Little had Eöl told him about such a holiday (or any holiday, really), but already Maeglin had decided that this day of love was his favorite. He loved Orodreth, there was no doubt in his mind about this fact, loved him wholly with every fiber of his being. At times that love felt like a dizzyingly sweet honey, other times more like a storm that threatened to drown him in its intensity. Even the thought of another laying eyes on his cousin sickened him to his core, and no doubt there would be plenty of suitors lining up at the foot of the King’s throne to beg him for his hand.

Maeglin decided then that he absolutely could not let this happen.

Orodreth's fingers gave Maeglin's hand an affirmative squeeze. "Now come quickly, we must get you changed into something more appropriate -- Silohir! Prince Maeglin needs a new outfit for the occasion, will you find him one?" Orodreth already called as he tugged his cousin along to hasten into the dressing room. The valet bowed at the pair in poorly masked surprise.

"It can certainly be managed, Majesty", said Silohir, who after taking a quick measure of the prince's height by sight bowed again and disappeared through a servant's exit.

“I do, yes, on yourself,” he started, blinking with confusion and certainly a little distress at the idea of suddenly changing his outfit, whose colors had already lightened by way of more silver trim and detailing than he had ever work in Nan Elmoth. “But I do not know if such colors will suit me.”

And it seemed to him that Silohir especially disapproved of him mingling with Orodreth, he thought, suspicious of the valet’s intentions. Why that was he could not tell, but he had a strange feeling that the valet wished to keep the king to himself, and Maeglin’s sudden presence had greatly peeved him. What if Silohir meant to humiliate him with an outfit that will make him look like a complete fool, and so whisk Orodreth’s hand away for himself?

"Don't look so horrified! Silohir can be so clever with clothes. He does very well with me, so I have no reason to believe he would do any worse with you!" A burst of happiness had him stepping joyfully, and in a pirouette of pink organza, he twirled himself around his cousin's hand.

"Not necessarily plain but I do not think it is suitable for today. Do you not wish to look more cheerful?" Orodreth had noticed Maeglin's liking to black and silver, of course, so much that he had taken note of his cousin's curious habit of never wearing anything else. How could anyone prefer such gloomy colours? It was absolutely unacceptable today. So when Silohir soon emerged with a breezy tunic in mesmerising turquoise that appeared to shimmer like a silver willow when catching light this way and that, Orodreth made a resolute noise of approval.

Dusk had fallen with the same quiet grace it did each and every night, lighting up Orodreth's room in a hazy bronze glow that signaled the time had come to get ready for bed. There he sat himself upon his poof (a cloud of glitter wafting out of the cushion in all directions) and awaited the ministrations of his personal valet. 

Unlike in the mornings or before parties or post dinners, these evening tasks were carried out by Silohir alone. 

A large candle, shades of blue and green swirled together like the sea (and of course silver flecks dotting every inch of it), had been lit. The smell of chamomile soothing one's mind for sleep and rest. And beside it a music box, a golden clam shell, twinkling out a tune sailors would sing for good weather. 

Orodreth sat compliant as Silohir unfastened the shimmery sheer sheets draped about him. With a great flourish and a swift yank the ever-talented valet whipped the material from under Orodreth, much like a magician disappearing a tablecloth without disturbing a dish. And indeed! Orodreth did not blink or startle in the slightest, staring peacefully back at his own reflection in the mirror. 

Silohir propped his charge's silken feet in basin of warm water, a small satchel of oats and lavender clouding the surface. Orodreth offered up his hand, the left first (as it was every evening), allowing Silohir to file his nails to the exact shape and length they always were. 

Then swaths of creamy lotion smeared nearly everywhere (two small dollops to his royal hindquarters would come last when he was ready to retire to bed). As Silohir brushed through Orodreth's gleaming, golden curls, the young master began to speak. Not to the valet, of course not, nothing needed to be said during a routine so familiar to them both after all! 

"I met the most charming man!" Orodreth dictated to the scratching of Silohir's quill between brushes. Actually the quill, a dyed swan feather, belonged to Orodreth. As did the sparkling alabaster tome he wrote in. A record of the little prince's days and thoughts. Nearly all of the entries were by dictation. 

