Chapter Text
Eleven days later, Nerdanel knocked on the door frame of the room shared by Thranduil and Felagund. They were lounging on top of a quilt that covered the whole of the bedding on the made bed. Felagund was on his back playing with an old puzzle toy which had been found during another excursion in the underground while Thranduil paged through one of the journals Nerdanel provided him with earlier in the week. He had been presented with an entire stack of them, and they were peppered with drawings, colored with shimmering inks, some which sparkled or glowed. They were Feanor’s own journals, tucked away with all of his notes on gemstones, rock formations, jewels, and compounds. Some detailed experiments, and others were just collections of information. Now and then in the margins, Thranduil would find tidbits of happiness among lists of properties. Today, he had read notations on Caranthir’s first steps, and later about a woodchuck Celegorm had befriended, and a few lines where it seemed Maglor was looking for rhymes for a song. Very little was in this volume about Maedhros; during breakfast, before Felagund awoke, Nerdanel had explained why.
“Maedhros was more distant than my other sons.” Nerdanel stirred her coffee. “Feanor loved all of them, and equally I think. I would be named a horrible mother to admit it, but I was most fond of Ambarussa. I know Feanor loved them; Feanor did not understand them. He could not comprehend that they already shared a soul. He could not think of them as unwed; he tried everything to that end. He could not understand why they did not want their own rooms, why there was only one bed, and yet, it was complete innocence. They were like two kittens from the same litter. They shoved, they hugged, they yelled, they laughed. They were inseparable.” She sighed. “Almost.”
“You never refer to either individually,” remarked Thranduil.
“They never were,” said Nerdanel. “I knew it while they were in the womb. They were each other’s other half. Best friend and companion. Feanor never quite got that.” She shrugged. “Maybe he has learned.”
“Why do you think Maedhros was distant?”
Nerdanel lifted her mug. “I know he was. He could sit on a bench and watch bees collecting pollen or clouds changing shape or a snail crawl along a branch. He could contemplate the entire universe, or focus upon a single star. He took time to consider things. My husband was quick to think, quick to anger–often impatient. Our sons were the same, save for Maedhros. Oh, but do not think I mean he took long to understand. Maedhros was a fast learner, it was that he did not rush. He liked to enjoy the learning and the synthesis of knowledge. He was brilliant. He loved puzzles and riddles.” Nerdanel held the mug, then took a sip.
“You are hesitating.” Thranduil buttered his toast and then applied jam, careful not to get too close to the edges. “You keep stalling, but there is something you want to say.”
“Has Felagund spoken to you much about Maedhros?” asked Nerdanel.
“No more than anyone else he has spoken to me about.”
“Perhaps I should not tell you, then.”
“But you will,” predicted Thranduil.
Nerdanel scrutinized Thranduil over her coffee. “I am not sure what I hate more. That you are right so often, or that you remind me of my husband.”
“Only the good parts, right?”
Nerdanel chuckled low and drank her coffee.
“What now about Maedhros and Felagund were you not going to tell me but really you are?”
The mug was set aside and Nerdanel folded her hands on the table. “Felagund was smitten by Maedhros. Of course, there was an age difference, and I think that was why Felagund hesitated. He was also quite shy, and...I love my nephew dearly, but he was a strange child. At an age when most of the boys his age were trying different crafts, hunting, riding, even starting to go with little groups to the pub–he was singularly obsessed with snakes and lizards and the sort. Anyhow, he would come around for strange reasons, but no one paid mind to it. I just set another place at the table, and Feanor liked him for not being one of Fingolfin’s children and for always being so wide-eyed at every gem Feanor brought out or every piece of literature he rewrote in tengwar.”
“How did you know it was about Maedhros? Felagund does like shiny objects and big words. He might have been truly interested in your husband’s work.”
