Posted: May 2004
Title: Pain and Redemption
Author: Larien Elengasse
Type: FCS
Characters: Oropher/ Maedhros, Thranduil/ Amras
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of Tolkien, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this…
Warnings: Angst, graphic depictions of sexual acts between males.
Beta: Alex
Summary: In the wake of the Ruin of Doriath, unexpected bonds of friendship are formed and a new age begins. Oropher confronts his enemy; Thranduil gets to know one.
Author's Note: After writing Fate's Mirror, Oropher started to grow on me. Again, I am not an expert on Tolkien canon; I am purely making this up and flying by the seat of my pants as I so often do. I have seen no information on the dates of Oropher's or Thranduil's birth, nor any information about them prior to them coming to Greenwood. I am taking liberties here again – may the canon purists either ignore this or forgive me.

*****

Winter, 505, First Age, Menegroth, Doriath

Oropher was having nightmares. They were the same nightmares he had every night for just over two years. Shouting, dwarves' voices, and the voice of his king. He stood before the outermost doors of the corridor to Thingol's treasury; he had been charged with guarding the entrance. He ran down the hallways, but came too late to aid his king; Thingol lay dead upon the cold stone floor and the villains that killed him had stolen away.

As soon as one nightmare ended, the next began, clashing of steel against steel, chaos, confusion, elves against dwarves. His friends and comrades were dying, he was wounded, he struggled down the corridor to the treasury to find his friend Mablung dead, the treasury doors broken, and the necklace bearing the Silmaril taken.

A fresh vision. War again, this time, elves against elves. The legions of the Sons of Fëanor were attacking them. Screams echoing in his ears, arrows splitting the air, swords clashing. Blinding pain wracking his body as an arrow strikes home and he falls, the sound of his young son's voice crying out his name, the cry of his wife as she falls and her spirit leaves her body.

He gasped for air as his eyes snapped open, and he clenched his teeth in pain. A cold sweat beaded his forehead and he could not move save for turning his head. He lay upon a pallet on the floor. As he focused his eyes, he realized it was the healers' rooms. Moans of the wounded echoed through the caves and he turned his head to see the elf next to him lay dead. Parts of his nightmare returned to him in his waking moment and he croaked out his son's name, "Thranduil…"

No answer.

He coughed and groaned from the pain it caused him and tried again, "Thranduil…"

"Adar?" his young son's voice returned.

He stretched his neck and looked over his head to find his son bound to the leg of a large table, his ankles tied together and his wrists tied behind his back and around the massive table leg. He could see no sign of obvious injury, though it looked like Thranduil had been involved in a struggle.

"Are you well, Iôn?" he whispered hoarsely.

Thranduil struggled against his bonds, growling in frustration before answering his father. "Yes, Adar, I am well."

"Have they harmed you?" he whispered again.

"It is not our way to kill or maim the young."

Oropher turned his head and looked up to see the eldest son of Fëanor, Maedhros, standing over him. The tall elf with hair the color of flame squatted beside him and lifted the blanket to check his wound.

"But it is your way to slaughter your kin and to murder females, Noldor dog."

"You would do well to hold your tongue, Lord Oropher," Maedhros answered. "We have given you quarter."

"You killed my wife, and you have done injury to my son!" Oropher spat. "I do not need your quarter! You would have done me more honor by killing me!"

"That can still be arranged," Maedhros growled.

"No!" Thranduil shouted and began his struggle anew. "Leave my father alone!"

"Hush, pen- neth," Maedhros said calmly. "I will not harm your father." He turned to Oropher and continued, "Your wife was not killed purposefully, Lord Oropher. But in war, grievous deeds occur. We have attended to her and prepared her for burial. I am sorry she fell. My kin and I do not take pleasure in killing defenseless females." He looked back at Thranduil. "As for your son, he left us no choice but to bind him." A wry grin crossed his lips. "He is fierce, that one. As fierce as his father." He looked to Oropher. "Your wounds are healing well. You should regain your feet in a day or two."

"Did you find what you seek?" Oropher ground out.

"Nay," Maedhros answered. "It has alluded us once again."

Oropher smiled grimly and answered, "Good. And I am glad it is gone, for it brought naught but woe and death upon these lands. That jewel is cursed."

Maedhros frowned and rose to his feet. He turned and looked at Thranduil, nodded, and went on his way.

Oropher, weak still from his wounds, drifted back into an uneasy reverie and Thranduil watched over his father as best he could.

* * * *

It was late in the night when Thranduil was woken by the sounds of elves moving about. He blinked and opened his eyes, gasping as he found someone kneeling in front of him. It was one of the twin sons of Fëanor, but he knew not which. The elf was older than he was, past his majority certainly, but not yet an elder. Thranduil guessed him to be six hundred years of age, which was still young for one of their kind. Thranduil himself was just of his majority, having been born but sixty years before the ruin of his homeland.

"You need not fear me, pen- neth," the elf said quietly. "I came to see if you are hungry or if you need water."

