Twelve Days Later - Thrill_of

Chapter 1: Lucky

Chapter Text

Orodreth plops down at the high-top she’d snagged by the bar, stealing a few stale pretzels from the handmade ceramic bowl beside the napkins and grimy saltshaker which she’s certain has been here since before she was born. “I’m in love,” Orodreth declares with a goofy grin as he sheds his coat.

“I wasn’t aware you were seeing anyone,” Galadriel says, momentarily taken aback.

Mairon just grins, amused, taking a long sip of his lager. “Good to see you, Orodreth. It’s been awhile.”

It had been awhile. He’d been busy with some online classes for a creative writing program, and he had little free time since the semester had started at the end of January. When he did show up to family dinners, he was always scribbling away in a tiny notebook or jotting notes on his phone, a far-off look in his eye.

Orodreth waves the greeting off, not in an impolite way, just in the way that Orry does. He orders a Guinness as the waitress swings by—practically a requirement on St. Patrick’s Day—and pulls out a creased envelope from the pocket of his coat. “I’m not seeing someone.”

Galadriel gives him an inquiring look, rather puzzled how he fancies himself in love if he hasn’t even been dating.

He sets the envelope on the table’s surface, frowning slightly when a bit of warm beer spreads through the paper at the contact, but he’s quick to return his attention to the matter at hand, this mysterious envelope. “I got the first letter on Christmas Day,” he says, smiling fondly as his finger traces the red stamp with bells she’s sure are meant to be jingly.

“From…?”

“My secret admirer,” her brother says, waggling his eyebrows.

“Your secret admirer.”

“I signed up for a thing through the school, a sort of anonymous pen pal program and I’ve been getting letters since then.” He has that same far-off look in his eyes she’s been seeing the last several months. “I’ve never met anyone like her.”

“You’ve never met her,” Galadriel mutters under her breath. Mairon elbows her, dropping his hand to squeeze her thigh when a giggle forms in the back of her throat.

“What’s her name?” Mairon asks him, because one of them has to be supportive.

Orodreth runs a hand through his hair, disrupting the waves he had carefully coiffed with copious amounts of gel for his office job and taking a slow sip of his beer. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

He shakes his head, unfazed by her pragmatic cynicism.

“What do you know about her?” Galadriel asks, starting to worry.

Her brother removes the letter from the envelope with the utmost care, a rather precious smile on his face that keeps her from knocking some sense into his head. For the moment.

“All the important things.”

Her name isn’t important? Mairon mouths behind his hand and she bites her lip to keep from laughing at the ridiculousness of it all that could only be Orodreth’s life.

“Such as…?” she prompts him, waiting for him to tell her something that doesn’t make her worry he’s fallen prey to the schemes of a poor Nigerian prince.

“Who she is, her hopes and dreams.” He bites half of a pretzel. “Her fears.” He takes a sip of his beer, washing down the sawdust that is a stale bar pretzel. “She gets me, Galadriel.”

A bold statement. She wonders if anyone could ever truly understand the mystery that is Orodreth, but the investigator in her is certainly intrigued by the possibility of it. “Does she?”

He gives her a sarcastic little shrug, rolling his eyes.

“May I?” Mairon gestures toward the letter, interrupting them before she can come back with something equally as immature.

Orodreth makes a big show of handing over the letter, one which Mairon indulges without mocking—he’s so much kinder than her. He unfolds the paper, the creases well-worn, a sign of a familiar favorite often returned to but maintained with care. Mairon reads in silence while Galadriel watches her brother with narrowed eyes from across the table. It’s as though he knows every word on the page and reads them in time with Mairon, smiling when he gets to certain bits.

Up until this point, she had thought it more likely than not that this was an elaborate April Fools Day prank which Orry was getting an early start on; it would not be unlike him. But, there’s something in his eyes, in his smile that tells her there’s nothing fake about this. For all that he’s obsessed with movies, he’s not that good an actor; he actually fancies himself in love with this mystery pen pal of his.

Mairon sighs, carefully setting the letter down on the table, avoiding the condensation from his glass. “I’m 98% certain you’re being accidentally catfished by somebody’s grandmother.”

At that, Galadriel does laugh, weak from having resisted for so long.

“Please tell me you haven’t shared super personal information like your home address—”

“—or social security number,” Galadriel interjects through a laugh.

Mairon reaches for the envelope from where it sits in front of a frozen Orodreth, flipping it over to look at the front. “A P.O. Box.” He points to the top left corner where the sender’s information sits in neat cursive handwriting in black ink.

“So not only does she know your home address, and no doubt every personal detail short of your PIN number, but you don’t have a name or an address; you have no way to figure out if she’s who she says she is.

Orodreth rolls his eyes, emptying his glass. “I have this little thing called trust, which I’m sure you’re allergic to working the way you do, but you should try it some time.”

“Orry,” she starts, tone heavy with warning.

“You don’t have to trust her, Galadriel.” He reaches across the table, placing his hands over hers in what she’s sure is meant to be a comforting gesture. “You just have to trust me.”

Galadriel’s not sure that makes her feel any better. Her brother has notoriously terrible judgment; just a couple weeks ago, he got poison ivy and nearly lost a toe to hypothermia because he was convinced that he knew a shortcut on the trail back to their car after a long afternoon of hiking at Stony Brook Reservation. She wants to trust him, but perhaps she knows him too well; she just doesn’t want to see him get hurt.

Instead of arguing with him, obstinately proving her point as she has been told she has a way of doing, she gives him a small nod, leaving him with a small warning, as judgment-free as she can manage. “Just be careful, Orry. Be smart.”

He places a bill on the table to cover his drink, the legs on his stool scraping against the concrete floor as he rises from the table. “When am I ever not smart, Galadriel?” He grins childishly, saying his goodbyes and promising to be at family dinner this weekend.

Mairon lets out a long breath once her brother is gone, running a hand through his hair. “Your brother…”

Galadriel lets out an exasperated laugh. “I know.”

“What do you think the chances are that he does something stupid?”

“I’d say it’s almost a guarantee, but I’m trying to have more faith in him.”

Mairon only laughs, his thumb rubbing soft circles over her knuckles, her hands folded in a prayerful position atop the table. At the thought of every foolish thing her brother could dream up regarding his pen-pal/lover, her foot taps anxiously against the leg of her stool. Dear God…

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Mairon reassures her, steadying her fidgeting with a hand to her thigh. “It’s not like he can completely derail his life before we see him this weekend.” His hand moves slowly up her thigh, fingers flirting with the hem of her skirt. “Besides, St. Patrick didn’t do…whatever he did for us to worry on this day dedicated to him. We need to celebrate.”

“I’ve had my fill of Guinness for the year, I think,” Galadriel says, her exasperation melting into something more fond as it turns to him.

“Then I think it’s time for me to take you home.” He shrugs, something wicked and mischievous twinkling in his eyes. It’s one of her favorite of his expressions, because it’s usually followed by a marathon of org*sms and what Ariana Grande so eloquently describes as “walking side to side” the next day.

“Yeah?”

He slips his hand up her thigh, brushing her with the tip of his middle finger. “On second thought.” His smile is downright sinful as his hand inches upward. “Something tells me you’re too impatient to wait that long.”

She groans, his teasing fingers working her up far too much for what he can work off in such a public and especially crowded place. “Whose fault is that?” she whines, shifting in her chair, his thumb brushing her cl*t through the thin lace of her panties.

Mairon leans forward, his breath hot on her ear. “Oh, I’ll happily take the blame, darling.” Galadriel clenches her thighs together when his teasing touches turn to more purposeful strokes. “You’re looking a little flushed, Galadriel.” That wicked grin lights his face once more and he brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, removing his hand from beneath her skirt. “Perhaps we should step outside for some air.”

“If you think that would be best.” She’s quick to her feet, dropping a bill on the table and not bothering to wait for change because she needs to feel his hands on her this very second or she might implode.

He takes her hand in his, their fingers weaving together as they walk through the overcrowded bar full of rowdy and drunk Bostonians decked in various shades of green. Mairon squeezes her hand as they make their way through the back hall toward the alleyway. Yes, I definitely need some air.

He pushes the heavy door, pulling her after him like she is an extension of his arm. Before the door has even fallen completely closed, her back is against the brick wall she’s certain has been there since the Revolution. His mouth is on hers in an instant, stealing all that air she had come outside to claim. It doesn’t bother her one bit, her pulse pounding as their tongues tangle and he lifts her leg, throwing it around his hip so he can get even closer. God, she loves kissing him, loves everything about him and his perfect hands… It’s quite reassuring that despite all the normal, almost mundane days spent together, he still sets her blood racing like no one else.

His hand snakes between them, slipping once more beneath her skirt to where she is dripping for him. He moves her panties aside, stroking her in time with his kisses. Her blood roars at the touch, her cheeks flushing darker. It’s divine, but not quite enough. She groans when he continues to tease her, thumbing gently at her cl*t as he bites her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. “You look good in green,” he mumbles into her mouth, and that low tenor of his voice rumbling through her has her wanting to beg for what she needs.

But he knows. And for as much as he likes to tease her, he’s never left her unsatisfied. She sighs when his index finger slips inside of her. Just her luck, it doesn’t look like he’s going to start tonight.

She’s sure she’ll have an imprint of the brick on her back for hours after this, but she can’t bring herself to care, not even when the addition of his middle finger stretches her so wonderfully and has her rocking against the rough wall. “Mairon.” His name comes out on a whine, as his fingers find that spot inside of her that only he can.

“Yes, Galadriel?” She can feel his smugness from where his lips are pressed to her throat, and if he were anyone else, she would simply not let that slide. But the slide of his fingers against the hot silk of her c*nt grants him pretty much unlimited amnesty if she’s honest with herself.

“Baby, I need you inside me.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling against her neck as his fingers pick up the pace and then slow, in time to a perfect tango. Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. It’s torture. It’s divine.

“You really are impatient tonight,” he tsks, thumbing at her cl*t with no sense of urgency.

“Maironnnn.”

“Fine, have it your way,” he grunts, though not in displeasure. He lets his fingers slip out of her, purposefully slow, and makes quick work of his belt. Her hands are on him instantaneously, freeing him from the confines of his pants and relishing the soft little stuttering sigh that escapes him when her hand envelops his co*ck. “f*ck, Galadriel.” She conducts a tango of her own, giving him a taste of his own medicine, taking note of the delicate way his lashes flutter as his eyes fall closed and the way he grips her hip. “Galadriel, I…”

Before he can finish the thought, Galadriel jumps up, wrapping her legs around his hips. There was not a doubt in her mind that he would catch her, and she laughs at his momentary shock, one hand slung behind her back and the other gripping her thigh. His shock is short-lived, lust quick to take its place, his eyes darkening when she reaches between them to slot him inside her.

He sinks into her slowly, pushing her back up against the wall with a couple of short thrusts until he is fully seated inside her. Leaning forward, he drops a kiss on her nose and then her lips, f*cking up into her with strong, slow strokes, reigniting the rush of sparks his fingers had awoken. His hands were magnificent, but his co*ck… Dear lord…

His palm slaps the brick as he braces his hand on the wall beside her head, the other hand kneading the underside of her thigh, and there’s something so goddamn hot about the fact that he’s holding her up with one hand. She clings to his shoulders, fingers knotting in the length of his hair as he drives up into her, relentless in his pace. His every move is a masterstroke, tendrils of warmth forming in her core and snaking up her spine. “God, Mairon, your co*ck…” The wall bites into her back with the force of his thrusts, but she can hardly feel the scraping sting of it for the tingling in her center.

He crowds her space, breath hot on her ear as he offers another mind-numbing thrust of his hips. “Yeah?” She can only muster a pathetic moan and a barely intelligible nod. His laugh reverberates against the taut skin of her neck and he f*cks up into her like he’s punishing her for something, though it’s a penance she’ll happily pay. “Look at you taking my co*ck like such a good little girl.” His voice is low and rough and she might just combust on the spot from the heat of his words and the way his dick is striking her actual soul with every thrust. Instead, she’s left stringing along incoherent syllables, her back bouncing against the wall as his strokes quicken. “Come on my co*ck, Galadriel,” he commands her, fingers biting into the bottom of her thigh as his hips meet here again and again and again and again and…

“f*ck!” Heat shoots through her limbs, blinding her to anything but the pleasure it carries and the feel of his co*ck pulsing inside her, painting her walls with his spend.

The heavy outer door is thrown open, the handle bouncing off the brick beside her and she hears the telltale sounds of the consequences of drinking excessively on an empty stomach. After proceeding to empty the contents of their stomach, the intruder returns to the bar—none the wiser to their alleyway activity—likely to replace the liquor just expelled.

A few moments earlier, and that certainly would have killed the mood.

Galadriel sinks down slowly, guided gently to the ground by Mairon’s careful hands. She adjusts her skirt once she has her bearings, watching as he sets himself to rights. He offers her a green bandana from his pocket, one she had convinced him he did not need to wear tonight, and she cleans herself up. They sidestep the unwelcome gift left by the door in search of his car, parked down the street.

“I guess there’s something to be said about patience, after all,” Mairon says, bumping his shoulder against hers playfully as he twines their fingers together.

“I mean, there’s definitely something to be said for impatience as well.” Her body is still buzzing with the results of it.

When they get to his car he opens the door for her, leaning down to steal a kiss before she settles into the passenger seat. The kiss lingers and she swears she hears him mutter “naughty girl” under his breath as he walks to the driver’s side. Just like that, she’s feeling impatient again. Her hands are on him before he’s even fully closed the door and he laughs affectionately. “So eager.” She gives him her best approximation of sad puppy dog eyes. Mairon shakes his head, clearly amused at her antics. He buckles his seatbelt, then props his elbow against the steering wheel. “I tell you what. Let’s head back home and I’ll clean you up properly.” She shivers at the dark look in his eyes, at the insinuation. “Then I will make you waffles in the morning. Sound good?”

It sounds pretty f*cking great.

They don’t make it home before she’s coming again and once more for good measure, an hour or two or three spent fooling around in the back seat of his car.

Still, late into the night, he keeps his promise to her. Reclined comfortably on their bed, a pillow under her back, she falls apart on his tongue, words of praise whispered into her c*nt before they both drift off into sleep; no trace of worry over Orodreth and his terrible life decisions remains.

Chapter 2: Oklahoma!

Chapter Text

They arrive at Rino’s a little early on Saturday evening for family dinner. Only Aegnor is seated at the table the hostess shows them to, and she throws her jacket over the chair beside him, Mairon taking the seat on her other side. Seeing her brother sitting alone has her feeling a little guilty. They’d hardly talked since Christmas, and she knows from hints that Angrod’s dropped that he hasn’t exactly been having the best time.

“How’s it going, Aggie?” she asks, reaching toward the middle of the table to snag some of the bread that is calling her name.

He sets his phone down and rests his head in his hands, elbows on the table in a way their mother would have chastised him for when they were younger. “Same old.”

That can only mean one thing. “How’s Andi? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Aegnor looks tired at the mention of his life-long best friend who he’s been in love with since middle school. “She’s good. Started seeing someone new just before Christmas.”

Angrod filters in next, before Aegnor can go into more detail, and she makes a mental note to find a time to grab lunch with Aegnor sometime soon. “Hey Angie,” Galadriel greets him, watching the scowl on his face as he sits across from Aegnor.

“We’ve talked about this, Galadriel. You know I hate that nickname.”

“Right.” She nods, pretending to be chastised.

“How do you feel about Angbang instead?”

She practically spits out her bread at the unexpected quip from Mairon, knowing her brother is more likely to hate that nickname than the one she had opened with.

“You know I love you, Mairon,” Angrod sighs, “but sometimes it feels like I’ve been cursed with two Galadriels when you open your mouth.”

Mairon barks out a laugh, used to the way her brothers communicate their affection by now.

She kicks him under the table. “Love you, too, Angbang.”

He sighs in fond exasperation, saved from further response by the arrival of her father and Eälis, followed shortly after by Finrod and Amarïe.

It feels a little strange to be back at the place where she had first met Mairon. She had rushed in like Orodreth is now, flustered and cheeks flushed. He’s clearly a little worked up about something, but he does his best to center himself, sitting across from her at the table, right next to Finrod. It’s so like the scene before her father’s wedding, moments before the hottest priest she had ever seen had walked into the room and her life had forever changed. It was certainly strange the way they got together, but she wouldn’t change a thing about it if she could. It made for an interesting story to tell when friends had asked how they met. Minus a few select details of course. For all that she thought Orodreth’s pen pal situation was ridiculous, it really was rather tame compared to how she and Mairon had met; she didn’t exactly have room to judge.

Orodreth runs a hand through his hair before picking up the menu and looking at it a bit too attentively considering they’d been coming here for years and he always got the same thing. Galadriel reaches across the table, moving his raised menu to the side so she can see his face.

“You alright there, Orodreth?”

He keeps his attention on the list of house-made pastas, despite her interference. “Fine, thanks. Just trying to read the menu here.”

“But you always get the spaghetti,” she and Finrod say in unison. Of course her brother, ever the detective, would notice something was off from something so small as a food order.

“Figured I’d try something new tonight if that’s okay with you, officers?” Orodreth keeps his eyes down, avoiding their unspoken questions. There’s a bite to his sarcasm, one which is not usually present. Something is clearly bothering him. She wonders if his pen pal broke up with him. Would it make her a terrible person if she hoped for that?

While they wait for their food to arrive, Aegnor tells Finarfin and Eälis about a story he’s been working on, something about a CEO and embezzlement. Her father occupied, she turns her attention back to Orry. “What is up with you? Bad week at work?”

He glares at her and then at Amarïe, his eyes threatening her. Interesting. Something definitely did happen at work. Something Amarïe, being his co-worker, knows about and Orodreth does not wish to share with the class. She turns to her brother’s girlfriend. “What did he do, quit his job?” Galadriel throws out the worst case scenario with a laugh, prepared for Amarïe to tell her she’s being ridiculous. She doesn’t. “You quit your job?” Her voice carries a little more than she intended, catching her father’s attention at the end of the table.

“You quit your job?”

“Thanks a lot,” Orodreth mumbles, turning to face their father and the disappointment that is sure to follow.

“I did,” he confirms, finally setting the menu down in front of him.

“I need a little more than that, son. I thought we agreed that you could take a few writing classes on the side while you worked. Are you wanting to commit more fully to your studies? What is this all about?”

