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Just another fic archive. :D

Author: sbyte
Beta: TPOD
Title: Lost at Sea 3/3
Characters: Erestor, Fingon, Arkáno, Fëanor
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction based on Tolkien’s works. It is in NO WAY intended to be anything other than that.
Warning: This is utterly AU and silly. It is slash (m/m), but that kind of goes without saying.
Summary: Oversleeping can have consequences!

Rescued


Arkáno shaded his eyes with his hands and looked out into the water of the gulf. “Fingon, come here. What is that?”

“Huh?” Fingon settled his daughter in the grass and walked over to his brother’s side. “What is what?”

“Look out there…no to your right. Follow my finger. You see that?”

Fingon furrowed his brow. “Is it a boat?” Both elves squinted.

“If it is, it is a small one.”

Not expecting an answer, Fingon asked, “What is it doing out there?”

Arkáno frowned, becoming concerned. “It shouldn’t be so near the cliff face with the tide coming in.”

Fingon’s eyes widened. “What kind of boat is that?”

Suddenly Arkáno dropped his jaw. “Oh Valar! You are going to think I’m insane, but that is no boat.”

Fingon smirked. “I’ve had my doubts about your sanity for years. What is it then?”

“It is a bathtub!”

Fingon looked from his brother to the boat and back again. “Phffftttt!”

Disregarding his brother’s reply, Arkáno urged, “No look. It isn’t as far away as we thought. It is just very small.” He then gasped, startled. “Wait! Is there an elf inside that thing? If there is, we’ve got to help him.”

The brothers squinted in concert. Fingon exclaimed, “I don’t know kind of craft that is, but there is an elf inside! After the epic bender you and Maglor went on last night, you are in no shape to swim out that far. I’ll get down to the beach, but my wife would slay me were I to swim into an angry sea. She will be delivered of our next child in a few days so I can’t take unnecessary chances.” He looked at the toddler playing with her doll. “You and your mount are faster than me and mine. Take my daughter and ride for help. If he doesn’t jump soon, there will be an unfortunate accident, and I don’t want her to witness it.”

“Shite. Try to get him to jump. I’m going to get our uncle.” Arkáno gathered up Fingon’s daughter and hurried off.

A few short moments later, Fingon was on the beach yelling at the top of his lungs. “Jump! Jump into the water!”

Erestor saw an elf on the beach waving his hands. It looked like he was yelling something, but he couldn’t hear what it was. The shore was in sight so the whole embarrassing ordeal was almost over.

Soon afterward, the notorious and famed creator, inventor and once high king Fëanor arrived on the scene. “What is this about an elf in a boat?”

“I told you that it isn’t a boat.” Arkáno gestured to the gulf. “He is out there!”

Taking control of the situation, Fëanor said, “Right, you can stop yelling. He obviously can’t hear you. If he doesn’t jump soon, it will be too late. Fingon, stay here on shore and be ready. Arkáno, go back to the keep and make ready for an injured elf, just in case.” Fëanor quickly threw his boots off, jerked his tunic over his head, removed his pants and dove in. He was a strong swimmer which was a good thing. The tide was coming in. When he got close enough to be heard, he started to yell, “You’ve got to leave the boat. Jump!”

Erestor raised and cocked his head when he heard a voice. An elf was swimming toward him! He wanted him to jump overboard? Was he crazy? He yelled back, “No, I don’t swim well, and am too far out. Worry not. The tide will bring me to the shore.”

Fëanor continued to swim for the elf. “Look behind you! You are going into the cliffs! Jump!”

Erestor slowly turned his head. The cliffs were close and the waves were breaking hard against their sharp rocks. That is what he had been hearing and ignoring! The lethargy that blanketed him ever since sighting land, evaporated in an instant. “Valar!” Erestor pulled off his boots as fast as he could and jumped. He was not a good swimmer, the current was strong and he was weighted down with sodden clothes.