“Mothers know. But it was not meant to be, even though they would have enjoyed each other’s company and had a great many things to think about and discuss, for another caught Maedhros’ eye. And he was quick with wit and thought, and was bold and brave, and he knew what he wanted and took the initiative. Felagund watched it all happen, and then slowly he came to dinner less and less until he stopped altogether. He did continue to spend time with Curufin and Celegorm–I believe it may have come from wanting to be close to Maehdros, but not too close.”
“The more I learn about Felagund, the less I know.”
“Know this: He is happy with you. He is happy in a way I have never seen him happy.”
Back in the present, Thranduil marked his page with a feather and set the journal aside. “Are you on your way?”
“I am,” confirmed Nerdanel. “I came to say farewell, and to–”
“I have them here.” Thranduil crossed the room and picked up a stack of letters bound with twine.
As he carried them to Nerdanel, Felagund sat up and set the puzzle aside. “Those are a lot of letters.”
“I have been writing to Legolas every few days,” said Thranduil.
“But they are not all for him,” Felagund said.
Thranduil shook his head as he handed them to Nerdanel. “There were many people I wished to write to. I told you about some of them.”
“I thought perhaps you changed your mind.”
Nerdanel stuffed the letters into her satchel. “Do you have any correspondence I can deliver for you, Felagund?”
Felagund shook his head. A second later, he said, “I should write to Artanis?”
“If you wish,” said Nerdanel.
“It would be expected?”
“Perhaps,” said Nerdanel. “You need only do what you wish to do.”
“But should I?”
“Three of my letters are to her,” said Thranduil.
“Oh, then...maybe I…” Felagund narrowed his eyes. “What did you write to her?”
“Explanations in exacting detail on how I am fucking her brother.”
“Thranduil,” groaned Nerdanel as she tugged off the twine and began to search the now loose letters in her satchel as the color washed out of Felagund’s face.
“Two of them were mostly warning her to keep an eye on her husband if he uses my ship, and the other was some pleasantries, and additional warnings on what would happen if Celeborn wrecks my ship.”
Nerdanel sighed and stopped digging through the envelope soup.
Felagund sighed.
“Because your sister is gifted the way you are, and I assume, she already knows about us,” said Thranduil.
“Oh, fuck,” realized Felagund.
“Not necessarily,” said Nerdanel. “Artanis does not have the same skills as Felagund. She learned from Melian; she was not born with the ability. She needs to have some sort of focus, and unless she was actively trying to see...well, now that I think about it, if you are not there, then there is a good chance–”
“Double fuck.”
“Oh, we can try that,” said Thranduil. “Never realized you were into–”
“La la la la la!” Nerdanel covered her ears and sang loudly until Thranduil closed his mouth and stared up at the ceiling. “Felagund, do you want to write to Artanis?”
“No? Not really.” Felagund frowned. “Maybe I should.”
Thranduil returned to the desk. He placed a sheet of paper, ink, and a quill in the appropriate places and pulled out the chair. “All ready for you.”
Felagund sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I am not sure what to tell her.” He walked to the desk and sat down. “Maybe I should back date it, so that she does not think I rushed through it.”
Thranduil retrieved a footstool and brought it to the desk so that he could sit nearby. “Do you want her to know about us? Or, gain confirmation, I suppose might be a better wording. Or did you want to wait until you can see her in person?”
A shrug. Felagund had his left arm raised, his fingernails scratching behind his ear, picking at the back of his scalp. “Do you want me to tell her?”
“I want you to tell her what you are comfortable telling her, if that is anything at all.” Thranduil reached between his legs to tug the footstool closer while still upon it. He placed a hand on Felagund’s knee. “You could just tell her about the weather or the key adventure. Maybe leave out most of the details of the key adventure.”
Felagund was now scratching behind the other ear. Tiny flecks of skin drifted down onto the sleeve of his shirt. “She might think I was covering something up if I tell her about the weather. The weather here is not exactly exciting or unpredictable.”
