we three together by averytinylizard  

we three together

The greatest thing that Beleriand has given them is some peace between the three of them. There was peace in Valinor, of course, when there were only two of them, but for all three to spend time together meant a splitting in two and one. Maitimo-and-Makalaurë existed mostly at home, a playacting at domesticity, while Findekáno-and-Makalaurë was a pretended rivalry on the stage, Findekáno playing the valiant hero or king while Makalaurë composed and sang the best songs. Russandol-and-Findekáno, meanwhile, was a private little thing, existing only when times were calm and Russandol had no responsibilities.

But if the three spent the day together, their fathers’ rivalry would stick to them, Findekáno suddenly an invader coming into their house. Or maybe Makalaurë would be interrupting the peaceful times of Russandol-and-Findekáno, forcing them to hide from jealous eyes and a sharp tongue.

But it was hard for a rivalry to endure in Beleriand. It had hurt them, yes, but it had brought them together to heal those hurts. It was hard to be angry at the man who rescued Maedhros using a song you wrote, or to resent the man who sat by her bedside for weeks, waiting to see her awake. Fingon-and-Maedhros-and-Maglor was peaceful in a way they hadn't been in their youth.

Now, after a party, there was no deciding who goes home with who, but simply looking ahead to their little room, where they would dance to their own songs, and drink their own wine, and kiss the taste of fruit off each other's lips.

Fingon danced with Maedhros first, a quick little jig that was too enthusiastic for their small room, but they dodged the furniture surprisingly well. Then Makalaurë, doing his best to dip his sister who was so much taller than him. Fingon and Maglor danced together too sometimes, but tonight Maedhros had been vital to win the battle, to win glory for the Noldor, so it was about her tonight. But she tired soon, having been at the center of all the day's festivities alongside Fingolfin, and they quickly worked together to help her bathe.

She laughed as they offered, said, “You do not have to do all this.”

But Maglor knew his sister, knew the laughter meant I do not deserve this, you cannot possibly want to do this. “We do, sister.”

As Angrod and Aegnor’s most frequent guest of the three, Fingon's room was the only one with its own bathroom attached. The tub was small, only fit for one person, but the water running through the pipes was hot and the tiling of the tub was beautiful, the mosaic a riot of blues and whites. Fingon took out his hair oils and soaps as Maglor helped Maedhros change.

He was careful, knowing she was still bruised from the day's struggles, but that was all the more reason to spoil her. He took off her shoes first, kissed her ankles. Her feet were not the pretty delicate things they were in Valinor, scarred and broken as they had been in Angband, but Maglor still caressed them as if they were both young and innocent again. He treated every part of her like this, from her back with its old whip marks to her right shoulder, sloping, kissing them as he uncovered them. Fingon, meanwhile, seemed content with filling the tub, adding drops of perfume to the water.

Finally, when she was naked, she started to step into the tub, but not before Maglor kissed her on the back of her neck, smelling her sweat, the scent of blood she had not quite managed to scrub off. Those were the truest smells of his sister, what she smelt like at her most joyous.

As she lay down in the tub, she sighed and relaxed, as if only the weightlessness of the water let her muscles become less tense. Fingon knelt by her head, started to unbraid her hair, scratching at her head as he did so. Maglor stared openly, looking at her hair slowly pulling around her, the coppery brown turning darker in the water until it looked almost like blood.

Once Fingon had finished, she let herself sink completely, until all of her was underwater, and he felt Fingon look alongside him. She swayed, her body not quite rocking in place, but letting the movements of the water move her. Her hair swirled around her, and her small breasts and her soft cock floated, and she looked serene. She seemed one of those legends of the Falathrim of beautiful women beneath the waves. Their visage would often distract sailors, leading to disaster. Sometimes a kind sailor would think the woman drowned, and he would jump in the water to save her. The more lecherous tales told of men sinking whole ships in the hope of dragging them from the water and taking her as his wife.

But the moment ended, and Maedhros lifted her head from the water to breathe. The spell seemed to end on Fingon first, for he was able to say, “May I wash your hair?”

Maedhros smiled at his request, and said, “You may.”

Fingon took a gentle soap, rubbing circles on her scalp with it until he had a nice lather. He massaged her head then, taking great care to wash off any grime and sweat while still never pulling. Her eyes were closed, and so were Fingon’s, as if washing her hair was as relaxing as having it washed.

Maglor did not mind being simply witness to intimacy anymore. Seeing his sister relax with someone she loved was enough. But he did help, when the time came to pour water over her head and wash away the soap.

She did wash her body by herself, simply taking a sweet smelling soap from Fingon's collection. She stood up, washing quickly before sitting down again and rinsing it away.

And Maglor realized that they would be finished soon, and the thought grieved him. He kissed her on the mouth, too soft for it to be an invitation.

He helped her up once she was finished, helped her dry as Fingon oiled her hair and combed it. She sat by the fire, still naked as she sat in a little chair, and smiled at them. “Thank you.”

Fingon smiled and kissed her too. “There is no need to thank us.”

Maedhros looked to the side. “I think I should go to my own room. I shall change as soon as I am d—”

Maglor wanted the night, the joy to last forever. “No, you should stay.”

“In Fingon's room? Maglor, you know what people already say. I cannot spend the whole night here!”

Fingon kissed Maglor, and said "If your brother were to stay, nobody would dare to say anything improper. What, are you scared that they'll think we were fucking with your brother in the room?”

Maedhros rolled her eyes. “Of people guessing correctly what we are doing? Yes, and you should be too.”

Maglor went behind her, kissed her behind her ear, heard her gasp and saw her cross her legs. “Sister. Nobody suspects a thing. Enjoy yourself.” And when he saw Fingon kneeling before her, laying his head on her lap as she threaded her fingers through her hair, he knew she was convinced.