Mary Oliver poetry prompts pt 2 number 30 for Maedhros and Fingon please. I really like the way you write their friendship.
Thank you for the prompt! <33 This turned into a bit from the meanwhile the world goes on 'verse, not long after Go On Aching Still. Also it got a bit longer than the other ficlets so it's going under a cut.
30. What I want to say is that the past is the past, and the present is what your life is, and you are capable of choosing what that will be.
Fingon crossed his arms. âYou really want to do this now?â
âIâd rather not do it at all.â Maedhros sat under a willow tree, just out of sight of his motherâs house. A small river flowed along beside it; Fingon had many happy childhood memories of this river, and of Maedhrosâ grandparents house with the plum orchard beside it. The ancestors of this willow tree had been quiet witnesses to many hours of laughter and idle conversation, to youthful daydreams and the occasional argument. It did not surprise him to find Maedhros out there now, leaning back against the tree with a sketchbook on his knee, and a pencil in his hand; he had snapped the book shut as soon as Fingon had stepped through the willow fronds. His hair was loose and tangled on his shoulders, and he looked as though he hadnât slept in the three months since he had returned from Mandos.
Finrod had warned Fingonâthat Maedhros was still deeply unhappy, that Mandos had hardly helped him at all, that he would do his very best to send Fingon away and reject all offers of comfort or friendship. Fortunately for them both, Fingon had never met an obstacle he did not want to overcome. He sat down and crossed his legs. âFine,â he said, âbut thereâs no point to the back-and-forth, you know, because we both know how itâs going to end.â
âFingonââ
âFirst of all, you should know that Iâve never blamed you for the Nirnaeth. I knew even then that if you did not come when you were supposed to it was because something had happenedâand I was right. My death was not your fault, and I will not have you continue to punish yourself for it even now, when we are both returned to life.â
Maedhrosâ jaw was set in that particularly FĂ«anorian way. âFingon,â he began again.
âWhat came afterâthat was terrible. Of course it wasâI barely recognize the Maedhros of the latter part of the First Ageâbut it was nearly six thousand years ago now. I have had quite a lot of time to reconcile myself to all manner of thingsââ
âFindekĂĄnoââ
âI would rather choose to be happy to have my best friend back than to stew in the miseries of the past, which canât be changed. All we have is the present, and with neither oaths nor wars to loom over us, we can both shape our futures as we wish. You can try to send me away all you like, but it wonât work, because I can tell you donât really want that.â
Maedhros sighed, and slumped back against the tree. He dropped his pencil to his lap and rubbed his hand over his face. âIt doesnât feel like six thousand years,â he said finally.
âTime is odd in Mandos,â said Fingon. âRusso, why did you not let them help you?â
âI didnât want help. I justâit was quiet, there. If I could have just stayedâŠâ
âFinrod thinks it was doing you more harm than good,â Fingon said quietly. Maedhros didnât answer. Fingon sighed. Heâd said his pieceâwhether Maedhros believed him or not didnât much matter, because he had no intention of staying away. âWhat have you been drawing?â
âNothing in particular.â Maedhros made no move to open the sketchbook. âMy mother just thinks I need to be doing something.â
âSheâs right.â Fingon stretched out his legs and leaned over to bump his shoulder against Maedhrosâ. âI missed you,â he said.
Maedhros sighed, and surrendered to the inevitable. âI missed you too,â he said, very quietly.
