#livys renaissance
Rating: T
Words: 1.6k
Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, injury, protective!Celegorm
When you woke up, you had no idea how long you’d been unconscious for – and no recollection of who exactly had saved you from your kidnappers.
When you came back to awareness, the first thing that caught your attention was just how tired you were. It felt as if you’re entire body had been weighed down with a thousand stones, each heavier than the last. Shit, it hurt. Your ribs throbbed, feeling hot and swollen without so much as touching them. Even your eyes seemed to hurt, the side of your head twinging each time they moved behind your closed eyelids.
The next thing you noticed, other than your own agony, that was, was just how soft the bed you lay in was. You weren’t being held captive any longer – that much was certain, though you had no recollection of being rescued. Without opening your eyes, that was as much information as you could gather.
Slowly, wary of the pain in your head, you cracked them open just enough to let the light in.
The bedroom around you was illuminated in a soft light, the fire in the hearth neglected and well on it’s way to being nothing but smouldering ash. It must have been the middle of the night as only the pale light of the moon added to the dim glow of the chamber. It was warm. Pleasantly so, and you noted the room seemed to have been maintained with the upmost care. The design was homely and distinctly Noldor.
There was a warm, heavy weight on one of your hands. Sluggishly, neck twinging, you turned your head to the side.
Celegorm.
Your breathing stopped for a heartbeat.
He sat, half out of his chair, hunched over your bed, head resting partially atop your hand. The position likely wasn’t comfortable, but Celegorm slept on anyways. His face was uncharacteristically relaxed, making him look so much younger and softer without the usual scowl or smug smile he wore. It suited him, you thought. It reminded you of the days before you’d wedded in Valinor. Life was simple back then. There was no need for blades or armour – though Celegorm (also uncharacteristically for he often took daggers to bed) had neither on him at that moment. Your husband’s hair was messier than usual, the strands dirty. How long had he been here?
How long had you been here?
You had no memory of being rescued. Could this be nothing more than an exhaustion-induced dream?
The details of the last few days (or weeks, as you would later discover) were hazy at best. You’d been on your way back from visiting the twins in the south, Amras having insisted on sending an escort with you even though you were just fine by yourself, when the ambush occurred. The problem with that was, anyone who knew anything about the firstborn were aware that escorts were only given to people of importance. Even the presence of a single guard had painted a target on your backs.
It hadn’t taken long for the closest band of orcs to catch wind of your travels. The fight that had ensued had been a blood bath.
From there you’d known the orcs had intended to take you to Angband for questioning. Few had ever escaped, your brother-in-law included, and from what you’d learned of their ordeals you knew it was a place you’d never leave alive. You had strengthened your resolve. You wouldn’t give them anything of value – even if you had to die to keep your people’s secrets.
Without food nor water, you’d recognised the land around you as southern Lothlann before you’d finally collapsed from exhaustion, unable to take a single step further north. It was a little around that time, you assumed, that you’d been rescued.
Who exactly your saviours were still remained a mystery; however. All you recalled was the blaring of horns and flashes of red on the horizon – no banners or standards. You cast your eyes around the bedroom.
Himring.
You thought so, at least. Maedhros always favoured gold more than red, breaking from the tradition that the rest of his brothers held true to. You smiled as you recalled that particular quirk of his – and his obsession with his younger cousin.
By your reckoning, you’d finally collapsed from exhaustion a good few day’s ride from Himring. For the second time in the space of a few minutes you were left wondering exactly how much time had passed since then.
Shit, Celegorm must have been worried… You knew he was usually reluctant to show such things, hiding behind a cloak of dark humour and bravado. But he was sensitive. Celegorm always let his emotions get the better of him much more than his brothers – except for perhaps Caranthir, that was.
Despite your ordeal, you couldn’t help but feel guilty for the effect it must have had on your husband.
You cast your gaze back down to him, still slumped with his head on the mattress by your hip. He really did look a mess. And when you examined him closely, you noted fading bruises over his knuckles. Valar, you hoped he hadn’t punched anyone important…
Sighing softly, you reached out a hand to pet over his tangled, greasy hair, brushing over the tip of his ear. He made a small noise, a quiet thing, and his brows twitched momentarily before smoothing out again. He leaned into the touch. You ran the tip of one finger down the bridge of his nose, just as you often did on the rare mornings when you woke up before him.