Thranduil was starving; a nagging, persistent pain in his stomach had been with him for the better part of a day. His throat was dry and parched; he barely had enough moisture in his mouth to wet his lips and his arms and legs ached from being held in the same position for so long. He debated on answering, his pride caused him to want to remain silent, but his body was crying out for relief.

"Well, pen- neth? Are you hungry?" the elf before him asked again.

"Aye, thirsty too," Thranduil answered quietly.

The elf reached down and held up a bowl that contained clear water and brought it to Thranduil's lips. Thranduil recoiled for a moment, wondering distractedly if it were poisoned.

The elf chuckled softly and whispered, "Have no fear, pen- neth, I am not trying to poison you. If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you in battle."

Thranduil took a deep draught of the water, a small moan escaping him as he drank. Water drizzled down his chin and the elf before him blotted it with a clean handkerchief.

"You are wounded," Thranduil said quietly, looking at a gash in the elf's neck that had been bandaged.

"Aye, and you are the one that did it, pen- neth," the elf answered. "Had your aim with the bow been but a little better, you would be boasting to your children that you felled Amras, brave son of Fëanor."

" Amras," Thranduil repeated. "Well, if I had killed you, I certainly would not have called you brave."

Amras chuckled and held a spoon full of warm oatmeal to Thranduil's lips. "I suppose not," he answered. "Now eat, pen- neth. So that you may grow strong and live to kill me another day."

Thranduil ate from the elf's hand hungrily, the warm oatmeal felt good to his empty stomach. The kindness this Noldo showed him was unexpected. The elf lord sat cross-legged in front of him, patiently feeding him from the bowl, a small smile curving his full lips as he watched him eat. Thranduil could not help but notice how striking the Noldo was. His thick, dark hair was pulled back into a single braid that fell down his back, ending just before the tip touched the floor upon which he sat. He was dressed in dark leggings and a simple tunic, not the adornments he expected a son of Fëanor to wear. He had pale, glittering gray eyes, and they had about them a look of sorrow and weariness.

As he swallowed the last bite of oatmeal, Amras wet his handkerchief with water from the flask he wore at his side and dabbed the corners of his mouth.

"Hannon chen," Thranduil answered quietly.

"You are most welcome, brave one," Amras answered quietly. He rose from his place on the floor and left Thranduil to watch over his father.

* * * *

Oropher groaned as the healer helped him to his feet. He leaned heavily upon a staff the elf gave him and followed him slowly from the healers' rooms out in to the corridor. The slender elf walked beside him, supporting him by the elbow as they made their way down the hall.

"You should not be out of bed, Lord Oropher," the healer chastised. "You are still far too weak."

"I am not a danger to anyone, Noldo," Oropher growled. "I can barely walk."

"I can see that, my lord," the healer grumbled. "Nonetheless, Lord Maedhros will be more than annoyed to see that you…"

"I do not give a damn what annoys Lord Maedhros," Oropher spat. "By the strength I have left in my body, I swear to you that if you do not take me to him now, I will throttle you with this stick!"

"I will take him now, Amdír."

Oropher looked up to see Maedhros standing tall before him. He tried to right himself and felt his legs begin to tremble. The healer turned and left the two elves standing outside what had been King Dior's chamber.

"How long must you defame these halls with your presence?" Oropher ground out between his clenched teeth. "How long must we suffer this indignity? The prize you seek is not here, why can you not leave us be?"

Maedhros watched Oropher turning pale before him, and he knew it was but a matter of moments before the Sinda collapsed at his feet. Oropher growled in pain and frustration as he began to slump before the Noldo, and Maedhros caught him under the arms, pulling him into the bedchamber and laying him upon the bed. Oropher moaned as he sank into the soft, rumpled bedding and brought his hand to his side.

"The pain is still great, I know," Maedhros said softly. "You have suffered many injuries in your life, Lord Oropher."

"How do you know this?" Oropher mumbled.

"I have seen evidence of wounds freshly healed upon your body. I was there when the healer treated you."

"I was wounded when the dwarves attacked our city," Oropher ground out. "As were many who fought to protect the caves."

"As was your friend, Mablung," Maedhros answered quietly.

"Aye, he fell protecting the caves." Oropher looked at the tall elf that stood beside the bed, his right arm tucked inside his cloak, his left clasping the opposite elbow. "My wounds are no more grievous than yours, at least I am left whole."

Maedhros nodded and turned his back upon the ailing elf lord that lay on the bed. "Rest now, Oropher, you are no good to your son this way." He turned and left the room, leaving Oropher to slip into reverie upon the bed.

* * * *

"Wake, pen- neth."

Thranduil moaned as he lifted his head and blinked as he woke. He looked up to see Amras kneeling in front of him. His eyes drifted to the pallet where his father lay and he found him gone.

"Where is my father?" he asked worriedly.

"Oropher has gone to see my brother, no doubt to chastise him further for our wicked deeds," Amras said quietly.

"You are wicked," Thranduil answered with a frown. "You have slain your own kind; that is a grievous deed."

