacuation or when being brought to the current cell. Someone had bandaged it, but Elured’s pants were still bloody. Elurin’s shirt was bloody as well, though it was quite obviously not his blood.

No one had bothered to tell them anything other than their mother was dead, and their father and sister were ‘not available’.

Dior wanted to reassure them that all would be well. He wanted to hod them as they cried, to mourn their mother and their friends and their nurse who had been trusted with getting them out. But he couldn’t be sure that his sons were safe as long as they were prisoners, and in any case he didn’t think Celegorm would tolerate delays.

Indeed, Celegorm approached Dior after scarcely ten minutes. “You’ve seen them. Nothing worse will happen to them in the next few hours. The Silmaril, and then you can reassure them that daddy didn’t mean to get mommy killed because he wouldn’t return stolen property.”

Dior really wanted to argue, but the risk of provoking Celegorm while his children were within easy reach. Instead he leaned forward and hugged them, saying “I will be back soon. I love you very much.”

Then the guard grabbed Dior again and carried him away.

#dior eluchil #second kinslaying #silmarillion #My fic #tehhumi october #doriath divergence #canon divergence #Celegorm #the living feanorians at this point are Celegorm Caranthir and Amras #Celegorm was the one with the most bloodthirsty followers so with him alive no one is murdering children for revenge #maglor maedhros and curufin died attacking Doriath #amrod died at losgar #death cw #children being threatened cw

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Celebrian’s Champion

They were all gathered in Imlardis, discussing how to help Celebrian. It had become clear that no one could heal her in Middle Earth, and it was highly unlikely they could even keep her from fading.

So she had to sail. None of them particularly trusted the Valar, or the Valinorian elves, but the land had peace and strength in abundance.

If she survived the journey, which would be difficult as weak as she was. Celebrian did not wish to go alone and vulnerable to somewhere she knew no one, and none of those who cared for her liked the idea either. But they couldn't be spared. Thranduil and Elrond both had realms to watch over. Her parents had Lothlorien. Children should not have to care for their mother, and she would not Doom them to immortality for her sake. Glorfindel was suggested - the two of them were not close, but he was strong in spirit and would know his way around Valinor, and was deeply loyal to Elrond's house. But he had been sent by the Valar with a  mission, and no one was sure if this counted as fighting Sauron, or what the Valar might do to him for an early return.

On and on the argument went, with no conclusion being reached.

Thranduil spoke in a weary but clear voice, "Maglor."’

"I didn't say anything!" Maglor defended. Thranduil still held a grudge over Doriath, and Maglor generally tried to avoid being in the room with him. When it was unavoidable, he kept quiet to avoid causing political problems for Elrond.

"Maglor could go with Celebrian. He's strong enough and knows Valinor, and he has no particular purpose keeping him here."

Maglor blurted out his first reaction, "You'd trust me that much?"

"To keep your daughter-in-law safe, and you on an entirely different continent from the Greenwood? Yes."

Elrond asked, "Will the Valar even let him back?"

Galadriel said, "As a 'ringleader', I am allowed back if I repent. I see no reason why Maglor shouldn't be the same. He’s done worse than I have, but didn’t convince anyone else to leave."

Maglor protested, "I can't heal! I haven't been able to in millennia!"

"You wouldn't have to,” Elrond said. “I can start the healing with you as a sort of well, and Celebrian only needs to maintain enough strength to draw out buckets on her own, as it were."

"What about the entire population of Valinor? I think they all hate me for one reason or another."

Galadriel said, "Oh, surely not all, some of your father's sycophants must be alive by now." "We can declare him Celebrian's Champion,” Celeborn said. “That would keep him legally protected until Celebrian is recovered, and as a Sindarin and Telerin princess she is well entitled to one."

“That sounds like a reason for him to never let her properly heal, if doing so would mean his death.” Thranduil rebutted.

Galadriel replied, "A woman who is fading and may never see her children again if she loses life? A Feanorian will fight for her to the point of stupidity."

"It does grieve me that she will miss Legolas growing into an adult. Could we not use him as a well and have him remain here?"

"No,” Elrond said. “Firstly, it would cause significant pain to be a well for more than a few years, and I will not put my father through that. Secondly, I am not so skilled in healing as to know the hour at which he would fall; I may not know accurately the depths of Maglor's reserves until he has exhausted them. He needs strength to bring them both across the journey and some months in Valinor."

Thranduil replied, "Fine. If it will save Celebrian, the golodh kinslayer can steal another sacred Nelyarin tradition."

“Do I get any say in this at all?” Maglor asked plaintively.

“You do. I will not heal any who refuse treatment, nor will I bind you to a cause you do not choose. I would not command you to this even if I could. But I am asking, as I can see no other way for her to survive - or for you to survive your return to Tirion.”