Slowly, his eyes began to open.
He blinked blearily at you, unfocused and hazy. Celegorm leaned into the touch again, pointedly, silently asking you to continue, before he closed his eyes once more. Groggy, he’d likely forgotten where the two of you were and the situation you found yourselves in.
Your lips quirked up into a smile and you waited patiently for the moment it would dawn on him.
The seconds ticked by.
…More seconds ticked by.
You were almost certain he’d fallen back to sleep by the time that Celegorm finally opened his eyes.
He shot off the bed, sitting bolt upright so quickly you half-feared he’d hurt himself in the process. The blonde was wide awake in an instant, eyes the size of saucers as he stared at you, as if he couldn’t completely believe you were there. You laughed softly, ignoring the way your rubs twinged at the movement.
“You…” The breath left Celegorm all at once. Still, he stared on, remarkably speechless for someone with such a quick tongue. “I thought…”
Surging forwards, he hugged you tightly, head pressed into the crook of your neck. Had you not been injured, it would have been difficult to breathe – now, though, it was impossible. You wheezed, entire body protesting being handled so roughly. Celegorm was quick to let go again, so fast you bounced as you hit the mattress again.
“Sorry! You’re still injured! I shouldn’t have-“
“It’s alright.” You cut him off. Your voice was hoarse, and you coughed to clear the lump in your throat. “No harm done… I think.” Celegorm sighed again at that, taking your hand and only holding it a fraction more gently. He kept his gaze on you, intense and wide, as if afraid you’d disappear if he looked away. You couldn’t help but find it endearing, even if it had come from a terrible situation.
“I… I almost lost you…” Celegorm whispered after several moments had passed in silence, simply staring at each other. “I don’t know what I would have done-“ He swallowed thickly, unwilling to finish the sentence.
He looked down at your intertwined fingers. The watery sheen in his eyes had your heart clenching and guilt gnawing in your gut – even if the incident hadn’t been your fault.
“Well, I’m here now.” You tried to placate him. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore…” Celegorm made an irritated noise at that, plainly not agreeing. You coughed again, voice still scratchy.
“Water?”
“Please.”
The speed at which Celegorm stood betrayed his eagerness to help. You supposed after being by your bedside for a number of days, he wanted to be useful in any way he could. You knew you’d be the same if your positions had been reversed.
Celegorm crossed the room and back again with long strides, filling a cup from the pitcher of water that stood in the corner of the room. He pressed it between your fingers but kept his hands clasped over yours when it was clear you were shaking too much for your own good.
You took a sip. It was only then that you realised how thirsty you were. You tipped the cup further and managed several large gulps before Celegorm pulled the cup away.
“Best do it slowly – it’s been at least a week since you’ve eaten…” That was… strange. You didn’t feel hungry at all. That fact scared you a little though you did your best not to dwell on it or show Celegorm that distress – you didn’t want him feeling any worse for your sake.
“I’ve been asleep for a week?”
“Well, no. Four days. But you were captured for a while longer than that, we think…” The two of you lapsed into silence after that. Celegorm studied you closely, no doubt expecting you to keel over at any moment. With your head still aching, you made no move to fill the quiet.
Celegorm did that himself after several minutes had passed.
“’M never gonna let you out of my sight again…” There was something dark in his tone, even if it was a huff.
“Bit drastic, isn’t it?” For the most part, you tried to be as independent – even if Celegorm always had someone following along quietly behind.
“Hmm, no. In this new world, there are enemies everywhere. And I have the feeling the days will get darker still.”
Rating: T
Words: 2.8k
Tags: implied/referenced torture, implied PTSD, trauma, angst, fluff, disabilities
After refusing yet another outing with you, it becomes clear that in the wake of Angband, Maedhros is working himself to the bone.
A/N: Starting off the revival with a bit of angst! Am also changing the formatting a little with future fics so i hope you like how this looks!
