Chapter Text
“Does he know?” Elrond asked as he and Fingon were looking for fallen trees to build the foundation of the tower, running around in Elrond´s slightly too tight shirt, “Ereinion. That you love Maedhros?”
“Of course he knows! Everyone knows we are dear friends!”
“Does he know you were more?”
“More!?” Fingon asked, scandalised, as if he was not already a walking Noldorin political disaster, walking around in his light grey undershirt and only two braids with no jewelry.
“Lovers?”
“We are not of the Teleri, or the servants of Vána to change our gender and be lovers! Besides, Russo would hardly make a woman, and he would be greatly insulted if you compared him to one.”
“Two men can be lovers,” Elrond said calmly, “none of you have to change your gender.”
Luinlobrobwen squeaked in agreement, and Elrond patted her on the nose as Fingon thought of what to answer.
“We are not of the Avari, it would be improper,” he decided on.
“And the Avari would say it was improper for two cousins to wed,” Elrond said, silently agreeing with them, but at least Fingon and Maedhros couldn´t get children, and some humans married their cousins too.
Elrond let it rest and instead focused on keeping Fingon from cutting down any healthy trees and stepping on a poor squirrel Fingon ended up hissing at, so frightened by the furious Elda, the poor animal ran to Elrond and hit in his cape.
After they had spent the whole day collecting tree for the tower´s foundation and structure, Fingon looked at him, “we need black powder.”
“Black powder?” Elrond asked.
“Yes, the kind Morgoth used to loosen the rock so we can build your tower or rocks.”
“I was thinking… maybe we should put the foundation up and let someone who has built a tower before do the rest?”
Fingon laughed his manic laugh, “how then would you learn!?”
“I don´t want you to blow anything up alone near my valley,” told Elrond.
“Oh,” said Fingon, “it won´t be a big explosion. It would be controlled.”
And with that Elrond made food for them both, and Fingon roasted meat for himself and they eat, and then they slept.
The next morning they began laying the foundation of the tower at the end of the kitchen.
“I thought we would have been further by now,” said Fingon as he stared at the not even half finished floor, as he stopped shoveling the dirt that was in the way of the foundation, “I think it will be easier if we didn´t make it round.”
“If I shall have a tower, it shall be round,” said Elrond, and Fingon groaned, as he threw himself to the ground and struggled to take his undershirt off without it tugging at his hair.
A week went by, and they had the foundation and the first layer of the walls structure built.
“I think we need to wait for someone to lay the stone before we continue,” Fingon said, and Elrond looked at him. Truth be told, Elrond had done most of the work, as Fingon had a tendency to be distracted. He might have some form of attention deficit, Elrond thought. I wonder how I could make him agree to me doing tests on him, but no, Fingon was not ready for that.
A month went by, and Elrond´s whole house was painted on the inside, another month, and the outside was painted too with floral patterns, mostly seen on men's houses from the First Age or Rohan, from what he was told. “Finrod would like it,” Fingon said as they were painting the outside of the kitchen.
Elrond only hummed, more used to the mosaics of Sirion and Imladris, and pale statues, but even Imladris, especially in the Noldor sides of it, had had painted buildings and statues.
Another month went by, and Fingon sat again in the chair by the pond, running his finger over the flowers painted under one of the windows, “how many floors do you want your tower to have?”
“Just two,” Elrond replied after a moment of silence, “no, three, I want the upper one to be open to the air, and the second floor to be a guest room.”
“I think I have a speech,” Fingon said after more silence filled in between them, “I- I have been thinking each night of what to say, I know it now.”
´He was never one for words, despite never shutting up!´ Maglor had hissed one of the times Maedhros got drunk and talked about Fingon, as if he himself didn´t also drown himself in alcohol.
“Will you share your speech?”
Fingon stayed silent for so long that Elrond thought he had become distracted, “I am no Fëanáro, words don´t come to me, but song does, but not as well as it does to Fëanáro´s second born. In fact, I am not the best at anything, but I love him more than myself, no Pereldar, my speech is for the Valar, and the Valar only.”
A week after that, they began making preparations to leave for Valimar. Elrond packed the outdoor furniture away and began preparing to eat the food that would turn back as they were away, and making a meal plan for their travel. Food was plentiful in Valinor, and they could eat from others' gardens, but both Elrond and Fingon knew Beleriand and wanted a secure food source, so Fingon dried and smoked meat, and Elrond baked dried bread, and made jams to take with them on the journey.
That night Fingon lay down in Elrond and Celebrían´s bed, and Elrond lay down in Ereinion´s hammock, Fingon began to sing, and sang until Elrond was asleep.
When Elrond woke, Fingon was already waiting outside with a saddled Luinlobrobwen and food in his hand, he was wearing his mourning clothes he had washed the night before, and would have looked as a prince set out to rescue his beloved, if not for the lack of finery and the small packed horse beside him.
“Let me tell Thorondor to send a message to Artanáro.”
“Where we are going, right?” Elrond asked.