"A passing artisan! Emmë invited him to see his wonderful statues. We're going to expand the gardens and I think it will be so marvelous to have several of his pieces featured. Perhaps Mister Dashing Sculptor will be around often. Perhaps we can even invite him to the unveiling party so he can see how well my mother will make his art shine.

"Silohir. You're pressing too hard on the page. I don't like that." Orodreth's eyes had narrowed for just a moment as he reprimanded the valet, but instantly sprang back to his delighted smile, clapping his hands together. "He plucked a flower just for me—though it belonged to me already since it was from our very own peonies, still it was a very sweet thing for him to do. And his strong arms, surely from his work! I am certain he could lift me from any danger!" 

While Orodreth giggled and gushed, Silohir could not help but to flex his own biceps. Alas, the young master took no notice. So it was between the comb and the quill that Silohir focused his efforts instead. 

"He even said next time he passed through he'd bring me something special." Such a delightful and darling declaration, even in recollection, had Orodreth kicking his feet. Water splashed from the basin, but no bother, it would vanish at some point in the night. Just like every mess always did.

"Atar bought me a new hair clip and I will wear it tomorrow." This might have sounded like something said to Silohir, but of course it was not. It was nothing more than the wish of Orodreth's heart. Had he voiced such a desire or kept silent it would not have mattered, for Silohir knew to always anticipate Orodreth's wants and needs. As soon as he'd received the trinket Silohir knew he'd wear it in the morning. 

At last, with Orodreth's curls bouncing as lightly as soap suds, the radiant princeling stood (slightly bent forward for his last dollops), then stretched up his arms as Silohir threw another shimmery sheet over him, the silvery fabric floating gently down about Orodreth. 

"Check the windows once more," he said (something new to their routine that did not need to be said and yet brought some sense of assurance to Orodreth's worries). 

Cutting into the forest had Tyelkormo exhaling the verdant air and releasing the breath as if sighing away the dust of civilisation. It would take a lot longer, of course, to be truly rid of it, and even their destination lay much closer to the houses and cities of elves than Tyelkormo would have preferred. Yet, his brother made it clear just why it had to be so.

Thankfully, the small path that his brother revealed was enough to distract him momentarily, and Curufinwë eagerly began to trail the path, scanning the woods about him for anything interesting or of note. Soon enough he came upon a bush filled with small, dark fruits, fruits which Curufinwë was eager to pick. "Tyelko! Look, blackberries!" Instead of utilizing the basket he had brought, he instead simply tossed them into his mouth one by one, and soon his small fingers bore the telltale purple of blackberry juices.

"We can, but you won't like it", Tyelkormo replied with the confidence of one, who must have tried everything the forest had to offer. His head turned this way and that, eyes keenly scanning the trees about them for aged birches, whose matured root network and moss covered bases offered conditions for a more delectable mushroom.

His surprisingly nimble stature, apparently in its element, leapt over a particularly root covered stone and made its way some yards further into the trees, until he found what he was looking for.

Little had Eöl told him about such a holiday (or any holiday, really), but already Maeglin had decided that this day of love was his favorite. He loved Orodreth, there was no doubt in his mind about this fact, loved him wholly with every fiber of his being. At times that love felt like a dizzyingly sweet honey, other times more like a storm that threatened to drown him in its intensity. Even the thought of another laying eyes on his cousin sickened him to his core, and no doubt there would be plenty of suitors lining up at the foot of the King’s throne to beg him for his hand.

Maeglin decided then that he absolutely could not let this happen.

Orodreth's fingers gave Maeglin's hand an affirmative squeeze. "Now come quickly, we must get you changed into something more appropriate -- Silohir! Prince Maeglin needs a new outfit for the occasion, will you find him one?" Orodreth already called as he tugged his cousin along to hasten into the dressing room. The valet bowed at the pair in poorly masked surprise.

"It can certainly be managed, Majesty", said Silohir, who after taking a quick measure of the prince's height by sight bowed again and disappeared through a servant's exit.

For a beat his gaze could only stop to enjoy the long awaited sight, a tension, which only Beleg's presence could alleviate, leaving his delicate shoulders.

"Well, perhaps the king has not come and I have only brought myself", Orodreth teased him and stepped forward to smooth over the weather worn fabric on Beleg's chest with a dainty gloved hand. A gentle, velvety sound of joy heralded his musing.