You paused by the doorway, just outside the chambers you shared with Maedhros. The sun had set several hours ago, taking much of the land’s warmth with it. A chilly breeze blew through Himring, carrying the promise of the oncoming winter. You’d have to double check your firewood was well stocked and the hearth stoked before the two of you turned in for the night.
Your hand lingered on the doorhandle, indecisive and hesitant despite your eagerness to turn in for the night. Since your husband’s return from captivity, you hadn’t always been welcome by his side – or in his bed, the echoes of touches he endured in Angband still too much to bare at times, Maedhros unable to tell the difference between what was then and what was now.
These days though, almost a year after his return, the times you were welcome at his side tended to outweigh the times you weren’t. But still, you didn’t want to break the fragile trust you’d managed to win back. You weren’t sure you could do it again.
Maedhros felt safe in the chambers you shared, you knew that much. Though you’d hate to accidently walk in on him during a vulnerable moment such as getting ready for bed. He still hadn’t allowed you to see his body, even a year later. The scars, he’d insisted, were too hideous to even look at – and he’d do anything not to see that disgust in your eyes. It didn’t matter how many times you insisted that no part of Maedhros could ever disgust you. His mind was made up.
With a huff, you pushed down on the handle and opened the door. If Maedhros was indeed changing, you’d apologise of course, or he could do so in your adjoining washroom; but you weren’t going to restrict your movements in your own home at the risk of startling him.
Slipping inside, you were quick to note that Maedhros was indeed already in his sleeping clothes. He sat on the edge of his bed with his back to you, a hairbrush in his one remaining hand which he pulled through his copper strands. It was much shorter than it used to be, now just below his shoulders where before it had reached the bottom of his spine. The ends were still brittle and dry from the treatment and malnutrition he’d endured at the hands of Morgoth but the new hair that had grown since then was lush and thick.
You knew it, and by extension, Maedhros himself, would never be the same but that little detail showed, at least, that he was beginning to heal from the ordeal. He was less gaunt now too, skin healthier and scars beginning to fade. You noted that your husband held himself differently now too. He didn’t hunch, exactly, but you could see the weight on his shoulders even after giving up the crown, the aura of regalness he still maintained despite it all.
He certainly wasn’t the elf you’d married all those centuries ago in Valinor, but you loved him none the less – and you would until the both of you met your end.
As the door closed behind you with a soft click, Maedhros looked up and met your gaze in the floor length mirror he sat opposite. The two of you locked eyes for a heartbeat before the corners of Maedhros’s lips twitched up into a small smile and his eyes dilated. He wasn’t yet in his nightclothes, but you didn’t comment on it. Sure, you loved every inch of him, but if he wasn’t ready to show you his injuries just yet, you would wait patiently until he was.
“How was your evening, dearest?” His voice had changed too – since Angband. It was deeper now, apparently due to screaming himself hoarse so many times, or so the healers had told you. You could have gone without knowing that particular fact.
“It was fine.” You sighed with your own soft smile, waltzing further into the room. “Though it would have been far better if you’d come with us…”
You’d been out on an evening ride to stargaze with Maglor. The stars were different in Beleriand and the sight of the moon bright in the sky still took some getting used to. Originally, Maedhros had planned to accompany you, but he’d decided against it after he felt too unwell to ride. Maglor had gallantly stepped up to take his place. You liked his company, but he was no substitute for Maedhros.
He gave a vacant hum, mind seemingly drifting somewhere far away.
You couldn’t have that. It never served Maedhros well to get lost in his thoughts.
Still smiling, you lifted one knee up and onto the bed before beginning to crawl across it. And once you were close enough, you pressed a kiss to the clothed back of Maedhros’s shoulder, heartbreakingly gentle.
His face twisted slightly but he made no move to pull away. That was progress. In those first painful few months after his rescue, he’d flinched from every touch – especially your own. You knew he felt tainted by what he’d experienced and he didn’t want to mar you in a similar way but in your view, that mattered little. You’d rather crash and burn than be apart from Maedhros any longer than you needed to.
“Been busy while we were gone?” Maedhros hummed and dipped his head once at that, swiping the hairbrush through his hair again.
