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He was breathing weakly when Luthien arrived, his head in Beren's lap. Beren hadn't been able to do much, in his own weak, half-starved state, but had kept him warm, had kept him talking, had kissed his hands and forehead, had staunched as many of Finrod's wounds as he could with the remnants of their clothing.
Luthien knew what to do with a quick glance, power from her battle still shimmering over her skin. She kissed Beren, and he immediately straightened, light coming back into his eyes. With what seemed the merest effort, she lifted Finrod into her arms and brought him out of the tower into the sunlight, Beren following.
She spread her black cloak down on the ground, and then gently lowered him onto it. A warm exhaustion washed through him, and Luthien placed her hand on his forehead. "Sleep," she breathed, and he was drifting off even before the word was complete.
When he came back to himself, it was night. Beren lay beside him, eyes closed, and Luthien sat nearby, next to the flickering flames of a small fire. A skin of water lay next to her, half-empty. All of his wounds had been cleaned, some of them stitched, and the blood washed away. He felt weak from blood loss, but none of the bites or scratches had pierced anything that would not eventually heal, although he would be deeply scarred.
Luthien raised her head as he stirred, and was by his side in an instant. "Lie still, cousin," she said, her melodious voice soothing and calm. She then glanced up at the tower looming above them, as though she had caught some noise from it. "I shall have to destroy it, Finrod. Too many evil things have dwelt within, and it will not be safe or clean again until it is mere stones and dust. I would prefer that you and Beren were not nearby when I do it, and for that, you need to rest. I sang the songs over you, but it will be to no avail if you do not lie still."
"I understand," Finrod said, not without regret, for Tol Sirion had once been lovely - the first of the works of his hands in Beleriand, shining with all the optimism and hope of their early days here. But like too much else, it was tainted, stained, too full of pain. The deaths of his ten brave companions, who in the end had bought nothing save time, weighed heavily on him, more so now than thoughts of the realm he had left behind. He sighed softly in the dark, trying to turn his thoughts away from darkness.
By his side, Beren was a warm weight, breathing deeply and steadily, fast asleep. And at his other side, Luthien knelt, her fair face calm and sure. They had both saved him from a looming fate - from the dreams of death which had haunted him for years. To die in the dark, defeated thrice over, bereft of crown, of voice, of strength, had been his haunting nightmare, and now it was dispelled like mist on the wind.
Luthien bent and kissed his forehead. "Sleep, and fear not," she said. "I am watching over you both, and no ill will can harm you now."