bakerstreet | Hurt/Comfort

Hurt/Comfort

Hurt/Comfort - Hurt/comfort is a fan fiction genre that involves the physical pain or emotional distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. The injury, sickness or other kind of hurt allows an exploration of the characters and their relationship.

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1. INJURY. You've been injured. Broken bones or bleeding out or maybe just a tiny little papercut. The choice is yours.
2. SICKNESS. You're sick and laid up in bed, at home or in a hospital. The severity is up to you.
3. FEAR/ANXIETY. Something is happening and you're scared beyond belief.
4. LOSS OF SENSES. Sight, touch, taste, hearing, smell, etc. You've lost some important sense or ability and now you're left to deal with it.
5. DESPAIR. Nothing is good or right anymore and you can't shake the depression. Maybe that friend of yours can help though...
6. BREAKUP. You've been dumped. You need someone to comfort you, possibly by the one who dumped you.
7. MAKE UP. Fight or break up, it's time to makeup.
8. RESCUED. You've just been held captive and/or tortured for however long and finally, someone has come to the rescue.
9. BAD ROMANCE. Fight, cheated on, abused, whatever the case is, someone else can clearly see you need comfort from someone who isn't your terrible lover tonight.
10. LOSS. You've experience a loss of some kind and need help getting through it.
11. INSANITY. You're seeing things that aren't really there, hearing voices, or you're just convinced you're at your wit's end finally and you're going to crack. Maybe someone can give you a helping hand.
12. TIRED. You've had a heard life recently and you're just worn too thin to really care anymore. There's no fight left in you anymore. Can someone help change your mind?
13. ADDICTION. Drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, or any other type of addiction has got you in its grasp. First time or relapse. Will someone be able to save you?
14. INSOMNIA. You can't sleep anymore, no matter how hard you try. Maybe someone can give you company.
15. NIGHTMARES. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, you can't sleep without gruesome, horrible nightmares. Either someone is stuck in your dream with you, witnessing it or they're just waking you up, soothing you out of it.
16. BLACKMAIL. You've been caught doing something you shouldn't and you were blackmailed because of it
17. SEPARATION. You're going to be separated for awhile or were separated for a long time. Either make up for lost time or try to spend every last moment together.
18. VIOLATED. You've been violated in some way. Can include sexual overtones or not. Can someone help you through it?
19. STRANDED. You've been stranded somewhere remote, with no help of anyone finding you for awhile. Can you survive this together?
20. SINS. You're feeling the weight of your sins and guilt clearer than ever. Can someone give you absolution or lessen the ache any?
21. SECRET. It's difficult having to keep that secret of yours, be it a relationship or something you just don't want to share with anybody else. Maybe it's okay to talk about it now though...
22. ADDITION. Babies should be joyous things unless you're in a situation where you know you won't be able to care for them. Either you've adopted or found out you're pregnant.

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[ooc: two options, my preference is for the second but the first works too, your pick - bb dragon fighting went badly or a major AU where Finrod survived the Luthien débâcle and it is post-nirnaeth and he was only found after turgon had already buggered off? perhaps by beleg and mablung and they could hardly take him home with them so they dropped him off in nargothrond]

He screamed when he woke, and he feels like he never stopped - his voice may have died down, his body relaxed, but his mind cannot when all that engulfs him is... not darkness. Darkness would imply some sensation of light. Nothing is a better word, perhaps, and even knowing that all is still there around him - feeling the mattress under him and the sheets on top of him, hearing people come and go around him, smelling the drink and food which he is handed or, more often, fed with so that he won't spill and drop it with his bandaged arms and hands and unseeing eyes - even knowing that he cannot banish the lack of seeing all that for himself. Cannot banish the wish to rip what is hindering his vision from his eyes, but he knows that the bandages that cover most of his face aren't the issue.

And he won't touch them, knowing them to probably be a kindess on his visitors, hiding underneath burned flesh that is only kept from festering by the skill of the healers and the fire that still burns within him despite of all despair.

And so he just lays there in a bed that likely isn't in the healer's halls of Nargothrond but in a more private area - he has not heard any other ill people around and he knows that it is Nargothrond because he has been told so - and sleeps a lot, though the stretches of time during which he is awake grow steadily longer.

Finrod rushes into the room when he hears his cousin scream. That his cousin survived is a miracle, but at such a cost. The mattress dips under his weight as Finrod settles on the edge of it. He does not shy from Fingon's injuries - sometimes he thinks there is nothing that can shock him any longer - but still the sight of him so makes him feel heartsick.

"Shh, Findekáno…" His voice is gentle, and he strokes a thumb across what little of his cousin's face is unbandaged. "Tell me how I can ease you. Are you thirsty?" There is water on the table nearby; tonic for pain as well, though Finrod would not give it unless Fingon so desires. He knows well that the tincture, while effective in dulling pain, has other effects that are sometimes more disconcerting than pain.

"...'inrod?" The word alone is hard enough to speak, his lips burnt and charred into deformity, and while they may heal again if his fire burns strongly enough (not as strong as Maedhros's, but still strong), they are of little service to him now.

But he needs to know if he heard right, if it is really his cousin by his side. This specific cousin. Needs to know that at least his ears do not deceive him.

