#(hence mention about angrod during nargothrond breakfast and mention of finduilas during the wedding preparations)

[that-angry-noldo]

The Gilded Cage,

the world of dreams

Orodreth dies. Orodreth dies, but his spirit is caught and locked, added to the dragon's hoard. The reality mends and twists, creating a new life for the dead king.

CWs: unreality, implied character death

[This is my @officialtolkiensecretsanta gift for @elyksina! Merry Christmas and happy New Year!]

You are tired. 

You are lying on the ground, staring into the thick grey mist through the half closed eyes. 

Eru, you are tired. 

~

Orodreth woke up. His chambers were still dark. 

He could feel Finrod awake several rooms away - he was certain the man hadn't even slept. Orodreth sighed. 

He supposed it was his call to get up. 

~

"Did you sleep good?" Finrod said, trying to break the deafening silence of the breakfast. Orodreth looked up.

"You weren't even sleeping, Uncle."

"Oh," Finrod looked aside, reaching for the butter. He stopped midway through, looked away, stilled. Pulled back. "Oh. Yeah, right, I wasn't sleeping. I still want you to sleep well, kid." 

Orodreth sighed. "I'm not a kid a few hundred years already, Uncle. There was that paperwork I needed to work through, right?" 

~

"Gwindor!" 

Finduilas giggled, pushing away the dark-haired ellon, and hurried to Orodreth. 

Orodreth smiled at the elf-lord. 

Gwindor's face remained stone-cold. Gwindor grinned back. 

~

It is over. It is over. 

You lost. 

Dust settles in your lungs, and you cough.  

It's alright. You will be dead within hours anyway.

~

"Did you sleep well, Artaresto?" Finrod grinned, addressing him during a lively breakfast. Orodreth saluted him with his coffee.

"Better than ever, Uncle," he smirked, ignoring the ever present feeling of dread, doom dangling on a thin hair above his head, and passed the jam to Celebril. 

"Oh," Finrod grinned. "I'm sure your father would love to hear that!" 

"My-" 

~

Dirty hands grab you, and you gasp for air - no, you'll be dead, you'll be dead, you'll be-

You miscalculated, little gold, didn't you? 

~

"Better than ever, Uncle," he smirked and passed the jam to Finduilas. "It's a shame father… isn't here with us. He'd be glad knowing we're doing alright." 

Finrod's face softened. "Yeah," he smiled. "I think he would." 

~

It's funny. It's funny! You thought you'd escape - you thought something as inconvenient as death would save you. 

Poor, poor little gold. 

It's alright. I'll keep you safe. 

I'll keep you in check. 

~

"No," Orodreth sighed, rubbing his temples. "Please, this decoration goes here. Yeah, like that. A bit to the left. Perfect, thank you." 

"This looks spectacular," Finrod said, coming from behind. "You truly outdid yourself, nephew." 

"Thanks," Orodreth smiled softly. "I want the wedding to be nothing but ideal, Uncle. Thank you for your help."

"I understand," Finrod took a sip of wine from his glass. "And it's nothing, I was bored out of my mind anyway. Can I ask you a question, though?" 

"Sure," Orodreth shrugged, not taking his eyes off the decoration. 

"Why have you chosen gold?" 

"Wha- Uncle- these are clearly white." 

"Are they?" Finrod whispered, and Orodreth turned to him. 

"Were you sleeping well, Artaresto?" the dead king asked, looking at him with empty eyes, and Orodreth-

~

"I understand," Finrod took a sip of wine from his glass. "And it's nothing, I was bored out of my mind anyway. Can I ask you a question, though?" 

Orodreth inhaled. "No, I- I don't think I'm in the mood for questions, Uncle." 

"Oh! Oh, that's alright," Finrod said, surprised. "No, it's fine. Do you need some wine?" 

"No, I don't," Orodreth whispered. "I have to go now. Thanks for help." 

"Finduilas said hi," Finrod threw to his back. Orodreth hurried out of the room. 

The decorations were golden. The hallway was endless. 

It was fine, 

~

it is fine, it is fine, it is fine it is it is, little gold. You're fine. You're alright. 

You're so amusing, by the way. 

~

They were in the middle of a sunflower field.

"Hi," Angrod said, and Orodreth's breath hitched. He fell into his father's arms. 