Maglor sighed. “Alright, I will do it. But I would like a day or so to put my affairs in order, and send letters to those friends I will not see again.”

“Of course. Celebrian is not fading quickly, and it matters little whether you sail this week or next.”

#maglor #silm #silmarillion #my fic #tehhumi october #celebrian's champion #i write third age fic only for as long as it takes to shove everyone back to Valinor or other First Age politics #Celeborn and Thranduil are both passive aggressive around maglor but in different ways #Celeborn has not said a word directly to Maglor in several thousand years; instead he talks about Maglor like he's not here #but if Maglor brings up a good point Celeborn will pursue the line of reasoning as if someone else made it and then left the room #Thranduil insists on all royal titles and for all lesser issues refuses to admit he heard Maglor speak at all #if Maglor answers a question Thrdauil asked Thranduil will wait for someone else to repeat the answer #Celebrian at Redhorn pass #thranduil #celeborn #galadriel #elrond #yes this includes that persephone headcanon #Thranduil was 100% in favor of a plan where Celebrian is transferred to Finarfin or Finrod's care the moment she reaches the dock #and Maglor is thrown overboard at the last minute #fair warning that I expect this fic to be more focused on Maglor's interactions with Valinorian society than on Celebrian's recovery

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

The first time Celebrian noticed something different about her youngest is when teaching her astronomy. Or perhaps not the first time, but the first time that can’t be easily brushed off. Some babies are fussier than others, and wake up scared in the middle of the night. Infants are confused by everything, that Arwen’s hair was among those things wasn’t surprising. With two older brothers to compare herself with, of course Arwen was eager to do things at a younger age than the twins. 

So once Arwen has learned how to read and write, Celebrian taught her about the sky. Celebrian explained that Gil Estel, the brightest star in the sky, which Arwen’s name Undomiel came from, had another name. “The star is called Earendil, and it is a ship that an elf sails around the world. “

“Earendil,” Arwen repeated in wonder. “I think I know him?”

Celebrian and Elrond had agreed that the fall of Gondolin, and all the other bloody history of the First Age, was not appropriate for a child so young, but children are sponges. A casual remark from Erestor, or Arwen’s older brothers, might stick in her mind. “You’re related, actually. before the Valar asked Earendil to sail the sky, he lived in Middle Earth. He married a princess, and they had two children, one of whom grew up to be your dad.”

Arwen nodded. “That’s good. I’m glad he got out.”

“Got out of where?” Celebrian asked, doing her best to stay calm. The sea-longing never strikes so young, Arwen cannot be enthralled by the song of Valinor yet. (But how old was Tuor, in years not in mind, when he became the first Man to hear Ulmo’s call? Is this another risk for Elrond’s children neither of them had thought of?) Let her grow up happy here, and not be pulled away or always aware she only half-belongs.

Arwen looked up at her mother like Celebrian was wearing socks as mittens and wondering where the thumb went. “The city. The princess was trying to get people out. I didn’t see if it worked, and I was worried. Do any of the other stars have stories?”

Celebrian didn’t want to focus too much on Arwen’s response  and make her feel she had done something wrong. Celebrian answered with a legend from Arnor about the North Star being a shard of ice, that drew all the other cold after it.

#Arwen #arwenfindel #my fic #silm #tehhumi october #celebrian

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Artanis (who would never be known as Galadriel) and Maedhros lived apart after they married. It wasn’t out of anger; they simply had very different interests and duties. Maedhros ruled Himring, a proud fortress resisting Morgoth’s forces. Artanis dwelt in Doriath, becoming acquainted with here long separated kin and learning enchantment from Melian. Maedhros came to Doriath occasionally, to meet his in-laws who ruled the continent, and Artanis spent most summers with him in Himring, returning to Doriath long before the cold winter winds blew in. The arrangement suited them well enough for several decades.

Until King Thingol heard rumors of what had transpired in Alqualondë, and summoned the children of Finarfin to answer for it.

Then Angrod spoke bitterly against the sons of Fëanor, telling of the blood at Alqualondë, and the Doom of Mandos, and the burning of the ships at Losgar. And he cried: 'Wherefore should we that endured the Grinding Ice bear the name of kinslayers and traitors?'

