4. My Greatest Fear (soft R)
A ficlet in which Fingon visits Maedhros at Himring Hill and they confess their greatest fears to one another. (Fingon/Maedhros, slash.)
The prompt: Write a story where the characters have to confront their greatest fears.
The castle on Himring Hill remained cool even in fair weather. But in full winter, the chill could reach bone deep. It heartened Fingon to notice that the suite of rooms Maedhros had chosen as his personal quarters were not overly large. With their low-fashioned ceilings they could be comfortably heated by the two large, open fireplaces. The grey stones were all but hidden by heavy wall-coverings in opulent shades of rust, green, and crimson. Maedhros’s own battle standard hung over the mantelpiece: blood red, with a proudly-centered, glittering golden star of Fëanor.
Maedhros leaned against the mantlepiece looking into the flames, before suddenly swiveling to face Fingon. His cheeks had flushed from the heat. The candlelight reflecting in his pale grey eyes and sensuality of his mouth moved Fingon to sigh in satisfaction. ‘Still incredibly beautiful,’ he thought, ‘and still wants me.’ They had been separated far too long. Maedhros held out his hand to Fingon, who crossed the room hastily to take it and raise it to his lips.
“I’m sorry I did not come sooner.” He turned Maedhros’s hand over and kissed the palm, before placing it against his cheek. “But you could visit us more often also. From what I observed today, things appear well-ordered here. Surely there is someone who can manage in your absence.” Fingon searched Maedhros’s face for any sign of despondency. Aside from a slight pallor--it was winter in Himring after all--he appeared well.
A knowing smile pulled at Maedhros’s lips. “I know what you are looking for in me. There is nothing grim to find. No moping. Only that I tend to get lost in the daily tedium of keeping things running here. It should be much easier now. The construction is finished. Our defenses are in place. In the spring, I promise, I will come to you.”
“That would work perfectly. Since I intend to stay here until spring, you can ride back with me.” He got the laugh he was aiming at with that remark. “I’m sorry, Maitimo. I realize it really irritates you, but you know my greatest fear,” he said, amused belatedly at the level of protectiveness he heard in his own voice.
“Oh, that I do. Every time you come here, you half expect to find me wallowing in melancholy, if not barking mad. How do I look this time?”
“Every bit as pulchritudinous and majestic as the powerful Lord of Himring Hill is widely reputed to be. And I like what you have done with your rooms here as well. Very warm and cozy. A great improvement over the last time I saw them.” Fingon wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him until Maedhros let out an unlordly squeak. “So, what’s your biggest fear?” Fingon asked.
“That you would stop caring, of course.” Maedhros’s voice rang falsely light, before he kissed him. Fingon’s memory had not betrayed him; the kiss was as hot and sweet as ever.
When Maedhros finally released his mouth, Fingon whispered, raw in his urgency, “I’ll repeat it has many times as I need to until maybe you finally hear me. That is bloody well never going to happen. I will always, always love you.”
“I love you so, Findekáno. You are everything to me,” Maedhros said, stroking Fingon’s cheek, his eyes finally completely soft. “Would you rather eat here tonight? I can request food to be brought up from the kitchen. Since, we ate in the main hall at midday, we are owed a little time to ourselves. Everyone knows that I’ve ordered a welcoming feast prepared for tomorrow night.”
“You know what I want,” Fingon said pulling Maedhros toward the bed.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.