#maitimo x reader

You were so overwhelmed that the world seemed to both freeze and fall away, nothing else existing but your feet rooted to the ground and the two cousins landing upon the back of that great eagle. Though your heart cracked like glass threatening to shatter at the state your childhood best friend was in: hardly recognisable if not for his towering height and fiery hair. He was home and he was safe, but it was already glaringly clear to you that he was an ellon changed by trauma, no longer the dear friend you knew who vowed to honour his father’s legacy with naive passion in those once bright eyes. 

It took him a while to accept visitors while he was recovering, ashamed at his state, humiliated by the torment he had suffered at the hands of the supreme dark lord Morgoth. When he did eventually allow you to see him, your heart broke even further. His body had once resembled the pristine statues chiselled by his mother – so skillfully sculpted that she’d made stone look soft to the touch – but he was now covered in as many scars as freckles he was born with. A particularly nasty one follows the curvature of his cheekbone and splices his lips in a deep indent. His long hair is unkempt and matted, the medics having been unable to care for it in such a poor state despite all the attention he’d received for his injuries. A human might have decided to simply cut it all off and give it a fresh start, but this wasn’t the way of elves. 

Your first act of tenderness for your darling Maedhros was to tend to the auburn tresses that had been his mother’s first gift to him. You’d come with a basin and all manner of concoctions to soften and detangle the long locks, ever so gently brushing them out with a comb that had stuck with you even across the sea on your journey east. He was quiet all the while, only a few words exchanged between the pair of you as you quietly hummed songs composed by his younger brother which had featured in both your close upbringings. You were careful to not snag the knots on the teeth of the comb, handling him like a fledgling fallen from its nest – he had endured enough pain over the last few decades and you didn’t want him to suffer even the slightest of tugs to the hair. 

As you had hoped, it was successful in lifting his mood somewhat. He was still quiet and would spend much of his time staring off in the distance with a vacant look in his eyes, but he was more willing to see yourself, Fingon and his brothers now. Once his injuries were fully healed, scars now haunting his body with memories, he began to train. Hard. 

You couldn’t help but pity him as you could see the frustration that would cross his otherwise stoic face, the tight clench of his jaw that would threaten to crack teeth, the crease of his brow. He had spent the last few decades feeling weak, feeling vulnerable to sadistic torment and it was clear to you that the driving force behind all this training was a desperate attempt to make sure he would never be put in that position ever again. He’s got back up to a healthy weight now, and it’s lifted a sort of weight from your shoulders – it was so difficult for you to look at the ellon you’ve grown up alongside and to see his entire ribcage even while wrapped in bandages. 

You accompany him in his training just to make sure he’s pacing himself healthily as you don’t want him to hurt himself or push himself too hard. It’s incredible that he managed to endure all he did and a part of you aches that he doesn’t see that in the way you do, he only sees the part of him that was helpless to resist a power far greater than he. 

A particular challenge he’s having to overcome is learning to wield a blade again. Maedhros’ has always been adept with weapons but he’s no longer able to use the heavy-set ones that once complemented his fearsomely large stature, inspiring fear into his enemies before they could even get within his range. They’re now too weighty to heft with just one hand and so he’s focused much of his training onto re-learning how to use a longsword. He once twirled it around between two hands but he’s now having to learn how to do so with just one. The blade is especially crafted for him and is able to cover a large distance, keeping his enemies as far as he pleases until he wishes to get close. He’s always been skilled with a longsword but it’s taking a lot of adjustments to unlearn old techniques that had become second nature to him and to instead replace them with these new one-handed maneuvers. 

He’s sparring with a soldier but fails to strengthen his defence and his opponent lands what would have otherwise been a disarming blow if this had been a real battle, the third time this has happened in the last twenty minutes. He throws his sword down to the ground, kicking up dust. 

“Five minutes!” He barks out and pivots on his heel to head into the nearby tent. The soldier turns his head to where you’ve been perched on a crate of weapons as if to ask you what’s up with him, knowing the two of you have a close relationship. You hold up your hand to the dark-haired ellon to signal for him to wait and you follow Maedhros into the tent, letting the flap fall closed behind you. 

“Hey…” You begin tentatively, finding him pacing the short distance of the room, “Do you… are you okay?” His hair, tied back at his nape and accompanied by a few smaller braids and flowing from his helmet, tosses when he snaps around towards you, face concealed behind the grate. 

“Does it look like-” He cuts himself off and lets out a frustrated grunt. He’s angry, irritated, wants to break something, but he doesn’t want to hurt you, even if it’s hard to face you right now. “No.” 

