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His eldest brother had begun to sneak out.
Maitimo was technically too old to “sneak out”, but Makalaurë had no other word for how he was seldom in the house, often coming home late in the night, and avoiding specifics when their parents asked. And Makalaurë was a poet! He usually had words for everything.
But Maitimo was acting strange and how much Makalaurë even prodded, he did not give away. He often said he was with Findekáno, but exactly what they did together he did not want to delve into further. Makalaurë knew it was nothing his brother should be careful with saying, because Tyelkormo had also taken notice and followed him a few times and reported back to Makalaurë. Most of the times the two had gone riding or eating in the city. The thing that could possibly upset their father was when they went to Nolofinwë’s house instead of Fëanáro’s, but that could easily be excused with how many more people that lived in Fëanáro’s. Six brothers, all loud and nosy in their respective ways, was a good reason to rather meet with a friend in a house filled with only two younger siblings.
Unfortunately, Tyelkormo had not come close enough to hear what they talked about – Maitimo had eyes and ears, and they were sharper than what he made them out to be -, so maybe the secrecy lay in the topic. Yet Makalaurë could not imagine what Findekáno could speak about which needed so much fuss from his brother’s side.
He had asked him. Maitimo had sighed, clearly tired of it, and before he had shut the door to his room, had said:
“This is one of the few friends I do not share with any of you and the only one none of you seem interested in befriending. We are close, and let us keep our friendship to ourselves, brother. It gets enough prodding at court.”
Makalaurë obviously had to stop asking after that. Maitimo’s court duty – though it was all voluntary; he did it out the goodness of his heart - was highly appreciated in the family, allowing the rowdy ones to keep out of as much as possible, which was best for everyone. But that did not mean Makalaurë stopped wondering why in the stars Maitimo was so adamant in keeping Findekáno to himself, and whatever they shared.
*
“It is wonderful to see so much unity and friendship in the king’s family,” the member of court told Tyelkormo and he nearly spit out his wine. ‘Unity’ and ‘friendship’? Him and Carnistir had nearly punched Angaráto just a few days ago and Curufinwë had this very evening called Findaráto’s clothes an ‘ugly disaster’ loud enough to everyone around to hear.
The woman clearly noticed his grimace, though he managed to not spit it out, and clarified:
“Your brother prince Nelyafinwë and Findekáno.”
His confusion disappeared and if he had not been used to it now, he would have been embarrassed – the woman had probably talked about them, but as usual he had not listened. Could anyone blame him?
He glanced from the columns where he stood to the middle of the hall, where Maitimo and Findekáno were appropriately talking with one of Finwë’s advisors, his wife, and a Telerin noblewoman who had come with Arafinwë and his brood from Alqualondë to oversee whatever the Teleri and Noldor collaborated on. Tyelkormo did not care; after he had joined Oromë he had barely set foot in Tirion except in his parents’ house and politics were certainly not a common topic there.
Maybe I should not have avoided it so completely, he thought as he watched his brother and cousin and realised how much in sync they seemed – Findekáno animatedly made gestures to whatever story he told and Maitimo seemed to step away and give him the space, and when Findekáno was done, Maitimo stepped forward and Findekáno was the one to let the other talk. They matched perfectly and Tyelkormo could hear how pleasant the conversation seemed to be.
They had been friends for many years now, ever since Findekáno’s coming of age celebration and since then they had only grown closer. Tyelkormo remembered Makalaurë mentioning a few years ago how Maitimo had become strange and Tyelkormo had followed his eldest brother and found – nothing. They had done nothing in particular.
But he did not remember his half-cousin and brother being this close.
“Findekáno and Maitimo are very close friends,” Tyelkormo finally said, only agreeing with the lady. “Have been for many years.”
The only other close friendship between his own family and his father’s half-siblings’ was between Tyelkormo and Írissë, and that was despite the age difference. It was not as close as Findekáno and Maitimo’s - they only hunted together on occasion and Írissë was probably the only one who could mock him without getting a furious response. Yet, Tyelkormo considered her a friend. Even Curufinwë had begun to warm up to her and that was despite her not even trying to be friendly with him. She has her charm, Tyelkormo thought.
“It gladdens the king, I am sure,” the lady said and Tyelkormo wondered if she wanted to get a rise out of him, by suggesting the rest saddened the king by not being friends with Indis’ grandchildren.
“My grandfather has always supported them,” he only said, trying not to make his smile too sharp or too much like a grimace.
We are better loved than them, anyway, he thought.