“Take your clothes off! They will pull you down.” Fëanor saw that the elf was beginning to panic, so redoubled his efforts. “Hang on. I’m coming.”

Erestor’s movements became much easier once he removed his clothes. Even so, he was fighting a losing battle with the current.

Fëanor grabbed hold and steadied Erestor for a moment. “Can you swim?”

“I haven’t done so often, and the last time was long ago.” Erestor wasn’t about to admit that an elfling could swim better than he could.

“All right, hold on to me.”

Erestor didn’t have to be told twice. He gripped Fëanor as if his life depended on it. For his part, Fëanor did his best to keep the panicking elf from pulling him down. It wasn’t easy. Every elf should know how to swim, but this one was proof that not all did.

Once they were close enough, Fingon walked out into the surf, grabbed Erestor under the arms, and pulled him onto the shore. He was weakened and cramped from spending two days in a bathtub at sea. Even so, Fingon turned him toward the cliffs so he could witness the fate that he had so narrowly avoided. “You fool! What were you doing out there?”

Erestor watched as the bathtub that had been his home for the past two days was dashed upon the rocks. Planks of wood splintered as the tub was ripped apart. It was the first time that he faced such an immediate glance at his own mortality. Life under the threat of Sauron was one thing. Watching nature’s display was much more sobering. He sank down to the sand, stunned, pale and barely able to speak.

Fëanor used his shirt to dry off with, and donned his pants. “Let’s get him to the keep. Can you walk?”

Erestor nodded and accepted Fingon’s hand up. “My name is Erestor and I am more thankful than I can express at your timely rescue.”

“I am Fingon and your rescuer is Uncle Fëanor. I would say that I am pleased to meet you, but considering the circumstances…”

Stunned and speechless, Erestor followed as they slowly made their way to the horses. Fëanor mounted, and Erestor slid on behind. He felt more like a limp rag than an elf, so wrapped his arms tightly around Fëanor’s waist.

Once at the keep, Arkáno met them outside and caught Erestor as he slid off his uncle’s horse. “You don’t look terribly worse for wear, but let’s get you inside and have a better look.”

Fingon left Erestor in the capable hands of his brother and uncle, and went inside to retrieve his daughter.

Taking the situation in hand, Fëanor addressed his nephew. “I will have a warm bath prepared and then order tea and something to eat. While he soaks in warm water, go to Curufin’s room. Some of his old clothes are still stored in the wardrobe. There should be something that he can wear in there.” Fëanor strode off, leaving Erestor to follow Arkáno.

As they walked through the house, Arkáno studied the stranger. The elf was shorter than him and his uncle, and although it was hard to tell with elves, he looked like he could be a little younger as well. His burning question had nothing to do with age or identity though. “How did you wind up in that little tub?”

Smiling weakly, Erestor shook his head. “That, my friend, is a long story. Once I’m not struggling to stand on cramping legs, I’ll tell you all about it.”

The warm bath and clean clothes after two days in the sun felt divine. Once clean and clothed, Erestor went downstairs and told his tale. Aman had been the scene of many unusual occurrences throughout its long history, but over tea and sandwiches, Erestor told Fëanor and his nephews a tale unique in the experience of all three. “That is how I became stranded at sea in a bathtub.”

“My daughter is tired, and my wife is no doubt anxious for her return. I thank you for a most entertaining afternoon.” Fingon rose and took his little girl’s hand. “Come Mirel, wave goodbye to Uncles Fëanor and Arkáno.” A chubby hand rose and fingers wiggled in farewell.

Fëanor smiled and refilled everyone’s tea. “He certainly makes adorable children,” he noted.

Rather than comment on Fingon’s children, Erestor asked, “How far is it to the docks from here?”

