#unanticipated

“I’m from Brethil,” they said, affronted. “I’m one of the Haladin!”

“Regardless, this is no place for mortals,” Maglor said flatly. “You do know who we are, don’t you, Rýndil of Brethil?”

A shiver ran down their spine. Seven tall elf-lords, gaunt and scarred and bloody in the aftermath of a disastrous battle. Maedhros, the eldest, was a shell of the glorious figure he’d been on the battlefield; they weren’t sure if he was even awake, his eyes were so glassy and unfocused. Grief, they supposed. They’d heard the rumors about him and the High King, after all.

Maglor, leading in his place, trembling despite the firmness in his golden voice. Celegorm, bitter and angry and mean despite his fair features. Curufin, his dark shadow, flint in his eyes and venom on his tongue. Amrod and Amras, mirroring each other in their distrustful glares. And yet despite the blood and dirt and pain, a light shone from each of them. These were men to be feared, men to be worshipped.

And then there was him. Caranthir the Dark. Rýndil’s father, the blood flowing through their veins, the reason they were here in the first place. Gaunt and red-faced, the weary host of his defeated brothers, he had scarcely stopped moving about and making room for them since they arrived.

As much as Rýndil was of the Haladin, as much as they were the child of Haleth, they were bound to this family and people also.

Rýndil stuck their chin out and glared directly at the unobservant Caranthir. “I know who you are,” they said evenly. “You are the Fëanorians. Well, so am I.”

There was a horrid pause, in which Rýndil wasn’t sure if they were going to be sliced open from gut to throat or welcomed with open arms. Even those that hadn’t been staring at them before turned to look at them with open mouths.

“They’re not mine,” said a wry voice at last. Everyone turned to stare at Maedhros, speaking his first words since their arrival.

“What?” he said. “Fingon is—he’s dead. No point in hiding it any more. Yes, I was sleeping with him. We were in love. You’re all shocked, I know—yes, Curvo, I was being sarcastic, don’t even start, I’m well aware that we were the worst-kept secret in Beleriand.”

“More like all of Arda,” muttered Maglor.

Maedhros ignored him. “My lover is dead,” he said, a deep and righteous grief rumbling in his chest. “And so. This bastard child. Is. Not. Mine.”

Bastard! Rýndil recoiled. They knew it was true, knew that the Fëanorians could see the truth of their relation but also the truth of its illegitimacy in the way that elves had. The way Rýndil only partially understood, like they only partially understood everything about who they were.

No one else spoke. Maedhros stuck his feet up on the table, crossing his arms. “I’m done with dancing around unfortunate subjects,” he said. “Whoever of you bed some mortal woman, fess up. I faced my scandal, time for you all to face yours.”

Still no one moved, until Maglor blurted out, “I know you’re looking to me, Nelyo, but Arasdil’s children had other fathers.”

“What?” Curufin yelped. “You slept with a mortal? And you mocked me for being faithless to Quilla with Finrod! What would Ezellë think of this, at least I didn’t stoop that low—”

“This is rich,” Maedhros drawled, “coming from the person who would never shut up about me being a cousin-fucker.”

“Look, Finrod was the whore, look at him, he had Edrahil and Bëor and at least two of those dwarves, and besides he was already fucking Turgon well before me—”

“I’m asexual,” Amrod said, raising his hands and stepping backward. “It wasn’t me.”

“And unlike some of you, I remember my marriage vows,” Amras snapped. “Thennes may have died in the Bragollach, but if we get out of this blasted Oath and reunite in Aman I’ll be doing it on a clean conscience!”

“Tyelko?” Maglor demanded.

“Hell if I know,” Celegorm growled. “I’m not the type to get tied down—”

“Valar damn it, Tyelko, how many times have we told you—”

Rýndil watched, wide-eyed, as the Fëanorians fell apart into bickering about their various sexual exploits, bringing up long-buried grievances while Maedhros watched with a morbid amusement. Morbid, that was the right word for him; just looking at him unsettled them.

Throughout all this, Caranthir stayed silent in the shadows of his own home, his face growing more and more red. Rýndil looked at him, crossing their arms. They weren’t going to say anything—this was his fault.

“I think I’d know if they were my kid, though,” Celegorm argued. “Has Tyelpë been sleeping around?”

“How the fuck should I know?!” Curufin snarled. “Ever since you fucked up our perfectly good plan with the witch of Doriath I haven’t seen hide nor hair of my unfortunate whelp!”

“I fucked it up?” Celegorm shouted. “Really now?! You sending your boyfriend off to his death had nothing to do with that?”

“It was me,” Caranthir said quietly. The others didn’t seem to hear him at first, though Rýndil saw Maedhros’ eyebrows shoot upward at the confession. “I’m their father.”

