Выкладываю этот фанфик для Третьего.

13.10.2007 в 09:35

"А хотя бы я и жадничаю - зато от чистого сердца!" (с)

The Ties That Bind
By Klose

Disclaimer: I bow down to the great master that is J.R.R Tolkien. I play only with his wonderful creations.

Author's Note: The rating has been switched to 'R', just to be safe. Don't ask about the chapter title. :P
I suppose I should have made it clear that this story is the prelude to another story, which was the one I had originally planned to write. Except I need this story to establish some stuff.

Regarding shipping, I admit that I really have no clue. So I'll just stay safe and maintain that the main characters are Fingolfin and Maedhros.

This chapter would be a whole 2500 words less if it weren't for the help of Staggering Wood-elf. She has my heartfelt thanks for the excellent beta. And also thank you to all my LiveJournal friends for the general encouragement about this.

(I'm still going to be shameless by begging for feedback, though.

)

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Chapter Two: Inertia
I was doomed from the start. Even as I spent my time with my nephew, I hated myself for what I was feeling. So I began to suppress my emotions. But how can I stray away from the truth that my heart speaks? To me, it was right. Though, he was but a child… but children are beautiful…
Who is to say what is right in this world where the only colours are shades of grey?

I had always found it difficult to express myself with words. Words were not my art, but Fлanбro, Fлanбro could take them, and manipulate them to his own purposes. I could not. Even explaining my feelings to myself was difficult. But for me, there came one day the perfect analogy.

I was with my brother- who was not much older than our nephew- and we were walking through the gardens of our home, the King's House, when we came across a bed of grass where a lone flower grew, midst moss covered stones and dew-dropped blades of green. It was a sad sight, to see it alone, set in the dark shadow of the tall tree nearby.

"Why does it grow that way?" Arafinwл had asked, peering at it, his head tilted slightly.

I looked down at him and shrugged. I too began to wonder however- for it was the first time I had seen such a thing in the holy land of Aman- and kneeling, I took the dull petals in my hands and examined the flower carefully. Its' stalk was stunted; the leaves were full of holes. Peering at the soil around it, I noticed that the earth was of an unhealthy, sickly colour.

"The flower is unable to grow properly in the dirt," I said softly. My brother immediately asked why.

"The earth here is defiled," I said to him. "How it came to be, I know not. All that I know that it cannot grow."

It cannot grow because of the earth that nurtured it.

At a time each year, my father would fall into a mood so black that none could scarce bear to be near him. Every year, on that very day, my mother would remain in her rooms, weeping to herself, and only the walls of her chamber took in her cries. Until one time, I walked into her room, with no advance warning. Young as I was then, it frightened me to see my mother reduced to a heap of tears.

I did not dare to speak up, and held my breath as I watched in silence, unable to flee while I had the chance. She looked up eventually though, and her violet eyes gazed straight into mine and for a single moment, one frozen in time, they locked me in suffocating embrace.

Eventually, she looked away, calling out to me as she did so. Uncertainly, hesitantly, I approached her, keeping silent as she put her arms around me and clutched at me possessively.

"Nolofinwл, my Nolofinwл," she whispered hoarsely in my ear, stroking my hair, rocking me gently in her lap. "In this world we live in, naught is flawless. For Melkor, Melkor the Fallen, he has marred the world we live in, this I know though the Valar say nothing of it. He defiles the earth that touches his feet, and the innocent are not spared."

The innocent are not spared.

Once I was innocent. Perhaps once too, Melkor had been innocent. But for us both, it was no longer so. I could not prevent what I felt, I could only accept it.

But that was not an option. So it came to me that I should cease my visits to the home of Fлanбro.

He was happy, I'm sure my brother was as my visits became more and more rare. Though I myself did not see him oft, at a time, he brought his newly born fifth son[1] to our father, much as he had done many years ago with Maitimo.

"Even as a child, he shows much likeness to his Atar," my father said with a smile, playing with the child's tiny hand. I could not help but agree, with its keen eyes and sharp features; there was a striking resemblance to Fлanбro.

In my hand was a wooden toy, one which I had recently crafted myself. The art of carving was not one in which I was skilled, but it was not too high above me. I made to give the child the toy- may as well give it some purpose, I had thought- but suddenly a flashing image of fire burned before my eyes; it was blazing red and gold in its wrath, its intense heat pressing against me.

I froze. Slowly my eyes shifted to focus on my brother, and I kept myself from gasping as I saw that he was glaring at me with that very fire burning in his eyes, searching me.