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Maitimo.” You speak softly and take another measured step towards him, “You’ve made so much progress already, but adapting something that was already so ingrained in you is going to take some time.” He swallows down the burning that’s building in the back of his throat when you call him that. He doesn’t feel like Maitimo anymore, the young elfling who’d be called that name by his mother when it was time for the two of you to stop playing outside under the light of the trees and come indoors for dinner. Maitimo was left lagging behind when he raised up his sword to swear his father’s oath, and he was killed when that cuff was fixed around his wrist atop the mountain. So how could you look at him, broken, scarred, weak, and still see that fair ellon who would pick you up on his shoulder so you could reach the ripest fruits from the branches back in Valinor? 

“That’s not my name anymore…” He mutters, hand clenched into a fist at his side only reminding him that the stub of his other wrist cannot do the same. It makes his heart ache to see the soft sincerity in your eyes, to see how unchanged you are while he’s been utterly ruined, broken beyond repair. That name… the embrace of his mother, joining his father in the workshop, the teasing of his brothers about your friendship with him. Such simple, beautiful, excruciatingly carefree times. 

You approach closer and your smaller hands wrap around his wrists, metal vambraces warm from how hard he’s been exerting himself. “You’re still my Maitimo, you’re still you.” You say adamantly. It hasn’t been lost on you how much of his self-esteem he’s lost, how he’s now blind to his strength and instead sees himself as the elf who couldn’t defend himself for decades at a time, and every time you can see this damaged mindset of his taking over, you feel your heartstrings tie into tense knots that threaten to snap. 

He gives a soft shake of his head, ego so demolished that he can’t find the truth in your words. “I don’t know how you can even stand to look at me these days.”

“With love.” You reply fiercely, unable to bear seeing him devalue himself like this when he’s the most precious thing in the world to you. You can hear how his breath catches from within his helmet and his head tips down so he’s now looking directly at you from behind the shadow cast by the grate that’s pushed down to protect his face. Steadily, you reach up and beckon with two fingers for him to lean down into your reach. You unfasten the strap at the chin and lift it from his head, the sight beneath burning your throat all the way down to your chest. Tears are budding in his grey eyes and his scarred bottom lip is quivering with emotion. It breaks your heart to see him like this, the contrast of your towering, strong ellon covered in battle armour and yet so delicate beneath it all, like you’re both children still. 

“You’re my Maitimo, mine. And I’ll be damned before I let any oath or bloodshed or dark lord take you away from me.” You cup his handsome face in your hands, your thumb gently tracing the indent of the scar that cuts along his cheekbone like the bowed branch of a tree. He leans into your touch, eyes now half-lidded. 

“Why are you still so gentle with me? After all I’ve done, all I’ve failed to do-”

“You know why.” Is all you need to say in reply. Your thumb continues to follow that scar until you’re gently tugging down his lip, feeling how plush it is beneath the pad of your skin. “How about we call it a day for training? You’ve worked hard and need to eat.” You say as tension begins to thicken the air between you. He offers a small nod of assent and your hands glide instead to his arm where you begin to carefully unfasten his vambrace. Out of habit, he goes to set his other hand on the dip of your waist but he has nothing to hold onto you with, only the absence that reminds him of his shame. His arm begins to fall back to his side but you instead insistently grab it and bring it back to his waist, letting his wrist press against you as you offer him a soft smile and a glance through your lashes. 

You intentionally take your time to unfasten the vambrace when the stump of what was once his hand begins to gently rub up and down against your side. You then switch arms and remove the other vambrace setting it aside; only, this time, you don’t let his arm fall back to his side, you instead bring it up to your lips where you press a gentle kiss to the scarred stub, a gentle, barely-there press that’s followed by another more certain kiss. He uses it to lift your chin so that you’re now looking at him again, his intact arm wrapping around your middle so that his large hand can span against the small of your back. 

Maedhros leans down to press his mouth to yours in a tender kiss, soft with the firm indent of his scar. You stretch up onto your toes to meet him halfway, hands looping around his neck to tangle into the long coppery strands that you’d helped him braid back that morning. The kisses are slow and firm, lingering and sensual as he pulls you close to his body, wanting to feel your smaller frame flush against his. You taste salt and realise that his tears have finally spilled and have been caught in the embrace of your lips. You begin to pepper kisses upwards, following the wet tracks along his handsome cheeks to kiss his sadness away. His breathing becomes shaky and he holds you as though he’s afraid he’ll lose you forever if he lets go, gentle as to not break you, convicted enough as to not let you get far. 