Fëanor raised an eyebrow. “If you think that I’m going to let you wander Valinor in search of the docks, you need to think again. You are going to have a hot meal, plenty of fluids and good night’s sleep in a proper bed. In the morning, a healer is going to give you a thorough examination. Water and sleep deprivation are bad enough, but you were stressed and quite likely frightened on top of that. Until you have recovered, consider yourself to be my guest.”

Arkáno reached for his tea and casually said, “Don’t consider arguing with him. It will be a waste of your time. Besides, he is right.”

Erestor’s instinct was to argue that all of the attention was unnecessary, but something told him that Arkáno was correct. It would be a waste of time. “I need to send a message to Glorfindel, letting him know that I am alright. They will be wondering where I disappeared to.”

“I will see to that right now.” Fëanor swiftly left the room to arrange for a message to be delivered to Glorfindel.

**

Two days passed with no word from Erestor, and Glorfindel was genuinely concerned. “I’m telling you; something has happened. He wouldn’t stay away this long without telling someone where he was going.”

Ecthelion asked around for Glorfindel, but hadn’t heard anything. Even so, he was pretty sure the elf would resurface soon enough. After all, this was an island. Where could he go? “When you first arrived, he seemed reluctant to spend the night with you and your new husband. He is probably just house-hunting.”

Glorfindel raised both eyebrows. “For two days?”

Elrond sighed. “Perhaps he did tell someone where he is, Glorfindel. You assume that he would tell us, but maybe he sent word to one of his friends. We have been very busy the last couple of days. It could actually be that a message came, and we weren’t here to accept it. Besides, this is Aman. What could possibly happen to him here?”

Glorfindel looked at Elrond like he couldn’t believe his husband had just said that. “What could happen? You are talking about Erestor!”

Ecthelion rolled his eyes. “Relax Glorfindel. Despite how you treat him, he is a grown ellon. Don’t act like your elfling is missing. He will send word when he is ready. Valar, I don’t envy your husband if Erestor ever gets married. You will be worthless for a century.”

“Oh be quiet. I’m just concerned that we haven’t heard from him. He is new here and has no family to fall back on, other than us.”

A knock at the door interrupted Glorfindel’s train of thought.

Elrond answered. “I bet this is a message from Erestor. Here Glorfindel; it is addressed to you.”

Glorfindel immediately broke the seal and began reading aloud.

To Glorfindel, Captain of Imladris and Lord of the House of the Golden Flower,

Erestor asked me to send word of his whereabouts. He has had a misadventure, but do not worry. He is safe and will be my guest for the next few days while he recovers from his ordeal. Before continuing, be warned that what follows is hard to believe.


Glorfindel rolled his eyes. “When it comes to Erestor, I’d believe just about anything.”

Elrond peered around his husband’s shoulder. “Keep reading”

Nothing that I say will make this sound anything less than bizarre, so I will state plainly what befell your ion. Erestor was stranded in the gulf in a bathtub, courtesy of Cirdan. He was spotted near to my home, dangerously close to the cliffs. I fished him out, and he seems fairly well, all things considered.

He says that he spent two nights in the tub. As you can imagine, he needs food, fluids and sleep. Though I don’t see any injuries and he says there are none, I arranged for a healer to come by tomorrow and check him over, just in case.

If there is anyone that needs to know his whereabouts other than you, please send word that he will be at my estate.

Fëanor



Glorfindel blinked. Elrond snickered. Ecthelion flopped down into a chair and practically cackled. That opened the floodgates and Elrond burst into great belly laughs. Glorfindel just looked confused.

“How could anyone wind up at sea in a bathtub?”

It took a herculean effort for Elrond to stifle his laughter long enough to reply to his husband. “For that, we have to ask Erestor or Cirdan. Since we aren’t likely to see either of them for a while, we must be patient.”

Ecthelion had tears of laughter running down his face when he offered, “I am sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

Glorfindel sputtered, “The note is signed by Fëanor! My ion manages to become lost at sea in a bathtub of all things, and is rescued by Fëanor! I don’t know what to say. I am glad he is taking care of Erestor, but why is he even alive?”