“He dropped out of school, as well,” Amarïe pipes up almost reluctantly, ignoring Orodreth’s mouthed “narc” as she offers the information Orodreth seems perfectly content to keep to himself.

“What the hell, Orry?” Galadriel asks what they’re all thinking. All eyes are on her youngest brother, waiting for him to explain what sounds like absolute madness, even for him.

“I’m moving to—”

The waitress unknowingly interrupts his announcement, setting plates down in front of her gaping family members. After everyone at the table has a heaping plate of pasta and a full glass of wine, at Mairon’s insistence, Galadriel turns her inquisitive gaze back to Orodreth. She’s not about to let him get away with the silence a well-timed interruption had afforded him. “Orodreth?”

He sighs, taking a sip of wine for courage before he turns to the head of the table where their father sits. “I’m moving to Oklahoma.”

“Oklahoma?!” Their unison would put to shame a Broadway chorus singing the titular lyric of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s inaugural musical.

She had seen the letters on the envelope Orodreth had shown them only a few days ago, beneath the PO Box number. He was moving halfway across the country for his pen pal, a girl whose name he didn’t even know. This was exactly the type of self-destruction she and Mairon had feared for her brother when he had shown them that first letter at the bar. This was the absolute worst case scenario.

“Orodreth, you cannot just—”

“What the f*ck, bro?”

“Now listen, dear—”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m sorry, but they needed to know, Orry.”

The surprised and disappointed reactions of her family blend together into little more than noise and she can see her brother mentally checking out. “Excuse me.” He stands quickly from his chair, almost knocking it over in his rush to get outside. She exchanges a quick look with Mairon before following Orry out the door, waving off her family.

Galadriel finds him pacing in the alleyway, eyes wild and hair disheveled. “Orodreth.” She reaches a hand out to stay his frenzied pacing.

“No one was supposed to know.”

It would anger her if it weren’t so utterly ridiculous. “So what, you were just gonna send a postcard when you got there, let it come as a total surprise to us?”

“Well, yeah.” He sounds defeated. “That was the plan.”

She can’t help but laugh. “Did you really think your roommate, the detective, wasn’t going to notice you had packed your stuff and up and left?”

Orodreth scoffs. “Between work and Amarïe, he’s not home enough to notice anything. For that matter, none of you have been around.”

A wave of guilt hits her square in the chest. “Orry.” She rubs a hand over his shoulder, attempting to soothe him. She’s been so wrapped up in Mairon and expanding her business now that she has a partner that they had hardly spent any time together since Christmas. In truth, she has missed him, and clearly she has missed so much of what was going on with him. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there Orry, I am. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. Don’t you. Not tonight, at least. Come back inside, Orry.”

He shrugs off her hand, moving away from her. “Why? So you can all tell me that I’m making a huge mistake and ruining my life?”

She swallows back the words he’d expected to hear, attempting to calm him like a spooked horse. “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I think this is a good decision. I want you to be happy Orry, I do. But this?”

He turns to her then, defiance written all over his face. She’s seen that look before; he’s as stubborn as she is, maybe more so when he gets a harebrained idea in his head like this one. “I am going, Galadriel, and I will not change my mind, no matter what any of you say.”

She can see from the set of his brow that he is entirely serious. He’s leaving. There will be no more takeout and movie nights, no more sparring at their weekly family dinners. No more SOS texts for minor inconveniences or lunches at The Salty Pig. He’s leaving, and suddenly the thought seems unbearable to her and not just because she thinks moving across the country for someone he barely knows is frankly ridiculous. “Then come back inside, Orry. If you won’t be swayed by our opinions, at least enjoy one final family dinner before you go. Please.”

His hands fall to his side, relaxing his defensive energy. “Fine. But I am going, Galadriel.”

She takes his hand, leading him back to the restaurant, to the table where their family waits. “I know you are Orry. I will happily take you to the airport myself. But you won’t leave like this, will you? Without a proper goodbye?”

He sighs as they step back into Rino’s, the din of glasses clinking and conversation enveloping them once more. “Of course not.” She gives his hand a squeeze before letting it go, letting him take his place opposite her at the table. A warning look to everyone at the table, and conversation begins to pick up again, like it had been before Orodreth had dropped an atomic bomb on them.

Galadriel digs into her now lukewarm fettuccine, determined not to let such beautiful carbs go to waste. The parmesan, pepper, and parsley hit perfectly on her tongue, and for a moment she can pretend things aren’t about to change. Mairon puts his arm around her shoulders, a gesture of comfort, and for a moment, she can forget. But only for a moment.

“So,” Finarfin says from the end of the table. “Tell us about this girl who waits for you in Oklahoma.”

Mairon coughs, grabbing the attention of a slightly taken aback Orodreth. “I may have told them about your pen pal,” he says, seeming a bit sheepish.

The smile on Orry’s face indicates he holds no ill will for her partner’s loose lips. It also reminds her just how serious her brother is about all of this. He loves this girl. Or at least he thinks he does. That seems to be enough for him.

“She’s the one. I’m sure of it.” He goes on to tell them all about this girl and all the things she had shared in her letters. Galadriel keeps her many arguments to herself. He had heard them all already, and to speak them again here would be to belittle her brother in earnest, and that is something she will not do.

The faces around the table look on with resignation, with disbelief, but not another word is spoken against Orodreth’s plan. No one wants their last family dinner together to be spent in argument and animosity.

“So when are you leaving?” The question from Finrod, the first he has spoken since she and Orry had returned, quiets the ripples of conversation at the table, and suddenly all eyes are back on Orodreth. Not like they had been away long.

He wipes a bit of red sauce from the corner of his mouth, setting his napkin down on his empty plate. “My flight is tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning.” Something unspoken passes between the two of them, something that leaves Finrod looking slightly distressed. “Can I drive you to the airport?”

“Galadriel’s already offered.” Mairon gives her shoulder another squeeze, a reminder that he’ll be there at her side when she does. She had not doubted for a moment that he would be.

Finrod bites his lip, replacing the argument she can see brewing behind his teeth, with a forced smile and a nod. Finrod had always been so protective of Orry, so she’s a bit surprised he’s not fighting harder about this. Perhaps he’s saving the fight for when it’s just the two of them. She doubts he’ll have any more success than she did.

The evening ends with hugs and goodbyes and well-wishes, Orodreth the first to leave—presumably so he can finish packing up his life in Boston. Scarce little would fit in a suitcase after all the years spent here. It’s a small comfort to know that it will not be so easy to leave his old life behind. At least, she hopes not.

“Okay, what the f*ck?” Angrod asks after Orry has left, followed out by their father and Eälis. “You’re all seriously okay with this?”

“Of course not.” Finrod is quick to offer his disapproval.

Galadriel shrugs. “Not really, but what can I do about it?”

Angrod looks expectantly at Aegnor, who seems distracted by something on his phone. His thumbs pause when he finds everyone’s eyes on him. “It’s crazy, definitely, but you have to admit there is something romantic about it.”

“He needs to learn that life is not a romantic comedy.” For all that the disdain in his voice is aimed toward their youngest brother, she gets the feeling Angrod holds a bit of the sentiment for Aegnor as well, holding an undying flame of unrequited love for his best friend.

“For better or for worse, I think leaving home might teach him that.” She doesn’t want him to get hurt, but maybe it is about time he grew up, no safety net to fall back on.

Angrod continues to grumble his disapproval as they leave the restaurant, giving a short wave to them before taking Aegnor along with him. Alone now with Mairon and her oldest brother and his girlfriend, she notices the guilt on Amarïe’s face as she hugs her friend goodbye. “I didn’t mean to—"

“You did the right thing, telling us. Orry knows that, too.”

Amarïe gives her a grateful smile, waving to her and Mairon as Finrod closes the passenger side door. He moves around the front of his car, and Galadriel thinks that will be the end of it, but he stops before opening his car door.

“I have a contact, a fed in OKC. If you give me her PO Box I can pass it along to him, see what he can uncover.”

“Finrod…”

“He’s my baby brother, Galadriel.” That distress she had seen in his eyes before is back, and she’s never known Finrod to beg.

She lets out a heavy sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.” In a rare reversal, Finrod is hugging her, as though she holds the answer to all life’s most difficult questions. It’s a burden she feels for but a moment, this weight that they had all put upon him. As he lets her go, she knows already that she’ll do as he has asked.

When they get home, she sinks into bed, exhausted from the emotional evening. Mairon collapses beside her, snuggling into her side like a giant emotional support puppy. “I’m sorry, Galadriel.” She burrows into his chest, willing herself to keep from crying; she would save that for the drive back from the airport. She had never really been without Orodreth, not even when she had gone to Northeastern—he had been only down the road at BU.

“I don’t want him to go.” The words sound small and childlike murmured into his neck, and tears start to prick at her eyes despite her efforts to keep them back.

His lips brush against her temple gently, his hand rubbing soothing circles into her hip. “Well, we did say we would drive him to the airport tomorrow. What if we just kept driving?”

She sniffles, turning to face him more fully. “Are you suggesting that we kidnap my brother?”

“No, I don’t—” Wiping the few stray tears from her cheeks, he drops a soft kiss to her lips, the kind that tells her more than words of his love for her. “Yeah, I guess that is what I’m suggesting. It’s not like we have any cases to worry about. We can take a few weeks, drive him out there, look into this pen pal of his. Make sure he’s okay.”

“He won’t like that.”

“I imagine most people wouldn’t like being kidnapped, but there will be little he can do about it once we’re halfway through Connecticut and he’s missed his flight.”

“You are devious.” Galadriel yawns. “I love you so much, you know?”

He kisses her again, his lips lingering before he settles in behind her for the night, curled against her back. “I know. Who else would kidnap your brother and then willingly drive him halfway across the country?”

Galadriel pulls his hand down so it rests over her stomach. “Nobody.” She snuggles back into him, so warm and secure in his embrace. How had she gotten so lucky? “Operation kidnap Orry is a go. Make sure I don’t hit snooze; he’s got an early flight.”

Chapter 3: Oh, Brother

Chapter Text

It’s 6 a.m. on the dot when Galadriel knocks on Orodreth and Finrod’s door the next morning. She looks behind her to Mairon for solidarity. Their plan is slightly crazy, but with any luck, the early hour will mean a less aware Orry. Finrod opens the door after a beat. Orodreth stands behind him, backpack on his shoulders, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor.

“Good morning, Finrod.” She turns her attention to their target. “Orry. Ready to get going?”

“Most definitely.” He pushes past Finrod, waving over his shoulder. “It’s been real, Fin.”

Galadriel’s heart aches for her brother at such a short and dismissive goodbye, but she’s sure plenty of words were had between the two of them after dinner last night. ‘Sorry,’ she mouths to Finrod, turning to follow Orodreth down the hall. “You have everything you need?” she asks him while they can still turn around to retrieve any forgotten items.

Orodreth sighs, tired and annoyed. “You and Finrod, both. I’m not a child, I can pack for myself.”

She pulls on his backpack, jostling him jokingly. “Alright, alright. Just figured I’d ask now before we’re on our way.” She can’t be too offended; she has been treating him a bit like a child, but he’s right, he’s not a child anymore. “Let’s go, buddy.”

“Wait!” Her hand stills on the door, and a moment later a slightly out of breath Finrod stands before her, flapping a small piece of paper through the air. “You forgot your passport. And your ticket.”

Orodreth gives her a look that dares her to say something. She doesn’t, simply stifles her laugh as Finrod hands over the forgotten documents. Mairon is not so successful. “Thank you, Finrod,” he says begrudgingly. Finrod nods, all out of words.

Another silent farewell, and she pushes the door open, leading the way to Mairon’s car. He takes Orodreth’s bags, unlocking the trunk and throwing them in before starting the car. “Well, we’ve gotta get going, Finrod. See you at lunch on Wednesday?” she asks, knowing full well she won’t be there. He doesn’t say anything, just stands there frozen, looking at the ground. Orodreth offers a short wave before disappearing into the car. “He’s gotta go, Fin.” Instead of turning back to his apartment, Finrod opens the door opposite Orodreth, plopping down beside him in the backseat. “Fin…”

“I’m going with you to the airport.” His tone leaves no room for questions and he closes the door firmly behind him, a definitive last word.

She shoots a panicked look over to Mairon in the driver’s seat. This is not part of the plan. He taps his fingers nervously against the steering before pulling out onto the street, heading east toward Logan. Finrod would not be pleased about any part of this plan, but then, it’s his own fault—he wasn’t supposed to be here. He’s practically kidnapping himself. Galadriel’s leg bounces up and down, a manifestation of the anxiety she feels at knowing that in about thirty minutes she’ll have a lot of explaining to do. To both Orry and Finrod. Why on earth did I think this was a good idea? We could always just drive to the airport, call this whole thing off. Mairon reaches over to settle her bouncing thigh, thumb stroking her skin reassuringly. She’s doing this for Orodreth. He’ll realize that eventually. And Finrod will just have to get over it. She nearly laughs at the thought. He might sooner set fire to a building than lose the moral high ground.

“Are you getting handsy up there?” Orodreth asks, like the child he is. “Because that is the last thing I want to see at six in the morning. Or maybe ever.”

Mairon removes his hand from her thigh, slinging it behind her seat instead. “I can blindfold you, if you’d like? Tie you up, too. I think I have some equipment in the glovebox.”

Orodreth mumbles a disgruntled, “sorry” under his breath and turns to stare out the window into darkness.

“I’ll be honest, I am a bit surprised Finrod didn’t try to tie you up to keep you here.” Mairon says over his shoulder.

Orodreth seems captivated by the dark road and glaring lights out his window. Anything to keep him from looking at Finrod. “He did.”

“What was that, Orry?” Galadriel asks him to repeat himself, despite hearing him loud and clear. She didn’t think Finrod had it in him.

“He did.”

Mairon fiddles with the radio dial, barely suppressing a laugh. “Kinky.”

“Oh, you want to talk about kinky? Remember when—?”

Galadriel’s giggles die in an instant. “Orodreth, I will actually kill you if you keep talking. I don’t care if there’s a homicide detective in the vehicle. Dead.”

“What am I missing here?” Finrod looks to her first for a response, but when she says nothing, he turns to Orodreth beside him.

Orodreth claps a hand on his shoulder and with his best condescending big brother voice he says, “I’ll explain it when you’re older.”

It’s bittersweet, the laughter that breaks the awkward silence among them. She can only imagine the questions little Orry had asked to garner that response from Finrod. But there’s something sobering about the fact that he’s not so little anymore. He is an adult, even if they had refused to see him that way. He would always be her baby brother.

They drive in silence after that as they close in on the airport, but instead of continuing east toward Logan, Mairon takes 93 south.

Finrod leans forward, a hand on the back of the driver’s seat. “Mairon, I think you made a wrong turn. The exit wasn’t for another couple miles.” He keeps driving. “Mairon—”

“We’re not going to the airport.”

That catches Orodreth’s attention. “Excuse me?”

“Galadriel, what is this?”

“We’re not going to the airport,” she repeats. “But we are going to Oklahoma.”

“Galadriel, you better explain to me what the hell is going on in the next three seconds—” She had anticipated his anger, but that doesn’t startle her any less when actually faced with it. Galadriel had only ever seen her brother truly angry one time in her life, after their mother passed away and something had gone wrong at work while he was on leave. She doesn’t remember the details—she had been young at the time—but she remembers his quiet rage. She knows it was something she was not supposed to see. Now, she sneaks a look at him in the rearview mirror, not brave enough to face him yet, and what she sees doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. “—or I will call Arondir right now and have him put a warrant out on you for kidnapping.”

“My own brother?! You—” She hears him rifling around through his pockets, presumably looking for his phone. The realization hits her the same moment it hits him. “You don’t have your phone.” Galadriel turns around to look at him then, confirmation written all over his face. “It’s still on your charger.”

“Galadriel…”

“Well, there goes that option.” She adjusts her seatbelt so it’s not digging into her shoulder as she celebrates her victory. “And for the record, threatening to arrest your own sister is wayyyy crazier than kidnapping your own brother.”

Looking annoyed and somewhat panicked, Orodreth leans forward, cutting the tension between her and Finrod. “Now that we’ve got that settled. What the hell, Galadriel? You said you were fine with me going.”

She ignores Finrod’s raised eyebrow. “I didn’t say those exact words. And I’m not trying to stop you from going. I just need a bit more time; I need to know more about this pen pal of yours, Orry. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

“That’s not your job, Galadriel.”

She bites back a quip that investigating people is literally what she gets paid for, because she knows that’s not really what he means.

“Yeah, Galadriel, it’s not your place to—”

“You’re just as bad as she is.” He turns his frustration on Finrod. “I did depend on you when mom died and maybe for too long after that, but you’re not my father, Finrod.”

Chapter 4: The Bronx Zoo

Chapter Text

“The zoo?”

“Yeah, in the Bronx. Oldest one in the US, I think.”

Galadriel is a little surprised that given free rein of the city he wants to go to the zoo, but she won’t complain; it shouldn’t be too hard to keep an eye on him—and Finrod—in a place with such well-defined boundaries and set paths to follow. She can’t really remember the last time she went to the zoo, but she’s pretty sure she took a school bus there. They had gone as a family, once, to the Franklin Park Zoo, but she had been too little to really remember much. What she does remember, however, was Finrod holding her up on his shoulders so she could see the enclosures over the crowds of taller children and their parents. She doubts he’s feeling as generous today.

“Sounds like fun, Orry.” Galadriel reaches down to grab her phone, ignoring the 37 notifications cluttering her lockscreen. She plugs the Bronx Zoo into maps and thankfully it’s not too far away; she could do with a good stretch. Mairon’s car is not the most comfortable, and they’ll have no choice but to walk for miles to see all the exhibits, as Orry will want to do.

Mairon drives around for a while trying to find parking. Parents with strollers rub sunscreen on eager children while others drag exhausted kids back to their cars, scarlet kisses on foreheads and noses, marking a day well spent. Finally he finds a spot, and after a chorus of unbuckling seat belts, her legs are on the pavement, delighting in the stretch of being upright. She looks over to Mairon, his back bending as he lifts his arm over his head. At the flash of reddish hair low on his stomach, glinting in the sunlight, she finds herself wishing he would stretch her out.

Time and place, Galadriel. At the zoo with your brothers—whom you have kidnapped—is not it.