Afterwards, as they had made it home and they were lounging in the parlour before going to bed – though Makalaurë was in his own home with his wife and Carnistir had decided to go early to bed, Tyelkormo’s irritation had given way to his curiosity. Nerdanel spoke quietly with Fëanáro by the window; Curufinwë sat in a chair by the table, slyly trying to pour more wine into his goblet without anyone noticing; Ambarussa had not been to the feast and sat on both sides of Maitimo on the couch opposite of Tyelkormo, asking him about something Tyelkormo did not listen to.
“Maitimo,” he said, realising the wine might have got to him, because he said it louder than he meant to.
Three redheads looked back at him, two curious and one amused. They would have looked like triplets, had Maitimo not been prettier and bigger, Tyelkormo thought.
“Yes?” Maitimo asked with a raised eyebrow.
Tyelkormo tried to speak more quietly, not wanting to catch their parents’ attention.
“How long have you and Findekáno been friends?”
It was astounding how much better Maitimo controlled his reaction now compared to a few years ago – he did not flinch, did not let that nervousness come through. His smile only grew a little stilted.
“Many years, now,” he said. “Since his coming of age, at least.”
Tyelkormo hummed at the answer. Maitimo smiled.
“Are you going to pester me like Makalaurë did before he found his enchanting wife?”
Tyelkormo snorted. Makalaurë had met Verciel in Alqualondë, when he had studied at the music academy of the Teleri, and she had made him a sappy fool for at least a summer, until she had agreed to marry him. She was fierce and independent and Tyelkormo was just a little scared of her and could not understand why his brother would want such a woman in his bed and life. He was seldom seen without her company and even though Nerdanel and Fëanáro – who had been a surprisingly staunch supporter of hers – said it would pass, Tyelkormo had yet to see it.
“Pester you about what?” he said, not wanting to talk about their sister-in-law. “I haven’t even asked you more than one question.”
“Makalaurë could not stop asking me about Findekáno for a few years, at least,” Maitimo said. “And I can’t see why you would find our friendship such an interesting topic of conversation.”
“I just noticed,” Tyelkormo began, realising he might not get the answer out of his brother by being sneaky, “that you are much closer than when I last saw you two. It was remarked upon in court.”
Maitimo clearly had to try not to smile at his younger brother mentioning ‘court’ as if it was something he frequented. But Tyelkormo could also see the hesitance in his eyes.
“We have been working at court together for a while now. It has brought us closer together.”
Tyelkormo had never understood what work at court exactly meant, other than socialise and plan balls and feasts with Finwë. How it could bring someone closer together, he did not know.
“Have you come closer to Turukáno as well? He also frequents court,” Tyelkormo said, remembering how Írissë had mentioned having two of her brothers away at feasts so much, “as does Findaráto.”
Arafinwë’s eldest might not frequent Tirion’s court as much as the rest, but he had according to what Tyelkormo had heard, been staying in Tirion for longer periods of time.
“They are younger,” Maitimo said and Tyelkormo snorted again.
“Findekáno is just a little younger than me and Findaráto and Turukáno is not that far behind. If you’re going with that excuse, you have no reason to spend so much time with our ostentatious half-cousin.”
Calling him ‘ostentatious’ was perhaps not fair of Tyelkormo, because even though Findekáno always wore more jewellery than himself, he was not the most extravagant in Tirion. The Noldor loved their jewels and loved even more to show it.
Maitimo frowned and the Ambarussar still watched them curiously.
“I have worked with Findekáno longer,” he just said, and his tone told Tyelkormo that the conversation was over.
“What was it you talked with Maitimo about?” Curufinwë asked Tyelkormo later that night, as he had sneaked into Tyelkormo’s room, though he was old enough to not call it ‘sneaking’.
Tyelkormo mumbled something, not wanting to answer, and though the wine had got to his younger brother, he noticed.
“What?”
“I said I asked him about court.”
Curufinwë raised his eyebrows at him, clearly not impressed. He swivelled his cup of wine slightly and pursed his lips.
“Court could not have made him so upset.”
“Was he upset? I didn’t notice,” Tyelkormo said innocently.
“Agitated,” Curufinwë corrected, “irritated, nervous.”
“Well, alright, maybe he was,” Tyelkormo said. “I just questioned a few things.”
“What things?”
He is too nosy for his own good, Tyelkormo thought, though he would have been just as curious. But now Tyelkormo had a bad feeling about prodding more deeply. Maitimo clearly considered Findekáno personal territory and for all the irritating qualities he had, he was still the eldest brother. He deserves his own space be left alone, Tyelkormo thought and did not answer Curufinwë, instead telling him to get out of his room.
“Tyelkormo asked me about you yesterday, after the ball,” Maitimo told Findekáno the day after, when they met in Finwë’s stables to prepare their horses for an excursion to the forests. He frowned as he watched Findekáno look up from looking his horse’s leg over. The movement made his braids glide over his shoulder and Maitimo felt the urge to reach out and touch the soft, black strands.