Do not even try, Son of Indis.

His eyes spoke the message; there was no need for words.

I will not allow it.

I withdrew my partially outstretched hand, looking away from Fлanбro as I did so.

"You will stay away from my son," he hissed in my ear, dragging me away. When I did not reply, he released my arm and returned to our father, taking his son back. There was a gleam in his eyes as he did this, one that indicated over protectiveness, and… hunger?

URL

13.10.2007 в 09:37

Альскандера

"А хотя бы я и жадничаю - зато от чистого сердца!" (с)

"Father… do you not think that Nolofinwл spends far too much time with Nelyafinwл[2]…?"

I staggered at the blatant accusation, and waited with bated breath for my father's reaction.

"What are you saying, Curufinwл[3]?" he replied, his voice even, deliberately emotionless.

"I am only attempting to… suggest that Nolofinwл should spend his time in more… productive ways," Fлanбro replied. "Failing that, there is another issue I have wanted to raise for a while now; and that is regarding marriage. Nolofinwл is an adult now, is the time not ripe for him to take a wife?"

Father only nodded, and the sudden tension that had built dissipated just as swiftly. I began to consciously breathe again; now beginning to watch Fлanбro cloesly. When he finally returned my gaze, a smug sort of satisfaction was in his eyes.

Never again after that incident did I go to the House of Fлanбro.

Sometimes I suppose with my birth itself I had caused my half-brother pain, yet I think he it was who had given unto me more sorrow, for it was he who later took Maitimo away, and usurped our father's affections and swaying his decisions in all matters.

For my own nephew, I do not know what hurt I caused, but for me, myself, the pain was unbearable for many a day. I cried often at my predicament, unable to fathom the longing or to suppress the lust. But I could not return to him, for even before the barrier of Fлanбro stood the barrier I had put upon myself.

Soon my wounded heart became numb. I thought of Maitimo less and less by the day, but there was never a time that I did not think of him at all.

I do not know if my father saw my pain. I do not know if he even cared for me anymore, for we had grown distant through the years. For him, Fлanбro came first. It did not matter that his other children needed him more.

But after Fлanбro's words, he personally questioned my lack of a wife, and thusly, a family. Fлanбro was right, I had reached the age where marriage seemed inevitable. I, in my reluctance, agreed half-heartedly with his attempts to find me a suitable maiden. But I knew that there would come a times that I would have to make a choice, and soon.

I was trapped by my desires; I knew that I could not act upon them. Love between two neri is one thing, lust between kin is another. The only escape was, l thought marriage. For I hoped that maybe with the consummation, I would somehow escape the doom I had wrought for myself.

It would perhaps then been a lie to say that I truly loved Anairл with all my heart, she being the Vanyarin maiden my father had deemed the most appropriate for me. But with her beauty, her kindness, she sparked a flame in me, and I devoted myself to loving her, even if I had difficulty doing so. It was she who loved me first, and thinking myself unworthy of her, I rued that I should be so blessed- and yet not.

When she kissed me tenderly, or touched me gently, I could not help but love her. But when she asked what troubled me- for I was oft seen to be upset, back then- I unwittingly pushed her away. I did not wish her to know my secret for fear of hurting her. But also for fear of what I might learn of myself.

Oft, I would find her alone in the gardens, weeping silently, and I would immediately put my arms about her, for the sight was far too heart wrenching to bear. With regret, I would cry my apology, getting down on one knee, taking her hands in mine, and swearing repentance. But I made promises that were fragile, for they were broken far too easily. For again I would lose my temper, not many days after, and again were the promises made, and again were they broken, and it was with that vicious cycle that I had doomed my wife to an unhappy marriage and sorrows unnumbered.

I had thought it would be hard to conceal the demon in my heart when finally our marriage would be consummated, for then it would be difficult to hide these secrets. But perhaps rather, that act of passion had buried the demon deep within the crevices of my scarred heart, even as my soul was bound to Anair's.

Soon after she told me she was with child, and I will not deny that I was overjoyed. Yet when finally, after long days of waiting, I held my son in my arms, I recalled that demon in me, and suddenly, I knew somehow that I was not done with the red haired son of Fлanбro yet.

My worries were not unfounded. For when I presented my son to my father, just as Fлanбro had done many years ago, Maitimo was present; and when he looked at my son, there was a light in his eyes that reminded me of myself.