'Yet the shadow of Mandos lies on you also,' said Melian. But Thingol was long silent ere he spoke. 'Go now!' he said. 'For my heart is hot within me. Later you may return, if you will; for I will not shut my doors for ever against you, my kindred, that were ensnared in an evil that you did not aid. With Fingolfin and his people also I will keep friendship, for they have bitterly atoned for such ill as they did. And in our hatred of the Power that wrought all this woe our griefs shall be lost. But hear my words! Never again in my ears shall be heard the tongue of those who slew my kin in Alqualondë! Nor in all my realm shall it be openly spoken, while my power endures. All the Sindar shall hear my command that they shall neither speak with the tongue of the Noldor nor answer to it. And all such as use it shall be held slayers of kin and betrayers of kin unrepentant.'

Artanis began packing.

Thingol said, “I meant to forbid your brothers, who command soldiers and sought my aid in war alongside murderers, not you, who have stayed in peace and listened to my wife’s instruction.”

“I am at least as guilty as my brothers. Indeed I am more so, for I fought at Alqualondë.”

“WHAT?! You killed our people, and yet have lived here under my roof, letting me believe you an innocent when truly you were a murderer?”

“I took up a sword and killed my kinfolk, but I have spilled no Telerin blood. I saw the Noldorin soldiers massacring the sailors, and I killed my father’s people to save my mother’s. As well, I would not dwell in a land that declares my husband an enemy.”

“I cannot understand why you married someone who slaughtered our people.”