“About us, actually,” he continued instead.
Findekáno did not frown as he did, but he tilted his head slightly.
“Did he remark on anything?”
What Findekáno actually meant, was: do you think he knows?
“He just asked the same questions Makalaurë used to ask,” Maitimo said. “About how we’ve become so close.”
Findekáno smiled. “That is nothing to worry about. We are close, and certainly friends … as well.”
Maitimo still did not feel calm. Findekáno was right, of course, yet he could only wonder how he would manage to have the same conversation with, say, his father. Surely Fëanáro would see through it, surely he would notice?
“You are not hiding anything,” Findekáno said, now coming closer to him and Maitimo could feel the warmth of him. He need only reach out and touch –
“I am,” he said, not moving closer or taking a step back, only staying just on the edge of what was appropriate. “We are.”
Guilt flashed in Findekáno’s eyes, but then he returned to his soft eyes and expression. Maitimo loved the grey colour of Findekáno’s eyes, even though some would call them bleak. There was a touch of blue in them and Maitimo had yet to find a jewel in the same colour.
“I do not find it easy, either,” Findekánp said and it was quiet enough that only Maitimo could hear. “My brother has not yet remarked upon it and I hate hiding this from him. Not so say Írissë … But I don’t want to give this up either.”
Now Maitimo took his hand and it felt as if the touch struck his heart with warmth.
“This is one of the most wonderful things I have. I want to keep it, no matter what. The burden is worth it, in the end.”
If they had not been in the stables, with the chance of a servant turning around the corner and seeing them, Maitimo would have leaned forward and kissed him to make his point clear.
“It should not have to weigh on us so much. Love, I mean,” Findekáno said and it was said hotly and Maitimo secretly agreed.
“We do not know what will happen if they know,” he said. “Findekáno, what if it is something bad? I would rather be secret than not have it at all.”
Findekáno looked as if he wanted to say something, but then decided against it. He sighed, but then smiled and gripped Maitimo’s hand tighter.
“Yes,” he said. “Tyelkormo will probably leave you alone. He has far more interesting things to occupy himself with than his older brother and his boring half-cousin.”
Maitimo protested. Findekáno was not boring, but he only laughed and soon their horses were saddled, and they rode out into the fields.
*
Findekáno had just left when Fëanáro sought his eldest out. For once Finwë’s eldest son did not have some work he had to rush off to and he had time to discuss something he had long thought about concerning Nolofinwë’s son.
He found Maitimo in the small courtyard of the big house, looking towards the archway which led to the road to Tirion, the one Findekáno had just exited on his strong horse. Fëanáro had never been interested in breeding of horses, but he knew Nolofinwë had an interest, and even he could see what grand beasts his nephews and nieces rode. It was impressing, though he would never admit it out loud.
“Maitimo,” he now said, and his son looked up as if taken out of deep thought. His copper-hair glinted in Laurelin’s golden light and Fëanáro felt a sting of pride just at the sight of his firstborn. He had grown into a capable young man, skilled in many things.
“Yes, father?”
“I wish to speak with you about something,” he said and gestured towards the house. “Could you come to the parlour?”
Fëanáro turned around as soon as he had said it, expecting Maitimo to follow, and therefore he did not see the panicked look on the other’s face. But he followed his father into the empty house, Nerdanel having left with Curufin and the twins to Mahtan, and by the time he stepped into the spacious parlour he thought he had enough control of himself not to spill his secrets.
Fëanáro gestured him to sit down and Maitimo did so without a word.
“I know you are close with Findekáno, but I ask you to be honest about what I am about to ask you,” his father began and Maitimo felt cold creep into his bones.
“What- what do you want to know?” he managed to get out.
“Ever since Findekáno came back from his time among the followers of Tulkas he has become rather the front figure, especially when you listen to the rumours,” Fëanáro began and Maitimo, foolishly, immediately defended:
“The followers of Tulkas may not learn a craft or … or appreciated skill, but Findekáno learned a lot! He has become more responsible ever since. And you should not listen the rumours, father, they seldom say nice things about us, either.”
His father frowned and clearly did not like the reaction. Maitimo felt his heart sink in fear. He can see, he knows, he must, he never liked Nolofinwë, he only tolerated his children –
“Be it so,” Fëanáro said after a moment of silence, but then chose to not comment what his son’s arguments. “I avoid listening to what court says as much as anyone in this family, but recently I was told some … disturbing things, and from a more reliable source.”
‘Reliable source’ actually meant an apprentice of Curufin’s that Fëanáro had overheard in the forge, but he did not tell Maitimo that.