Slowly, the Fëanorians fell silent, looking to their middlest brother in astonishment.

“Moryo!” Maglor groaned. “Of all of us, only Ambarussa were less likely!”

“And me, don’t kid yourselves,” Maedhros interrupted. “I had my money on one of the ‘Three Cs’ as I hear they’re calling you all in Dor-lómin. Though I doubt Dor-lómin will be around for much longer.”

“Don’t group me in with those idiots,” Caranthir said scornfully. “Yes, I fathered the brat.”

“I’m not a fucking brat,” Rýndil growled. “And I may be a bastard, but that’s to your shame, not mine, Father. My mother’s people treat me very well.”

“Who is the mother?” Amras asked. “I never pinned you for the romantic type, Moryo.”

“Haleth wasn’t, either,” Caranthir said glumly. “She...conquered me, I suppose. I didn’t even realize that she got a child out of the exchange until I met Rýndil several years later. And frankly, they’re so unimpressive, even for a peredhel, that I’d forgotten about them until—”

Rýndil sprang across the room and bitch-slapped Caranthir to the ground. “Fuck off,” they spat, hitting him where it hurt. “My mother was right to send you away when she did. You’re worthless, all of you Noldor princes, bringing only ruin to this land and blaming it on everyone but yourselves. Look at who brought Beleriand to ashes in this last battle—it wasn’t the Sindar, nor the Edain! It was you lot and your double-crossing friends! And maybe I’m an unanticipated, unimpressive peredhel, but everything I can claim is thanks to Haleth, not you. I may be a Fëanorian, but I’m worth seven of you.” They curled their lip. “And for the record, uncles, I think Celebrimbor had the right idea.”

They gave the stunned Caranthir one more knee to the groin and stormed out of the room. “Thanks for giving me a place to spend the night,” they called as they left, “and for letting me get that off my chest.”

“I like them,” Maedhros observed sardonically once Rýndil had rounded the corner. They hung by the doorway, catching their breath and trying to regain their composure. “They’re not afraid to tell you all the truth.”

“I’ll remind you who led this Union of peoples that failed so disastrously,” Caranthir hissed, “and if tonight has proved anything, it’s that Ambarussa have the right way of looking at things.”

Rýndil didn’t know if they would go that far, but they smiled grimly. So much for finding a place with their father’s people—but at least this venture hadn’t been uneventful.

~

A/N: So really this turned out to be more of a sequel to “Unanticipated” than part of C&C - my Halenthir characterization there is fairly antagonistic and playful, but after thinking about it I don’t think Caranthir is actually...ashamed of Ryndil, or particularly regretful of their existence, he just...doesn’t know what to do with/about them. So I’ll tone down his disdain for the actual fic, because I don’t think this is really representative of how he feels anymore.

A lot of my headcanons for the Feanorians and their relationships showed up here! I went into more detail about some of that in my longfic “ATATYA.” That fic, however, is not set in the same universe as this one; Ryndil is discussed in Moryo’s chapters of “ATATYA” but he didn’t actually know they existed until after his rebirth in that story, where he does know here.

There are references to Quilla and Ezelle; these are my OCs for Curufin and Maglor’s wives, respectively.

I mentioned Amras’ wife Thennes in this fic - she’s another character discussed in “ATATYA,” but her fate is different here than in that fic. Here, she dies in the Dagor Bragollach instead of absconding with Elured and Elurin after the Second Kinslaying. I have some headcanons about her relationship with the Ambarussa and how that plays out in both fics; one of these days I’ll get around to writing them.

Someone else I mentioned was Arasdil, a mortal lover of Maglor’s. That relationship was something I was workshopping around the time of writing “ATATYA,” but I ultimately ended up going with a different version of his life in my fic “Sins and Sorrows,” which is set in the same verse. I still think she existed, but they weren’t married like I originally envisioned. Basically, Arasdil was a woman of the house of Beor that Maglor rescued from an abusive marriage and had a relationship with. His comment about her children having “other fathers” is just that - he slept with her, but she never had his child. This is an affair that Maedhros knew about, but the rest of his brothers didn’t until this moment.

There’s a lot of swearing here that I’ll probably end up toning down, and I don’t think I’ll be as explicit with Amrod’s line about him being asexual, though that’ll still be there in spirit. And by the end, with Ryndil “bitch-slapping” their father and just Going Off at him and his brothers - I don’t think that would fly in actuality, but it was too fun to resist, tbh.

Also, the main thing this fic is missing is Ryndil’s dog!! They always have a dog with them - though perhaps Tallagar also died in the Nirnaeth.... :(