I was reluctant to let him hold my child when he requested it, but I allowed him for my father and wife were present, and I could not explain my inhibitions. Was this how Fлanбro felt, those many years ago? Probably so, and my heart could not help but sting at the bitter irony of my situation.

URL

13.10.2007 в 09:37

Альскандера

"А хотя бы я и жадничаю - зато от чистого сердца!" (с)

I know not what I did to alienate Nolofinwл, but I began to regret the distance that was growing between us. My uncle did not to show to me the same care as he was before, and I feared that I had wronged him somehow. There is a sense of regret that comes with increasing distance, for you know that there is naught you can do to keep the bonds of friendship unbroken.

He assured me otherwise- without my asking him- but I could not help but be worried as his visits dwindled by the number, for I had enjoyed his company. It was strange to be without him. To have no one to speak with, to listen to... although I did have my brothers, they were different. They were younger than me; they would not- could not- understand. For as long as I could remember, I spoke to my uncle about anything that was on my mind. It would be about something as absurd as the colour of the sky to a more complex issue such as the nature of relationships.

Yet… I could not help but notice that as time passed, as I grew older, I spoke less and less about the matters that were close to my heart. But even so, I did not see the distance that was growing between us. Though sometimes I if I would have changed the causes, had I known the effects.

When his comings ceased with a painful sense of finality, I had felt more alone than I ever had in my life. Though perhaps that was but the pain of losing someone you thought you knew so well in such a seemingly abrupt manner.

It was not easy to forget.

Some months later, a feast was held in honour of my grandfather in Tirion. I had not wanted to attend. I was not overly fond of such occasions of ceremony and grandeur, having had to attend many such receptions in my youth. But I remembered that my uncle would be there. This was my chance to see him, to speak with him. Of course I could have simply left my home and walked to his house at any given time, but there was the issue of my father to worry about…

...No, there was no issue. I could secretly leave my home without his knowledge if I thusly desired it, he knew that, and I knew that. Whether I would do so was another matter.

So I came to attend the feast, with conflicted emotions and a sense of foreboding in my heart. As I was forced to reject offers to a dance by various maidens (fair through they were) and maneuver away from attempts at small talk, I recalled why I was reluctant to come in the first place. I could not even watch the festivities quietly.

It was my deepest desire to leave, but I did not do so for my determination to speak with my uncle was stronger. With a lessening patience, I waited. And soon, I came to see his face in the crowd. My heart leaped as I hurriedly stood up, making to go towards him-

-Then I staggered, my breathing constricting as my chest froze, literally forcing my heart to pause in its rhythmic pulsating.

Draped on his arm was a woman. Not simply any plain woman, for this one was fair; her face and hair shone with the radiant light of Laurelin, and her lithe body danced with a sleek elegance. She was a Vanya, a noble daughter of a Lord of Tirion. And she was engaged to the second son of the King of the Noldor.

Thus spoke Nolofinwл as he came to my father, introducing his companion as his betrothed. I vaguely saw defiance in his eyes as he proclaimed such, but I did not pay it heed, for it was not directed to me, but my father. I continued to watch, a sense of emptiness filling me as I did so. I was watching, but I did not see. For he would not look to me.

A throbbing ache overcame my heart.

Is this truly happening?

I could not breathe.

Why…?

Suddenly, it seemed as if the people around me were much closer, as if I was struggling for space, for air. It was all but a flurry of images; I could not comprehend what was happening. Random thoughts and emotions came to me in a flash, leaving just as quickly, tearing apart within me, beating me down, making me battered and ragged.

Catatonia is but a state of mind.

Yet truly it was the impending numbness that was the most amplified, even as it consumed me from within. I could only turn and walk away from Nolofinwл, tearing my eyes of him, assuaging the wounds of my heart.
For a year until the wedding, the engagement was all anyone would speak of. And for that year, I would keep myself away from common gossip, for the issue of Nolofinwл would only unleash emotions I did not wish to handle- emotions which I did not even wish to be in me- and the resurfacing of memories which I wanted only to forget.

I spoke of this to none, not to my brothers, and certainly not to my parents. Though there was once, when my mother spoke to me about emotions.

"There is only one way to see what a person truly feels at a given point of time is to look into their eyes," she had said. "The key is not in their exprеssion, for the face can wear a mask, it can deceive. Only the eyes may reveal the deepest secrets of the heart; and there is so much to see when you gaze into their depths."