“I do not understand many people’s reasons for marrying, but they remain wed all the same. My husband and I have a good deal of common ground. I would appreciate some privacy now to pack, as by your own royal decree, I must leave this place.”

~~~

As soon as her uncle left, Artanis stopped packing and focused her thoughts. Though Maedhros was far away, they could reach each other through the bond of their marriage if they wished too.

Dear, do you have a moment to talk? It’s important but an hour’s delay will make no difference. They always began their touches lightly, so that if Maedhros was in battle or Artanis was being tutored by Melian, they would not be startled.

Today though, Maedhros responded immediately. I do. What do you wish to discuss?

Several things. For one, I would like to spend the next year with you at Himring. I understand enough about how Melian preserves Doriath now that I would like a practical chance at it. If I am there at planting, I can make seeds last at least another month into autumn, and through the driest summer.

I would be very happy to see you, and for you to improve the March. When shall I send an escort to Doriath?

An escort from Doriath won’t be necessary.

Even I don’t travel unaccompanied, I’m not trying to curtail you with guards. Celegorm’s the only one foolhardy enough to ride alone. They’ll report to you and take your advice on route, if you wish to detour to see family or natural features.

I know that. I mean that my brothers and their households will also be leaving Doriath. They’re bound for Dorthonion, but our paths lay together as far as Aglon. That’s a safe enough place for us two to meet.

I suppose it is. Maedhros paused. Though tone was hard to convey over such distance, he seemed to be picking his words with care. Is there a particular reason you’re all leaving Doriath at once?

You are not the only one with idiot brothers. Artanis sighed. No, that is unfair. My uncle Elu heard rumors of the Kinslaying at Alqualondë, and attributed the crimes to all Noldor. Angrod refuted the accusations, with great detail as to where fault lay. Uncle Elu is still mad at my brothers for keeping the secret, and has barred them from Doriath for a time, though not forever.

Oh. I am sorry that you lost another home due to my actions.

I was not specifically barred. But I felt a need to make a point of solidarity, with them and with you.

What does the King of Doriath sentence me to, if his blameless kin are cast out?

All Noldor not of my family are outright banned from Doriath. Anyone who speaks Quenya will be seen as approving of the kinslaying, throughout all Beleriand. None of the Sindar will admit to understanding it, and any Quenya overheard will be treated as an act of aggression.

That is a lesser punishment than it could be. Do you know when this will take effect? Not all of my soldiers have learned Sindarin, there’s been little need as the land around Himring was uninhabited.

I believe he is sending messengers, and those who keep speaking Quenya after they hear the message will be considered in contempt. This all happened just this afternoon, so I expect he’s still figuring out details.

#tehhumi october #silmarillion #silm #my fic #galadriel #maedhros #nobly made

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Celebrian’s champion part ii

King Finarfin of Tirion frowned across the desk at his nephew. They were in Alqualonde, so this wasn’t even his office; it belonged to a senior scribe and had been commandeered to get Maglor out out the public eye. Finarfin had been in Alqualonde to meet his granddaughter, and was as surprised as anyone at Maglor’s arrival. But as high king of the Noldor, any ruckus caused by a Noldo was ultimately his responsibility.

So here they were.

“In my defense,” Maglor said eventually, “I didn’t actually know before today that I was the one who killed Galadhon. I would have tried harder to convince Celebrian to choose a different Champion if I had.”

“How could you not know?”

Maglor shrugged. “It was dark, and it’s not like anyone was wearing name tags. I still don’t know who killed Caranthir either.”

“Galadhon recognized you easily enough.”

“Well yes. I was probably the last thing he saw when he died, that’s more memorable.”

“You see why I’m concerned about you being here.”

“A bit, but I’m perfectly happy to go on to Tirion.”

“I’m not actually pleased to have you in my kingdom either.”

“I don’t actually recall committing any crimes that are your jurisdiction?”

“You led an army that massacred innocents three different times, and then attacked the Noldorin army!”

“I’m not disputing that, but those were in Alqualonde - so the punishment is Olwe’s to decide - in Doriath - Thingol or Galadhon or some other Sinda - and in Sirion - Elwing or Earendil.“

“And attacking the army after we’d defeated Morgoth?”

“Already pardoned by Eonwe!’

“None of those excuses will make people like you.”

“But they’ll tolerate me if you forbid murdering me in the street.”

“I don’t trust you, not after all you’ve done.”

“Why not? I’m an exceptionally trustworthy person, and have never broken my word.”

“And which promise will you hold to now? Feanor’s ridiculous bloodthirsty Oath, or some obscure Sinda law?”

“Celebrian is my daughter-in-law, and I protect my family above all. If you can delay my trial until she is healed, I promise to attend - unarmed even - and not start fights until then.”

“She is my granddaughter. I want her to be safe as well.”

“So let me help her.”

“Alright.” After a pause, Finarfin prompted, “Your sword and harp?”

“Are staying with me.”

“You said you’d be willing to go unarmed.”

“To the trial, and even there I should want a harp! I can’t properly express my repentance without a good dirge.”

“A harp in you hands is a weapon, I'm not an idiot.”

“I never said you were! Caranthir did, but I didn’t. And as Champion, I need to be prepared against attack as well as supportive in her healing.”

“Attack from who? We’re not in Middle Earth, or Beleriand; there won’t be roving bands of orcs.”

“I know that, and so does Celebrian logically speaking. But she doesn’t feel it yet, and until she feels safe I will guard her. Besides, there are plenty of others around who could attack.”

“Like who? She’s neither a Feanorian nor hated by you, so she ought to be safely out of any kinslaying.”