She tables the desire for later, grabbing her sunglasses from the dash.

“sh*t.” Finrod stops in his tracks. “I didn’t get my permission slip signed. Guess I’ll have to wait in the car.”

Galadriel hooks her arm with his, dragging him to the gate. “Live a little, Fin. You just might have fun.”

She ignores his mumbles of disagreement, passing her credit card to the ticket agent behind the glass. “Four adults, please.” Though at the moment, it only feels like there are three.

They enter through the Asia Gate, and immediately before them is a cute little train, with an open side on the cars for viewing the animals. “Wanna start with the monorail or do it before we leave?”

Orodreth studies a map of the zoo on his phone, zooming in intently, and Mairon pulls him aside to keep him from trampling a wandering child. “Thanks.” Decision made, he puts his phone back into his pocket. “Let’s catch the monorail on the way out. We can start in Africa.” He leads the way and they have little choice but to follow after him.

Finrod shuffles along, wanting to be annoyed that he’s spending a Sunday afternoon at the zoo weaving through crowds of tired adults and screaming children, but she can see him start to enjoy himself, almost begrudgingly, when they approach the giraffes. They’re so cute and perfectly bizarre that even Finrod, in his state of annoyance, can’t help but smile.

Finrod no longer as much of a flight risk, Galadriel grabs Mairon’s hand, twining her fingers through his. “Is this what she had in mind for your Sunday?” she asks, their joined hands swinging between them.

He gives her hand a little squeeze, a crooked smile cracking the serious set of his face. “It’s far more interesting than what my Sundays looked like a few months ago.” She has the decency to blush at the thought of Mairon in church. She had never thought herself partial to a man in uniform, but something about that collar, so tight on his neck, had her wanting to pull him closer and commit all sorts of sins. And she had. “It’s going better than I thought it would, all things considered.” He nods his head toward Finrod, a very large and very unplanned obstacle.

He had certainly thrown a wrench in their plan, but maybe it was a good thing he was here. He could aid in her investigation of Orodreth’s mysterious pen pal, a woman who had convinced him to move halfway across the country without so much as telling him her name. Finrod was effective, for all that he insisted on sticking to the letter of the law. And he’s been so busy lately, with work and with Amarie, that she hasn’t seen much of him since the start of the year. She’s happy for her brother, that he has someone special in his life, but she has missed him—and he still lives in the same city.

While she wishes Orodreth nothing but happiness, she can’t even imagine how much she will feel his absence when he is no longer just down the road, when they don’t see each other at least once a week at family dinners. It feels wrong, the thought of him not being around. He always had been, her entire life, a built in best friend. It feels wrong to hope that Oklahoma doesn’t work out, because she’s seen her brother re-reading his letters; he is absolutely smitten, and a return home would mean heartbreak for him, something she doesn’t want either.

It’s an impossible choice, but she will return home knowing that she has done her due diligence and that her brother hasn’t uprooted his life to live with a serial killer. It seems unlikely, but if anyone could manage it, it would be Orry.

“Can we feed the giraffes, Galadriel?” Orodreth calls out from in front of them.

She puts away all thoughts of serial killers and pen pals and Oklahoma, and picks up the pace to catch up with Orry and Fin. “Of course!”

They enter the building with super high ceilings—for obvious reasons—and Galadriel pays for the food. She’s handed a bucket with assorted vegetables and some rather dry looking pellets, and they are guided toward an elevated platform. Orodreth holds out a big leaf of lettuce with a goofy grin on his face, tempting a nearby giraffe.

Fifteen minutes later and Galadriel is cackling at the series of photos she had taken in the giraffe exhibit. XOXO from the Bronx, she sends to Angrod and Aegnor, accompanied by a picture of a giraffe licking Finrod’s face. Orodreth had gotten a little squirrely with the food placement, and Finrod had pretended like he didn’t appreciate it, making a big show of fixing the enormous cowlick their long-necked new friend had given him.

A few lions and zebras later, they come to the gorilla forest, Galadriel’s personal favorite. The little baby monkeys were just so cute. Mairon taps her on the shoulder, pointing her toward a baby chimp, dangling from a low-hanging limb.

“You guys planning on having babies any time soon?” Orodreth asks. Her eyes widen, taken aback. Galadriel can feel her face flame scarlet. She looks to Mairon, who seems equally as bewildered, before whipping around to ask Orodreth why he thought that was an appropriate question to ask.

“I only ask because Gil says you guys are at it like all the time. I guess noise really carries across the—”

“Say another word, Orodreth, and there will be a Harambe situation all up in here, but it won’t end so happily for the little boy who fell into the enclosure.”

After a tense and incredibly awkward moment he stands down, continuing down the path without another word. Finrod looks incredibly uncomfortable, like he’s heard far more about his sister’s sex life than he ever wanted to know. If he only knew about that time in the confessional…Galadriel flushes again at that particular memory, shoving it back down—to revisit when she’s not with her brothers and surrounded by a bunch of kids.

Unfortunately, Orodreth’s question sticks with her for longer than she’d like as they traipse through the rest of the forest, and even as they circle the pond where the flamingos dance. She knows he probably didn’t mean anything by it but to make her squirm, as payback for the whole kidnapping thing, but she can’t seem to let it go. Not even amidst the strutting peaco*cks and vibrant flowering plants. She and Mairon had never really talked about children—they were still in the relatively early stages of their relationship, but they weren’t exactly being super careful. He had f*cked her raw in an alley only a few days ago, after all.

She’d always thought she’d have children someday, but as she got older, someday still seemed so far away. But she could imagine little children running around with honeyed auburn hair and green eyes. Maybe she’d be okay with someday coming a little sooner.

“Galadriel?” She can feel Mairon’s hand hot on her shoulder. “You okay?”

She leans into his touch, resting her head for a moment back against his chest. “Yeah. He’s just being a brat. Let’s get some lunch.”

She can see Mairon’s look of concern as she heads toward the Dancing Crane Cafe for some overpriced hospital food, but she’s not about to let an off-color comment from Orodreth dictate when she has this very important conversation with Mairon. She hadn’t thought too much about it, but certainly the zoo was not the place for it.

Awkwardness hangs among them as they munch on sandwiches and chips, none of them wanting to be the first to say sorry. It’s so much easier to just pretend like everything is still easy between them.

“So what is the plan for this trip?” Orodreth asks when the silence gets to be too much.

“There’s not a plan, really. We’re just making it up as we go.” Mairon sets the crust of his sandwich down on his plate, wiping the crumbs from his lips. “So if you have any suggestions, any requests for stops along the way, let’s hear them.”

She’s glad Mairon jumped in to answer his question. She’s feeling a little less than gracious after the momentary upheaval he had thrown her into, and she would not have been as…diplomatic as her better half.

Neither of them say anything. She hadn’t really expected Finrod to contribute much to the game plan, but Orodreth’s silence is a little surprising. It seems like he always has a crazy idea on the tip of his tongue. “I know we kidnapped you,” Mairon says, having the grace to look a little apologetic. Only a little. “But this is a democracy; we’ll let majority rule determine our agenda for the next two weeks.” He’s so smooth, the way he’s trying to coax them out of their residual anger; he really is her better half.

She shakes off the funk that Orodreth had cast upon her unknowingly. He was many things, but he was not malicious. This trip was about enjoying time with family, and she would not let this sh*tty start set the tone for the next two weeks.

She stretches out a hand to Orry beside her, and across the table to Finrod. “Truce?”

Finrod sighs, long-suffering, but with a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it quirk of his lips he’s reaching out to take her hand. All eyes fall on Orodreth, then, the last holdout. Galadriel thinks Orry can see it in her eyes, the desperation, and he, too, puts down his metaphorical arms. They shake on it, a tangle of arms across the table, Mairon, throwing a hand in for good measure.

An armistice called, they get back to it, but not before stopping in the gift shop. Finrod buys a stuffed giraffe as a souvenir for Orry to take with him, and it seems like things might get back to the way they were before.

The afternoon flies by in a rush of hooves, and wings, and smells, and her legs are definitely a little tired as the shuttle takes them back toward the monorail for their final outing before the zoo closes. Because it’s so late, the cars are rather empty, only a few other people in the cars at the end. Finrod and Orry get in a car nearer to the other occupants, but Galadriel claims one closer to the other end, grateful to have a moment alone with Mairon. She leans on him, exhausted more from the emotional strife with her brothers than the few paltry hours of sleep she’d gotten the night before, or the hours spent walking. “Was this a huge mistake?”

His thumbs slip into her hair as he rubs her temples gently. “It was beginning to feel that way.”

She settles into his touch, letting out an unconscious moan when his fingers work into her scalp, massaging away some of the tension her brothers had caused. “You think it’ll be okay now? Finrod still doesn’t seem like he’s cool with all this. In fact, he seems more on board with the kidnapping than Orodreth moving. And Orodreth…” She sits up slightly, tilting her head back to look at him. “He might hate me for doing this, and two weeks might not fix that. I can’t quite get a read on him. I mean you know him, but—”

“Galadriel, take a breath.” His chest rises with hers, a long and slow inhale, then she sinks back into him with the exhale. “It’ll be alright. We’ll make it alright. Your brothers love you, and each other. But this is a big moment, a big change. It’s only natural that it isn’t easy. For any of you.” His lips are soft as they brush her temple. “It hurts because you care. It would be easier if you didn’t, but that big heart of yours is one of the things I love most about you.”

Near tears—from the stress of the day, the trip ahead of them, or the sweet sentiment she doesn’t know—she turns to face him, half laying on top of him. “It will be okay?”

“It’ll be okay.” His kiss is as certain as his words, and she appreciates the optimism, needs it. He doesn’t voice any of the doubts which have been rattling around in her mind since Orry told them he was leaving. And while she knows it’s a promise he may not be able to keep, she also knows that he will be there at her side every step of the way, to soothe any heartbreak and hold her hand on however many flights to Oklahoma it would take to stop missing her brother. He’s so good, so kind, and her heart swells with love for him.

His lips move slowly against hers when she leans into him, a hand threading through the waves of his hair and holding on to the back of his neck. She can’t imagine where she would be without him here to anchor her.

“And what Orodreth said, about—”

She cuts him off swiftly with a kiss, not wanting to get into what Orodreth had said in the gorilla forest.

“Galadriel—”

Short pecks to his lips, one shh fading into another, she straddles his lap, kissing him more intently. She can tell the moment he succumbs to her distraction, his hands falling heavily to her hips, circling her back and holding her close. Her hips move against his in a dance they’ve perfected by now, tongue sweeping against his as they pass by enclosure after enclosure of roaming animals. She knows he won’t forget, that they will have to have this conversation eventually, but for now, this is enough.

“Just because we’re at the zoo doesn’t mean you need to act like an animal, Galadriel.”

She groans in displeasure at Orodreth’s interjection—because naturally Orodreth would show up to kill the mood—pressing one final, small kiss to Mairon’s lips before dismounting his lap and falling back to the bench beside him. “The otter exhibit is over there,” she gestures over Mairon’s shoulder, vaguely in the direction of the aquatic mammal exhibit in the distance. “Why don’t you get back in your cage, Orodreth?”

Her brother scoffs, settling down on the bench beside her, although there is clearly not room for the three of them. “That’s a little weak, Galadriel, unless you were trying to compliment me.” He throws an arm around her shoulder in that annoying little brother way of his. “Otters are f*cking adorable.”

She lets the co*ckblocking slide—this time. She might deserve it after the whole kidnapping thing. Still, her smile comes naturally, something so reassuring about being back to a relative state of normalcy with Orodreth. But just because he’s a kidnapping victim doesn’t mean he gets to have the last word. “My first instinct was to compare you to a squirrel, but that didn’t really work with the whole zoo thing.”

“More accurate, though,” Finrod says as he walks up behind Orodreth, clapping a hand on his shoulder a little too tightly to be entirely friendly. “Often seen as a pest who’s running away in the most nonsensical way.”

Jesus. A little on the nose, Finrod. And just when I was hoping that we could all get along.

She’s about to gently tell him to shut the f*ck up, but Orry turns around first. “I’d compare you to a zoo animal, Finrod, but I make a point to walk past the boring exhibits.”

She holds back a laugh, tempted to give Orry a high five for that well-deserved, though not really creative burn. Calling Finrod boring is like batting at the lowest of low-hanging fruits, but he makes it so easy for them sometimes. Especially now. He has no imagination, no sense of adventure, and he’s kinda being a dick about it.

“Look, a tiger!” Mairon jumps up and moves toward the railing, pointing down toward the feline creeping amidst the trees.

Galadriel takes a breath, grateful for the interjection that had kept her from one-upping Orodreth’s insult with some choice words of her own. She leans over the railing, Orry and Finrod between them. “Thank you,” she mouths.

They ride in relative silence for the rest of the loop, with the occasional pointing at an animal in the trees and trying to identify said animal.

It’s a tentative peace, but it is peace, and it lasts through dinner, a casual affair spent sampling street food as they trek through Chinatown and Little Italy. They find a cheap hotel in the Village, and Galadriel puts two doubles on her credit card.

“Not adjoining rooms, for the love of God.” She thinks it’s Finrod, but she can’t quite tell which of her brothers is mumbling behind her. She’s tempted to punish him by asking for adjoining rooms, but she’s not sure she’d be able to sit in a car with him for two weeks if he heard all the things Mairon had promised to do to her, whispered between city blocks on the walk back to the car after dinner.

“Do you two promise not to run off in the middle of the night,” she holds their room key hostage, “or do you need supervision?” The thought of rooming with Finrod—or worse, Orodreth—when she would rather be getting railed by Mairon is almost painful, and she wills Finrod to cooperate.

He lets out a long sigh, but he nods his head in agreement, snatching the card from her hand, despite her attempts to withhold it. “Don’t worry, you won’t wake up to the FBI busting down your door.” She’s only partially convinced. “We’ve lived together for years; we’ll be just fine, won’t we, Orodreth?”

Orodreth looks like he would rather sleep in the tub in their room than in a bed next to Finrod, but he nods along anyway, moving toward the elevator. “What time are we heading out tomorrow?”

Galadriel shrugs. She hadn’t planned that far ahead. “I don’t know. Ten? We can find someplace for brunch.” She hits the button with a five on it. “Ooh, or bagels. Bacon and egg on blueberry?”

“I could definitely be persuaded to do anything if there are bagels involved,” Orodreth says, adjusting the strap on his backpack.

The elevator dings, doors opening on the fifth floor. They head in the same direction, Finrod stopping at 515, and Galadriel following Mairon to 523. No adjoining rooms. Guess it’s his lucky day.

“See you tomorrow at 10 in the lobby?”

With a reluctant nod from Finrod, they head into their separate rooms. Galadriel can only hope that he’ll be less grouchy tomorrow.

Chapter 5: Those Nights

Chapter Text

Galadriel plops down on the bed, throwing her bag to the floor. The springs creak in protest, and it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but at this moment, it’s perfection. Perfection is improved upon when Mairon settles down beside her, rolling into her side. “That was an interesting day, even by Orodreth standards.”

Her laugh fades into a sigh as she burrows her face into his shoulder, her nose pushing his sleeve further up his arm. He lifts himself just slightly, and she feels his bicep flex against her cheek. She turns her head a fraction, planting a whisper of a kiss on the muscle that rips beneath his skin. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He lifts her chin until she meets his gaze. There’s a lot she’s not saying, but she knows that he knows what she means. Nothing she can say to Mairon about the tension between her brother’s will make it go away, and she’s had more than enough tension for the day. In more ways than one.

Like he knows her mind, Mairon weaves his fingers through her hair, rubbing circles gently from the base of her neck to the top of her head. With his other hand, he traces a path beneath her shirt, like one of the meandering snakes they had seen earlier today. It’s lazy, comforting. He’s slow to find his target, but the delicate, aimless touches had built up a hunger in her, one only he could satisfy.

His hand slides beneath her sports bra, the rough pad of his thumb circling her already stiff nipple. Her spine lifts as she leans into him, needing more than just this whisper of a touch. She mumbles a plea, the words indistinguishable in her need. For once he doesn’t tease her, he merely lifts her shirt and the all-too-confining bra over her head. She feels like she can finally breathe again now that she is bare before him. Well, not entirely, but he makes quick work of that, too, shimmying her shorts over her hips and down her legs. Then he takes his place between her legs, lips settling in a messy pattern beneath her breasts, slowly trailing upward until they reach the summit, closing around the rosy peak. Every ounce of tension and frustration seeps out of her and into the mattress as his tongue slides over her nipple, lips closing around it and tugging just slightly. His stubble scrapes against the tender flesh of her breasts and she could come undone from this, it feels so goddamn good. He flattens his tongue, sweeping it slowly over one nipple and then the other, as though he is tasting something that he wants to savor. Her c*nt clenches at the thought of that tongue finding a more delectable treat.

I wanna feel you come on my tongue. The words had rumbled in her ear as they’d walked the streets of the city with her brothers, settling into an iron weight of need low in her belly that she had done her best to ignore. That need had not abated on the trek to their hotel, and it had only built as he had steadily worked her up behind closed doors.

He moves up to kiss her lips, slow, sweet, lingering. “I love you, Galadriel,” he mumbles against her lips, dragging her lower lip down as his start their inevitable descent.

She chokes on her reply, his mouth quick to find the place where she’s practically feral with need for him. “Mairon,” she moans, when she can summon enough concentration to string syllables together. “Maironnnn.” His name lingers on her tongue, sweet as honey as he circles her cl*t.

“Yes, Galadriel?” A knuckle brushes her entrance and he sucks the delicate bundle of nerves into his mouth, leaving her incapable of anything but keening nonsense. She’d punish him if she could think enough to move, but with every flick of his tongue she sinks further into the mattress. Into oblivion, if oblivion could feel like this.

Mairon strokes her with one finger, the tip curling to find the spot that makes her see God. “Mairon, please,” she begs, so near delusion from pleasure she hardly recognizes her own wavering voice.

“What do you need, Galadriel?” Her name echoes through her sensitive flesh, growing roots as his tongue continues to work her in time with his finger. “Use your words, baby.”

Before she can manage anything resembling a response, he slips another finger inside her, pumping it into her in a strong, steady rhythm as he continues to unravel her with his mouth.

She lifts her hips from the mattress to meet the movement of his hand, feeling like she might cry when his fingers slip just slightly from her c*nt. “More,” she whines, knowing she is being a brat, but not finding it in herself to care when she needs this, needs him.