Thranduil watched Felagund continue to pick and scratch until he gently took hold of his wrist. He brought Felagund’s hand down and kissed the back of it. Then he turned his hand and rubbed his thumb over Felagund’s palm before he lifted it up and squinted as he peered at the traces of blood under Felagund’s nails. He kissed the back of Felagund’s hand again, and then said, “Her letter can wait. We can prepare it for Nerdanel’s next visit, and if Artanis asks, Nerdanel can just–Nerdanel if she asks, do you mind saying you thought there was a letter and I must have forgotten to give it to you to bring along?”
“I can do that,” said Nerdanel. She walked over and stooped so that she could give Felagund a hug. “Oh, honey,” she said, and rubbed along his arm as she tightened her embrace. “I wish I could take the two of you with me and take you somewhere nicer and warmer and safer.”
“That sounds nice. Safe travels. Thank you for being our courier.”
“Anytime.” Nerdanel kissed the top of Felagund’s head and then stood up. Thranduil was getting to his feet as well. He began to extend his hand, but Nerdanel motioned for him to come a little closer, and Thranduil chuckled as he was also hugged. “You take care of him, alright?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Alright, then. Off I go, until I come again.” Nerdanel gave Felagund another hug, and a kiss on the cheek, and another on his forehead, and then she left the room. A few moments later, the sound of the main door opening and then closing could be heard.
Thranduil rested his hands on Felagund’s shoulders. Felagund reached over and placed his right hand over Thranduil’s left as he continued to stare at the paper. “Any mention of your sister causes you great distress.”
“I have lived my entire second life under the impression I would someday sit on the throne. Our whole system has been based on kings, not queens. And now, after all the time and effort and work I put into everything, into negotiations, into rebuilding the relationship between the Noldor and the Teleri, into every damned celebration and event, even when I was so tired, even when I was no longer enjoying myself, even when I just wanted to go home and cry because nothing I did quite met his expectations, I kept pushing myself. I kept giving more of myself. I never asked what I wanted, because I was told this was what I wanted. And for what? For her to become king. Queen,” he corrected himself in a quieter voice than his had elevated to as he spoke.
Thranduil gave Felagund’s shoulders a squeeze. “You are tense,” said Thranduil, “and I do not think it is simply due to your sister. I think…” Thranduil tried to soften his sigh by letting it out slowly. He turned his head and looked out the window. After he swallowed he said, “You said something to me once, not terribly long ago. I keep thinking about it, when you bring up your sister and the line of succession. I am not saying this to try to get you to reveal something you do not want to discuss, but I am...am not stupid.”
“I know that.”
“What I mean is, I know you quite intimately now, and with that connection comes...thoughts and feelings. So I do not say these things without consideration. You affirmed to me, in the midst of a conversation, that you know who you are. You said who you are, and then you said what you are. That language contradicts. You tried to convince me, then you made a statement to distance yourself. To make it a ‘what’, not a ‘who’. Before that, though, you told me you did not want me to think you were confused. It was a passive statement. Someone who is not confused would say, I am not confused about who I am, or some such other thing. You were not committing to that.”
Felagund moved his hand back down to join his other hand in his lap. He was looking at the blank sheet of paper on the desk.
“I know you remember this. You probably went over the words in your head many times later. And then you made another statement. You told me ‘I am a man’.” Thranduil licked his lips and looked down at Felagund from above. He could see Felagund’s chin trembling. “My dear, there is a difference between being something, and wanting to be something, and being told you are something by others and making yourself believe that. I can say that I am a man, and I want to be a man, and I am very happy to be a man. I do not think you can do the same.”
Felagund squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. Small, hiccupy sobs shook his shoulders.
“I want you to know, I love you no matter what. No matter what you tell me, or choose not to tell me–or maybe you do not even know yourself. I will still love you. I will always love you.” Thranduil used both hands to rub Felagund’s upper arms. “I think, once upon a time, there was a child. And this child was told to feel and act a certain way, but that did not always feel right. And this child was sold a story of a kingdom and duties, and some shit about Laws and Customs, and grew up and...tried to bury all of those other feelings. And it worked, for a little while. And then, tragedy, rebirth, a new life–and promises of a future kingdom. But there was a catch; the kingdom needed a king, or so it was said, and once again those thoughts were buried. And now, the dream was a lie, and it was never your dream, and you are left with regrets and fear. I just need you to know, I am here. No matter what. I am here. And I love you.”