“Writing a letter to my uncle… there’s more unrest with the Sindar. Having us around makes them… uneasy…” Both of you knew why but refused to say so out loud.
You answered with your own hum and sat down on the bed behind him, studying the waves of his hair silently for a moment. The circles under your husband’s eyes were dark, you observed, almost black. When was the last time he rested?
“You should take the day off.” You decided resolutely. “You’ve thrown yourself into your work, into diplomacy, ever since you could hold a pen. In my view that earns you at least a handful of days to yourself…” You cocked your head to the side as you studied his reaction.
Maedhros pressed his lips together, a small frown creasing his brow.
“There’s too much at stake.”
“Fingolfin can wait a day, don’t you think? Himring too. Even just an afternoon off would-“
“You don’t understand!” Maedhros cut you off, tone suddenly sharp and biting. He met your eyes in the mirror, gaze intense as if he were trying to burn you with it. “I would rather die than have one of my people go through what I did! If I hadn’t given everything and one of my soldiers or servants was captured, I could never live with myself.
Somewhat aggressively, Maedhros set the hairbrush down on his lap and began to weave his hair into a braid to stop it from becoming tangled during the night. You were quiet for several moments. Maedhros’s outbursts were something you’d grown used to since you’d followed him to Beleriand and you knew not to take it personally. He had the weight of thousands of lives on his shoulders and if you could help him bare that burden in any way, you would.
Angrily, Maedhros hissed though his teeth, face scrunching up as he tugged at his hair. Even at the best of times, braiding one’s hair with a single hand was difficult but already being angry made it near-impossible. Defeated, Maedhros cried out and threw the hairbrush on his lap to the ground, frustrated beyond measure.
He sprung to his feet, evidently having energy to expel and took several stomping steps forward. You knew this would no doubt be the start of a pacing episode, the carpet next to your bed already showing signs of wear from the amount of times he’d stomped the length of your room. The best you could do was try and nip it in the bud before the daker side of his mind took hold.
“Let me help you, darling.” You kept your voice soft and quiet. Shouting would and never had got you anywhere.
“I don’t need help!” He practically hissed in response. Frustration and fury oozed from his every pore in equal measure. “I can braid my own fucking hair! I’m not a child!” He began to pace, at a loss of what to do.
Your heart went out to your husband, as it often did when he got like this. You couldn’t imagine how frustrating his disability was. To go from being so able-bodied and well to… well. To being a shadow of himself. It was a fate worse than death in your view.
Even with all the progress he’d made, it was easy to see his pain. When he’d first tried walking again and had been too weak to even leave his bedroom, Maedhros had taken a swing at Fingon, such had been his anger – and perhaps embarrassment too. He’d never lay a finger on you though, of that you were certain.
You took a deep breath in through your nose.
“Sweetheart… you used to braid my hair all the time, did you not?” You let the question hang in the air for a heartbeat but weren’t expecting a reply before you continued. “Did you ever think I was a child?”
“No.” His face scrunched up, appalled and confused at the thought. “Of course not.”
“Exactly. Sometimes it’s just nice to have a lover dote on you, hmm? To show you that you’re more than what you see in the mirror – that you’re deserving of kindness. You’re not broken Mae, and I’d give you ever piece of my heart if I could…”
Maedhros studied you for several long moments. His face was impassive, and you were left wondering if he’d taken your comments onboard.
But then, to your relief, he seemed to deflate. His shoulders sagged as he released a deep breath and came to sit on the bed with you once more. He kept his head bowed and his back to you, leaving you unable to read his expression.
“Go on then.” You knew he’d never ask for help outright and supposed that this was the closest he’d get.
Gently, you set about running your fingers through the strands, looking for any knots your husband may have missed before separating it into three sections. You worked silently and took your time with it, enjoying the closeness that such a mundane activity could bring. Maedhros’s began to relax in minute stages, shoulders beginning to sag even further and head tilting to aid your work.
“Sorry…” His voice was quiet and unexpected. For a moment, you thought you’d imagined it.
But then you smiled and kissed what part of his hair you’d managed to braid so far.
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
Things would get worse before they got better, you knew that much. But you hoped Maedhros would never doubt the depths of your feelings for him.
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