His hands move to her arms, and she’s seconds away from throwing a fit when he rolls them over so she’s on top of him. “More?” he swallows her reply, and she groans, tasting herself on his tongue. She can only nod, hands reaching for his belt. He stills her hands, a flicker of something wicked in his eyes as he grips her hips and moves her up his chest.

“Not yet, baby. Not until the whole floor hears you scream my name with my tongue buried in your c*nt.”

She shivers, her walls clenching around nothing. “You better get to work, then.”

He grins, his grip tight on her hips as he moves her to where he wants her. “Look at that.” She can feel the words vibrating through her core. “A room with a view.” His nose nudges her cl*t and before she can chide him for debasing the Forster classic with his filthy pun, he buries his tongue in her c*nt and sets to work fulfilling his promise.

Her legs tighten around his head as he devours her and she apologizes instinctually for suffocating him, but his grip on her hips only tightens as he moves her against his face in a slow sensual rhythm. She doesn’t need to be told twice, groaning at the feel of his stubble against her sensitive skin, the way his tongue feels inside of her as he f*cks her while she rides his face.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, tongue slipping out of her so he can lavish attention on her neglected cl*t. The broad, slow strokes of his tongue have a coil of heat spiraling low in her belly, so nearly out of control. She continues to move against his face, gripping the headboard as he licks her in a steady rhythm, the inferno within only continuing to build. “Good girl.”

Somewhere between the attention to her cl*t and his tongue once more finding her g-spot, she’d taken to mumbling his name in a shaky, incoherent chant. When finally he’s buried so deep inside her, she can do nothing else but scream as she comes. “God. f*ck. Mairon!”

His strokes slow as her hips stutter, an explosion of sparks traversing her lower back until she feels both weightless and immobile above him. Mairon lazily licks her through wave after glorious wave of her org*sm and she collapses against the headboard with immense satisfaction as the aftermath continues to radiate from her bones.

“f*ck me,” she mumbles into the sheets when she can speak. If she hadn’t already positively melted from his attention she could have from the overwhelming feeling of just being loved and taken care of. He’s so kind and wonderful and it hits her harder than her org*sm did just how deeply she loves him. She tells him as much, because he deserves to hear it every moment of every day. Galadriel can feel his grin against her skin, knowing the dimple she so loves to kiss is forming on his cheek. It feels like joy, and there’s something so pure about it that she can’t help but smile, too. Somehow, with Mairon, Galadriel knew that everything would be okay. That she would be okay.

She clings to that certainty and he clings to her, even when she tries to move her knees from beside his head. “Mairon?”

“You had me convinced on Christmas Day that I was going to hell because I could not stop imagining you strewn across the altar, a feast layed out so prettily for me.” The words rumble against her inner thighs and there’s little she can do but laugh at the mental image that matched some of her own fantasies when her mind had wandered from his sermon the one time she had heard him preach.

“Men who eat puss* like that absolutely do not go to hell.”

Galadriel can feel how smug he is, feel his grin forever imprinting high on the inside of her thighs, and honestly, he deserves to feel as smug as he is, because holy christ was that incredible. And he is still fully dressed.

“I need you inside me,” she whines when his hands once more keep her from moving.

“Impatient tonight, are we?”

“I’ll suffocate you like this,” Galadriel insists.

He nibbles at the inside of her thigh. “I would die happily. Besides, you can’t be more than 130 pounds soaking wet.”

“I am soaking wet,” she says, and she can feel him laugh against the proof of that. “And I’m 140 pounds, thank you very much. My legs are hella muscular.” She flexes her quads beside his neck.

Mairon moves his hands in lazy appreciation up her legs, from knees to hips, his lips brushing her still-slick flesh in a passing kiss. “You are so f*cking hot, Galadriel. Can you come again like this?” he asks, nose nuzzling her cl*t. “Because I haven’t had nearly enough of you.”

Heat begins to pool in her lower belly at his words, at the way they are growled into her skin. Not that it had really faded from before. Not that it hadn’t taken up permanent residence since the first time he had looked at her. She hadn’t known then what she was getting herself into, but she knows now. Still, she wouldn’t change a thing. This man is trouble in the absolute best way, and she has always loved trouble.

“Yes.” She doesn’t bother to disguise the desire as it drips from her voice. “But I need to stretch my legs for a second. And you need to lose the clothes.”

He squeezes her hips before releasing his grip. “Deal.”

Galadriel slides down his chest so she can more easily maneuver without accidentally gifting him with a knee to the nose. Halbrand props up on his arms, watching with admiration as she wiggles her legs in a goofy sort of dance.

“Aren’t your legs tired from driving all day?” she asks as she fiddles with the clasp on his belt.

Mairon lifts his hips to make it easier for her to remove his pants. “Nah.” His underwear follows soon after. “The hours spent walking around this afternoon actually really helped with the stiffness.”

Her nails trail up his thighs, flirting with the stiffness between his legs. “Looks like the hours of walking did little to help here.”

He laughs, leaning up to pull his shirt over his head. “What can I say? I spent hours watching your cute little ass as you traipsed through the streets of New York.”

She gives him a gentle tug and he nearly melts into her hand. “I do have a pretty spectacular ass.”

“You really do.” Mairon reaches for her, drawing her closer until she kneels on the bed beside him. “Now how about you sit it back down on my face, babe, because I need to taste you again.”

Galadriel straddles his face once more, but this time she has something far better than the headboard to hold onto. She strokes him slowly, his deep groan buzzing against the inside of her thighs. He practically growls when she takes him into her mouth, her tongue flattening as it moves up the length of his shaft. “f*cking hell, Galadriel. I am absolutely not complaining, but I—I…” he stutters as she tightens her lips around him. “You don’t have to.”

“Have to?” the words come out rather garbled, her mouth occupied with better things than speaking. She lets him fall from her lips for a moment. “Listen, I love food, but the list of things I would prefer to have in my mouth over your co*ck is pretty limited.” She can feel the sharp puff of breath that follows his peal of laughter against her aching c*nt. “Besides,” she says, wrapping her lips around him once more, “I can’t just let you have all the fun.”

“God, you really are perfect, aren’t you?”

Before she can offer up a denial of that very high praise, his mouth is on her again, robbing her of words. Every nerve stands at attention as he strokes her insides with his wicked tongue. She’s on the edge of any touch being too sensitive, and normally it would be, so soon after such an explosive org*sm, but the praise being spoken into her body only heightens the glorious sensation which lingers still. God, this angle is otherworldly, his tonguing stroking the soft, spongy warmth inside her that sends waves of pleasure through her limbs until she nearly forgets to breathe.

She licks his co*ck appreciatively, moving from base to tip and then back down, lips closing around him in a gentle suction. When he hits the back of her throat she swallows, until he is entirely enveloped in the warmth of her mouth. Galadriel can feel the litany of what she imagines to be curses against her skin. She feels a rush of pride knowing that she can make him come undone like this and renews her efforts, lips and tongue working him into a frenzy she feels with every stuttered thrust of his hips.

They move in an instinctual rhythm, her against his face and chasing his co*ck, and she can barely think, barely breath for just how good he’s making her feel, one hand finding her cl*t to multiply her pleasure. All thoughts of brothers and pen pals and ill-advised road trips fade from her mind. All she can see, all she can breathe is Mairon, and she is starved, desperate for him.

“Yes, Mairon!” she moans, his name falling from her lips as her kisses grow wilder. She can tell he’s close, his balls growing tight beneath her wandering fingers, hips chasing her mouth irrhythmically. Her org*sm hits her with no warning, having reached such a high from the work of his mouth that she didn’t think she could climb any higher. She was wrong. Her vision swims, a sea of stars behind her eyes as every nerve came alive beneath her skin like a wildfire, undeniable, unstoppable.

“Galadriel, I’m—” She senses the words more than she hears them, lips tightening around him as he spills violently down her throat. She swallows every last drop of his release, tongue gracing him with little kitten licks until his hips stutter and fall back to the mattress.

Neither of them move for what feels like an age, enjoying every ounce of the joy they had brought one another. That’s what it is—joy, pure and blinding. Her heart and body sing with love for him, and when finally her pleasure settles to a dull roar she rolls off of him, sinking to his side on the mattress.

Mairon props himself up on his side, dropping a kiss on her ankle. “I love you, Galadriel.”

“I know.”

He barks out a laugh, but it’s warm, fond. They lay for a few moments in the dull glow of the motel room. She can see his face from where she lies; he looks content, and there’s something so reassuring in that.

“Do you want kids?” she asks almost without thinking. They needed to have this conversation eventually. Might as well be now.

He sits up, looking down on her with a gentle expression on his face. It came out of nowhere, but he doesn’t seem surprised. His fingers are soft as they trace a path along her leg, but there’s just a hint of darkness in his eyes as he looks down at her. “I had released the thought of a family of my own when I accepted the call of the priesthood.” His lips twist subtly, wryly, like they usually did when he reminded her in good spirits how she changed the course of his life. It only takes a second for the darkness to return, taking the place of humor and deepening in the amber pools of his eyes. “But even before then.” He hesitates, fingers faltering in their path down her shin. “Family is…” He brushes a hand nervously through his sex-mussed hair. “I couldn’t fathom the idea of family. I don’t remember much from the days before… and, well, what I do remember…” The lines by his eyes dance as he squeezes them closed, and she knows the horrible memories that play there, the ones he will never be able to fully escape.

The guilt hits her like a ton of bricks. How could she be so insensitive? Complaining to him about her brothers when…

“f*ck. I’m so sorry, Mairon. We don’t have to talk about this. I shouldn’t have—”

He moves so his head is beside hers, capturing her anxious fingers in his hand. “It’s alright, Galadriel.” He kisses the back of her hand, the darkness in his eyes gentling as he brings his eyes level to hers, propped up on his arm beside her. “I just…it’s never been an easy question for me, you know? For years I shut out the possibility of family because the thought of it only brought pain.” That pain, the pain of a child, only deepened with time rattles in his voice, echoes in his eyes. “And then it was an impossibility, something I was willing to give up, thinking it would bring peace.” His lips brush her knuckles once more. “And now…I don’t know, Galadriel. But the thought isn’t as terrifying as it once was. You’ve shown me what family can be. You and your crazy brothers, and your nosy friends.”

Tears burn in her eyes, his words filling the little cracks in her heart she hadn’t realized were there. Family is so important to her, and the thought that he feels like a part of her family has her tears falling. That’s enough. In this moment, it’s more than enough. He is more than enough. He is her family. She leans forward, her lips soft as they brush his. She can taste herself on his tongue when his lips part for her, and their kiss is as sweet as the promise that lies ahead of them.

“I love you,” Galadriel murmurs into his mouth, clinging to him as he rolls his body partially on top of hers. “I love you so much.”

He reaches for the nightstand, pulling something out of his wallet as he peppers her neck with kisses. “I know.” It’s smug and tender and oh so right. She hears the crinkle of foil and he reaches down to cover himself before he settles in between her legs. She loves the weight of him there; she’d gotten so used to it, she doesn’t know if she could live without it. She hopes she never has to.

He slides in easily, her body still slick for him, and his thrusts are gentle as he moves inside her, stretching her, filling her. She barely notices the condom as his hips move more intently with hers, but it speaks to the way he knows her mind, knows that Orodreth’s throwaway comment had allowed anxiety a foothold into her mind. There was a lot they couldn’t control, but this was one small thing that maybe they could. And that he respected her enough that she didn’t even have to ask… Few of her exes had been so considerate.

She banishes all thoughts of other men to hell where they belong, melting into his arms and his tender, scorching kisses. His lips burn her neck as they trail downward, biting into her collarbone as his co*ck settles into a rhythm of divine strokes. f*cking hell. Is this magic? Is this heaven?

“I’m so glad you’re a part of my family,” she moans as she falls apart beneath him, safe in the circle of his arms. He follows soon after, collapsing on her chest for a brief moment and resting in her embrace. When his weight gets to be too much, he withdraws, disposing quickly of the condom in the bathroom trash, returning with a damp washcloth that he trails gently between her thighs, cleaning up the residual stickiness from a magnificent three org*sms.

Sleep finds them not long after. She nods off with her head on his chest and a sense of peace she was certain would evade her tonight.They would be okay. They would all be okay.

Chapter 6: Laughter Lines

Chapter Text

A series of soft, rhythmic knocks has her blinking her eyes slowly and for a moment, she wonders if she snoozed her alarm by mistake. But Mairon is still sound asleep beside her, and the relative darkness she can see through the threadbare paisley curtains tells her it is far earlier than ten in the morning.

She fumbles around for her underwear, flung to the corner of the room in the haze that had been last night. Galadriel puts on Mairon’s discarded shirt, making sure it covers her ass before she answers the door.

“I didn’t order room service,” she says with a tired roll of her eyes. “Besides, isn’t it a little early for whatever this is?” she asks Finrod, conscious of the way her hair is mussed and the bruises sucked into her thighs that peek out from beneath the hem of Mairon’s shirt.

“It’s hardly early, Galadriel.” He brushes a hand awkwardly across the back of his neck. “Some of us actually got some sleep last night.”

For a moment, she worries that he heard them from down the hall last night. Her cheeks flush scarlet at the thought. She could die on the spot. She nearly had that night in the confessional when she had heard his voice while she was on her knees for a priest. Her blush deepens to a maroon which she hopes Finrod cannot see in this low light.

“Did you need something? Or did you just want to wake me up early and make both of us feel uncomfortable?”

He ignores her animosity, getting straight to the point. “Get dressed and meet me in the lobby. And bring your phone.” He turns to go. “We have a call to make.”

Ten minutes later and in family-friendly attire, Galadriel meets her brother in the lobby, plopping down across from him on a furniture set which looked like it hadn’t been updated since the seventies. She holds out her phone in front of her, but does not give it to him just yet. “Who do we need to call at the ass-crack of dawn, Finrod?”

“If I had my own phone, I wouldn’t have needed to wake you up.”

“If you hadn’t let yourself get kidnapped so unprepared, you would have your phone. So whose fault is it really?”

Finrod sighs, clearly annoyed with her nonsensical argument, but he’s not going to get much more out of her until she’s had a few sips of coffee. “I was going to call my contact in OKC and I wanted you to be here so we could be on the same page.”

Galadriel softens a little at his consideration. She unlocks her phone before handing it to him and she swears he smiles slightly at the picture of her and Mairon that is her background before he types his friend’s number in. She moves beside him and he puts the phone on speaker, holding it between them.

“Hey Maeglin. It’s Finrod. I appreciate you helping us out.”

Finrod’s contact had little information to pass along. It had only been a day after all. But he did tell them that the P.O. Box was registered to an E. Smith. Not hugely helpful, with a last name so common as Smith. If that was even her real name.

His contact complained that staking out a P.O. Box for the next couple days to see who retrieved the postcard Orry sent the day before felt a little like stalking, but he reluctantly agreed after Finrod repeated his plea.

“Must be a good friend,” Galadriel says after he hangs up the phone, studying the name, or part of a name, that he had scribbled on a napkin from the breakfast bar.

“He kinda owes me,” Finrod says, distracted. “He fell off a waterfall at Boy Scout camp. Would have died if Turgon and I hadn’t pulled him out of the water.”

Well, that’s a story she hasn’t heard before. He didn’t talk about their cousins much anymore, though they had been close when he was younger. She pushes that aside for another time; it’s not like she wouldn’t have ample opportunity to ask all about his nerdy adventures with her dork cousins, what with all the time they would be spending together in the coming weeks.

“The mighty Finrod, holding his savior complex over someone’s head.” She takes a sip of coffee.

“It’s not like that, Galadriel. Or can you not fathom that someone would do something to help someone else without that person needing to be blackmailed or threatened?”

It’s a low blow, but then, so was her shot at him. She takes a sip of the coffee she had swiped from the counter, hoping the caffeine would help to temper the stupid words coming out of her mouth.

She holds up her hands in apology, trying to avoid further picking a fight with her brother. “You’re right, that was uncalled for. Sorry Finny.”

He sighs, standing from the vinyl sofa. “We’ll get this figured out, Galadriel.”

She doesn’t know if he means the mystery of Orry’s pen pal, or the cracks that had been widening in their family façade of late, and the ambiguity sits heavily between them as Finrod continues to study the name she had scribbled on the napkin.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” she asks when the silence has gone on for too long. It’s too early to go back to their respective rooms, Mairon and Orry still likely sleeping. And it’s not like she wants to spend the next couple hours alone in the lobby scrolling TikTok at a barely discernible volume with the worries her brain had conjured anew this morning. They were in the city; they might as well be in the city.

He only nods, pocketing the napkin and following her through the revolving door after she shoots a quick text to Mairon who might worry if he wakes and finds her gone. It’s a little cold, the sun not yet risen to the heights of skyscrapers on the skyline. After a block of what she had considered subtle shivering, Finrod doffs his green flannel shirt, offering it to her without a word. She accepts his generosity, unrolling the cuffs to cover her hands. Not only was he chivalrous to a fault, but he probably wasn’t even cold, either. She’s suspected for years that his blood is made of actual sunshine.

“How are things with Amarïe?” she asks, searching for the source of the rich aroma of yeast and light roast which momentarily cut through the stench of trash in the streets. He follows her into a bagel shop, shaking his head when she looks to him to see if he wants anything. She orders an everything with jalepeño cream cheese, knowing she’ll be able to convince him easily to take half.

They presume their walk, the warmth of the bagel seeping through the brown paper bag in her hand as she shuffles to take a sip of her newly acquired coffee. Much better than what she’d found in the motel lobby.

“Things are really great.” She thinks she sees him smile, even if his eyes are straight ahead. “Almost too great.”

“Finrod…”

“She’s so kind and lovely and it just feels so right, but—”

“Why are you expecting the worst, Finny?” She takes a small bite from her bagel, feeling a mess of sesame and poppy seeds fall from her lips. “Why do you think that you don’t deserve to have something good? Because you do, Fin.” She catches his wrist in her hand. “You deserve the entire world, big brother. And you have it. Don’t let it go.”

His hand slides down to hers, giving it a quick squeeze before snatching the bag from her hand to steal the other half of her bagel.

“You’re alright some of the time,” he says through a chewy bite, eyebrows raising in appreciation of her inspired flavor combo.

“It’s good right? And thank you for that truly effusive compliment.” She holds a hand to her heart. “Very touching.”