Your mouth meets his again and he returns your kisses with a passion that he had long thought had been smothered out of him. Between his tongue tentatively swiping at yours and the press of lips, he breaks the kiss for a fraction of a second every few moments to draw in sharp, shaky breaths. Love, care, tenderness, things faded to obscure memory after the last near-forty years, the sensations so cold and monochrome until now. He almost lets out a sob when he yanks you closer to him by your waist and walks you back against the storage crates for him to hoist you up onto so that you no longer have to lean up or down so much just to accommodate your height difference. 

He nuzzles your jaw gently before his nose traces the thrum of the pulse in your neck before he’s pressing kisses to your sensitive flesh, a part of him almost unable to believe that you’d let his marred self touch your beautiful skin, still finding it difficult to see anything beyond ugliness in his new reflection, so far removed in his mind’s eye from the handsome ellon his mother had called her first true masterpiece. 

“Will you let me have you?” He pleads, voice breaking and barely more than a whisper as he cages you in between his arms and the crates you’re sitting atop. “Please?” He hides his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder, terrified that you’ll reject him, that you’ll want a better husband than him. After all, his plea is no small ask like it may be for humans: you are elves, creatures whose hearts bond forever, unsevered from one another even after death. 

Your hands find his cheeks again and you use your hold to make him pull back just enough to look into those steely eyes of his, nose softly nudging against his. “Yes, Maitimo.” You whisper back, “Yes.” His hand reaches for the ties on your collar and he pulls each small bow loose until your decolletage is exposed for his mouth to explore. He treats you reverently, like you’re the most precious thing on earth, even the little nips of his teeth careful to cause you no true pain. 

Your hands fumble with all the straps of his armour, letting it fall to the ground and cringing a little when it clatters – you only have the canvas walls of the tent to provide you with privacy, after all. You tug gently at the hem of his shirt, a silent request. “Will you let me take this off?” He hesitates for a moment, uneasy at the thought of you seeing the scars that criss-cross his body. “Please? Don’t hide from me.” Your request is punctuated with another kiss to his lips, a display that you’re not bothered in the slightest about the cruel marks left on his figure. 

“Alright…” He concedes and you lift his shirt to pull it over his head. As you’ve noted before, he’s returned to a healthy weight since being rescued by his cousin, and you note the returning contours of muscle too. He still has some way to go before more closely resembling his old self but his body is merely the vessel that houses the man you love – his scars could double and he could lose another limb and yet you know in your heart that you’d love him no less than you do in this moment, your heart so full of the ellon before you, of all the memories that make him who he is, broken and rebuilt and all. 

You feel the way he tenses when you begin to trace the lines of the scars that cut through him like streams along a mountainface. To ease his self-consciousness, you then lean in and begin to follow them with your lips instead, pausing to gently nip at him every now and then, wanting to cover him in your own marks, marks of love and longing to overshadow those of malice and hate. 

He lets out a shaky breath and feels how your fingertips drag down towards the reforming v-line of his hips before they withdraw entirely from his freckled skin in favour of undoing your pants, boots already kicked off and joining his pile of armour upon the ground. His throat feels dry despite the way he salivates the moment he catches sight of your slit. He falls to his knees before you can even register his intentions and his arms encircle your hips to drag you towards the edge of the crate. Lips graze against your thigh as he looks up at you through thick copper lashes. 

“Will you allow me to taste you, meleth nîn?” He asks softly, not wanting his lewd request to be overheard by anyone who may be passing by. With a bite of your lip, you lean back on your hands for support as you spread your thighs further apart, nodding your consent. His scarred lips drag up the plush flesh of your thigh until he can press kisses to your cunt that convey just how honoured he feels to be granted this privilege. He begins to lap at your slit, rolling his tongue firmly against your clit with a quiet groan. 

You find yourself reaching down to cradle the back of his head, insistently nudging him closer to your sticky slit, biting on your lip to muffle yourself, careful to not be too loud. His tongue dips in and out of your wet entrance, desperate to taste as much of you as you’re willing to offer – so his brow pinches in confusion when you push him away by his shoulder, smouldering grey eyes looking up at you from beneath the canopy of his thick lashes. 

“I want you,” you voice, wanton and full of desire, tugging softly at him to get him to rise to his feet where he’s kneeling between your legs. He nods wordlessly, some of his long hair slipping from his braid to fall down the sides of his temples. He leans in once again, smearing your slick into the kiss as his hand palms at his stiff length, struggling against the confines of his pants. He pushes them down just enough to free his impressive cock: as large as you’d have expected for a man of his staggeringly tall stature, the tip flushed a desperate shade of red and leaking profusely.