Felagund covered his face with his hand. “You were not supposed to know.”
“Sweetheart, when we were in the lower level in that ‘love nest’ room, you said to me ‘A girl could get used to this’. I had suspicions before that point. You...mostly confirmed what I had been thinking. But, you know what?” asked Thranduil as he crouched and wrapped his arms around both Felagund and the chair, his chin gently upon Felagund’s shoulder.
“What?” came the warbled reply.
“I love you,” whispered Thranduil into Felagund’s ear. “I love you so much, darling. You could tell me you identify as...a blobfish and I would still love you. It might take a little extra explaining to my son, but I would still love you.”
“I think you made that up.”
“That I love you?”
“No. Blobfish.” Felagund sniffled and used his wrist to rub his face. “Sounds made up, like a Girabbit.”
“I assure you, both blobfishes and girabbits are very real. Blobfish are what happens when a Dwarf and a mackerel have a love child.”
“Now I know you are making this up.”
“Absolutely not. I will draw one for you later.” Thranduil kissed Felagund’s cheek. “I love you. Boy. Girl. Blobfish. Does not matter.”
Felagund sniffled again and rubbed his nose. “What if I decided to identify as a Dwarf?”
Thranduil cringed just a bit. “Still going to love you. Questioning your life choices, but loving you anyhow.”
“Good to know.” Felagund turned his head and stretched his neck to give Thranduil a proper kiss. “You know, when I first met you, I thought you were an asshole.”
Thranduil waited for additional comment, and then nodded. “Accurate. I am an asshole.”
“No. You are wonderful,” corrected Felagund.
“Oh, shit. Do not tell my fans. My reputation will be ruined.”
“I love you, Thranduil.”
“And I love you…” Thranduil paused. “Should I still call you Felagund?”
“What else would–oh. Well, yes. Felagund, please and thank you.”
Thranduil nodded. “Should I...is it still he, or–”
“Nothing changes,” said Felagund. “At least–nothing changes right now. I appreciate what you are offering, but…” Felagund repositioned himself in the chair to see Thranduil better and so that he could take hold of his hand. “You opened a door that I closed a long time ago.” Felagund thought for a moment. “Close, and locked, and boarded up. And had a wall built around it.” He squeezed Thranduil’s hand. “It might take a while for me to walk through it, if at all. But, thank you for...kicking it down, I guess. You lose keys, so…”
“Kicked it down like the asshole I am,” said Thranduil.
“You are not an asshole,” said Felagund.
“Mmm...I bet your father thinks I am an asshole.”
“No, my father said you were a jackass.”
“Huh.” Thranduil pondered. “That may or may not be better or worse.” He lifted Felagund’s hand to kiss the back of it again. “May I escort you to the bed for cuddling and potential intimacies?”
“Cuddling would be preferred. I am greatly feeling the need to be held.”
“As you wish.” Thranduil lifted Felagund from the chair and carried him to the bed. He righted him and lowered him slowly so that he could get his footing beside the bed, which was turned down before Thranduil began the task of undressing Felagund, and in return, Felagund slowly removed Thranduil’s garments. They paused several times to nuzzle and embrace.
During one of these moments, Thranduil kissed Felagund’s ear and whispered something to him. Felagund smiled. “You like that?” asked Thranduil.
“You can call me that,” said Felagund. “Just here, between us.”
“I am glad you like it.”
“I am glad you speak Quenya so well.”
“Shhhhhhh...lies, all lies, I would never.” Thranduil tossed the last piece of clothing onto the floor. “Into bed so we may commence with the snuggling.”