#its like elrond as an elfling at amon ereb kind of thing but from the perspective of an outsider oc who is not so nice and idk why i wroteit

[mai-sau]

prompt 2 with kidnap dads?

thank u so much for prompting!! i hope u like it!

i am so weak for kidnap fam i love them so much... i picture this taking place like maybe 2-3 years into living together. like, long enough that there’s genuine bonds that have grown between them, but still also relatively close to the kinslaying (also i may or may not have referenced the first russingon prompt i did no need for context though!! just gotta... slide in those beloved interpersonal relationships)

i am also. so sorry, this ended up being, almost 2k words, im so sowwy, i hope u enjoy this uninterrupted bout of kidnap fam self indulgence

Prompt: “Please don’t hide from me.”

As any other night since they had arrived, the halls of Amon Ereb were nestled in shadow and silence. At times, Maglor preferred the sorely needed serenity. And at others - like tonight - he found himself staring at his own dull ceiling, echoes and whispers suffocating his very mind as the muggy summer heat did the same to his lungs. What might have been, what already was, what frightfully will be... Silence was, unfortunately, a gifted listener.

Mostly, it was fine: he would just make it through until morning, and the lingering exhaustion would put him to sleep the next night. It was fine.

A shriek pierced the air.

Maglor could not help it - every muscle in his body tensed. Memories buffeted him like a frozen hail, every vein turning to ice; dozens of shrieks, screams, cries joined the echoes in miserable cacophony. This only lasted a moment; a lifetime of battle (murder) sprung him into action quickly enough.

Kicking off the sheets sticking to his legs, Maglor raced towards the door. He threw on his boots, grabbed his sword, and was dashing through the hall in the blink of an eye. As he careened full tilt through the halls - where did it come from, who was hurt, who was bleeding, who was dying - he heard Maedhros’ door slam open as well. Maglor did not need to check to see if he followed;  an instinct forged through years of battle together, he could feel his brother’s presence at his side, knew the nimble footfalls that trailed his.

Another cry sounded from the dark - this one sounding more like a wail, than anything else. Maglor froze. “That sounded like-” he gasped.

“-the twins’ room.” Maedhros confirmed, eyes grim. If anything, Maglor could see him grip his blade tighter. He felt too sick to think on it.

Without another word, they took off. They reached the twins’ door, and with a single glance between them, threw it open. Each held their blade at the ready.

The room was dark, like the rest of the fortress. From what moonlight streamed through the window, Maglor could make out a tiny figure huddled up on one of the beds. The other was empty. As he slowly came closer, he could make out the wide-eyed face of Elrond.

Lowering - but not putting away - his sword, Maglor eased into the gentlest voice he could despite the panic pumping through his veins. “Elrond,” he beckoned. “Sweetheart, where’s Elros? Are you two alright?”

Elrond merely sniffled and rubbed a little fist through his weeping face.

Maglor felt Maedhros pass him. His brother kneeled down in front of Elrond, and lowered his sword to the floor. Maglor knew him well enough to sense that he should not do the same.

“Elrond,” Maedhros said. “You are not in trouble. We’re just worried about you and your brother, and want to make sure you’re safe. Is that alright?”

Shakily, Elrond nodded.

“Okay,” Maedhros continued. “Are you hurt?”

Elrond shook his head. His body was still trembling all over.

“That’s good,” Maedhros said. “Is Elros hurt?”

Elrond burst into a fresh wave of sobs.

Maedhros shot Maglor a panicked glance. Maglor walked up and took his brother’s place by the bed, Maedhros seamlessly rising to his feet to switch out. At this distance, Maglor could see Elrond’s face clearly in the moonlight: ruddy and wet with tears. Maglor’s chest clenched. Elrond raised fearful eyes to meet Maglor’s and - oh. He could hardly bear it. He longed to run away from the bed, away from the proof of their failures, away from the echoes building to a crescendo in his skull. His heart felt sick.

But - no. No.

He cannot run. He must face this, he must face them. And they are more than echoes. They are the two wonderful boys who came into his life, two of the last lights left in it. By Eru, he would see them cherished and cared for, though he did not deserve that privilege with all the wrongs he’s done.

My wrongs do not matter, Maglor chastised himself. Only their wounds.

“Sweetheart,” Maglor murmured. “If Elros is hurt, we want to take care of him. We’ll heal him, whatever may be the problem. I…” He trailed off, before meeting Elrond’s tear-stricken eyes. “I promise.”

Elrond regarded him for a moment. Gradually, his tremors calmed, and he reached a small hand out to grasp Maglor’s, resting on the bedside. “He’s in the dresser.”

Maglor blinked. “The dresser?”

Elrond nodded. “He woke up screaming.”

It was Maedhros, not Maglor, who spoke first. “I see,” Maedhros said. “Thank you for telling us, Elrond.”

Maglor watched his brother walk over to the dresser, and now listening closely he could hear the barest of muffled whimpers come from its direction. He stayed by the bed and squeezed Elrond’s hand.

Maedhros knelt down in front of the dresser. He put down his sword, both brothers’ blades now on the stone floor. “Elros,” he called softly to the wooden doors. “Elros, you are in Amon Ereb. You are safe. You are loved.” He swallowed thickly before continuing in the same steady tone. “You may come out whenever you wish, though I will stay right here if you need me.”