Edited 2015-09-26 15:24 (UTC)

"Yes, it is me." The featherlight motion of his thumb does not cease. "I am here."

It hurts to see his cousin, normally so vibrant and full of life, confined to a bed, at the mercy of his body rather than the master of it. He does not doubt his cousin's strength, his fire; if only he can make it through these first difficult weeks.

The touch on his cheek withdraws briefly, and a moment later there is the sound of water splashing into a stoneware cup. "Drink a little," he urges, sliding a hand under his cousin's head to help.

"...The 'attle?" He needs to know - none of the healers would tell him anything, and whenever he accepted a drink it would be laced with herbs that would put him to sleep or confuse his mind too much to ask the question or process an answer.

And though he craves water (even though he knows that it will be painful to drink) he needs the news. Needs to know just how disastrous it went, because that they failed was clear enough to him even before he was taken by darkness.

Still, he lets Finrod prop his head up and even tries to support himself a bit, as little help as that will be.

Finrod sighs heavily in answer. "Lost. Maedhros was delayed when some of the Easterlings in his company proved traitors. Here, take this as I tell you. It is only water. I think you may be able to hold it, even." He helps his cousin to have a few sips, the offered cup wrapped in braided leather, better traction against cloth than smooth glass or metal.

"For all that, Maedhros escaped the field alive, his brothers too. Turgon escaped as well." Perhaps that will alleviate a little of Fingon's worry.

Finrod watches his cousin as he speaks, trying to gauge his thoughts. He knew why the healers were loath to say anything, but he knew also that, though well-meaning, they did not truly understand how frustrating withholding that news would be to one like Fingon. His cousin needed rest and healing, yes, but treating him as frail-minded would do no help at all.

"Do you want to sit?"

"I an uncertain i' I should." There is annoyance in his voice, clear enough even through the unclear way of his speech. He has been told very little since he began to return to consciousness for stretches long and lucid enough to require answers, and what little there was mostly consisted of items very much caught in the moment - being urged to drink, being told that they would move him, and such.

He can take that, as much as it may test his patience, but it is still aggravating when he cannot even answer truthfully if it will put undue strain on his injuries to sit up.

...To not even talk of all the news that have apparently been kept from him, good and bad alike. Why had they not, at least, told him of so many loved ones' survival?

Finrod smiles a little at the ire in Fingon's voice, even though he cannot see it. He can understand well enough. "I did not ask if you should, did I? Only if you wanted." It is light teasing; Finrod would hardly risk further injury to his cousin. Just a few degrees at most.

He sets the cup aside. "How do you feel? Truthfully, Finde."

He very much plans to distract his cousin from the monotony of healers and sleep, however he may. He remembers how easy it is to fall into darkness, stuck in bed with only your thoughts and pain and inability to do a damned thing for company.

He shakes his head minimally - as much as he hears Finrod's words and would in another situation think so himself, he is reckless, not dumb, and won't needlessly worsen his state when it is already so precarious just to give in to the temptation of sitting up a bit.

"Terri'le." The chuckle that comes with the words hurts, the contraction tearing at nerves already aggravated by injuries that have only begun healing, but he still can't and won't stop it. There is enough sorrow in the situation, he will not keep what little light-hearted teasing they may manage out of it, and even try to return it. "I 'ear my radiant looks are decei'ing."

Finrod's smile widens at that. "Mmm, yes. Enough to deceive even me!" He adjusts himself carefully on the bed, close enough for comfort and companionship, but without pressing against any injured flesh. "I cannot say I am surprised though. You are lucky to be alive to feel terrible."

He doesn't want to linger over-long on the subject, just wants to be sure that his cousin is not in any undue pain. "Is it manageable?" The unspoken question being Do you want me to bring you something for the pain?.

"I am here to distract you, anyway."

There is a soft hum in reply to Finrod's statement regarding him still being alive. He is just as surprised by that as everyone else - by all rights, he should be as dead as the men who were around him when he was trapped. And yet he was lucky, hurt badly enough to be left for dead yet somehow having survived.

About the question, however - it is not truly manageable, but it is not the pain that is unbearable: It is that which he knows to not be likely to find an end in Middle-earth, and perhaps nowhere.

"There is no greater gi't that you can gi'e me now than distraction."

Finrod cannot guess how hard the coming days will be for his cousin, but he knows his strength; his cousin will learn to adapt, he is sure. But that does not make it easier nor give comfort now. He takes Fingon's hand gently; he can at least let him feel and hear, even if he cannot let him see.

Or can he? An idea flickers to life in the back of his mind, but he is not certain yet of it.

"How would you like to be distracted? Books? Songs? Conversation?"

He has to laugh at the question, though it is cut short when the contraction and movement tug painfully at wounds and he winces and coughs, his burned lungs and windpipe not yet capable of supporting such sudden sounds.

But he will raise a hand as he does so, hoping to keep Finrod from springing into action and giving him the chance to gather himself and hoping that no healers will be alerted, and once he is done explain:"I 'ould hardly 'e a'le to s'eak enou' to call it a con'ersation. Read to 'e?"

Finrod stays himself, though he winces himself at his cousin's coughing.

"Well, I have understood you thus far!" he teases, but in truth he does not want Fingon to strain himself with talking. "Let me fetch a book, then I shall return to harass you more."

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Hurt/Comfort

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I am all about the AUs

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