He barks out a laugh, nearly choking, and they continue on in silence past block after block, taking in the morning rush of people filling the sidewalks, passing them in droves, coffee in hand and AirPods in.

They walk for a while, until her coffee’s cold and the alarm she had set last night is going off. She doesn’t say much and neither does he, but there’s something comforting in the silence, in his solid presence by her side. He had always been there, so reliable, so dependable for her whole life. She’s glad he has someone to lean on now, and hopes that he lets himself relax a little with Amarië. She didn’t know her as well as she wanted to, but she knew enough to be certain that Finrod was in good hands.

It’s just before ten when she follows Finrod back into the lobby, an anxious Orodreth sprawled out in a vinyl chair with his suitcase at his feet. “I don’t like the idea of you two sneaking around,” Orodreth says, narrowing his eyes at them suspiciously. “We’re supposed to be on vacation. What were you doing, anyway, at seven in the morning?"

“Sneaking,” Finrod says nonchalantly, to Orodreth’s great annoyance. If she weren’t a part of his schemes, she might want to punch him, too.

She hugs Mairon, ignoring Orry’s little tantrum as she shoulders her duffel bag.

“I checked us out,” he says, kissing her temple, “so I guess we’re on to our next adventure.”

Orodreth follows them out to the car, pausing before putting his luggage in the trunk. “I was promised bagels.”

“And bagels you shall have, little brother.” He scoffs when she ruffles his hair. “Though I hope you don’t mind that Finrod and I pregamed on the bagels a little bit.

He looks deeply offended, like they’d committed the greatest infidelity by eating breakfast. “Relax, Orry. You can never have too many bagels.”

“This is true,” Orodreth agrees, because he is so simple to please. “So I’ll require at least three bagels.”

Galadriel looks over her shoulder at him, an easy smile on her face. “Tough negotiator.”

“Well, if we’re going to be driving for hours I’m going to need sustenance.” He taps the back of Mairon’s seat. “Onward toward bagels, good sir.”

Mairon chuckles, pulling out into the crowded street in search of bagels. And parking. Driving in this city is ridiculous and she’s more than okay to be relegated to passenger princess.

Thirty minutes later there is a bagel buffer in the backseat between Ordoreth and Finrod, as Orry had to buy two of each flavor, what Mairon had called the Noah’s Ark of bagels. Finrod looks less annoyed by this than he would have yesterday, so Galadriel chocks that up to progress and takes another bite of her blueberry bagel.

“Well,” she says, licking the cream cheese from her lip, “what’s next?”

And that is how they end up on the observation deck of the Empire State Building, looking out over midtown while Orodreth drafts a letter to his pen pal. E. Smith. She tries to look over his shoulder, but his handwriting is annoyingly small and swoopy and she has a hard time making anything out. Deciding to leave him to his romantic gesture, Galadriel finds Mairon by the metal railing, looking down at the street below.

“Have you been here before?” She loops her arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Once,” he says, still looking down. “On a school field trip. My mom was a chaperone.” There’s a sadness to the smile that tilts his lips. “I begged her for quarter after quarter for the binoculars. I wanted to see every inch of it so I could describe it in glorious detail to my sister when we got home.” His head falls against hers, like he can no longer support the weight of the memories which stir within it. “We were going to come back for New Years’, you see, but…”

Her arm curls tightly around his waist, knowing why they hadn’t made it back here. She just holds him for a while, lets him rest in her arms, because what else can she do, what could she say that would lessen the pain of his loss and the way he carried it still. He always would. And the words “I’m sorry” never felt like quite enough, as well-meant as they were. What stuck with her the most wasn’t I’m sorry, but the long hugs from Aegnor, the way Elrond had just sat with her for hours, letting her cry into his shoulder. The way Finrod had held her hand when they visited her mother’s grave a year after her death and every year since.

So she lets him know that he is seen, that he is held, that he is loved, and that she is so sorry for all the memories that were and those that would never be.

Mairon sniffles, his watch catching a ray of sun as he wipes a hand under his eye. “She would have loved you, Galadriel.” She feels the words, soft against her neck, and her arms tighten around his waist, tears welling in her eyes.

She wants to hear all about his sister, wants to see her through his eyes, to know her as he remembered her, but this is not the time for such a conversation, surrounded by strangers.

“What was her name?” Galadriel asks after a long moment, craning her neck up to look at him.

His voice is soft when he answers her, still looking out at the skyline. “Luthien. Her name was Luthien.”

“Luthien.” The syllables get lost in the din of honking horns and rooftop conversations and construction equipment, and yet they linger in the air between them, a celebration. A memorial.

She slips from his embrace, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before wandering over to the bench where Orry sits, still engrossed in his letter. Galadriel snatches a piece of his stationary and a pen from his bag, ignoring his questioning look when he bothers to look up at her. She takes it back to Mairon, holding it forward in offering.

“Tell her everything.” She presses it into his hands. “Let her see.”

Mairon’s smile is so delicate and beautiful and heartbreaking and she leaves him by the railing, catching sight of the words Dear Luthien at the top of the page before she joins Finrod on the other side of the deck.

“He talked about meeting her here,” Finrod says, hands resting on the top bar of the railing, a flick of his head indicating he means their brother who is currently writing a love letter. “At the time I didn’t think anything of it, thought he was just referencing that romantic comedy.” His hands wring the metal bar. “The one with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.”

“You’ve Got Mail?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s Sleepless in Seattle. Anyway,” his hands tighten on the bar, “I should have been around more, I should have listened to him.”

Galadriel covers his hand with hers, trying to stop his white-knuckle worrying. “You know Orry, Finrod. Once he gets an idea in his head, it’s impossible to talk him out of it. He would have gone anyway, no matter what you said.”

“I don’t want to lose him, Galadriel,” Finrod says quietly after a long moment. “And I feel like I am. He’s always needed me and now he doesn’t anymore.”

“He’ll always need you, Fin. We all will.” The tears that had begun to form in her eyes when she was with Mairon well up again. “You’re the best big brother that anyone could ask for.” Her smile is sentimental and completely genuine, and when emotion threatens to overwhelm her at the look in Finrod’s eyes, she laughs. “And if you think moving across the country could keep Orodreth from being the annoying little brother we all know and love, then you would be dead wrong.”

“He is rather annoying, isn’t he?”

“He really is.”

“What are you guys talking about?”

Speak of the devil.

“Why, just how much we love you, of course.”

Ordodreth narrows his eyes, looking between the two of them suspiciously. Finrod, for his part, keeps a straight face, but she struggles, barely choking back a chuckle. She fixes her lips into a line, but it’s no good, and the laugh she had held back seconds ago bursts forth, dragging a mate out of Finrod as well. Orry rolls his eyes at them like they’re being incredibly childish, quite a turn of events for him. He tries to say something, but the giggles are uncontrollable for no apparent reason. Nothing is that funny, and yet she can’t stop laughing. She laughs until her chest tightens and her laughter is soundless. Thankfully the crowd has died down and there are few people to witness her fit of maniacal giggles. Not that she would care. It feels better than crying, laughing. Better even to laugh until you cry. The tension and anxiety, the weight that had been growing over her head lightens with every ragged puff of laughter until she feels like a helium balloon—untethered she might just float away, dancing on the wind and soaring ever higher into the great unknown.

“Guess I missed the joke,” Mairon says, joining them, tapping a hand over the pocket of his shirt where she can see a folded up piece of paper poking out. Thank you, he mouths, and she gives him a small nod.

“You and me both, dude.”

Their laughter pitters out slowly, the occasional chuckle seeping through her serious façade on the elevator ride back to the street and the walk to the car. It’s still early afternoon, and thanks to Orodreth’s stockpile of bagels in the backseat, they don’t really need to stop for a late lunch before continuing on their journey.

“Well, we hit the zoo and you had a You’ve Got Mail moment, so altogether a pretty good trip to New York, I would say.”

Orodreth turns to face Finrod, supremely unimpressed. “Sleepless in Seattle,” he corrects, digging through the bags between them, hopefully not for an onion bagel.

“I told you, Galadriel,” Finrod says, knees bumping the back of her seat.

She had known. She’d seen the movie about six hundred times with Orodreth. But it was funny that Finrod knew, too, always too busy to join them for movie night when romantic comedies were involved. He probably watched them alone so no one could see him cry, the sap.

“Where to now?” Mairon asks from the driver’s seat. “Orodreth?”

Orodreth turns to his right. “Finrod?”

It's a peace offering, of sorts, and Finrod takes it. “I’ve always loved Philadelphia.”

“f*ck yeah, let’s steal the Declaration of Independence.”

Orodreth nearly spits out his bagel at Mairon’s headrest. They’d watched National Treasure—the Nic Cage classic—a few weeks ago over Thai takeout while Finrod had been at Amarië’s.

“I’ve warmed up to kidnapping, but I draw the line at stealing historical artifacts,” Finrod says with a sigh as though he wouldn’t put it past her, even if he got the reference.

“We really should have left the lemonhead at home,” she whispers dramatically behind her hand, shielding her amused grin from Finrod.

“You needed at least one adult in the car. No offense, Mairon.”

“None taken,” he interjects with a laugh, leaving the siblings to their silly squabbles as he gets back on 95 toward Philadelphia.

Mairon had been right. Things were looking up already. Yeah, it sucked that Orodreth wouldn’t be so close, but they would have a good time on this trip, and they would visit him. He was her brother, but he was also her best friend and distance wouldn’t change that. Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe that.

Chapter 7: Bells Will Be Ringing

Chapter Text

“I’m mean, because I grew up in New England.” Orodreth screams the words to the void of windswept highway, nothing but trees to be seen. His hair whips against his ear, syllables stuttering as the force of the wind hits his face. He had been pissed as hell when Galadriel had co-opted his romantic gesture with her impromptu family road trip, but if he’s being honest, his temper had cooled somewhere between the giraffe exhibit at the Bronx Zoo and the seventh bagel he’d consumed in the backseat of Mairon’s car. It wasn’t a long drive to Philadelphia, only about two hours. Most of it is spent wailing along to whatever local pop radio station would come in with the least amount of static.

“And what’s Finrod’s excuse?” Mairon asks from the front. “Having to deal with the two of you?”

The wind chokes out his laughter, has it reverberating through him as he sneaks a look over at his brother. He’s at a two and a half on the angry eyebrow scale, which is virtually unbothered when it comes to Finrod. If anything, his uptight big brother seems amused, touched that Mairon feels comfortable enough to speak their love language.

“Absolutely,” Finrod replies, biting back a smirk. “It’s a wonder they haven’t driven me completely insane by now.”

“Not for lack of trying, I’m sure.”

The smirk his brother had held back breaks free at that.

“I’m not sure I like the alliance that is forming right now,” Galadriel interjects, turning to face them.

He keeps his face to the window, hiding his smile. Mairon and Finrod could certainly do some damage if they decided to team up, and if he weren’t still holding a kernel of a grudge against Galadriel, he might pity her. After a while, he rolls the window up, noticing the miles beside Philadelphia on the road signs have decreased to single digits. He hasn’t been to Philadelphia since his fourth grade history class had taken a field trip one weekend at the end of the year. He had been desperate to go, to see all the things he had been reading about, but his father couldn’t commit to chaperoning because of some out of town business trip or another. He had been out of town a lot in those days, not long after mom had passed. But Finrod was there. Finrod signed his permission slip, coordinated with his teacher, packed him a secret supply of all his favorite snacks and gave him a crisp twenty dollar bill for souvenirs.

He looks to Finrod beside him, wondering if his brother remembers that. It was not the first time Finrod had been present in such a way, and it was certainly not the last in the years that followed. His brother had just started with Boston PD, still wearing his rookie blues and he was dropping them off at choir concerts and soccer games, making sure they got their homework done and taking them on back-to-school shopping trips—every year he’d let Orry indulge in a nice leather bound notebook, the collection now buried beneath shirts in his suitcase. Finrod had always been there. He had seen the way their father disengaged after mom died, and he had been there, so their lives could go on as normally as possible even if it felt like half the world was gone.

It was never normal, after she died, but it was good. We’ll always have each other, Finrod promised them. And they had. We do, Orodreth corrects himself, his attention pulled back to the conversation in the car.

“Where to first?” he asks, hoping it’s not too obvious to them that he’s been totally zoning out.

And so he stands in front of the Liberty Bell, Finrod beside him, like he had been over twenty years ago. “Well, it hasn’t changed much since the last time I saw it,” Finrod says, angling his head like he could unlock some hidden secret if he just looked from a new slant. “You remember that trip we took with your class?” he asks, standing back to his full height.

The postcard bearing the bell before them burns in his pocket, fingers itching to pull it out and scratch a note to her. About nothing. About everything. About this. “I was thinking about it earlier,” he says. “In the car.”

“Do you still have that little bell you got at the giftshop?”” Finrod asks.

He does. He started keeping everything after his mom died. Said bell is wrapped in an old soccer jersey—from the year Finrod had coached his team—at the bottom of his suitcase. He doesn’t tell Finrod that. He can’t. So he decides to tell her instead, to weave the sentiment in a few short lines of postcard when he has the chance, and to show her the bell he’d purchased to remind him of a trip over twenty years ago.

“Orodreth, I—”

Thankfully, Galadriel and Mairon return from wherever they’ve been—frankly, he doesn’t really care, only that they’ve bought him a reprieve from what Finrod seems so determined to say. He had tried the night before, but Orodreth had feigned exhaustion, falling asleep mere moments after getting to their room. He had been gone in the morning, with Galadriel, to Orodreth’s blessed relief. He didn’t want to have this conversation, didn’t want to get into it with his brother. If he’s honest, that is why he planned to leave like he did, before Galadriel and Mairon had foiled his plans.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear to hear what Finrod would say. Because of all the opinions, Finrod’s mattered the most to him, and he didn’t want to hear those words of disapproval. He had seen it in his brother’s eyes at family dinner, that disappointment, and he couldn’t hear a word of it. It hurt. It still does. If they just don’t say anything, then maybe things can stay as they’ve always been, even when he’s gone. It’s a ridiculous hope, but it’s one he clings to desperately.

He pulls the postcard from his pocket, waving it in front of him. “I’m gonna write a quick note and then we can head out if you guys are ready.”

Orodreth doesn’t really wait to hear if they agree or not, he just finds his way to a bench down the hall and plops down to write his note. He had decided in New York to send her a postcard from everywhere they stopped on the way to Oklahoma, a series of snapshots of their trip.

In Philadelphia, as you can probably tell. Feels a lot like a school field trip so far. Probably because the last time I was here it was for a school trip. With Finrod. It’s hard to put to words, the nostalgia of standing beside him here again so many years later. It’s harder than I thought, leaving. But I’m counting down the days until I get to see you. Yours, Orodreth.

Nothing so eloquent, just what he’s thinking in the moment. At first, it had taken him hours to craft the perfect letter. He would obsess over each word, worry over how he was presenting himself. It was ridiculous, but he was afraid of being judged by someone he didn’t even know. It’s so different, to share of yourself in writing, to let someone know you. In many ways, it was easier for him to truly be himself, at least after he had received her first letter in response. It was easy. And in every letter afterwards he wanted to impress her, of course he did, but it was very clear that it wasn't necessary that he do so in order for their friendship to continue. He didn’t have to fear being boring or saying the wrong thing, or scaring her away with the strange patterns of his thoughts. He feels seen with her, in a way he never has been. She knows him and still wants to talk to him. Wants to be with him.

It’s hard to believe.

But for all his disbelief and the fear that he does his best to suppress, he’s certain of her.

It seems ridiculous. He understands why his siblings are so alarmed. He doesn’t even know her name.

But he will. And soon. In twelve days they would arrive in Oklahoma and the first day of the rest of his life would begin. Only twelve days.

Satisfied with his note, he makes his way to the giftshop, walking past displays of stuffed animals and keychains and those kitschy little red signs that say love stacked in half. Booklets filled with words of unalienable rights and swooping signatures sit stacked beside replicas of the Declaration of Independence, rolled up so they look almost indistinguishable from the movie posters he had collected as a boy. Books on various subjects related to colonial history line the shelves below, and he thinks that maybe only grandpas buy stuff like that.

Through the exterior glass doors he can see Galadriel and Mairon and he’s about to meet them there when a small basket full of knick knacks catches his attention. Amidst various bell-inspired items such as magnets and coins he finds something familiar. And he buys it.

Shoving the small paper bag into his pocket, Orodreth pushes the door open and meets them outside.

“What’d you get, Orry?” Galadriel asks, walking beside him as they head toward Reading Terminal Market. It was several blocks away, but it was a warm day and they had already paid for parking this afternoon.

His gaze bores into the back of Finrod’s head, his brother walking ahead of them with Mairon. “A memory.”

She doesn’t ask for specifics, thankfully, but he can tell her small smile that she thinks he bought a souvenir for his pen pal. He doesn’t bother correcting her. He doesn’t want to talk to her about this, either. Galadriel is annoyingly persuasive, and he’s not looking to be talked into or out of anything at the moment.

She punches his arm to get his attention, pointing toward a storefront across the street. Well, maybe she could talk him into pretzels.

“You just ate like six bagels in the car,” Finrod says, hitting the button at the crosswalk. “How can you even think about eating more carbs right now?”

“Finrod, you can’t not get pretzels in Philadelphia,” Galadriel interjects, hooking her arm through Mairon’s as they cross the street. “Besides, isn’t that the fun of a road trip? Finding the best carbs in each state?”

Finrod mumbles something beneath his breath that he doesn’t quite catch, but as they continue on to the market, he, too, has a pretzel in hand. Orodreth can only imagine what Finrod will say when he finds out they walked all these miles to stand in line for donuts. Pennsylvania Dutch donuts. Because, like Galadriel said, this is a vacation, and on vacation, one must hunt down the best carbs.

Galadriel and Mairon walk ahead, their casual affection about as sickly sweet as his cinnamon sugar pretzel, but equally as appealing. He wants that. He thinks he’s found it. Twelve days, he reminds himself. Having the time, he’s wondered more frequently what it will be like, meeting her in person. Part of his rushed departure had been to avoid the doubt and the worry over that meeting. The fear that the spark they had in their letters wouldn’t be the same when they stood face-to-face. And he so desperately wants it to be the same.