“There are other reasons to attack someone. The Teleri might view her choice of Champion as mockery. There were those in Gil-Galad’s court who disliked Elrond and will hold it against her. The Valar may declare her a criminal. The Vanyar may consider themselves snubbed, as she’s as Vanyarin as Noldorin but no one is consulting them. A local Maia of a stream may dislike familiarity that she enjoyed with the Bruinen. Whatever the case, she will should not face it alone.”

“You see danger everywhere.”

“ have practice, surviving thousands of years without being found by any elves or killed.”

“What could you even do against the Valar?”

“Sing; it worked for Luthien.”

Finarfin pinched his nose. “Why do you think she’s in danger from the Valar? Has she committed a crime, or helped you cover up yet another kinslaying?”

"She has harmed no one, and broken none of the laws of the Valar known to me from when I last dwelt on Valinor."

"You think she did something that the Valar outlawed since?"

"Who can understand the minds of the Valar? Perhaps they banned me from Imladris, where she has welcomed me time and again."

"The Valar would not do that if Elrond welcomed you."

"He did, but it's not without precedent. they have exiled an elf from a city over a matter entirely between elves against the wishes of the king before."

"That was very different! Your father threatened my brother's life, and it was in Tirion in Valinor, not Middle Earth."

"But Manwe is lord of all Aman. if he has the authority to order a king he may order a prince, whichever shore."

“We’re getting off track on theology. Did you harm or threaten anyone in Imladris, whether or not Celebrian covered it up?”

“Of course not! It would have upset Elrond tremendously, in addition to being pointless. I haven’t killed any elves since the end of the First Age.”

#celebrian's champion #maglor #finarfin #silm #my fic #tehhumi october #death reference tw #second kinslaying reference #maglor also has something like medical power of attorney if Celebrian is incapactiated #and is the keeper of her please yes use extraordinary measures living will #cw end of life issues in tags #leaving this here and going to sleep

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Galadriel/Maedhros as the power couple of the first age. It’s mostly political, but there’s mutual respect underlying it.

At the Feast of Reuniting (20 FA)

G: “Lord Maedhros.”

M: “Princess Artanis. May I join you for a walk?”

G: “Certainly.”

They walk, out of easy listening range, though they’re on a large plain and she will not go out of eyesight of others.

G: “Did you have something you wished to discuss?”

M: “I did, a personal matter. I would be greatly honored if you would consider marrying me.”

She laughed at first. “Marry you? We barely spoke in Tirion.”

M: “I shunned many in Tirion for poor reasons. I wish to amend that, and get to know you better.”

G: “And what do you know of me?”

M: “You are brave, enough so to fight for your family when they faced better equipped opponents.  You have the gift of foresight, and use it well – they say you put your tent up so the sun would illuminate but not blind you when you first arrived in Mithrim. You are certain of the moral path, and are unafraid to proclaim it, to ally or opponent. And you are beautiful, like sunlight on snow and like moonlight on daffodils.”

G was astonished. “You of all people dare praise me for Alqualondë?”

M: “Your motives were little different than Fingon’s, or a small part of my own. I cannot say I am glad you fought then, but your actions were at least as worthy of praise as mine were of condemnation.”

G: “Your family is, for that and many other reasons, accursed. Why would I wish to join such a fate?”

M: “All those who followed us are cursed as well, and here you are in Beleriand rather than Tirion.”

G: “I suppose so, but marriage is not something to be entered into lightly.”

M: “I understand that as well. I am asking for you merely to consider it, and allow me to demonstrate my suitedness.”

G: “I am willing to be courted by you, and discuss the matter as we learn more of each other.”

M: “Thank you. I assume this will be a mostly written courtship, if you are returning to Doriath?”

G: “Actually I am planning to visit my brothers. You may accompany me, if you wish.”

M: “I would enjoy spending time with you. Do you plan to inform your brothers of the reason for my presence?”

G: “If this ever becomes a proper engagement I will get Finrod’s blessing, as the available head of the family. Until then, I see no reason to inform them of all the details of my associations.”

Maedhros nodded. “Maglor knows that I am considering marriage, but the rest do not.”

G: “Why did you ask Maglor for advice? He’s even more of a perpetual bachelor than you are.”

M: “I didn’t ask for advice, but for frankness. If I am not sane enough to honestly wed, it is better for him to tell me than for us to realize in eight months or eighty years.”

G: “And what did he say?”

M: “He believes me sane, and will not tell our other brothers that I asked. He understands the burden of leading our house.”

#silm #my fic #tehhumi october #nobly made #galadriel #maedhros

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Telling dreams from one another

A time travel fix it fic where three members of the house of Finwe argue over how to save their family from the terrible fate they alone recall.

Finrod woke with his heart pounding. The werewolf’s throat had torn under his teeth, but he had paid dearly for the victory. With the wounds he had taken, Finrod hadn’t been expecting to wake up at all, especially not in a soft bed rather than a stone dungeon.

Finrod took a deep breath, surprised that it was painless, and opened his eyes. The room he was in was so familiar and comforting that he couldn’t hep but relax for a moment. He was in his own bed, in his own bedroom in Alqualondë in the house he had grown up in, where the silver light of Telperion streamed in through the open window. He was safe and warm and at home.