Amras nodded and answered quietly, "Aye, you will have no argument from me on that point, pen- neth. We will pay before all is done, no doubt." He took a deep breath and continued, "Your father is a stubborn elf, and a fiery one too. I see now where you get your temperament."

Thranduil shifted and could not help groaning aloud. Amras smiled wryly. "I will untie you and let you stretch, but only if you promise not to give me any more trouble."

Thranduil frowned and reluctantly nodded. Amras untied Thranduil's ankles then reached around him and began untying the ropes that bound his wrists. The Noldo's dark hair fell over his shoulder and brushed Thranduil's cheek, and he quietly took a deep breath, inhaling the Noldo's scent. Amras smelled of fresh pine and clover, he smelled of the fair woods where the Green-elves dwelt.

"There," Amras said softly as he came to rest back upon his heels. He lingered a bit near the Sinda's ear before sitting back fully; he breathed in his sweet scent and enjoyed the feel of his golden hair against his cheek. He rose to his feet and extended his hand, helping Thranduil to his own. "Slowly now," he said quietly as he supported Thranduil by the elbow. "Your legs and arms are bound to be quite stiff."

Thranduil grimaced as he stood up fully and he slowly stretched his arms and back. He looked up at Amras and answered quietly, "Hannon chen."

Amras smiled gently and bowed his head. "You are most welcome, Thranduil." He motioned to the door with his free hand. "Shall we stretch those legs of yours with a brief walk?"

Thranduil nodded and slowly walked with Amras out into the corridor. Neither spoke as they walked through the long passageways of the caves of Menegroth. When they stepped into the open air, Amras took deep breath.

"I do not think I could live in caves as your kind does," Amras said quietly. "I am far too accustomed to living in the woods."

Thranduil nodded and smiled briefly. "Aye, I prefer to be outside as well. I like to be near the trees."

Amras gently guided him into the forest as they walked side by side. Thranduil considered escape, but was unsure as to how far he would get before the Noldo either captured him or killed him. He was reluctant to leave his father behind as well, and Oropher was in no condition to attempt escape.

The gentleness and kindness with which Amras treated him was disarming. It would be far easier to hate him if he were abusive or cruel. As it was, Amras was slowly working his way under his skin with pleasant talk of his new homelands and of Aman.

He turned and looked at the Noldo as he asked, "Why do you do what you do? How is it that you can kill your own kind?"

Amras flinched at the bluntness of the question but looked Thranduil in the eye as he answered, "I swore an oath to my dying father. What else can I do?"

"Can this oath not be forsaken?" Thranduil asked quietly. "Can you not see that he was mad when he had you swear it?"

Amras swallowed and answered, "Would you do the same, Thranduil? If your father lay dying in your arms and he had you swear an oath, could you so easily forsake it?"

Thranduil looked at the ground and answered quietly, "I suppose I do not know the answer to that. Forgive me for my impertinence."

Amras placed a hand upon Thranduil's shoulder. "We swore to make war against any who withheld the Silmarils from us. We did not know when we swore that oath that we would have to wage war against our own kin. I do not wish to make war with you, Thranduil."

"You killed my mother," Thranduil answered.

"We did not intend to kill her," Amras said quietly. "I will pay for all I have done, you can be content in that. But until then, I wish to be your friend."

Thranduil looked into Amras' glittering gray eyes and swallowed. "Why? Why do you wish to be my friend?"

Amras smiled gently and answered, "I do not know. There is something about you that draws me to you, Thranduil. There is something about you that I find most… appealing." He caressed Thranduil's hair with the back of his hand. "Perhaps it is your extraordinary beauty, but I do not think it is only that. You have a fire in your eyes and in your spirit, and it is tempered by kindness that I have not seen in many a long year." He stepped closer and was encouraged when Thranduil did not retreat.

Thranduil felt his heart speed as Amras gazed into his eyes. "I should not allow this," he whispered. "You are my enemy."

Amras leaned closer, his lips slowly closing in on Thranduil's mouth. "We need not be enemies. Just a kiss, pen-vain," he whispered. "Just a kiss to solidify our new friendship."

"Just a kiss…" Thranduil answered in a whisper, and he closed his eyes as Amras' lips closed on his own. A small, almost imperceptible whimper escaped him as Amras' mouth moved against his own. He had been kissed before, but never by a male, and never by one that kissed like Amras did. A teasing flicker of Amras' tongue was what sealed the kiss, and just as Thranduil's lips parted, the Noldo withdrew.

"I fear I must stop now," Amras whispered, his eyes still closed. "For I cannot guarantee I can control myself if we go further."

Thranduil sighed quietly and opened his eyes. He watched Amras' eyes flutter open and a smile curve his full lips.

The Noldo touched his lips with the tips of his fingers. "So sweet," he murmured. "I fear you will be my downfall, pen-vain." He took a deep breath and smiled. "Come, we must go back to the caves or your father will think I have abducted you."

Thranduil nodded and turned back toward the caves, reaching out and taking Amras' hand as they walked.

*****
Pen- neth = young one
Hannon chen = thank you
Pen-vain = beautiful one
*****

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