#hyarmaite

The atmosphere had remained surprisingly tame considering Fëanáro and Ñolofinwë were both present, and the fact that both of their families were also present usually served to make the situation worse. But perhaps they were on their best behaviour; after all, they both had young children present. 

It had been endearing at first, watching Arakáno and the twins attempt to work out a game together. But as Findekáno was always quick to tell his father, children did not interest him, which was why he had no desire to have sons and daughters of his own. 

It was an opinion Maitimo shared. Findekáno's fingers twitched, and he leaned over towards his friend. Now might be a good time to slip away, while the rest were occupied with their stories and games, while the mood was pleasant enough that their absence would be far from anyone's mind. 

(( nooooo I’m so sorry I’m having the same problem it’s Aaaahhh nooo ;; ))

(( wait yeah what the hell?! ))

Eyelid: AdorationThe Bridge of Nose: TreasuringNape: Deep AttachmentTummy: You-will-always-come-back-to-me

His older brother had once been his ever-present guardian, but these days Maglor spends more time fussing over Maedhros than the younger will allow the reverse. He’s figured out that he could gently wake the elder with a kiss to the eye and nose, and once he’s made his presence known he can lay another kiss to the nape of his brother’s neck.

Send me § and my muse will react to yours pushing them against a wall and kissing them.

A few days ago, Maitimo had kissed Findekáno for the first time. Or Findekáno had kissed Maitimo; he wasn't certain who'd initiated it, even though it seemed like the kind of important detail he'd want to remember forever. But mostly he just recalled his friend's lips on his and how they'd both hesitated, and they'd smiled against one another's mouths and proceeded with it. 

It was always worth noting that this was wrong. Cousins oughtn't kiss, or feel this kind of affection. But Maitimo kissed well, and was by many considerations one of the finest men in Tirion. Findekáno would be a fool to refuse his interest, particularly when he'd been the one to start pursuing it in the first place. 

Maybe the worst part was finding time alone. Turukáno was usually away with his tutors, but Curufinwë was still too young, which brought a group of attendants. But Nerdanel had left to take him on a walk around Tirion, and Maitimo had swept Findekáno away under the pretence of finding some of his old clothes to accommodate Turukáno's recent growth spurt. 

Fingon didn't bother lifting his head when he replied. He was sprawled comfortably on the settee, and with the windows open, the crisp autumn air blew in gentle gusts throughout the sitting room. 

"Calling it an Oath doesn't change that you're sworn to recollect treasure," he pointed out. "I don't really mind what you wish to call it, or how you choose to think of it, but the fact remains that you're always away doing questionable things for their sake, and--" 

hyarmaite

The face-grab was unexpected, and left him standing slack-jawed long after haruni had finished speaking. She had a way with words that reminded him of his father’s, a sort of pervasive coolness in her even tone that was really just carefully hidden daggers of ice.

It was a few moments after she’d finished speaking that Maedhros remembered to shut his mouth, lest he appear a complete and utter fool. The most terrifying part was they he agreed with her, even when he knew he could not possibly be the king, not now.

Not like this, he thought numbly, rubbing at the healing wounds that still lingered on his right wrist.

"You will always be High Queen," he replied, voice quiet: he had not felt this nervous while speaking since he had been a child and now here he was, full grown and all but trembling at a woman on a stool. "But I am not… I am hardlyqualified at this point in time to lead an entire people, haruni. We are a strong and proud people, and we expect our leaders to be nothing less. How, then, are the people supposed to feel with a cripple leading them, a man with more scars than supporters?” He paused for a moment. The next part was nothing he wanted to tell anyone, and admitting it aloud made it painfully real in a way he had wished to avoid.

"And if my broken body is not an issue, then my broken mind surely is. A king needs to be rational, logical." He swallowed nervously. "A king does not see nightmares in every shadow; he does not interpret every sound that comes as one that brings his death and the death of those around him. And a king… A true king does not stay awake, trembling, because he is afraid of the images sleep will bestow." Here, Maedhros shook his head. "I cannot be a king, not now. It is not fair to the people."

"You are strong," Míriel let her grip soften till she was cupping his cheeks and she looked at him, her grandson who had endured so much, and she wanted to start crying, to howl in protest at the darkness in his eyes. At the horrors that had left lines in his brow and deep gauges in his skin that scars still marked the place of.

She rubbed one gently which lay under her thumb. "You are so strong, the strongest," she insisted and let her voice gain just a whisper of emotion, her raw and pure belief in his strength or perhaps it was more her desperation to sink her words into him where they would take root. "Matimo you survived. You survived. "

She sucked in a hard breath and leaned forward to kiss each of his cheeks and then his forehead, "you are no cripple grandson. I have seen how you practice. I have seen how you strive and how you are improving to use your other hand as perfectly as your lost one. You vastly underestimate how many support you, and are silently cheering you on. You say you have more scars than supporters but for every scar you have I know of twelve twelves of warriors who will fight for you. And as for your mind..."

She stroked his cheeks, "you have seen war now. You know what we face. This is no temperate Aman full of so called forever-bliss. You know what we face as a King should. You know the horrors. You will not bend but you also will not rashly..." she swallowed hard, "rashly throw ourselves against what can not be defeated. And know you will not carry this burden alone Matimo. Your brothers are here. Makalaure has done well as your regent. And I am here... I have ruled a long time. I will hold you up when you think you are failing. I will sit through court when you are too tired from fighting nightmares. When your voice fails use mine. I was your Grandfather's Queen and then your Father's. I will be yours."