Except that it made no sense. Finrod had been an ocean away under a different sky, forbidden from returning, on the brink of death. Perhaps he had died? It was said that the dead don’t remember their time in the Halls. He would have expected to return nearer Mandos or Lorien, but comforting surroundings might make the adjustment to living again easier. The light was impossible though –  the Trees had died centuries ago.

Finrod rarely experienced visions, but he had heard his father and sister discuss them. Sometimes premonitions were vague and dreamlike, but sometimes they would see the future as clearly as if it was in the room with them. Finrod had never heard of a vision lasting years, but he knew that time could be perceived differently for those touching the future and those rooted firmly in the present. Galadriel would look far and dreamy for hours and have experienced but a moment, or between one breath and the next recall a long conversation with her grandsons (not that she had children yet even in Finrod’s vision).

Finrod did not recall in detail what foresight could do, as it had never been important for him personally, and his father tutored Galadriel privately. It was said that the song of the world had been sung before the first elf drew breath; was his course fixed? But Melkor had disrupted the song, and been countered by a second theme; was Finrod receiving the dark vision because the world was marred, or to bring about greater glory in the mending? All these thoughts swirled around Finrod’s head as he got dressed.

Luckily, Finarfin was at the breakfast table, though the hour was late and much of the household was already out.

“You look lost in thought. Is something troubling you?”

“I had a very bad dream. This may sound foolish, but what is the day? And the year?”

“It’s the thirteenth day of the Second Planting, or the fifteenth of the South Current since we’re in Alqualondë, the year 1490. Are you sure it was an ordinary dream? I know I felt very adrift after my first vision; perhaps you should take it easy today.”

“I think it was a vision, for it felt so real when I was in it. We are before Uncle Fëanáro's exile at least, so perhaps I can avoid it.”

“Fëanáro's exile? That is a very troubling vision indeed, as he would not leave Tirion without causing a terrible ruckus, and my father would not lightly ban him.”

“Fëanáro did not – will not – would not accept it easily, and it was the Valar who banned – would ban him, not Grandfather. But that’s not what most concerns me. Melkor did not repent in truth, but only set up false reassurance while secretly pitting Uncle Nolofinwe and Uncle Fëanáro against each other. This was a ruse to deflect the Valar’s attention from him, so he could kill Grandfather.”

“No one has ever been killed in Aman – when is this all to come about?”

“Fëanáro’s exile is within the year, but Grandfather’s death is not for another five years.”

“That is a long vision. I rarely see glimpses longer than few minutes myself, though they may be glimpse scattered across an Age, and your sister sees differently.”

“Long and longer. I recall our and a half centuries of striving against Melkor, as clearly or more so than my life here in Valinor.”

“Did you foresee returning to the eastern shore as Fëanáro calls for then? I did not know it the voyage was possible.”

“Yes. The voyage might be difficult, but I do not recall that for myself. When Grandfather died, Uncle Fëanáro demeaned that Grandpa give him the swan ships in order to pursue Melkor. He refused, so we walked across the Helcaraxe. But I am telling it all out of order, and still I do not know a better way to tell it!”

Finarfin stood up from the table so he could hug Finrod. “That is a distressing thing indeed. I will listen to all you saw if you wish, but I do not know what help I will be able to give. My own visions I simply know to be sorrowful or joyful, but not the reason. I ready myself for the experience, but I have never tried to prevent them.”

“It gets more distressing, and I would rather not dwell on it unnecessarily. Nor would I worry you or Artanis with the details. But I do not know how to avert it on my own.”

“The Valar sung this world into being, and have heard all the melodies that will come to pass. If you speak to them, they can surely tell you if this vision is inevitable, or if we can steer a brighter course.”

“I am not sure what I will do if my vision is destined. I cannot let my family die, but if this is our fate, would I be as bad as Melkor to try and defy it? And could I even go on, knowing it ends in – blood and darkness?” Finrod cut himself off from explaining the details of sharp teeth and despair and all his friends dying one by one.

“Wishing to save others is always kind and noble. You are not evil for wishing the world was less painful, even if the Valar declare that all your fears shall come to pass. But there is no need to borrow trouble; it may be that your vision is a warning meant to allow people to mend their ways.”

Finrod sighed. “That is a very wise point. I will speak to the Valar, and perhaps Grandfather if I can devise a way to warn him that doesn’t sound like a threat or a provocation.”

“Finrod, there is nothing you could do that would make my father think you’re threatening him, but if you think it wise to keep your vision close I will listen. Do you wish to set out immediately then, and not wait for the feast at the deep fishing boats’ return?”

“Not immediately, I need time to pack clothes and food, and write a letter to Grandpa explaining when and why the ships would be needed if some of what I see comes to pass. After the midday meal should be soon enough, especially if I travel light and fast, with no guards.”

“I was expecting immediately to mean tomorrow morning! And of course you don’t need guards to travel.”

#Finrod #silmarillion #my fic #tehhumi october #telling dreams from one another #finarfin

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Rated G. 1563 words.

Part 3 in Penance for the Unrepentant, my series about Celegorm being sent to Middle Earth to make amends.

#Celegorm #silmarillion #The Silmarillion #my fic #hasty riser #aragorn #legolas #legolas reads the silm #penance for the unrepentant #tehhumi october

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

For the month of October, I am going to a) write every day and b) post some of my writing every day.