Then she turned and looked straight into me eyes, locking me in her gaze before I could react and look away. Her keen eyes seemed to bore into me, coming into me, searching me. For a single second, time was suspended, stretched eternally, a never ending moment. For that second, I was stripped of my own mask, and she saw all. From the blurred memories with my brothers, to the bittersweet ones with Nolofinwл. Each love and each emotion was revealed to her.

And I could do naught about it, for it was she who had control. She had power over me, my own mother. But soon, she broke it, taking my hands- my trembling, shaking hands- in hers, and holding them almost as if they were fragile. "Is there anything you wish to speak of, Maitimo?" she asked. I felt her eyes upon me again, attempting to search me once more. But I kept my eyes downcast, for I had no desire to feel the terror of her power again.

"No, mother," I whispered, my voice on the verge of breaking.

She did not pursue the matter.

The wedding ceremony of Nolofinwл and Anairл came and went with a final flourish. I did not attend, though it is poor for kin to absent themselves on such occasions. But I had my father to vouch for my absence, as he was agreeable with my desire to not attend. Though I do not think it reflected well upon his as the King's Heir. I often wondered if my mother had spoken to him about it, and what she had seen. She had never spoken of it to me again, in any case.

It was a while before I met Nolofinwл once more, and it seemed to be a meeting of chance; for I was visiting my grandfather when he came with his wife. I stiffened at the suddenness of the encounter; though I suppose I should have expected it to occur, sooner or later. And even in my denial, I had wondered about how he fared…

Physically, he had changed little. Fine lines of care now etched his face, creasing his forehead. His perpetual frown seemed to be more pronounced. But his eyes, his eyes spoke to me in greater volumes. All that my mother saw in me, I found again in Nolofinwл. Beneath the memories and the emotions though, was a thing so glaring, I could not miss it. A closed door, barred to me, to everyone else save one person. Anairл, his wife. Theirs souls were bound, their marriage consummated. Now there were secrets between them that even the eyes could not reveal. But I saw also a haunted resignation, by that door. But it was not my concern. That this had brought about something else, that was I cared about.

His child.

He was held in Nolofinw's arms, crying even as his father tried to calm him down. Almost instinctively, out of habit from having six brothers whom I had help take care of, I put out my arms to hold him. Nolofinwл looked at me with an odd exprеssion lining his face, I could see that he was about to refuse. But after briefly glancing at his father and wife, he did not, though it was reluctance that he handed the child to me.

Thus I held in my arms little Findekбno, and I sang to him. My voice would never be as fair as Makalaur's, but still I sang, for Findekбno's ears only. And his cries grew softer and softer.

Soon he slept, his face peaceful, happy; and I was struck by its distinct resemblance to its father; his eyes, his face… Yet, I saw also myself in him. I felt love for him, but not desire. Though they say that love comes in different forms, but in the end, they are all but mere manifestations of one type of love; and that is that which is given unto us by our Maker.

And as I held him, I could not help but see that in him, I could find that love I had lost. I knew that I would return to him many times after, but to be as a mentor to him as I would later argue. But I could not see where our fates would lead, and whether this parallel would reach the same end as its predecessor, I could not tell.

(TBC)

[1] Fifth son- refers to Curufin.
[2] Nelyafinwл- Maedhros' father name.
[3] Curufinwл- this is, IIRC, Fлanor's father name. I know everyone called him Fлanaro, but I think his own father would have used the name he gave to him. Especially in such tense situations.

URL

13.10.2007 в 13:32

Третий

я не умею быть человеком

Паника-паника*))
Интересно, а почему матчасть всегда ТАК страдает?.... Вопрос риторический.

URL

13.10.2007 в 13:41

Альскандера

"А хотя бы я и жадничаю - зато от чистого сердца!" (с)

Интересно, а почему матчасть всегда ТАК страдает?.... А они ее в гробу видели... наверное, уже с 90-х годов - до того она им надоела... У них же все готовенькое на английском языке. Весь канон обмусолили еще до выхода фендома в Сеть. Кому там нужны эти старые мослы?
Скучно. У них уже давно не шпыняют за НЕ-Канон. На большинстве фан-сайтов при задавании вопроса о каноне -на вас очень странно посмотрят... и еще напомнят, что у них тут демократия...
Риторический ответ.

URL

13.10.2007 в 13:42

Саламандр

Добрый и спокойный шипокрыл.

Весь канон обмусолили еще до выхода фендома в Сеть. Кому там нужны эти старые мослы?

Уж точно не фэнам.
Эх, фэны-фэньё... хорошо, что у меня их нет. )

URL

13.10.2007 в 13:43

Третий

я не умею быть человеком

Александра Воронцова, да я знаю, был-видел*)
У них совсем вообще другое отношение, нашим и не снилось...