“They mentioned that Findekáno is rumoured to have been … involved, with someone, among the followers, despite his young age. Someone unsavoury and in an … intimate manner.”
Maitimo was probably expected to protest immediately, but the shock silenced him. Does he mean me? He thought in panic. Or someone else?
After a lack of response, his father continued:
“This intimate relation is though to have continued and that Findekáno now indulges in this … less than ideal relationship. This partner is apparently much older than himself and an old follower of Tulkas and those can be a bit … unhinged.”
Maitimo had overcome his shock, but now he chose to be quiet again, realising Fëanáro did not think this rumoured lover of Findekáno’s was him. Had the situation not been such a twisted irony he would have found it funny, how Findekáno was believed to have a secret and dirty affair with an older elf from Tulkas’ lot. But he could not laugh. Not when he remembered how he had received his first kiss from said half-cousin in the garden just behind the house, and how many kisses that had followed.
“Now, I want you to be honest: can there be any truth in this? You are one of his closest friends, but since this must be such a personal affair, he might not have told you. Either way, I urge you to try to be as honest and objective to yourself and to me as you can.”
‘Love is not objective’, Maitimo remembered Makalaurë once saying in a drunken stupor before he had caught Verciel his wife in marriage, ‘love is everything subjective – I cannot forget it, try to remove it, because it is my very soul.’
For all his poetic and overdramatic style, Maitimo agreed with his brother on this one. Even if he had only been a friend to Findekáno – oh, what a strange and sad thought! – he would have loved him much still, and to have Fëanáro of all people telling him to try to oversee it as ironic and ridiculous at the same time.
Ever since that kiss in the garden and the sneaking around and the secrets that followed, Maitimo had only become more and more sceptical towards his father, despite the immense love.
At first, he could not get out a word.
“I- I cannot say I have seen any signs of this, father,” he eventually managed. He cringed on the inside at how uncertain and nervous he sounded. “Findekáno has not mentioned anything alike to this, and I believe he has very little contact with the followers of Tulkas that he befriended there.”
“I see,” Fëanáro said and Maitimo tried not to fidget like a nervous youth under the scrutinising gaze which followed. He felt the familiar fear well up as well as the repeating thought: he knows, he must, when has he ever not seen things so obvious?
“You never talk about … intimate matters?”
“Wha- what?” Maitimo said haltingly, face growing bright red in embarrassment. He tried to suppress the memories of Findekáno and him and intimate matters-
Fëanáro chuckled, clearly amused at his son’s display.
“It is not shameful to discuss such things with friends, especially between such friends as you and Findekáno. You are in an age- “
“These rumours that you have heard, father, is without a doubt something made up by some jealous courtier or petty nobleman with grudges and prejudices towards the followers of Tulkas,” Maitimo quickly said and stood up. “They have always been surrounded with more foul and incorrect rumours than the others and someone is clearly seeking to stain Findekáno with the same dirty assumptions. I assure you; they are most untrue.”
He was proud of how clear the message came out, which comforted him after he had left the parlour with those final words, leaving his father amused, but unknowing of just what adventures Findekáno had had and with whom.
“My father does not even suspect that I might be involved,” Maitimo continued to tell Findekáno as they watched their horses graze. The warmth had made the other open his shirt and the sight of his bare collarbone was most distracting.
“That is well, no?”
Maitimo tore his eyes from the bare skin and up to Findekáno’s face. He seemed deep in thought.
“It is,” he said. “Is something on your mind?”
Findekáno was silent for a long while. Laurelin’s light made the hold in his braids glint like the metallic threads in Míriel’s tapestries in Tirion. Maitimo tried to commit the sight to memory. This is a happy moment, he told himself, and ignored the secret disappointment he had felt at realising that his father could not see. Did he understand Maitimo so little now? Had they lost that deep connection they had always had, the one Fëanáro shared with all of his sons? And maybe, maybe, in the deepest and darkest part of Maitimo’s mind, he had wished him to know, to let it out. To release the secret to the world. To hope that love was enough to save it all.
“I said long go that the burden is worth it, in the end, did I not?” Findekáno said and the world stilled, along with Maitimo’s heart.
“Yes, you did,” he said quietly.
Findekáno looked at him and his eyes were warm and loving in their grey and blue beauty. And sad. And maybe desperate.
“I hope I was right,” he said and the light in his eyes turned feverish. “By the Valar, I will not give up on us now, but I hope with my entire being that I was right.”
They were in a green field, far away from everything and no other eyes were upon them, no secrets having to be kept in the space between them or in their words, no hope and love had to be suppressed, and so Maitimo leaned forward to kiss those soft lips until his heart was embraced with love. But with that love there was a new fear; a doubt and wish: pray, may it be enough.