#humi talks #I always fail nano because work gets super busy around thanksgiving #so let's try this #terms and conditions may apply #What I post and what I write may not be the same thing #i predict a lot of snippets from old drafts coming your way #not all o it will be here #if i get it on ao3 and orget to blog it counts #if i post on my darkfic/kink blog it counts #this coincides with inktober.drawtober because communal vibes help my motivation but I'm not using those prompts #the tag to track will be #tehhumi october #for lack of a better idea

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Celeborn/Celebrimbor

750 words

Rated T

#celeborn #celebrimbor #silmarillion #The Silmarillion #nonnies made me do it #my fic #tehhumi october

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Didn’t get a lot of writing done today, so have an Avengers fic I never posted from 2016.

Howard Stark was on his way back from a night celebrating Stark Industries’ latest business deal.  He had invited Maria, but she never wants to come to these more causal things, saying Howard deserves “a night out with the boys” every so often.  He decided to forgo the chauffeur and drive himself back tonight – and his blood alcohol content actually cooperated with the idea.  He’d walked from work to the bar, and went to retrieve the Aston Martin from Stark Industries’ secure parking garage.  As Howard passed a dark alley, no different from five others on this street, a bulky figure wielding a hunting knife stepped out.  Howard knew quite well that even in his prime, he wasn’t a skilled fighter, and his prime was over thirty years ago. He carefully raised one hand while reaching into his back pocket with the other.  “Listen, I don’t want any trouble.  I’m getting my wallet out right now; it has over two hundred dollars in cash.  You can take it, and I’ll turn around and go the other way.”

Unlike any mugger with sense, though, the man didn’t accept the wallet, or demand that Howard hand over his watch, or his cufflinks, or his fancy cell phone (the carrying case for that is a bit obvious, miniaturization is definitely going to be the next area for improvement, Howard’s already working on a half-dozen ideas). Instead, the man punched Howard in the head and pulled him into the alley before he could get his bearings.  The beating continued, although the knife wasn’t brought into play yet.  Howard clawed at the attacker, hoping to provide enough of a fight that the man would seek out a different victim.  If nothing else, maybe Howard could make the man bleed, get some DNA evidence.  He managed to catch the edge of the man’s scarf, and pull it away.  Howard started to catalog the man’s features for a police report – brown hair, blue or green eyes, hard to tell which in this light, stubble, about six feet tall – when a flash of familiarity hit him.  “Barnes?  I thought you died decades ago.”

The attacker says “That’s not my name.”

“Oh? What is your name then?”  It’s highly unlikely to work, but sometimes even a practiced agent – which Howard was beginning to suspect this man was, based on the impersonality of the hits that still manage to hit every place that can cause maximum pain combined with the fact that Howard hasn’t been able to get even one hit in – will fall for the obvious simply because they don’t expect it.

The question actually made the attacker pause, one hand cold around Howard’s throat and the other raised in the air.  “I don’t know.  A weapon doesn’t need a name, only people do.”

Okay, Howard was being attacked by a crazy man.  Might as well run with what he had, hopefully someone will come by soon – the bar wasn’t in that bad of a neighborhood.  “Then how do you know you’re not Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th?”

“You said he was dead.  I am not dead.”  A hard punch to Howard’s kidney made the point especially clear.

“No body was ever found.  The fall should have been fatal, but if someone had come by in the next hour or two they could have taken him – you captive.”  Whoever this was, he wasn’t punching Howard as long as Howard was talking, and there’s a lot he can say about Barnes without going near anything classified.  “Maybe you don’t remember the name Barnes but Captain Rogers – Steve – called you Bucky.”

The man actually seemed to recognize this name, and Howard began to wonder if this might actually, miraculously, be Barnes.  “Bucky… Who are you?  How do you know so much about me?”

“My name is Howard Stark.  I was a friend of Steve’s and your friend as well.”

That brought the knife out, appearing at Howard’s throat.  “Prove it. Prove you’re not just tricking me to get me to break orders.”

“I have pictures of you at my house, even some with both of us together.”  The knife didn’t move.  “There’s also a photo in my wallet of Steve.  You recognized your name, you’ll probably recognize Steve.  He’s the blond man.”  

The man who might be Barnes sheathed the knife, but instead picked Howard up by the throat, holding him against the alley wall while he grabbed Howard’s dropped wallet with the other hand.  Credit cards, receipts, and cash were all dumped carelessly to the ground. Howard felt a twinge of guilt past the suffocation as his attacker pushed aside the photographs of Tony and Maria with the toe of his boot.  He stood stock still for a long moment before rounding on Howard.  “This is wrong!  The face is familiar, but the man shouldn’t look like that.”

“He was in terrible shape for most of his life,” Howard gasped.  “You’d probably remember him being about five foot two and ninety pounds.  I and another scientist gave him a serum that made him tall and strong, far more so than an ordinary man.  Come to think of it, you’ve probably got some too, the blood tests we did after you were rescued were a bit odd.”  This seemed to calm the other man, as Howard now had both feet on the ground and could breathe fully, although the man’s left hand still rested on his collarbone.

“Can you show me proof?”  

“Yes, I have photos of Steve before the serum as well.  I can even prove that you’re really Barnes, I have a copy of your fingerprints.”

“Good. Bring me to them.”

“Are you done trying to kill me?”

“Yes. If I go back, they’ll take what I’ve learned away from me, and I need to find out who I was.  The information I was given for this mission was obviously incomplete, and you are the only relevant source of information.”

