[meme] The everyone survived AU

[goldenplaits]

Due to recent events in the movie world, it seemed like we needed one of these again...

THE ARDA AU MEME


{source}

All the AUs! With classics as the obligatory and all important

> EVERYONE LIVED AU. Maybe you're at Thorin's festive coronation or a drinking game between Boromir and Haldir after the end of the War, or Fëanor and Thingol finally talk to each other. Maybe Belladonna comes with her son on adventures, or Maedhros spends some very awkward hours at Elrond's wedding. U know the drill.
> but let's not forget the staple COFFEESHOP AU either
> or the no less important WHAT IF AU: What if the Silmarils were glowing bunnies? What if Bard hadn't managed to take down Smaug? What if Maeglin had not betrayed Gondolin, what if Galadriel had accepted the One Ring? What if Sam had a giant afro?
> and really any other AUs that you can think of.


As a note, since not everyone has seen BOFA yet and some people care about not being spoiled, please make a note in your top level comment/the subject line of a comment if you might bring up spoilers in threads or don't want to be spoiled, something like "bofa spoilers yes" or "bofa spoilers no".

Comments

[mining_mole]

[He still doesn't like this, at all, but if it buys him as little as a day or two, maybe he will be able to come up with a solution...]

Then see to them, as you wish.

[He takes a few steps to the side to get his towel and very carefully dry himself off.] Though you will have to follow me to my rooms, as I wish to apply ointment and herbs to a few of these. [And, more importantly, get out of the public situation of nudity.]

[thebalrogslayer]

[Relieved that Maeglin accepts his conditions, Glorfindel is quick to accept Maeglins. He was already thinking along the same lines anyway, and he gathers his things back up. His hair can wait: this is much more important.]

To your rooms, then? If you are done here.

[mining_mole]

[All that Glorfindel receives in return is a quiet look and then Maeglin turns away to walk over to his clothes, getting dressed quickly to then wait for the other elf to be finished and without another word lead him back towards his own rooms. If Glorfindel keeps watching him, he'll see that Maeglin's back is in about the same state as everything else about him.

The younger elf closes his door and then vanishes into his bedroom to fetch what he has in medicine and similar things, gesturing for the older to sit down in the seating area next to the high window that looks out over Gondolin, way too far up on the hill that one could look in from the street or even from the next houses - a drop of 20 metres, perhaps.]

[thebalrogslayer]

[Glorfindel is watching, paying attention to what Maeglin is doing now. What else has he missed in the past? He follows quietly to Maeglin's rooms, and once inside sets his own basket of cleaning things down and takes the seat. Glancing out of the window, he takes the moment by himself to consider what might have happened to Maeglin within the walls of the encircling mountains.

When he returns he signs for Maeglin to come and sit close to him.] Come here and let me see to you.

[mining_mole]

[He sets his box down on the seat opposite Glorfindel and sits down on the stool between the two, rigid and tense. There is only so much that he can pretend, and it seems like there is no reason to fake not being bothered, at least not at the moment. After all, he is playing on pride and shame being his primary motivators for having hidden his injuries.

...the actual problem will arise again soon enough when Glorfindel starts to ask questions. And there really aren't all that many explanations that stray from the truth and are even remotely believable.]

[thebalrogslayer]

[For one not best known as a healer, or even a lover, Glorfindel's hands are surprisingly gentle. Even though his hands are rough, he's as kind as he can be as he rubs salve into the wounds on his back.

For a while he's quiet as he works, tending to them, but not re-bandaging them immediately.] There, that's your back done, now let me see your front. [He says, softly. He's had a good eyeful of the wounds on Maeglin's back now, and for all the while he's been silent he's been trying to place them, to work out what might have caused them. He might not be a healer, but he's a warrior, and he's seen many patterns of wounds in the past, and Maeglin's worry him. Still, he'd rather be face to face when he questions him, so that he can watch how he responds.]

[mining_mole]

I can do the front myself.

[He hasn't relaxed any while Glorfindel was working, tension still squaring his shoulders. It took all his willpower to not clench his hands into anxious fists at his sides, so he rested them in his lap, fingers flat against his legs, and concentrated on that while another part of his brain is still trying to find a solution to this - what is Glorfindel thinking?]

[thebalrogslayer]

I know that, but while I'm here, you might as well let me. I already have my hands dirty. [He offers as an excuse, with a soft laugh. Don't think he hasn't noticed your tension Maeglin. Were you really hurt so much that you can't bare to be touched, or is this hurt from before these scars on your skin?

On a whim, Glorfindel scoots closer, turning the younger elf enough that he can hug him without having to do it from behind. His hold is looser than he'd normally go for, both because of his injuries and Maeglin's obvious discomfort, but an arm still loops over his shoulders in a reassuring hold.] I'm not going to hurt you, Magelin. I want to help you.

[mining_mole]

[He positively freezes in the embrace, his breath hitching and coming shallowly, head turning away reflexively, eyes closing.

