On the Minas Tirith / Tol-in-Gaurhoth Incident
  • Sauron:I grew up poor. I had little formal education. No real skills. I don't work especially hard, and most of my ideas are either unoriginal or total crap. And yet, I walked right into a job for which I was ill-prepared, ill-suited, and somebody already had, and I got it. If you ask me, that's the dream right there. Anything can happen to anyone. It's just random.

gultgull said: Fingon catching Maedhros wearing/putting on a dress?

a/n: @gultgull sorry it took so long I’ve been super busy. quick background, this is sorta AUish, Maedhros isn’t quite used to being a prince yet, because when Feanor moved out as a young elf, he tried his best to keep his family away from royalty. Unfortunately, Feanor loses the battle as his children age, and Maedhros is thrust into the role of being a high prince.

Hope you enjoy it, and mind my errors! I’m my own Beta! Also, feedback is welcomed!

It had been quite a while since Maedhros had tried on this particular garment, for his duties as the first born son of Fëanor had kept him from delving into rather personal activities as of late, and thus had been  unable to treat himself since his arrival into the palace earlier that month.

Though as the redhead stared at himself in the body length mirror, which was still too short for his ridiculous height, he wondered if the wait had been well worth it.

With a scoff, he stared at his reflection in utter disappointment. The hem of the dress hung high above his ankles, no longer able to accommodate his unusual height. Not to mention, the fabric practically molded his body like a second layer of skin, constricting his figure and making it hard for him to breath. Years of body mass and weight had broadened his shoulders and thickened his figure.

This tiny, child’s dress would do little to flatter his body now. Unfortunately, going out as he had hoped would no longer be an option.

For a second or two, he did consider asking his father or brother to fix the hem for him and to loosen the dress itself, though both had a tendency to work until their measurements were just right, and Matimo had neither the time nor the patience to listen to them bicker about preciseness.

He thought, a moment or two later, about going to the market and purchasing a dress himself. Though thought against it immediately after. Perhaps a year or two ago, going to the market and buying women’s clothing would be no issue to anyone, least of all not his family. Back then, his father had done his best to keep him and his brothers away from their family in the palace. Yet sadly, that was no longer the case, and Maedhros had been thrust into the position as eldest grandson of King Finwë.

Masquerading in women’s clothing was neither “respectable” in the eyes of society, nor accepted amongst his father’s family.

With a sigh, he snaked his fingers behind him, and fought to find the small zipper that dangled just below his neck.

Cursing aloud, he struggled to get it, even attempted to crane his head over his shoulder to no avail.

“May I assist you?”

In the span of a millisecond, Matimo whirled around quickly, back slamming against the mirror and eyes scanning the room for a robe, a towel or anything to throw over his body. Though unfortunately, they found none, only his red faced, wide eyed cousin, Findekano (at least it was Findekano and no one else, for he had been the nicest and most accepting of Maedhros. Not to mention, the most eager to get to know him).

There was already a blush creeping upon those pale cheeks and quickly, Fingon averted his eyes.

Matimo was certain that he faired no differently than his cousin, for he too had been caught in a rather embarrassing position.  

A short time passed in between the two in which neither elf spoke. Unnerving as the silence was, Matimo feared what words his cousin would speak next.

“You like to dress up in women’s clothing,” stated the younger elf quite obviously.

Taken aback by his bluntness, and wanting to positively explode, Maedhros nodded slowly. What else could he say? He had been caught red handed.

“You look…beautiful.”

Maedhors blinked quickly, “Excuse me?”

“You look nice in that dress,” Fingon clarified as he crossed the length from the door to where Maedhros stood, “it’s fitting.”

“Thank you,” muttered the redhead

Fingon nodded quickly, too quickly, so quickly that Matimo feared his head would fly off of his shoulders.

“Do you still need help with the zipper?”

“Oh, yeah,” Maedhros responded as he turned back towards the mirror, realizing how cramped his arms had become in their odd position, “If you don’t mind.”

“I do not.” Came Fingon, dragging one of the small, cushioned stools that resided in the bedroom behind Maedhros, and taking his position on top of its velvet surface.

“Why are you taking it off, if I may ask?”

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