“Okay then, follow me to my car; my house is bit of a ways from here.” Howard actually found it reassuring to have confirmation that this is the work of an organization, and not just a very crazy solitary mugger.  Hired killers can be bought out, and even a loyal agent can usually be persuaded to see reason.  A legitimately insane man would be far less predictable.

The drive home was the tensest half hour of Howard’s life, as Barnes – the man seemed less and less likely to be anyone else – was apparently carrying a pistol, and spent the entire ride pointing it casually at Howard’s let ear.

Howard turned to Barnes when they reached the mansion.  “I don’t suppose you could put the gun away for a bit?”  Of course, that just got the gun placed right at his temple.

“No. You’ll try to run, they always do.”

“I’m not going to try to run; I don’t need to.  They always run because they don’t want to die, but you aren’t trying to kill me.”  The gun didn’t lower, so Howard thought of something else.  “Look, you could probably kill me in less than five seconds without the gun. I’m not asking you to throw it away, just put in your pocket or wherever you had it before.”

“If you’re not trying to escape, why does the location of the gun matter?”  Barnes seemed honestly curious, apparently unaware that not all social situations are improved by firearms.

“If you have the gun out, my wife, as well as possibly the butler or the doorman, will see you and call the police.  They’ll assume that my life is danger.”

“If I have the gun out, I can shoot them before they can call for help.”

That startled Howard, hearing Barnes talk so forthrightly about shooting random people just for being in the wrong place.  “NO!  If you shoot them, I won’t tell you anything about your past.”

“You will tell me all I need to know, whether or not you want to.”

Howard changed tack again, realizing that an exchange of threats with an amoral assassin – possibly with the serum, based on the alley – was unlikely to succeed, and putting on the sweetness instead.  “I’m not trying to threaten you.  If you’re willing to follow some of my – guidelines, I’ll be much more cooperative, and you’ll find out what you need to know faster.  I’m just trying to warn you that shooting anyone will make the police come, and then you won’t have as much time to look at the pictures of your past.”

Barnes looked at Howard for a long moment.  “In the field, it is necessary to defer to those with more expert knowledge of the situation at hand,” he stated, then tucked the gun somewhere under his coat. Howard breathed out and led Barnes in to the house, trying to convince himself he wasn’t letting his family’s future murderer in the front door.

~~

After two hours, Howard has been able to figure out a few things about the situation.  First, the man before him truly was Barnes, at least according to the finger prints from the right hand.  The other hand is metal, which can be seen to go up past the elbow when Barnes removes his jacket due to being too warm.  Barnes doesn’t know who wanted Howard dead, other than that Barnes believes them to be the same people he usually works for.  However, Barnes��s memory is completely shot – he not only doesn’t remember the war, but also doesn’t remember anything beyond a few months ago, although his sense of time seems odd, with Reagan having been president then.  

“Why don’t you go to bed now?”

“I have not yet recovered the missing information; several of these objects trigger headaches and images but the images are incomplete.”

“I need to go to bed now.  It’s one a.m. and I have an eight a.m. meeting in the morning.”

“Your presence is not necessary for me to gain information.”

“You can take that big trunk with you; it’s mostly pictures and files about things you already witnessed.  But I’d really prefer that you stay in a guest bedroom overnight; you’ll startle the maids if you stay in my study.”

Barnes cocks his head, obviously trying to figure something out, then nods. “I will follow you to my assigned quarters.”  Barnes picks up the trunk – no mean feat, it’s three feet long, two feet wide and two feet deep and full of paper – and watches Howard like an actor waiting for the next cue.  

Howard decides that one the third floor east wing guest rooms will do – Howard, Maria, and Tony have rooms on the north side, and the servants who stay overnight are all on the west wing, this is as far away from innocents who might be in danger as he can put Barnes while keeping the man in the house.  Barnes doesn’t look around, doesn’t ask about food, just sets the box down and resumes paging through it.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom behind the door on the left, feel free to use it if you need to.”

Barnes looks up and meets Howard’s eyes, but gives no other sign if he likes his accommodations.  Howard leaves the room and head towards his bed, but not before stopping at his lab to turn on the surveillance cameras for that wing, and check the footage from outside.  

~~

As Howard slipped into bed, Maria murmured “Hmm, you got in late.”

Howard: “I met an old friend, and he needed a place for the night.  I put him in the east wing; I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.” His voice is still a bit hoarse from being choked around the neck, but luckily Maria seems to accept it as exhaustion.

Maria: “You know the reason had better be good, I hate being unprepared for guests.”

Howard: “Trust me, my dear, it is.  Now why don’t we both get some rest?”

#my fic #tehhumi October #i have 9k of disconnected fragments of this #the problem on reread is that I made Tony stark be the emotionaly competent one #and that just isn't realistic #also I have plot in mind but no actual end and not a full middle #we'll see if I post the rest of it or not #note this was written after CA:TWS but before Civil War #I just thought it would be fun (angsty) if Bucky had been the one to kill Howard #he was told to make it look like a mugging gone wrong

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving with my family today, taking a day off from Tehhumi October

#we're not canadian but my brother pointed out that we may all be in terrible moods at the end of November #depending on current events #humi talks