"Dad," he sobbed, and his shoulders shook. Tears ran down his cheeks and fell on Angrod's soft robe. "Dad, dad-" 

"Hey, it's alright," Angrod whispered, rocking him back and forth. "It's alright. You're safe. You're safe now." 

"Dad, dad, dead, dead-" 

"Shhh," his father whispered, kissing his forehead. "It's alright. Stay with me." 

~

Stay with him, huh? It would be a fun scenario to watch now, wouldn't it?  

… I'll let it play out. I've got a whole eternity here with you anyway. 

~

He was lying in the field. The skies were purple. 

"It's peaceful, isn't it?" 

"How are you here?" Orodreth scoffed. 

Finrod shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not real." 

"You- you are." 

"Huh. That's new, little gold." 

"Don't call me that." 

"As if I have a choice," Finrod said. "Were you sleeping well?" 

The sky was pink. The sun was setting. 

The sunflower field was endless. 

~

"Finrod's been all weird lately," Orodreth proclaimed, walking in the room. Angrod was pouring tea in his cup. 

"That's Uncle Finrod for you, Artaresto," he scolded, but smiled soon enough. "In what way was he weird?" 

"We were talking," Orodreth said, sitting in a chair. "He called me-" 

~

"He called me-" 

~

"He-" 

~

Come on, Artaresto. You can do it. 

~

"Artaresto?" 

"Artaresto, are you alright?" 

~

Are you sleeping well, little gold? 

~

Come on, Orodreth. Wake up. Please, I can't be with you any longer-

~

"You're- you're-" 

"Hey, hey, everything's fine, alright? I'm here, you're here-" 

"Dad-" 

"It's alright, I'll make you some tea. You love- you love mint, don't you? Yep, mint and honey, mint and-" 

The tea tastes like nothing, Orodreth thought absently. The tea tastes like nothing. I'm surrounded by flowers, and yet they have no smell. It's evening, but I feel no cold. 

"Dad."

"Or do you want some warm milk? I can do that, I can do that too-" 

"Atya!"

Angrod stilled and turned to his son. 

His eyes were too blue and his movements were too stiff. 

"I have not been sleeping well," Orodreth whispered. "I-" 

"Ever since Bragollach," he choked. "Ever since you- ever since you and Uncle and Celebril-" 

"Oh," Angrod whispered, and the next second his arms were around Orodreth, hugging him tightly. "Oh, Artaresto."

"You're dead," Orodreth whispered. "You're dead. Uncles are dead. Finduilas- Finduilas is dead." 

"I am dead, too."

Angrod didn't move. 

Orodreth inhaled and laid his father on the ground. Angrod's hands were cold and unmoving. 

"I don't want to sleep forever," Orodreth whispered. "I don't want to sleep forever, but there is no escape." 

~

Your new world is beautiful, in the same way a gilded cage may look perfect to its owner. 

Sometimes, you are in a field, surrounded by beautiful flowers that never had a smell. Sometimes, the sky is painted in unreal colours. Sometimes, the sun is almost warm, almost alive. 

Sometimes, you're in the middle of empty cities, with chimeras staring at you from sharp roofs, with architecture twisted in the most beautiful, in the most distorted way. 

You're always alone. Your world is always empty, safe for the golden eyes of your beast warden. 

There are no sounds. 

There are no tastes. 

There are no smells.

You start forgetting. You're too tired to keep fighting. 

Until, 

~

The world cracked, and Orodreth thought he was dying for the second time. 

He was dying, because the world screeched and roared and twisted and Orodreth heard, Orodreth heard for the first time- for the first time in eternity, and he screamed and fell and it was pain and it was agony and

and Turin stood with black sword in his hands, blood hissing on its blade,

and Orodreth screamed and ran to him, 

but he fell, 

and he was falling and falling and falling and falling and then

Orodreth died. 

His father cried and reached to him with bodiless arms. 

~

"I'm sorry," Finrod said for the hundredth time. "I'm so sorry I couldn't do more." 

"It's alright," Orodreth whispered. 

The sea was dark and grey. A seagull cried in the distance, and wind brushed his cheek, and it smelled of salt and algae. 

It was cold, and the rock underneath him was rough, but it was so unmistakingly, so goddamn alive.

Orodreth wanted to cry. 

"It's alright. After all, I'm not asleep anymore."