He forces the thought away when Finrod reaches for the wrapper he had been crumpling mercilessly in his hand. His brother tosses their trash in a nearby bin and for a while they walk in silence. It’s a Monday in the spring, so there isn’t too much foot traffic as they make their way to the market. There were some small groups of school children earlier in the day at the museums, but by late afternoon, the crowds of tourists and field trippers have thinned out.

To his great relief, Finrod doesn’t try to relive old memories, to swim in the nostalgia of days long past.They just enjoy the sun and the spring breeze, following behind Galadriel and Mairon.

“I still can’t believe they kidnapped us,” Finrod says after a while, amusem*nt flickering in his eyes as they land on Galadriel waiting at the crosswalk for them.

He can hardly believe it, either, though nothing Galadriel does should surprise him anymore. Hell, she had seduced a priest on a dare. That that priest had helped kidnap him only went to show that anything could happen where Galadriel was concerned. He loves that sense of adventure, of imagination, twin to his. It makes life so much more interesting.

He tries not to think of how much he’ll miss that, a partner in crime for all his spontaneous adventures. Twelve days, he reminds himself. Twelve days for untold chaos and adventure. He would just have to make the most of it.

“I’m not sure if it’s worse that I walked right into it, or that you did,” Orodreth laughs. “Isn’t situational awareness, like, integral to detective work?”

Finrod shoves his shoulder in response, but he can't seem to hide his own amusem*nt. “I guess the plus side of leaving my phone at home is not having to put up with Aegnor and Angrod’s sh*t about getting kidnapped by my sister. Because I’m sure the tale you told them made me look wicked smart.”

Orodreth shrugs, no apology in it. Because that’s exactly what he’d done. “I mean, you literally walked right into it, Fin.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They walk the next several blocks in easy silence, but the little souvenir bag is burning a hole in his pocket, the paper crinkling beneath his restless fingers.

“Finrod?” he says, hand closing over the bag.

Finrod turns, stopping before he could follow Galadriel and Mairon down the steps into the sprawling marketplace. His brother looks at him, brows rising in question. Orodreth reaches into his pocket, placing the small bag in Finrod’s hand. “I remember.”

Before Finrod can say a word or make a move to unwrap the parcel placed in his hand, Orodreth disappears into the crowd in search of Galadriel and donuts. But when he sees his brother picking out tea and spices for Amarië a bit later, he could swear Finrod’s eyes are a little redder and wearier than they had been before.

*****

Galadriel stands beside Orodreth in the line for Beiler’s which snakes all the way around the bakery and down the aisle past various booths with local coffee blends and leather goods and touristy trinkets. He’d been quiet this afternoon as they’d walked through the museums and when he had spoken it had been to Finrod, who he was now thoroughly avoiding. Finrod, who had wiped a tear from his cheek when he’d found her looking at glasswork, Mairon in the booth beside, admiring the jewelry displayed on a branching tree wrought from iron rods.

“Pink frosted with sprinkles?” she asks him, because she knows him well enough to know he has no desire to tell her about the words he can’t say—or hear—from Finrod. She has to trust that what needs to be said will be said, before distance can swallow up the words, never to give them back. Before the end, twelve days later.

Not the end, she reminds herself, standing on her tiptoes to look at the display cases filled with every type of donut imaginable. A new beginning.

“I’m not a child, Galadriel.” It’s the second time he’s said that to her. The first had been with such exasperation, when she’d asked if he had his passport. He hadn’t. He’s exasperated now, but he can’t seem to hide his amusem*nt. “A blueberry cake donut,” he corrects her. “I’m a man of sophisticated taste.”

She snorts, because her brother’s “sophisticated taste” also included cheese that could be sprayed from a can.

After an hour in line and a walking dinner of cheesesteaks, they begin the trek back to the parking garage, Orodreth balancing two boxes of donuts and a couple of small bags in his hands, and Mairon twirling the ring she’d bought him around his finger. It was meant to be a birthday gift, the etched silver band with rubies and topaz inset like flowing, flaming fire, but she had been too excited to wait, thrusting the small box into his hands beneath the streetlights’ glow.

His smile had been as warm as his eyes, and she’s rather regretting the decision not to spend the night in Philadelphia right about now, when flames flicker in his gaze to match his new ring. Later. There would be time for that later.

Now, instead of continuing on the school field trip track that was 95-S, they would head west through all of Pennsylvania and north to see the Great Lakes. Orodreth was certainly choosing an unexpected route, but she hadn’t expected anything less when she’d given him free rein of their itinerary. Honestly, she’s surprised it’s been so…tame to this point. She had a feeling that it had taken him a day or two to get his bearings and that he was finally ready and rearing for full Orry chaos.

God help Finrod and Mairon.

It would be a few hours past midnight when they made it to Pittsburgh, a quick stop for a few hours of sleep before the road would take them northwest to Ohio. Much of the drive is spent quietly, the sheer quantity of carbs consumed and the thousands of steps walked having done enough to tire them out. That and whatever Orry and Finrod had yet to resolve made for few words in the hours spent winding through trees in the dark.

When she looked behind her, before her lids became too heavy to remain open, she saw Finrod and Orry sound asleep in the back seat, Orodreth’s head resting on Finrod’s shoulder.

Chapter 8: Lost Boys

Chapter Text

It’s more than a few hours later when she wakes up, and it doesn’t look like they are at a motel in Pittsburgh. The sun filters in through the lightly tinted windows, warming the arm she had braced beneath her head in lieu of a pillow. She rolls her arm back over the headrest, accidentally knocking her hand against Finrod’s head, slumped forward against her seat. She can hear him waking up, sitting up straight, and taking in their surroundings. Good, so he’s equally as confused as her. She turns to her left, but the driver’s seat is empty. She looks around, not seeing him anywhere around the car.

Where are they? And where the hell is Mairon?

“Have you been asleep since we left Philly?” she asks Finrod, concern beginning to bubble up the more the haze of sleep fades away.

Finrod shakes his head, and it’s only then that they realize that Orry is gone, too.

No need to panic. She’s sure there is some logical explanation for this. She digs in her bag for her phone, certain there’s a text from Mairon explaining all of this. She taps the screen, but nothing comes to life, no cutesy picture of her and Mairon in their rock-climbing gear, just an empty, black screen. Great. Her phone is dead.

She turns back to Finrod, about to ask him to check his phone when she remembers.

Well sh*t.

“Maybe he just ran out of gas and took Orry to go find some,” she offers, trying to think of a plausible reason for what’s going on right now.

“But we didn’t stop last night in Pittsburgh,” he says, unbuckling his seat belt. “And I have a feeling we’re not in northern Ohio.”

She looks out the windows, finding trees all around them, the car pulled over on a wide, dirt shoulder near an overlook. No, they are not in northern Ohio. There are mountains all around them and in the distance, trees jutting up from every which crag and crevice, a wide expanse of green. Her geography is admittedly sh*t, but if she has to guess, she’d say they are in West Virginia.

A little bit of a detour from the Great Lakes, but for all she knows, Orry and Mairon planned a new route while she and Finrod slept last night. She wouldn’t put it past Orry, to be honest. The more she thinks about it, the more she’s sure that they simply ran out of gas early this morning and Mairon and Orry went off in search of a station.

But she can practically feel the wheels turning in Finrod’s brain, the words “secondary location” lighting up his eyes like a marquee. She tries not to hold it against him. She knows he doesn’t distrust Mairon—especially after he learned the particulars of his family’s case—it’s just an occupational hazard, situational awareness ingrained into his brain to the point that it’s now just a natural response. He’s a cop, and a damn good one and she won’t begrudge him his instincts. She trusts hers enough that she’s not worried.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, as well, Galadriel grabs her sweatshirt from the floor, throwing it over her head. It’s late spring, but there’s still a bit of a chill in the air. Worst case scenario would see them lost in the woods, and she’d rather not be cold for the nightmare that would surely turn out to be. In the rearview mirror she catches Finrod checking the compass on his watch, knowing that the overachieving boy scout in him would never allow them to get lost. There’s a bit of comfort in that, not being alone.

Still depending on him, even all these years later. She doesn’t think it’s something that either of them will be able to let go. And she suspects that’s a big part of the tension between him and Orodreth.

Tying the laces of her shoes, she tables that particular can of emotional worms for another time, one when there is not a glimmer of suspicion that her boyfriend kidnapped their brother written in Finrod’s eyes. Although, to be fair, she and Mairon had quite literally just kidnapped him and Orry, so it’s not exactly the most ridiculous thing he could think.

God, her family was something else. Mairon was always telling her that, affectionately, after family dinner. He’d said a little about how much it meant to him, to be included in her family, and she had seen the depth of joy and grief intermingled in his eyes when he watched Angrod and and Orry go back and forth with their silly quips or when they all collectively roasted Aegnor for the world’s best best friend mug that Andi had given him for his birthday.

It hasn't been long, but he is a part of the family, and deep in her heart, she hopes she will keep him forever. Now, if only she could find him.

They leave the car unlocked; they don’t have much of a choice. They don’t have the keys and she would rather not be left without some form of shelter should the worst happen. Not that she’s expecting the worst, but maybe some of Finrod’s perpetual preparedness had rubbed off on her after all.

“Do you think he really loves her?” Finrod asks as they trace a perimeter around where Mairon had parked the car. “Or is this just, you know, Orry being Orry?”

“I don’t know, Fin,” she says, moving a branch to the side. “Remember how long it took him to decide to go back to school because he was unhappy at work? I can’t imagine that he would make a decision of even greater consequence on a whim. I think that, for his part, he’s sure. And it’s not our place to discourage him from that.” Though they would certainly do their due diligence to make sure they left him in safe hands. On that they agreed, at least.

“Do you think she deserves him?”

Galadriel laughs. “I’m not sure anyone deserves to be bombarded with his particular brand of chaos for the rest of their life.” Sentiment creeps its way into her smile; she can’t help it. Mairon is entirely to blame. “I hope she does.”

It could be a trick of the wind, whipping through the trees, but she thinks she hears Finrod agree.

*****

“Are you sure it was this way?” Mairon asks, nearly running into Orodreth’s back when he stops to look down at his phone.

“Well, I thought it was, but now I don’t have service. Do you?”

Mairon looks down at his phone, completely unsurprised at the lack of tiny, ascending bars at the top of his screen. He puts it in his pocket, all but useless to him at the moment.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Adjusting his grip on the gas can, Mairon continues on in the direction they’d been heading. There’s little else they can do now.

“How exactly did we end up in West Virginia, anyway?” Orodreth asks after a few moments of walking in silence.

Mairon barks out a laugh which fades into a sigh. “I took the wrong exit. And then I thought we’d hit a junction or something so I could double back north instead of turning around. But then I ran out of gas, and as you’re aware, we are well and truly in the middle of f*cking nowhere, hence the gas can and the hike.”

Orodreth shrugs, kicking up dust on the worn shoulder. “All part of the adventure, I suppose.”

“You’re handling this so much better than I thought you would, honestly.”

“Running out of gas? Why would I freak out about that?”

“I meant the whole kidnapping thing,” Mairon says.

Orodreth laughs. “Yeah, well, what else am I gonna do?”

“I think they would both understand if you were angry,” Mairon says after a moment. “You have a right to be angry.”

Orodreth slows, letting him catch up. “Yeah, but to be honest, I get why they freaked out. I’m not totally oblivious; I know how they all think of me. I’m not even the youngest and yet they treat me like the baby of the family.” He pauses, as though considering something. “And to be fair, I have done a lot of stupid things over the years. And I’ve been lucky that Finrod’s been there to bail me out.”

Mairon gives him a questioning look.

“Figuratively,” Orodreth clarifies. “Except for that one time after prom…”

Mairon laughs. “For my part, I’m sorry I suggested it to Galadriel. Though, to be fair, I was joking.”

“That sounds about right for Galadriel,” Ordoreth says, the weight of so much history and experience behind those few words.

He’s not envious of the relationship Galadriel has with her brothers, per se. But in some moments, it hits him harder than others, just how much he is missing. That his sister will never get the chance to make fun of him for all the stupid things he’s done. He can only imagine what she would have thought about last year and Galadriel and Orodreth’s ridiculous bet. She probably would have liked Orry, he realizes, remembering how wide her imagination had been, the stories she used to tell. A wave of sadness hits him then, that she will never get to know these people he loves so much. His family.

“You alright, man?” Orodreth asks, a hand to his shoulder.

“Yeah, sorry, I just, I was… thinking about my sister.”

Orodreth stops. “sh*t, man, I didn’t—”

“It’s okay, Orry.” He continues on. “I’ve been thinking about her a lot this week, actually. About what she would have been like as an adult.” He laughs. “Or whatever the hell it is we are now.”

“I’m sorry,” Orodreth says after a moment, thoughtfully. “Spending all this time with us like this must be difficult for you. I’m sorry for what you’ve lost, not just once, but every day since. Every moment that you’ll never get to have. And I know it’s not the same, Mairon, but I do consider you part of my family. And I know the rest of them feel the same.”

It’s no more than Galadriel’s already told him, but for some reason, it hits differently coming from Orodreth who is so rarely this sincere. And without really meaning to, he’s crying. “Thanks, Orry. I don’t really have words for how much that means to me.”

Orodreth rubs a hand across his back, comforting. “And let’s be honest, you’re way cooler than all my other brothers. A cop, a glorified weatherman.” Mairon laughs at his totally off-base summary of Aegnor’s profession. “And who the hell even knows what Angrod does?”

“I honestly don’t remember,” Mairon snorts, thankful that Orodreth hadn’t lingered too long on the heavy stuff. He hadn’t imagined bawling in the wilderness of West Virginia when he started driving last night, that’s for sure.

Before long they come across a gas station. By his estimate, which probably means all of jack sh*t, considering he was never a boy scout, he’d say they only have a three mile walk back to the car. They’d gotten lucky, to find something so close. He fills up the tank, securing the stopper so as not to spill precious cargo. And after a fifty cent donut that tastes like sweet cardboard, they begin the walk back to the car.

And as they walk, Orodreth tells him all about his pen pal, about her letters, about his. And about the story he’s started working on.

“I figured I’d turn this whole thing into a novel, since no one would believe it was a memoir.”

Mairon laughs, knowing he’s right. The whole thing is just too ridiculous. “Sign a copy for me?”

“Of course!”

“And what will you call this tale?” Mairon asks, the gas can thumping against his leg as he looks toward Orry.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait until it’s on the shel—what the hell is that?”

“What?”

“Do you hear that?”

Mairon sets the gas can down, following Orodreth who leaves the trail for the trees without another word. “Orodreth, what—?”

He forgets what he was even going to say, Orodreth coming through the trees with a shivering puppy in his arms.

“How did you even hear that?”

He scratches behind the dog’s ears. “Guess I just have a sixth sense for cute things.”

Mairon laughs, in amusem*nt, in disbelief, picking up the gas can he’d set aside in panic a moment ago. “We’ll have to find a vet once we get back to the car,” he says. “Well, after we fill the tank.”

“But—”

“No way, Orry.”

And then the puppy and Orodreth tag team him with sad, pleading eyes, and honestly, it’s not like this trip could get that much more chaotic, even with a dog in the car. “Fine. What the hell?” A moment later. “He is pretty f*cking cute.”

Chapter 9: you should know by now to expect the unexpected

Chapter Text

“Would you rather get mauled to death by werewolves or sucked dry by a vampire?” Galadriel asks after a long moment of consideration.

Finrod sighs. It had been too many rounds of this dumb game to pass the time and the questions just keep getting stupider. “Werewolves,” he says, like the answer is obvious. “Team Jacob for life.”

Her jaw drops and she swings her head over to look at him, sprawled out beside her on the hood of the car. “I’m sorry? Did my ears just deceive me or did you make a pop culture reference?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Don’t act so surprised. I don’t go home from work and plug myself into a sensory deprivation tank.” Well she had wondered about that. “And I’ve lived with Orry for years now. I’ve seen Twilight like six times.

The idea of Finrod sitting through those movies once, let alone multiple times is so unbelievable to her. Like, she cannot fathom that her stoic big brother was kicking his feet over a supernatural love triangle, but the evidence was not in her favor. She needs to know if Orry has video proof of this.

The more she thinks about it, the more ridiculous it gets and soon her laughter turns into a mess of wheezing tears, Finrod blurry through her lashes, but she can tell he’s vaguely amused, and she’s about to tell him to ask his question, but he sits up straighter, looking into the distance. She follows his eyeline, relieved to find Mairon heading back toward them, gas can in hand. And Orry, behind him, carrying a…puppy?

“Umm. What is this?” Finrod asks when they get closer. It’s a stupid question, because the answer is obvious, so she can’t help but laugh when Orry just shrugs and says “a puppy.”

“Yeah, no sh*t.”

Mairon sets the gas can down beside the car, a look of apology in his eyes that is quickly overshadowed by amusem*nt. Because this was Finrod’s problem now. He was the one sharing the back seat with Orodreth.

Orodreth is largely ignoring Finrod, smiling down at the tiny dog asleep in his arms. Its fur is a dark reddish gold, almost like the highlights in Mairon’s hair when the sun hits him. It’s pretty goddamn cute, and even Finrod can’t deny that, though he pretends to be exasperated when he asks, “yes, but what is it doing here?”

“I found it wandering alone in the woods,” Orry says, scratching beneath its ears. “I could hardly just leave it, could I?”

Finrod sighs. They really are testing his limits on this trip and they are only a few days into it. “But we’re dropping it off somewhere, right?”

“There’s a vet clinic about twenty miles away,” Mairon calls out, setting the empty gas tank on the ground. “We’re gonna fill the tank at the gas station down the road and then head that way to see what we can do about little Gil there.”

“You named it?” Finrod runs a hand through his hair.

“You named it after our cousin?” Galadriel asks through a laugh. Because the only way this whole trip could get any more ridiculous was if they adopted a puppy and named it after a distant relation who was also her next door neighbor. He would hate that, and it makes it all the funnier to her. When her phone was charged, she would be sure to tell him about it.

“He’s gold and he was pouting,” Orodreth says, as though that was explanation enough for the name’s inspiration.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Mairon says, hitting a hand on the roof of his car, interrupting their squabbles. She’s still laughing when she buckles in, when the car follows the winding curve of the road the few miles to the gas station. And she’s definitely still smiling to herself when she picks up some snacks, avoiding the donuts based on Orodreth and Mairon’s less-than-stellar review. Energy drinks and beef jerky in hand, she makes her way back to the car, spotting Finrod frowning affectionately at little Gil, his head flopping over Orry’s arm.