“Yes, not so long ago.” He answered, though he was not entirely sure of the time. He wrapped his arm around Orodreth in a subtle – and mostly unsuccessful – attempt to stop himself swaying. Now that he had stopped drinking, it seemed to hit him all at once. “It was a long journey – I thought I ought to freshen myself up before enjoying your dear company.”

The full fragrance of wine in his captain's breath ushered Orodreth's thoughts elsewhere. A surprised noise rose from his throat.

"Have you had guests over?" His smiling face retreated as he unbound himself from Beleg's embrace, hands lingering in his before letting go entirely. "I knew the Nargothrondrim ambassadors would be too eager to hear your news before me and then deliver them themselves. But I always want to hear them from you!"

The tap of his sandals heralded his curiosity towards the reception room and stopped at the door in amazement. Instead of familiar faces a strange mess greeted him that he could not quite piece together.

"Okay!" Off he scurried into the distant orchard where the arrows had landed, and came bounding back even swifter than he had first left. In his hands were both arrows, the first one empty, and the second laden with many of the delicious fruits. The first arrow was placed back in his brother's quiver, and Curufinwë slid one apple off and claimed it with a loud crunch of his teeth against the fruit's flesh.

"What a curious thing to say." It was Orodreth's first instinct to wonder out loud, earning Beleg a face full of golden curls as he tossed his head to look at him in his arms, blinking in thought. His gaze searched for some hidden meaning in the marchwarden's features, something that would prove his words a jest of sorts - or not. For a passing moment, he half wondered if that was something to include in the next correspondence he exchanged with Thingol, and humorously allowed himself to imagine the Sindarin king writing back and agreeing Beleg Captain of Nargothrond sounded much better than Captain of Doriath. But his own joke disappeared with another thought. He could not be certain Beleg had ever pledged any fealties, ceremonial or otherwise to anyone, and could at present be quite serious with his intentions. "To me? Do you mean it?" The confusion in his voice could not be stifled. Orodreth was almost certain he had misunderstood.

Gazing up at Orodreth, he could not think of Thingol or Doriath, or anything but the sweetness he beheld in those perfect eyes. 

“I mean it.” he answered, as though there could be any doubt! Orodreth consumed all his waking thoughts, more so day by day, and he yearned to bind himself to him through bonds of utmost loyalty.

“I would be yours, to go wherever you bid me, your sword, your shield.” He could not imagine any real, earnest danger coming to Orodreth, true, but he would defend him nonetheless. 

"But I do not want a sword - or a shield", he said then, puzzled gaze blinking at the confusion reigning his heart. It was a frustrating emotion he had learned to despise, an uncertainty that loomed over himself, his life and his wishes. Why did Beleg wish to simply be one of his warriors that he already had an army of?

Little Curufinwë watched on in amazement and wonderment of his brother’s fine form, his eyes glimmering with awe. More impressed was he by Tyelkormo’s strong arms and his utter silence as he drew the bow, letting his body do all of the speaking needed—unlike the noisy mouthfulbow.

"You are making me cheat", Tyelkormo mused in amusement and readied a second arrow, preparing his aim once more.

It was not let fly but a split-second after the first in a well calibrated trick: The purpose of the first was to pierce the apples, while the second whistled after it to knock it off its course to try and guide it to gather even more apples on the first arrow's shaft. There was certainly room for six on the hunter's long arrows, but whether the trick was entirely successful, Tyelkormo could not be sure until the skewer fell to the ground in a thud.

Little Curufinwë watched on in amazement and wonderment of his brother’s fine form, his eyes glimmering with awe. More impressed was he by Tyelkormo’s strong arms and his utter silence as he drew the bow, letting his body do all of the speaking needed—unlike the noisy mouthfulbow.

@artaresto ;;

Maedhros narrowed his eyes, flicking his wrist to point a finger at his brother,

“I don’t entertain for free— you have to make it worth my while. It’s not like swallowing an egg whole is fun for me.”

Again, he drank deep from the liquor, though his expression flickered through a number of emotions before landing on some sort of suspicion. Watching Tyelkormo with pursed lips,

"Eggs", he waved a languid hand in dismissive gesture, "are everywhere."