Chapter Text
"You live."
Hearing those words again, his chest is painfully constrained. They do not fall from his own lips, this time; and yet it is all too similar to the first time, when he stepped over a body to grasp Maitimo's arm, needing to physically reassure himself that his friend was still standing. The same tone, relieved and pained and numb and angry all at once; the same eyes, wary and shocked. The same in other ways, too: He still is covered in blood that is not his own for the greatest part; and the one whom the words are spoken to has laid a sin upon himself that cannot be washed away by water or words or deeds, nor ...anything, really.
But this time, it is him on whose arms another's hands come to rest, and this time the separation is not immediate; there is no need to take up a sword again, the fight is over. The slaughter, more like, a voice inside him whispers, and he bows his head, unable to look his father in the eye.
"I do." Yet many do not, of the Teleri as well as of those that he lead into the charge. They had the upper hand, their weapons better and, though as surprised and startled by the situation in general their hearts had still been more prepared for something than those of the Teleri - and their spirits ahd certainly been much higher at that point, as they were the second wave of attack. But even so Alqualondë's residents had fought valiantly and desperately, and more than one of Findekáno's host had lost their life.
He feels drained, now. Now that they are manning the ships that will prove far too few for even half of the Noldorin hosts. Now that blood is soaking the ground and whatever they will achieve will be tainted by the lives that have passed under the hands of those who took up a sword against another elf. Now that ...he will move on, but for the moment, he is too drained not only to think of past and future, but even to think of the now, and as his father pulls him into his arms, it is all that he can do to not break down right there at the docks, to let the numbness keep him from any action at all because he doubts that any of them would be helpful with the audience that they have. He wants to cry in Nolofinwë's arms like the boy he once was; wants to apologize; wants to bitterly ask for his father's part in all of this (we could have kept grandfather in Tirion if only you had tried for it harder); wants to pull away and return to action, away from all concerns until they have left the blood stained streets behind themselves. It is the last which he does in the end, pulling away from his father with a murmur of needing to see how their injured are faring.
----
It is only later that he lets himself break down, if hours or days he cannot tell. They have set out from the harbour city and set up camp, and though they are not in private, it is as close as they will come to it for a long while, most likely: a little ways above the majority of the elves, two more or less separate encampments have been set up, housing Miriel's and Indis's offspring.
Most of the others are down in the main camp right now, and though Irissë and Artanis were sitting by the fire that has been lit against the darkness for a long while, they are gone now, their hushed discussions obviously having resulted in the decision to head over to the Fëanorian camp. He feels as if he should have stopped them, or gone with them... but his father requested him to stay, so he did.
When, as soon as they were gone, Nolofinwë had asked Aikanáro to please try and find Irimë, his friend had only gone with a long look at Findekáno, and though he isn't sure what lay in it, it is clear that "I want to speak with my son alone" would not have been any clearer.
And yet, once his cousin has taken his leave, they do not speak, and instead sit there in silence, as if in wait.
It is the father who finally breaks the silence. "Come here."
That is met with a surprised raising of Findekáno's chin, and the older elf sighs and stands instead, crossing the distance between them and sitting down at his son's side. A rough (and clean, oh so clean, Findekáno thinks) hands reaches out to grasp the younger elf's shoulder, squeezing it briefly before moving on and coming to rest on the back of his head. The father leans in, and his hand is only met with minimal resistance as he gently pushes their foreheads together. "You are my beloved son, and that you will ever be." And as beautiful as the words are, the part that is lacking hangs heavy between them. My son and heir, yet that was not said, and Findekáno's stomach constrains painfully at the lack.
"And you my beloved father, and there is no force in Arda which can change that." For though the love of one's parent can do terrible things indeed (he shudders when he remembers seven voices repeating the terrible oath that should not have spoken even by the first man who uttered it) it still is a love written deeply into his heart, and he has never been one to forget love or friendship once he has committed to them. "Yet that is not what you have sent Aikanánaro away for."
Something close to amusement tugs at his father's lips at that, if only for a moment, and he nods. "I cannot deceive you now, can I?"
"You cannot." A gentle thump of their foreheads, and the Findekáno pulls away, sitting very straight and unmoving, his voice calm and bare of accusation, but also of any other emotion as he speaks. "You wish to make Turukáno your heir, and take the title from me." He almost expected it - did not hope for it, and it is a reprimand that could be no sharper, the sting of it no harsher.
"Your heart is hot in your chest, and there is no time left to temper it now." A grim shake of his father's head. "Not that my brother's heart burns any cooler, and that is a grief to us all. And you have brought grief to us as well in his wake. ...I do not fault you, in truth, nor any of those who went with you. Irimë has seen to that." A vision of his aunt sitting his father down and giving him a stern talking to of you-must-understand-my-nephews-and-nieces flashes before Fidekáno's eyes, and were the situation not as grave as it is, he would grin at it. "Yet I cannot commend it, and cannot condone it, and both for it's symbolic worth and the real power which it holds, I must take the title from you."
"To do so will remove you further from uncle Fëanáro's side, as well." And this time, there is an accusation in his voice, because as much as he respects his father's decision, it is not entirely wise, not entirely geared towards peace - certainly not towards unity.