It’s not long before they’re parked in front of a rural vet clinic, gravel crunching beneath her feet as she walks ahead of Orodreth, holding the door open for him.

An older lady sits behind a desk, head popping out from behind a computer that looks older than Galadriel. “Well what do we have here?” She pushes her glasses up the ridge of her nose.

“Sorry to come in without an appointment, but we found this guy on the side of the road as we were passing through. We were wondering if it would be possible to get a scan to see if he has a chip?”

“Or if you could point us toward the appropriate place to leave him, that would be greatly appreciated.”

She jabs her elbow into Finrod’s ribs.

“No collar?”

Orodreth scratches over little Gil’s head. “Nope.”

“Well, let’s see if we can find a chip.” She stands, moving toward the hall, motioning for him to follow.

He does, and she goes with him, because can they really trust Orodreth not to say whatever it takes so he can keep the puppy?

He sets Gil on the exam table, awake now, but seeming a little spooked to have people around him. The woman is gentle with him as she passes the scanner over his chest and his limbs, once, then again. “Well, I’m not getting anything. This poor fella probably got dumped. It happens a lot around here.”

“Is there somewhere we can take him,” Galadriel asks. “A shelter?” Because as cute as the dog is, they really can’t just do something like spontaneously adopt a dog on a cross-country roadtrip.

The woman shakes her head. “There’s one about fifty miles south of here, but it’s overcrowded and it’s unlikely that he’d be any better off there than where you found him.”

She’s not sure whose eyes are sadder, Orry’s or the puppy’s. Gil’s. She sighs, feeling too much like Finrod. Because they were gonna have to keep this puppy, weren’t they?

They walk out of the clinic about fifteen minutes later, a new puppy in hand—vaccinated, to Finrod’s relief—Orodreth grinning from ear to ear. And that, to her at least, is worth the hassle that little Gil is sure to be. It’s all part of the adventure, she supposes. This is a trip she will not soon forget.

“Okay, so where to next?” Mairon asks once they’re all back in the car, Gil curled up in Orry’s arms.

The plan had been to head north, do a little tour of the Great Lakes, but now…

“Why don’t we head toward Indianapolis?” Finrod says. “Then we can decide if we want to go back east and hit Cleveland or move on toward Chicago.”

A perfectly logical plan, but she’d expect nothing else from Finrod.

“Sounds good to me.” She turns toward the backseat. “Orry?”

“Fine with Gil and me.”

She can practically hear Finrod rolling his eyes.

“Toward Indianapolis, then,” Mairon declares, and they are off again.

***

They have to stop more than they usually would, because of the puppy. And after that first stop it became clear that they were going to need more than the slip lead the vet had left them with, so they stopped at a pet store, and he picked out a collar the color of sunshine and a leash to match. And a few toys, unable to resist the stuffed duck and some other things for him to chew on, rather than his fingers. They have many hours left in the car, and it seems only fair to the little guy. Finrod, of course, is ready to murder him, the duck squeaking every time Gil bites down on it. Galadriel of course, laughs with every squeak, until Finrod kicks the back of her chair. Then, at least, she tries to stifle it. He falls asleep smiling to himself, because maybe Finrod deserved just the smallest bit of payback after refusing to let him get a dog all these years.

When he wakes up a few hours later, Gil is in Finrod’s lap, his brother smiling softly as he pets the puppy’s head.

“See, I knew you would love him if you gave him a chance.”

Finrod turns his head to the side, clearly exasperated, even if he is smiling. “You are so ridiculous, Orodreth. Maybe the most ridiculous of my siblings, and a few months ago, Galadriel intentionally seduced a priest.”

“Turned out pretty well for me,” Galadriel interjects from the front seat. “And really, Orodreth was to blame for that, too. Although, if you want to get technical, none of it would have happened if you hadn’t felt the need to offer unsolicited big brother advice.”

Orodreth’s smile only grows. It was one of his favorite things, ganging up on Finrod with Galadriel. Because they never meant it, just enjoyed seeing that exasperated look, the one he’s wearing now.

“I have to say,” Mairon adds, “I’m in full support of Orry’s nonsense, because without it, I wouldn’t be here today.” He looks over at Galadriel, twining his fingers through hers. “And there’s nowhere else I would rather be, despite Finrod’s backseat driving and that truly dreadful squeaking duck.”

He sees nothing but love in Mairon’s eyes for his sister, and at one point in time he might have groaned, but it just makes him happy. That she’s found someone who looks at her like that, who loves her as she deserves to be loved. He finds himself hoping that that is what waits for him at the end of this trip. That this pen pal, the woman he’d fallen in love with against all sense, would look at him like Mairon looks at his sister.

The nonsense, as Finrod called it, has been a nice distraction until now, because he’s hardly been alone long enough to doubt. And initially, he’d planned to jet off in a rush so he wouldn’t have to wait any longer to know, to know if it was as real as it felt, reading her words to him. But now, having been forced to wait, that doubt is starting to creep in. In small moments, especially because of Finrod. Because he knows Finrod thinks he is making a mistake, and sometimes, it’s hard not to wonder if he’s right.

He pulls a letter out from the front pocket of his backpack, needing the reassurance of her words. Breathing deeply, he lets them sink in, familiar, for all the times he’s reread them.

Do you think it’s crazy to love someone you’ve never met? Because I read your words, and I know you. And I think that knowing you, it would be impossible not to love you.

And he just knows, he knows, that it isn’t nonsense for him to feel the way he does. Finrod is wrong, despite his good intentions. He’s wrong.

He turns to Finrod. “See? Everyone loves my nonsense.”

Finrod just shakes his head, but he can see a slight smile reflected in the window as he continues to snuggle the puppy. He was going to send that puppy home with his brother. Finrod just didn’t know it yet.

A couple hours out, Mairon lets Galadriel drive, switching seats with Finrod so he can have puppy time. Finrod, who, to Orodreth’s immense satisfaction, seems reluctant to leave Gil behind. But he’s in good hands with Mairon who gently scoops him up and cradles him in his lap.

Finrod and Galadriel speak lowly in the front in a language only they seem to understand, Mairon gently scratching behind Gil’s ears.

“So, what are you going to do when you get there?” Mairon asks, glancing down at the puppy.

No one had really asked, just told him how stupid it was of him to go.

“I have a job lined up at an accounting firm in the city and though I’m hoping that things will work out, I have a short-term thing worked out with a friend in the area if I need somewhere to stay.”

Mairon doesn’t seem surprised, which doesn’t really surprise him. Out of the three of them, he’s been the most supportive, and it’s not something Orodreth is soon to forget; he had meant it when he’d said that Mairon was a brother to him, and only partly because the man was going to marry his sister someday.

He won’t forget it, but it does distract him when Finrod interjects from the front seat, “who do you know in Oklahoma?”

A second later it comes to him. “That bastard.” Finrod turns then. “You knew that I would reach out to him.”

“I knew that you would try to spy on me, yes. But we’ve been talking these past couple years after he came to visit for that World Series game. I’ve even been helping him with edits on a crime novel he’s been working on.”

Finrod’s mouth hangs open and he can hear Galadriel cackling from the driver’s seat. “I cannot believe you got played by Orodreth,” she says through bouts of laughter. “Some detective you are.”

“I wasn’t trying to trick you,” he says, taking the puppy when Mairon hands him over in silent offering. It does settle his building anxiety a little, petting Gil’s tiny head. “He didn’t tell you anything that isn’t true. Anything you couldn’t have found out if you just asked me.” But he’d known this would be easier for Finrod, known it would be hard for him to get over the idea that this was a colossal mistake.

“Orodreth, we weren’t—”

“Don’t lump me into this,” Galadriel says. “I just provided the phone because someone,” she turns briefly to Finrod, “forgot his at home.”

“Yeah, because I wasn’t expecting to be kidnapped, Galadriel. But anyway. I wasn’t trying to spy on you, Orry. I just wanted to make sure you were going to be safe. I didn’t want to show up only for you to find you’d been catfished.”

“You can’t protect me from everything, Fin.”

Galadriel pulls over at a rest stop, disappearing with Mairon as he leashes Gil.

“I know that, Orry,” Finrod says after a long moment. “But can you understand that it feels like my job? In more ways than one?” They walk along the grassy perimeter, letting the dog sniff. “If you get your heart broken by this, I—”

“Then I get my heart broken, Fin. It’s a part of life, one you can’t stop from happening if it’s meant to happen.”

“I know that, but—”

“And you can say I told you so or whatever the hell else you want if I return home with my heart in pieces, but you can’t say that I didn’t try.” They move back toward the car, Mairon and Galadriel walking back hand-in-hand, an easy smile on his sister’s face. “And I think it would be worse not to try, Fin, don’t you?”

His brother nods, something a little sad in his eyes as he takes his seat in the front beside Galadriel. He wonders if it’s him that Finrod’s disappointed in or himself. It was worse than letting down his father, disappointing Finrod, and for as much as his mind was made up, he really doesn’t want there to be this between them when they part ways. But he can't tell Finrod how to think or what to feel—he can only try to feel what his brother felt. His brother loves him. That he knows above all else. From there, perhaps one of the most important characters in his story finally begins to take a clearer shape.

***

Because things never seem to go to plan, what had been intended as a stop to let the puppy walk around winds up their final destination. Apparently there was a race going on tomorrow and traffic was certain to be crazy, the gas station clerk told them. He’d also said that they’d be hard-pressed to find a hotel on such short notice, especially one that took pets. Lucky for them, he’d said, there was a kennel here in Amity, just down the road. Amity. It was like the universe was laughing at him.

That’s how they end up in this small town south of Indianapolis, two rooms at the one hotel Amity has to offer, which it turns out is pet friendly, meaning he has Orodreth and his puppy as roommates.

“Am I the villain in your story?” he asks, after sitting across the room from him in silence for a while, looking up from intermittent rounds of dangling that stupid squeaking duck for Gil to chase to find his brother scribbling away in that notebook of his.

He’s writing a story about us, Mairon had said earlier after dinner when Orodreth had gone outside with the puppy. In the hours since, he had been mulling it over, who he was in the story of his brother’s life. He knew the role that life had chosen for him, and he had played that part. What he didn’t know was how his brother would write him. If he would recognize himself in the character that was him to his brother.

Orodreth looks up. “Of course not, Fin.” He puts his pen between the pages, closing the book. “If anything, you’re the lovable antagonist slash best friend, the one our hero has the hardest time saying goodbye to, because he’s always been there, and he’s such a part of who our hero turned out to be.”

He wants to cry. He’s sure he will before the trip is over and done, but it doesn’t feel like the right time, no chance of escape for either of them. Blessedly, the sharp sting of puppy teeth nipping his fingertips reigns in the sentiment. Shaking his hand out, he drops the toy, Gil thrashing it around on the bed in a way that is impossibly cute.

This whole trip feels like an exercise in losing battles, but maybe that is what he needs. Maybe he needs the reminder that he can’t control everything. He knows he will probably be terrible at it, but he leans back against the headboard, snatching the toy from Gil once more, resolved to let things happen to him for once.

***

“I cannot believe you let him come back with a puppy,” Galadriel says, shrugging off her flannel shirt on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. “Scratch that,” she says when he drops her bra on top of it, calloused palm cupping her side. “I have no trouble believing it. Because you,” she stood up on her tiptoes, his arm curling around her back in support, “are a big softie.” She presses a kiss to his lips and his hand winds through her hair, pulling her closer.

“I can’t believe that you guys got played by Orodreth,” he mumbles into her mouth, walking back until his calves hit the edge of the tub. But then he remembers their conversation this morning, and the way his observations were often hidden beneath quips or something ridiculous. “He’s a lot smarter than anyone gives him credit for, I think,” he says, pushing the curtain aside and turning the knob as far to the left as he could tolerate. Galadriel could bathe in a volcano, but he was a little more sensitive to heat. They’d found a happy medium between flesh-melting and hot that suited them well enough. Besides, he was more than capable of stoking the fire in her if the heat of the water wasn’t enough.

“You’re right,” she says, stepping over the tub’s edge and letting the spray wash over her face before she turns around. “I think it’s just hard to see it, especially now.”

He steps in, her body shielding him from the heat of the water. “Thank you for seeing it,” she tells him, arms wrapping around his waist. “You have a habit of it, I think.” She leans forward, her lips pressed to his chest, his skin buzzing with her words. “Seeing the best in people.”

“Me?”

He’d spent so much of his life a cynical mess, distrusting anyone and everyone, especially those who claimed to want to help him. It had been part of what had led him to the church, that cynicism. He needed to believe that people could be good. He’d learned it from people, more than from the institution—people like Father Olorin, and Míriel, and his parishioners. But perhaps most of all he had learned it from the woman standing across from him, holding him close.

She is good. She is pure light, the kind he knows will always lead him home. He thinks about the ring he’d bought in Philadelphia, the one buried beneath his socks at the bottom of his bag, because she has a habit of stealing his shirts. A habit he doesn’t mind, because he loves seeing her in them. He loves seeing her like this, too, because he is only a man and she is so incredibly beautiful.

She looks up at him, something so very soft in her eyes. “You saw the best in me when I was not being the best version of myself.”

“Every version of you is the best version.” He moves a wet strand of hair from her face. “And I would not be where I am today without you, best version or no.” He dips down, pressing the gentlest of kisses to her lips. “And I rather like where I am today.”

“In Amity?” she says, because she likes to tease him.

“No place I’d rather be.”

“Than with my crazy brothers on a cross-country roadtrip?”

“Than with my family,” he says, claiming the words they had given him—her, Orodreth, Finrod.

She is so like the sun when she smiles, her happiness incandescent, and it is in moments like this when she is most beautiful to him.

Her arms tighten around his waist, and pushing him up against the wall of the shower, she stretches up to kiss him. He groans when her tongue parts his lips, her kiss furious passion and adoration, and God, he just loves her so much. His family.

His hands skate along her slick back, squeezing her sides, kneading her ass. She moans into his mouth when he presses her more firmly against him, his hardness nudging at her stomach.

“Mairon,” she mumbles, and there is scarce little he likes more than the sound of his name from her lips. “I need you inside me.”

His co*ck twitches, because he needs that, too, and she reaches between them her hand circling his shaft. “I need you to f*ck me up against this wall,” she says, moving so the hand not on his co*ck is splayed against tile.

If he had thought the temptation would cease when he’d given up his collar, he’d been wrong. She’s a vixen, but he loves it, loves that they can go from sickly sweet and tender to filthy at the drop of a hat.

He feels the heat of the water glancing down the side of his back when he presses her into the wall, his body hot behind hers. “Is this what you need?” His lips tease her ear, teeth nibbling at the sensitive shell before he soothes it with his tongue. His co*ck nudges her ass as he presses nearer, and he spreads her cheeks, tracing her slit. “You need me here?”

She whines, her ass moving back against him. “Yes, Mairon.” He slides against the slickness of her folds, nipping at her neck as he continues to tease her. The tip of his co*ck slips in as she rocks back against him, but with a firm hand against her lower back he pulls out, pressing her stomach against the tile. She whines again when his fingers tease her similarly, dipping into her shallowly, but not quite giving her what she needs. Not yet.

“Remember that time you came to my office and sat that pretty c*nt on my co*ck?” She shivers, his teeth dragging up her neck to her ear. “I just want to feel you,” he says, in imitation of how desperate she had been. It had been exquisite torture, to feel her that way, to be buried inside her and yet unable to move.

He slides into her, buries himself to the hilt, one hand looping around her waist to keep her from going anywhere, the other turning her to him by her chin so he could swallow her delighted gasp. His tongue moves against hers in wicked, delicious strokes, and he holds tight to her waist when she tries to move against him.

“Not yet, baby,” he says into her mouth, tasting her groan. His hand dips down between her legs, circling her cl*t. “Not until you come around me, fluttering and desperate.” He bites down on the tip of her tongue. “I want to feel you.”

“Jesus, Mairon,” she says breathily, leaning back against his chest while he toys with her cl*t, the other hand brushing over her stiffened nipple. She moves against him on instinct as he teases her, and he allows her that little bit. That little bit of friction is enough to drive him wild as she gasps and whines and moans, helpless against him.

“Please.”

She twists toward him and he lets his mouth fall to her chest, knowing she needs more if she is going to fall apart. He circles her nipple with his tongue, as he had teased her with his fingers. But then he sweeps it into his mouth, water beating down on his shoulder as she arches toward him, his co*ck buried deep inside her. He sucks on that beautiful little bud, his fingers reminding her the type of damage he could inflict if he got his mouth between her legs.

“Mairon,” she whimpers his name, moving against him the little bit that she can.

“f*ck,” she gasps when tugs at her nipple, rolling it between his teeth. He can feel her tightening around him, knows she is seconds away from release and she is desperate for it, desperate for him in a way he knows he would never get tired of.

“That’s it,” he purrs, sucking her nipple into his mouth, the same way he wanted to work her cl*t later, maybe while she sat on his face. Now, he strokes it with his fingers, insistent, steady. “That’s it, baby,” he says, feeling her spine stiffen beneath his hand. “Let go.” He adores her, teases her, worships her with his tongue, her hand tightening into a fist in his wet hair at his nape, fingers shaking. “Let me feel you fall apart around me and I will f*ck you into that wall until you know just how undone you make me feel.”

She clenches around him, a gasp slipping through her lips before he swallows it, moaning with her at the thousands of fluttering spasms rocking through her; every inch of him can feel her pleasure and it is exquisite. She is exquisite.

“sh*t, Galadriel,” he murmurs into her mouth as she continues to flutter around him. “You are divine.” He moves in her slowly, hips pressing her to the wall. With one final slow, wet kiss, she untwists her spine, placing her palms to the wall.

Her moan is slow as he pulls out then buries himself in her warmth again, fully. She is better than the spray warming his back as he moves in her, better than the sun, better than anything.

“Galadriel.” It is a prayer bitten into her neck, her name, as he f*cks up into her, no space between them. “sh*t baby, you feel so good.” His hands slide over her sides, digging into her hips as he moves deeper, f*cks her harder.

She lets loose a chorus of moans and whines, that glorious sound bouncing against the tile as she does on his co*ck, grinding back against him as he claims the deepest parts of her. He wants every part of her, wants her to know that there is no part of her he wouldn’t love.