Still chuckling, Ecthelion said, “Despite having a reputation that would make any fire breathing dragon proud, Fëanor isn’t so bad. The only mischief that I’ve heard tell of lately is when he decorated the hilts of his grandson’s play swords. They are now encrusted with jewels, and are the envy of many an elfling.”

Suddenly Glorfindel looked at his husband and smirked. “Your sons and Legolas called Erestor the spawn of Fëanor after that fight a couple of centuries ago.”

Elrond winced.

“In one sense, it is almost comical that he is actually a guest at Fëanor’s estate.” Glorfindel smiled wickedly. “Your youngest would shit a brick if he knew.”

Elrond grinned. “I remember spending most of that night trying to talk Erestor out of killing Legolas. Will you calm down now? Your ion is safe.”

“Calm down? He is with Fëanor! That is almost as bad as thinking about what mischief he and Ecthelion could get up to together.”

Ecthelion tried to look innocent, but with such a roguish twinkle in his eyes, he wasn’t able to quite pull it off.

**

Arkáno cocked his head. “You are newly arrived from Arda then. I have met very few elves that are not reborn.”

Erestor blinked. Being around elves older than Glorfindel, would take some getting used to. “This ancient land makes me feel like an elfling seeing the world around him for the first time.”

“That begs the question of how old you actually are.”

“I am a little over eight hundred.”

Arkáno raised an eyebrow. “There are a lot of adventures in store for you.”

Erestor asked curiously, “Really? The people that talked me into coming here left me with the impression that this place is beautiful, peaceful and rather dull.”

Arkáno choked out, “Dull? Where did you hear that?”

Fëanor walked back into the room in time to hear Erestor’s statement and Arkáno’s reply. “Don’t equate peace with boredom. Many of the elves that call this place home are far from dull. Take the elf that just left; daughter in tow. Before marrying his lovely wife, his father had to bail him out of the Tuna jail four separate times for drunken and disorderly conduct.”

“High King Fingon was arrested?” Erestor was flabbergasted.

Arkáno rolled his eyes. “He used to be High King, but my brother was a reborn nuisance for the first few hundred years of his second life. Thank the Valar for sending Tallia his way.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Erestor just looked askance to the notorious elf lounging on the couch.

Fëanor smirked. “He was no worse than you, Arkáno. I recall that where one went, the other was soon to follow. That included the Tuna jail. The difference was that my dear brother refused to bail you out the last time. You still owe me for bail money, pen’neth.”

Arkáno groused, “You have the longest memory of any elf ever created! Fine, I’ll get you the money before week’s end.”

Fëanor’s grin became mischievous. “You do realize that significant interest has accrued over the years.”

Arkáno rolled his eyes. “I should have known. All right, I’ll bite. How much is this going to cost me?”

Fëanor smiled slyly. “Never fear, I will think of something. Let’s not bore our guest any further with talk of your gambling problem. It is time for dinner. Come.”

Later that night, Erestor lay in bed relaxed after enjoying the first truly good meal he had eaten since leaving Arda. It was a warm night so he had opened the window wide. Borrowed clothes belonging to Curufin were draped across an easy chair, ready for him to wear the next day. When he left Arda, he had been apprehensive, and truth be told, rather nervous as well. Lying on a bed in one of Fëanor’s guest rooms, he realized that there was nothing left about life in Aman that could scare him. The strife between Elrohir and him was, and would always be, an ugly reminder of his past. It was just that, though. It was his past, and need not shape his future. Perhaps, given time, they could even make peace with one another. It was a pleasant realization.

He fancied that he could hear sweet music on the night air. It was the kind of music that can only be played by a master of the flute. He smiled as his imagination took him to the beach where a dark haired elf awaited his arrival. The first stars came out and Erestor allowed himself to drift into sleep, while the gentle music of the Lord of the Fountain spilled out onto the warm evening air.


Finis

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