"And closer to Arafinwë."
Findekáno's features darken at that, and he pulls away completely. "The Noldor need unity now more than ever. Place Irissë in my stead."
"The blood of kin is on her hands as it is on yours."
"She did not lead the charge!"
"I cannot ignore Turukáno in the order of succession and place a woman in his stead, who has no place in it to begin with when there are ample sons. Her place would be contested, and we have neither the strength nor need for such fights."
"Well, maybe you should contest it, it is a rule that has no tradition, that is only forming through our actions!" Findekáno jumps to his feet now, glowering down at his father. "You seem intent on furthering tensions, anyway, why not pick a fight which would benefit your daughter, and all daughters of ours to come, instead of one that will tear apart our people over the petty rivalry of yours and uncle's?" He grits his teeth. "I do not beg you to not take this from me, for I see why you wish to not have your name and that of our people sullied by one who has brought blood upon the heads of so many of our people. Yet I do beg you to not do this; for I love Turukáno as dearly as I love you and mother, grandfather and Irissë and Arakáno."
"And Maitimo."
"And Aikanáro." His eyes narrow. "Is this what it is about?" His hands curl into fists at his sides.
"It is not." Nolofinwë stands as well, now, but drops the hand that is reaching out towards his son when Findekáno pulls away. "This is what I mean. Your heart burns hot and your words are rash, and your counsel unwise, ruled by desire for glory and wishes for unity that is impossible. Turukáno -"
"My brother will be a better heir, and instating him as such now will not only reprimand those who let the blood of elves sully their hands; it will also tell them of the disapproval that Nolofinwë's house holds for those who come to the aid of Fëanáro's sons." He is almost growling now.
"It will instate a heir whose words are slow and cool, and whose heart burns for the people under his care before anyone else." There is a long, tense silence as bright eyes clash, holding each other's gaze for what seems like ages of the world.
It is Findekáno who breaks the stare in the end, bowing his head. "As my father commands."
"Will you be loyal to your brother?"
There is a long pause, and Findekáno does not look at his father as he finally answers, "I love my brother", and turns, flees almost, walking down the hill towards the main camp without bidding the older elf farewell.
----
On the way down, Findekáno passes by Irimë and Aikanáro. He doesn't react to their attempts to hail him, and after a short look between them, Indis's daughter nods for her nephew to follow his cousin before rushing up the hill to find her brother.
----
"Well, that went spectacularly well."
Nolofinwë doesn't raise his head when he hears his sister's voice, instead remaining where he slumped down after his son left, his head buried in his hands. "What did he say?"
"Nothing at all. Yet the expression that lay on his features I have seen only once before, and that was on our brother when he returned after having been lost for days, only to swear that damned oath."
"Half-brother." It is automatic, and he groans (how much of a point did Findekáno have? Not that it changes his decision, as his relationship with Fëanáro and really anyone outside of his house, save for the Valar and Teleri (there is more hope for reconciliation if the one who let Nolofinwë's house into a kinslaying is not in line to lead it anymore) had little to do with it).
And then looks up abruptly, a haunted look in his eye, rising quickly to grasp his sister by her arms. "Is he-"
"He is not going to take his own life." She raises her hands to cup the sides of his face, gentle and reassuring and sad, and he hates seeing her like this (she is taking on Findis's role, he thinks. Big sister). "What he needs now is time, and thought. I sent Aikanáro after him."
"...Thank you." And he does not resist when she pulls him into her arms.
----
"He is right, you know, though I cannot tell if he is aware of it." Aikanáro idly kicks up some of the water that laps at his ankles and covers his bare feet.
"How?" There is a hurt tone to Findekáno's voice, and the younger cousin sighs, looking over at the older who keeps his eyes trained at the horizon, eastwards, though Aikanáro doubts that he truly sees anything.
"You and your father are too alike in mood and spirit, and save for your stance on our uncle and his sons, you will only repeat his counsel. Yet Turukáno is different, and with your mother having chosen a different path than him, he needs a heir who will temper rather than reinforce his decisions."
There is a loud splash at his side as Findekáno sits down, uncaring that the salty water will soak his shirt in no time. "Why are all of you so reasonable?"
"All of us?"
"...Maitimo would say the same, I am sure of it."
"And do you not think that your father deserves someone like us at his side?"
"That would be Makalaurë, not either of you." He suddenly lunges over and pulls Aikanáro's legs out from under him, resulting in the Arafinwion landing rather harshly in the shallow water and, after a short but determined shuffling, pushing and pulling, coming to sit on his older cousin's chest. Who, for the first time in days, grins. "As you have just proven; for neither Turukáno nor Makalaurë would have risen to this challenge."
A group of children somewhat down the beach turns their heads in surprise, their eyes searching for the source of this laughter. A laughter that they sorely missed, for it has been days since any adults laughed around them, or anywhere in the camp. And, seeing that the cause seems to have been a water fight, they join in happily, splashing water at both of them.
----
Further up the beach, two sets of eyes watch the water battle, listening with relief to joyful cries of attack and laughter as both men go under for a moment, covered in children. Then, Artanis turns to Irissë. The women exchange a nod and a smile before turning back towards the hill to report back and bring the good tidings of their brothers being little boys after all.