It's not that this particular situation - arms around him, a mouth close to his ear (much closer than how it is now) - is connected to physical pain. It is connected to other things - those lips spilling the sweetest lies and promises, the darkest threats and descriptions of torture and destruction; those lips speaking of his most secret fears and hopes, disappointments and all those emotions, positive and negative, all the wishes and memories buried deep or close to the surface, and spinning them elaborately into tales and digging, twisting, deceptively sweet at times and terrible at others. He can't let himself shake, can't pull away, because if he does either, he will be cast back into the darkness and cold (or worse, though he cannot tell if it is really worse - what is worse)...

Glorfindel is gone, Gondolin is gone, and for the moment, it is all that he can do to keep himself quiet and unmoving.]

[thebalrogslayer]

[Glorfindel feels Maeglin freeze against him and freezes in turn. What has he done to cause this? He knows that Maeglin is not one for physical affection, but is this really the reaction he would expect? This is someone - if not scared, caught up in some unpleasant memory.

Has Maeglin really had so much suffering that he can't find joy in a hug any more?

His first instinct is to pull away, but on second thought he loosens his hold but stays close.] Maeglin? What happened?

[mining_mole]

Stop talking.

[He attempts to sounds strong; to sound prideful and steadfast, but it comes out almost like a plea, present and past mixing painfully. He can't even be sure who the person next to him is right now, isn't even sure if he is sitting on soft cushions by the window in Tumladen or much farther north on stones cold and blackened, covered in dirt of which he does not want to know the nature even though he can make a good guess.

But the arms retreat, and he breathes a bit more freely, trying to orient himself to tell what will happen next.]

[thebalrogslayer]

[That tone is almost too much for Glorfindel to take, but he does listen to Maeglin's plea and he falls quiet, giving Maeglin a little bit of breathing space. He's not entirely still, though, he can't quite manage that. His hands find Maeglin's hair, stroking softly, soothing, ever gentle.

But worries are building up in him still, mind turning over all the possibilities and coming back to a few horrible scenarios that he hates the idea of. Still, he stays quiet, waiting for Maeglin to give him a sign that he's feeling a bit better.]

[mining_mole]

[Maeglin stills completely under the touch, but his heartrate doesn't speed up again, and he still calms down. It takes a while before he pulls away, this time somewhat collected and mostly back in the present. His dark, bright eyes glare over at Glorfindel. This certainly wasn't something that he wanted to show to anyone - and only partly because of the implications (though his fear of what will be read form it does play a large part here). Also because it is shameful, and the only reaction to shame that he has learned over the years is closing himself off, reacting with silence and a wall between himself and everyone else. But at the same time, he's only just trying to rebuild any walls at all, so it isn't as effective as it would normally be.]

[thebalrogslayer]

[Maeglin's glares have a way to go until they match his uncle's or Ecthelion's, and Glorfindel meets his gaze squarely. He puts his hand on Maeglin's cheek, cupping it, maintaining the touch between them even if he allows Maeglin his space now.]

Will you not tell me what happened, or will you leave me to think of all the dreadful possibilities?

[mining_mole]

[He cannot, but he cannot tell him either, not fully, not... It doesn't matter anymore, now, does it?

He would never make it out of Tumladen, and there is nothing beyond it. And... no. He doesn't have the strength, never had it and especially doesn't have it now, to really face off Glorfindel in a fight, and now that he has seen... and has his thoughts...

It doesn't matter, and he wants to laugh and cry at once in despair, but he doesn't, reining himself in and finally giving a small shrug.] And yet your mind may be kinder than reality. [He is as good as dead; they all are, now. Including Idril.]

[thebalrogslayer]

Then it must have been truly dreadful, and not something that any Elf should keep locked away, lest it cause more pain. [He knows that much of healing at least. Pains of the heart are the most deadly, and he would not see Maeglin fade or grow bitter, hoarding a secret torture and keeping the wound fresh.]

Let me help you, Maeglin. [It's Glorfindel's turn to sound a little desperate, as he keeps holding the elf's gaze.] Please.

[mining_mole]

You will not wish to help me once you have heard of it; neither Noldor not Men do not trust those whom the Dark Lord took from their homes yet through luck and other means escaped. "By treason of kin against kin, and the fear of treason", and in the end there is nothing to return to if not all that befell is hidden away; moreso in a city that by the decree of its lord none may leave for fear of its location having been betrayed. [He speaks hotly now, leaning forward lightly, dark eyes flashing.] Tell me, Glorfindel; for I am at the mercy of your hands now, and my fate lies at your feet: Is it not so that no welcome has been given to such individuals, nor ever will?

My longing for kin and those whom I knew guided my feet back to Gondolin, and yet it was foolish, and I should not have listened to my heart that wished to not remain parted, though where else I should have guided my feet, I do not know, for there is no place for one as me, least they keep what has befallen close to their heart, for no mercy will those who were luckier show them.