“Is it alright if I talk with you? I’ll stay out here.” Maedhros asked gently.

“...okay,” the dresser answered.

“You know,” Maedhros started. “I used to wake up in the middle of the night all the time too. I still do, sometimes. My dreams scared me so much, and even when I was awake and knew it was all a dream, I was still very upset.” He closed his eyes, breathed once, twice, and continued. “I had someone who helped me calm down, though. For me, even if it didn’t make everything alright again, the help made me feel a lot better.”

“It… it did?” the dresser asked.

“Yes, it did.” Maedhros assured. “I can’t promise it’ll be the same, but if you would like, I can try my best to help.”

There was a beat of silence, before the dresser answered in a small voice, “Okay.”

“Would you like to open the door? It’s okay if you would rather it stay closed.”

The dresser creaked open and a tiny halfelven face, streaked with tears, peeked out the crack. “Only this much,” Elros said, voice uncertain as if he wasn’t sure whether his warning would be heeded. His little fingers shook around their grip on the door.

“Only that much,” Maedhros assented.

“Okay. Good.” Elros muttered. His hand retreated into the dresser.

“Would you like to talk about your dream at all? If you don’t want to, we can talk about something else.”

There was a long pause. Maedhros patiently waited on the floor, while Maglor marveled at his brother’s demeanor. It was like - it was like when Maedhros comforted Tyelko over a scraped knee, or Curufin over a burned finger, but slightly different. Sadder, and yet somehow kinder.

“You’ll get mad,” Elros finally whimpered.

“I won’t judge you, Elros,” Maedhros said. “I won’t be mad at you.”

There was another long pause, long enough that Maglor expected Maedhros to switch angles any moment now, until -

“It was about our home. Ada and Nana’s. There was lots of screaming. A lot of people on the floor. And we were hiding, but they found us, and there was a - a sword at my neck, and Elrond’s too, and Nana jumped, and the sword it - my neck -” Elros broke off, gasping out the words. “Sorry, I don’t - I know you’re good, so why am I so scared?”

Maglor couldn’t help it: even comforting Elrond, who had gone quiet by now, he sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. Maedhros, too, looked similarly stunned. Eventually, though, his posture relaxed again, though his eyes shone with tears. Raising his left hand, he steadily wiped them away.

“You have every right to feel that way, Elros,” Maedhros told him, voice no less kind. “And it’s perfectly normal. We did an - an unspeakable thing that day, and hurt you two in the process. Though I am -” Maedhros paused, grasping for the right words, “- endeared, that you think well of us, we also did awful things, and that is a part of us too.”

“Though Maglor and I would never want to hurt you, and we will do everything in our power to keep you both safe and happy, you’re allowed to not like us too.” Maedhros rubbed at his stump, absentmindedly smoothing over the sleeve. “It’s okay to be scared.”

“But I don’t,” Elros said softly. “I don’t not like you.” He fell silent for a moment. “I love you,” he confessed, voice barely a whisper. “It’s just that I have these dreams, and I get scared. And sometimes I’m mad.”

“That’s okay too,” Maedhros assured him. “If you ever want to talk to us, we will be right here. And if you - either of you - ever want me and Maglor to go, if you would feel more comfortable if we gave you space, you are more than allowed to ask. We would love you all the same. Even if you need the space because you are angry with us, or upset, that’s okay. We would rather you get what you need instead of trying to hide it.” Maedhros pleaded. “Please don’t hide from us.”

A heavy silence sat in the air. “Would you like us to go, dear?” Maglor asked, finally finding his voice.

The door shot open. A tiny, sniffling elfling jumped out. Elros wrapped his arms firmly around Maedhros, and squeezed as tight as he could. “Please stay,” he begged, voice muffled by Maedhros’ nightshirt.

Maedhros’ eyes softened as he wrapped his arms around Elros. Gently, he smoothed over Elros’ sweat-matted hair with his left hand. “Of course,” he said. “If that is what you want.”

Face still pressed into the nightshirt, Elros nodded.

Maglor turned back to Elrond. “What about you, darling? Anything you want.”

Elrond released his hand. And promptly tackled him with a hug as well. “Can you stay?” He asked. “Can you stay with us for tonight? Even though… I think I might ask to be alone sometimes,” He added.

“That’s perfectly alright, dear,” Maglor said, picking up and placing him on his hip as he rose. “Maedhros, are there any spare blankets?”

“Yes,” Maedhros huffed with a small grin. “If the Dresser Guardian shall let me pass, that is,” he teased. Elros giggled, standing aside. He still held on to Maedhros’ hand.

Maedhros fished out the blankets and laid them on the floor. Soon enough, he and Maglor were nestled in their makeshift beddings alongside the beds, which the twins were tucked into with a murmured “I love you,” and kiss pressed to each of their heads.

Maglor laid on top of his blankets, surrounded once again by nothing but the warm summer air. As he gazed at the moonlight spilling across the ceiling, his eyelids grew heavy, before closing.

All was silent.

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

instead of working more on my popular fic (which i have been working on just one scene has ended up twice as long as expected and I’m trying to decide if the angst is excessive and heavy handed in the chapter) 

I wrote like 2k of niche silmarillion fic that no one asked for and I’m almost done with I just gotta go back through and check spelling of elvish words and decide what balance of using edain, secondborn, mortals, and men is right