“God, baby, I love you,” he murmurs into her neck, because it is true. Because he wants it to be true every day for the rest of his life. Never wants her to question it.

He curses when she clenches around him again, a long slow whine escaping from her lips. He f*cks her through her release, better than the first one if the way one moan fades into another and she babbles his name is any indication. Babbles which turn to gasping screams when she clenches harder, tighter than a vice around his co*ck. Dear God, he isn’t sure who is more undone.

His voice is strained, the rhythm of his hips stilted when he says, “f*ck baby, you’re so good to me. f*ck.” He pulls out, collapsing against the tile around her as he spills onto her back.

Her chest heaves with his, her back moving up toward his chest. He holds her tightly around the waist, not wanting to let go, even as the water begins to grow cold. When the temperature begins to become uncomfortable, he detaches himself, only going far enough to snatch a washcloth from the towel rack on the wall. He cleans her up, his hands gentle on her back as she peppers kisses to his stubbled jaw, and he wonders not for the first time how he got so lucky.

Reaching around her to turn the water off, he leans down, pressing a kiss to her neck, her cheek, her lips. Because he knows the adventure won’t end here for them, at the end of this trip. He knows that every day with her will be unpredictable in the best way, as it has been since the day they met. And he will love her all of those days, no matter what they bring. He doesn’t know when the perfect moment to tell her that will be, to promise it as he puts a ring on her finger. But he has a feeling the moment is coming soon.

Chapter 10: Of Cats and Cousins

Summary:

Galadriel, Mairon, and her brothers find something to do in small town Indiana and run into some familiar faces along the way.

Notes:

Been a minute. It's been quite a year. Thanks to everyone that encouraged me to continue this and writing in general to work through some sh*t.

Chapter Text

It’s as good a morning as Galadriel’s ever had, waking up in Mairon’s arms after a very satisfying night. Once had not been enough; he’d very thoroughly toweled her off, his lips following the careful passage of his hands, paying special attention to her inner thighs until she was dripping again, but he’d discarded the towel by then and lapped up the sweet slickness of her seam, one leg thrown over his shoulder as he murmured beautiful, filthy words into her c*nt. And after, they’d done what motel sheets practically demanded, a few times, because she couldn’t get enough of him and because it’s not like they had any sort of pressing engagement come the morning in small town Indiana.

From the very beginning there had been something addictive about his touch, but now there was nothing forbidden about it. It was an outpouring of his love for her, a manifestation, and based on last night alone…he loved her very much.

She smiles to think of it, shifting in his arms so she can look at his sleeping face. The peace she saw there before he woke had become one of her favorite things, scared as she had been all those months ago that she had robbed him of his hard-fought peace. But he was happy. She sees it in the easy set of his lips, tilting up slightly when she holds him a little tighter. Because she’s happy too. Happier than she’s ever been, though the circ*mstances are certainly bizarre. But to hear him say that he felt like part of her family…she cherished those words almost as much as his words of love whispered into her skin, a constant reminder, a gentle insistence.

“Good morning, Mairon.” She nuzzles his neck, her smile growing when his arms tighten around her waist.

“Good morning, baby.” He kisses her chin, his lips brushing her jaw as he shifts to face her. “What do you think today’s excitement will be?”

There was really no telling with Orodreth. She’d challenged him the night before to find something uniquely local to help commemorate their time in Amity, and she is looking forward to the nonsense he’d dreamt up. Because if there was anything he was good at, it was nonsense and dreaming.

“I guess we’ll find out at breakfast.” She looks over his shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. It’s almost nine, which is late by her usual standards, but it is vacation, she supposes and it’s not like anyone but Orry is in a hurry to get where they’re going. Even Finrod, who had been desperate to get back to work and just generally annoyed at the lack of structure to this trip, would hate to see it end, because reaching their destination meant losing their brother, in a way, even if it was only to distance.

She gets dressed, a delightful tiredness and tightness in her legs from last night and they meet her brothers in the lobby for what is sure to be a two-star continental breakfast and a planning session for the day ahead.

Finrod is conspicuously absent, having borrowed Orry’s phone to call Aegnor and update him on the craziness. She almost wishes he and Angrod could be here, too, but they wouldn’t have all fit in the car. She tries to imagine kidnapping them. It wouldn’t be easy. Well, Angrod might be easy enough, but Aegnor was a little more wary. Then again, Finrod was probably the most situationally aware person she knew and she hadn’t even tried to kidnap him. He’d done it himself.

She’s beyond needing to worry that Finrod is going to call in the FBI, so she lets it slide that he’s breaking the rules, knowing he’ll probably call Amarïe next.

Grabbing a waxy apple and a stale croissant, she plops down at the table next to Orry.

“What’s on the schedule for today?”

He sips from his carton of milk, looking a bit like a child for it, because that was probably the last time he’d had a carton of milk—in elementary school. “The concierge told me the community is putting on a production of Cats, Galadriel. It opens this afternoon.”

This has Finrod written all over it. Convenient of him to be absent.

“Have you seen Cats, Orodreth?” she asks, wondering why he wishes to subject her to such torture.

He takes a bite of his banana and proceeds to answer her before the fruit is fully chewed. “Yeah, I saw the movie in theaters a couple years ago. Day after Christmas, I think. It was great.”

Galadriel sighs. “Orodreth, every day you say something new that makes me more embarrassed to be related to you.”

He flips her off, muttering what sounds like “snob” through another bite of banana.

She looks across the table to find Mairon smirking in amusem*nt, a trace of mischief flickering in his eyes. Oh no. He’d maybe heard her rant more than once about her hatred for this particular musical and the one joke that her ever-serious brother had decided to play on her in perpetuity. In truth, she didn’t mind that they had a thing, she just hated that it was Cats.

“Why are you being such a snob, Galadriel?” Mairon asks, clearly goading her. “Your brother has so graciously found something to entertain us this afternoon, with local flavor, just as you have asked. I, for one, think it sounds like a great idea, Orodreth.”

Galadriel gives him a look that says you’ll pay for that later, to which he only waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Orodreth pounds his fists on the table in victory. “Ha! Three against one!” Because of course Finrod had already agreed to this. Retribution for kidnapping him, she supposes. “Suck it, Galadriel, we’re seeing Cats.”

She gives a long-suffering sigh, pretending to be more put out than she really is. “As you wish, Orry.”

Later, as they walk up the steps to the community center, she sends a glare Finrod’s way; he had been annoyingly quiet when he’d returned, catching the tail-end of their selection of the day’s activities, but she just knows he’s smug.

“The concierge told him, huh?”

He smirks. “I’m as shocked by this pleasant coincidence as you are, Galadriel.”

She narrows her eyes at him, taking the ticket Mairon hands to her. “Why do I get the feeling you were down in the business center in the early hours of the morning looking for ways to get back at me for dragging you along on this trip?” She waves the ticket in his face. “This is heinous, Finrod. Basically a war crime.”

“You did kidnap me.”

“Apples and oranges, big brother.”

He laughs at her pain, the only time he ever would because he had always been her fiercest protector. He doesn’t need to be anymore, and it’s a lesson she suspects he’s learning with Orodreth this week. A painful lesson, she thinks, remembering his face in moments he’d thought no one was watching. But he seems a little lighter now, especially when he catches a glimpse of Orry, sneaking a puppy into a community theater production of Cats less-than-subtly in his backpack. It works, because the concierge is a teenager who is less than enthused about their job.

They find some seats near the back, the auditorium surprisingly less empty than she’d thought it would be for a community theater production of Cats in small town Indiana. She prepares herself to tune out every word, every note she’s about to hear when the lights go down, covering a laugh when Finrod sneaks back in with popcorn for the dog hidden in Orodreth’s backpack.

For as much as she hates this musical for existing, the production is actually not that bad, considering the budget. The music especially she can appreciate, if she doesn’t listen to the words being sung. It’s then that she notices something strange in front of the stage. Someone mouthing along every word, almost unconsciously, as though the music was something he could not resist. Someone who looks an awful lot like a cousin she hasn’t seen since she was a kid. But why the hell would he be here?

She puts it aside momentarily when Orodreth’s backpack barks in a transition between scenes and he stands, slipping out though intermission is only a few numbers away. She follows him, because any excuse to escape the torture being inflicted upon her was a welcome one, even if it involved her brother’s nonsense.

She shakes her head to find him walking little Gil around in circles on the patch of grass by the sidewalk out front. There’s something very sweet about it, the smile on his face, his patience. It’s weird when the thought comes to her that he would make a good father. In so many ways he still feels like a kid himself, but maybe that’s the lesson she’s been learning this week, that he’s an adult. That he’s more than capable of making his own choices. And even if she doesn’t always agree, she’ll support him, because he’s her brother and he’s always done the same for her, even if he’s so often annoying about it.

After a few more minutes of sniffing and scamping, he puts the puppy back in his backpack and sits on the concrete stairs beside her. He pets Gil’s head absently, sticking up through the opening of the bag, looking out at the quaint little scene in front of them. The library is across the way, a diner and a few shops lining main street. It would be quiet, living here. Easy. Years ago she might have hated that, the quiet. She’d always loved the city, the hum and bustle. The life there. But there’s something to be said about the tranquility of this little town set in the trees. She has no plans to move away from her family, and yet…

Who knows what the future might bring? Hell, who knows what would happen even days from now and every day in between this one and their arrival in Oklahoma City? She could scarcely have predicted anything that had happened the past several days and she wouldn’t try to guess what lies ahead. For the first time in a very long time, she contents herself to just live in the moment.

It’s a good moment, she thinks, enjoying the silence with her brother. She tries not to think of it as one of their last, because this doesn’t have to be an ending. It isn’t.

“Shall we?” She says a few minutes later, certain that if they stayed out any longer Finrod would come get her because he didn’t want her to miss out on a moment more of her punishment.

He follows her, and when they get back in the lights are up, people milling about the lobby. Intermission. She doesn’t feel bad for leaving Mairon alone with Finrod, because they've gotten surprisingly close in the months since Christmas, which she loves. She cannot even fathom the thought of leaving Celeborn alone with him for even a minute. She would feel too bad for Finrod.

She is surprised, however, to find them not in their seats. They hadn’t been in the lobby either, so… She scans the room, finding Finrod first, near the front, with the man she’d noticed earlier, mouthing the words to The Rum Tum Tugger. Mairon is there too, she sees a second later, half-hidden behind the hulking frame of another very familiar-looking man, this one with flaming red hair and a prosthetic arm. No f*cking way.

She can tell from Finrod’s body language that he’s not as excited to see them as she is when she runs down the aisle toward where they’re gathered.

“Makalaurë, is that you?”

The dark-haired man barely has time to turn to her let alone recognize her before she launches herself at him. He’d always been her favorite cousin when she was a kid, except maybe Fingon, who was certain to be nearby if Maedhros was here.

“Little Galadriel,” he said, squeezing her tight before pulling back. “You’re all grown up.”

“Twenty years will do that.”

She didn’t mean anything by it, but it was still a tender spot, it seemed, the falling out with their fathers what seemed like ages ago. She’d been too young to really understand it at the time and now she is too old to care. They’re family.

“It’s good to see you, Maglor.” She turns to his brother. “Maedhros.” He gives a half-smile, and sure enough, Fingon is there beside him, looking small even for his relative height between Mairon and Maedhros. She hugs him, too, though it’s not been as long since she’s seen him. They’d met up on a college visit to Northwestern when he’d lived in Chicago. Still, that had been ten years ago. Too long.

“Hey Fin.”

Her brother inclines his head in answer out of habit, and Mairon laughs. “So many Fin names.”

Fingon laughs. “You have no idea.”

She tucks her arm around Mairon’s waist. “I called out for Fin across the room at the last family reunion and my father, brother, uncle, and two cousins answered me.”

That drew a smile even from Finrod. Her brother had more memories of their cousins because he had been older when Fëanor and Fingolfin still lived in Boston. He’d spent a lot of time with Maedhros and Fingon in particular—the eldest sons club—but she knows it isn’t a relationship that continued after they’d left.

Mairon seems overwhelmed, but in a good way, meeting her family. She’ll have much to explain to him later, surely, about the dynamics there, but for now, she’s just so glad to see them. This has to be the wildest thing that’s happened yet.

“Not that I’m not thrilled to see you guys, but what the hell are you doing here?”

This is about the last place she would ever have expected to see her cousins again.

“I live here,” Maglor said. “I’m the choir director at the high school and I help at the theater sometimes.”

It surprises her and it doesn’t, remembering the tranquility she’d felt outside earlier, the music that seemed to dance on the breeze here. It was from Maglor, after all, that she’d learned her love of music, her cousin always playing songs for her on the piano when he came to visit. Singing something new he’d learned—because he was always learning something new—and even pieces of songs he’d written. She’d always loved going to his concerts or to see him in the spring musicals, and Finrod had always taken her. Finrod, who continued to take her to shows growing up, filling yet another vacancy in her life.

She’d always expected that Maglor would end up in some big city, performing for a living. She wonders what had led him here, though she suspects it has something to do with his father’s death. He’d been there when it happened, her father had said. It hit him hard.

She opens her mouth, to say what, she’s not sure, but before she can get a word out, Gil yaps.

“Did your backpack just bark?” Maedhros asks like that’s an entirely normal question and not a combination of words he’s stringing together for the first time.

Orodreth swings his bag around so he’s wearing it over his front, unveiling the golden puppy inside. “Meet Gil. We found him on the side of the road yesterday.”

“You brought a puppy to a production of Cats?” Another brand new sentence from Maedhros, who seemed like he could no longer be surprised by the nonsense of his family.

Fingon shares a look with Finrod and Maedhros that she’s certain has to do with Celegorm and the puppy he used to bring with him everywhere when they were kids, and there’s something fond and entirely older brother-esque about it.

“More importantly,” Maglor said, “you named a stray after Caranthir’s son?”

“It’s fitting, right?” Orodreth scratches behind his ears. “Because he’s just a little ball of sunshine.”

Maedhros guffaws, and it might be the first time she’s truly heard him laugh. Because surely he knows his nephew has never been described as a little ball of sunshine by anyone. Except maybe Elrond who is besotted and wears rose-colored glasses where Gil is concerned. That had been an exciting development after the craziness that was Christmas and the wedding and the bet and the whole serial killer thing. She’d had her own rose-colored glasses where a certain priest was concerned, dulling her powers of perception to anything else, really. But she’s excited for them, because it means double dates in perpetuity with her best friend and she can’t really be mad about that.

When the lights begin to dim, she promises her cousins they’ll reconvene after the finale, taking their seats near the back once more. Orodreth keeps Gil quiet with a steady stream of popcorn and Mairon rubs soothing circles with his thumb on her shoulder, his arm thrown over the back of her seat. She can’t quite decipher the look on Finrod’s face. It’s not one she’s really seen from him before. There’s pain there, but she’d seen the way he smiled when certain memories came up. Still, he does not seem as excited as she is by the impromptu family reunion, and she decides that today’s focus is mending the relationships that had fractured because of the differences between their fathers. Because it would be good for Finrod to have them like he once did. It would be good for him to have someone who understood the parentified role he’d taken on, and for better or worse, Maedhros did.

She leans into Mairon’s side, tuning out the horrendous music, though well-sung, coming up with more schemes that Finrod is not likely to appreciate. But it would be good for him. And it’s time she looked out for him instead of the other way around.

*****

To say he was shocked to see his cousins in the middle of nowhere at a community theater production he’d only suggested they go to to torture Galadriel would be an understatement. It had been years since he’d seen Fëanor’s sons, after their father’s disagreement with his father. They were loyal to a fault where their father was concerned, even after his death, which meant he’d not so much as heard from them in decades. Which was a shame, because he and Maedhros had been really close growing up, and he’d always been fond of Curufin, too. And Celegorm, on the rare occasion that he wasn’t acting like a total dick.

Life had already given him a very heavy bit of emotional baggage to deal with this week. To have this thrown at him on top of that just seems cruel and he’s tempted to steal Mairon’s keys and drive far, far away. He doesn’t, mostly because he doesn’t want to reach around Galadriel to dig around in her boyfriend’s pockets, especially while they’re getting a little handsier than a community theater production of Cats really warrants. He supposes this is her way of punishing him for his spiteful selection of today’s activity, and maybe he deserves it, but she had kidnapped him and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to use that as an excuse for the rest of their lives.

He wants to leave, but he won’t, because he saw how excited Galadriel had been to see their cousins and he just knows she would sit and talk to Maglor for hours if given the chance. And she had always been close with Fingon, too. They were so much alike, those two. There was sadness in the nostalgia in those moments when she would remind him of Fingon in their youth, so stubborn, but passionate and kind. They both had a gentleness that coexisted with fierce determination in a way that shouldn’t make sense but did, and they were both better people for it.

He’d seen more of Fingon and his brother than he had Fëanor’s sons. Turgon, in particular, because that hurt a little less, and his cousin had moved out on his own years ago, far away from any of his family. Uncle Fingolfin had not parted in anger as Fëanor had, but the distance ended up having a similar effect. And his father had never been a fighter. He’d not fought to reconcile the relationship, even when his brother was on his deathbed. He’d not fought for his children after their mother died. Finrod had resented him for that, for a time, but mostly, he just felt the pain of his loss. Losing Eärwen had broken his father. It had broken him, too, but his siblings needed him, so there wasn’t the option of not being there, as much as he had wanted to go off and explore the world after he finished school. He’d been there for so long that the thought that they didn’t need him anymore…it approaches making him feel purposeless. This week is the most aimless he’s felt in twenty years and he’s not sure he’s dealing well with it. But he’s making progress with Orodreth, he thinks, even if it feels like his heart is breaking all over again. It’s going to hurt, but that’s because there’s so much love there, and he supposes it could be worse.

He won’t part in anger from his brother like his father did all those years ago. And maybe, just maybe, this crazy trip would allow him to reconcile something that had long been broken. And that feels far from purposeless.

Twelve Days Later - Thrill_of_hope (2024)

Chapter 1: Lucky

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Chapter 2: Oklahoma!

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Chapter 3: Oh, Brother

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Chapter 4: The Bronx Zoo

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Chapter 5: Those Nights

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Chapter 6: Laughter Lines

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Chapter 7: Bells Will Be Ringing

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Chapter 8: Lost Boys

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Chapter 9: you should know by now to expect the unexpected

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Chapter 10: Of Cats and Cousins

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