URL

13.10.2007 в 13:55

Альскандера

"А хотя бы я и жадничаю - зато от чистого сердца!" (с)

Саламандр Надоедает все - даже очень вкусные кусочки.
Третий
Демократия - одно слово... Зато полет фантазии - это да! Куда там нашим бледным апокрифисткам... Наших жестоко бьют за малейшую ИМХУ, называя НЕ-Каноном. А у НИХ - недавно прочитала - и даже не знала, как реагировать. Финрод в Мандосе, жутко скучает по Амариэ (особо по некотрым местам) и просится у Намо домой. Намо (добрый Вала) прекрасно знает, что Амариэ вышла замуж через год после Бегства Нольдор отнесся к этой просьбе сочувственно. А еще с юмором и творческим подходом. Оживил Финрода (при чем тут Манве, который должен давать добро и создавать новое тело?), засунул его в постель к Амариэ, сделав так, чтобы она принимала Финрода за своего мужа. А Финрод думал, что это она его так рада видеть. После чего Намо спящего Финрода - в чем был, т.е. в том, чем мать родила, отправил в лес, в Средиземье. Когда тот проснулся, то вышел из леса...судя по всему прямо к хоббитам.... Не знаю, какова должна быть реакция хоббитов (будет продолжение), но думаю "И что им после этого Гендальф со своими фейерверками?"

Ну, кому у НАС придет в голову такое? А еще у кого достанет смелости это выложить?...
У нас чуть что - трава, трава... И автор - идиот... Ну никакой фантазии....

URL

13.10.2007 в 14:02

Третий

я не умею быть человеком

Александра Воронцова, дай Эру, что никогда и не пришло. Я в принципе не замечал где-то еще такого же трепетного отношения к профессору, как у нас.
И имхо это не плохо.

URL

13.10.2007 в 14:12

Саламандр

Добрый и спокойный шипокрыл.

Да я и у нас редко замечал трепетное отношение, собственно говоря.

URL

13.10.2007 в 14:18

Третий

я не умею быть человеком

Саламандр, это смотря среди кого.

URL

13.10.2007 в 14:31

Саламандр

Добрый и спокойный шипокрыл.

Третий
Это да.

URL

13.10.2007 в 14:34

Альскандера

"А хотя бы я и жадничаю - зато от чистого сердца!" (с)

Я в принципе не замечал где-то еще такого же трепетного отношения к профессору, как у нас. Особенность - "у нас совестью народа всегда служили писатели, поэты; а совестью западной демократии - юристы" (с). У них в принципе нет серьезного отношения к писателям и иже с ними (ученые и прочие чудаки - не в счет - это болезнь, что у них, что у нас)- у них это "интретеймент" - "развлечение". На Западе - менестрели и шуты составляли одно направление, а монахи и философы - другое. У нас они весьма причудливо сплелись.
А вообще менестрель на западе - это все же не "Пророк", нет к ним никакого трепетного отношения, а бродячий артист, исполняющий песни за кусок хлеба со стола сеньора под рыгание богатой семьи. А музыку заказывает тот, кто платит. И на "развлечение" деньги, а тем более голова отводятся по остаточному принципу.

Мы, кстати, в Росси и др. странах бывш. СССР приходим к такому же выводу - писательство не приносящее денег или славы - нерентабельно. А поучающее писательство - не рентабельно вдвойне. Надо развлечение, а не учение.

URL

13.10.2007 в 14:48

Саламандр

Добрый и спокойный шипокрыл.

Ну, смотря что понимать под поучанием... сразу вспомнился Буратино с его "Поучайте лучше ваших паучат!"
Что до денег или славы... писатель ведь тоже человек. Ему тоже хочется видеть какой-то результат от своих трудов.

URL

13.10.2007 в 16:35

Третий

я не умею быть человеком

Александра Воронцова, А поучающее писательство - не рентабельно вдвойне.
Половина моих статей весьма насыщена дидактикой... Но рентабельна*))
Особенность - "у нас совестью народа всегда служили писатели, поэты; а совестью западной демократии - юристы"
Я говорил скорее не о самом Профессоре, а о его произведениях. У нас это в свое время чуть ли не возвели в ранг религии, а у них это крайне редко встречается...

URL

16.10.2007 в 19:22

Ivry

Каждому солдату по социопату! (с)

Третий
Да и не чуть, а уже возвели.

URL


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