He swipes the swallowed head through your slippery slit, breath hitching when he nudges insistently against your clit, wanting you to feel just as good as he is in this moment. He begins to nudge against your weeping opening, catching his teeth between his bottom lip when he feels the slight resistance of your cunt. 

“I can just… put it in?” He asks breathlessly, still in disbelief that someone as beautiful, as incredible as you has let him take things even this far. Your legs wrapping around his hips encourages him though and he begins to sink into you slowly, steadily; primarily, he wants to give you time to adjust, to make sure you feel no pain during this first incredible union of you both, but he’s also now panting at the tight grip your walls have on his sensitive cock. 

Inch by careful inch, he pushes in, his chest puffing with a little pride when you let out a pretty moan, your face then tucking against his shoulder to muffle yourself – the last thing either of you want is to be disrupted right now. 

“We’ll need to be quick.” He whispers out, despite how the clench of your walls feels like a protest against his words, “I’ll take you back to mine later and we can do this properly right after.” His promise is punctuated with him drawing you even closer against his broad, scarred chest. 

He’s set a deep but forceful pace now that you’re adjusted to him, both of you chasing a quick release to prelude the real thing later. His hand cradles the back of your head, holding you to him in an embrace that wouldn’t have been so lovingly lewd if not for his cock reaching the deepest parts of your pussy. When his pace starts to falter, you suspect he’s getting close and some greed shines in you when you take his wrist and guide it between your bodies. 

He almost pulls away, like this ugly, marred part of him doesn’t deserve to touch such a precious part of you. But you’re determined to make him realise that you don’t see him through his lens of self-loathing. You tilt your hips to make yourself easier for him to access and encourage him to rub the stump of his wrist against your throbbing clit, applying enough pressure that has your orgasm tensing in your abdomen. 

At feeling the way your walls desperately milk him for orgasm, Maedhros buries his face against your hair as he does his utmost to make sure his bliss won’t be overhead when he spills his load into you. His peak, in turn, triggers yours and you’re left clawing at his biceps as you writhe in his arms. 

Panting and spent, the two of you remain a tangle of limbs and panted breaths for a while more until he reluctantly withdraws, grey eyes full of awe as he watches his cum leak from your pretty pussy. Only… the lewd view seems to spark his second wind, and his mind returns to his promise to properly sate you in a more private location. 

“We’ll move as soon as you’re able, meleth nîn…” He murmurs, lips pressing to your forehead in a tenderness that he thought had been lost to his being. 

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   Laying their head on his chest, it was clear he was a wall of muscles built from years of training and fighting. His torso was dotted with scars, a reflection of the battles and horrors he had endured. His sheer size could send an enemy stumbling back in fear, but not them. Not when he looked so cute as his eyelids fluttered on the edge of sleep and his pink lips were slightly parted. So cute it made them want to squeeze his cheeks until they were all flushed and pull his gorgeous hair. Cute enough to bite. Affectionately, of course.

   So, bite they did. They climbed up to be face to face with him , their breath fanning him, and dug their teeth into his plump cheek. A bit too hard perhaps, because in one second, Maitimo's eyes snapped wide open and he pulled away as if burned, with an expression that was a mix of shock, disbelief, and confusion all at once.

   -What are you doing? - he asked while wearing the most puzzled look in all of Arda. He brought his hand to his cheek. He could feel their teeth marks and the area around them was swelling slightly.

    - Perhaps I bit too hard... - they muttered in false regret.

    Maitimo was still processing what had happened. One moment he was nearly asleep, and the next he felt hot breath and teeth sinking into him. He was utterly livid. The biggest question of all fell from his lips:

   - Why did you bite me at all?

   They looked away, sudeenly shy, even as a grin crept onto their face.

    - I needed to. You looked too cute.

    He found himself bewildered once again.

    - What do you mean you 'needed' to bite me?

    - That was not the only thing I needed to do to you. You should be grateful that was what I settled for.

     A pause. Then, an astounded scoff left him as he shook his head.

     - Unbelievable...- they heard him say under his breath, - What will I tell Káno when he asks about this?

     - You can tell him the truth.

     -Really? And what would that be?

    - That you're too irresistible.

    He was laughing now.

     - As if I would ever tell my brother such a thing.

    He sighed.

     - Only you, my love. Only you would do something like this. It hurts, you know? - he said, rubbing the reddened bite mark and staring pointedly at it's author.

    They shrugged.

     - I could kiss it better, if you'd like? - they suggested with a mischievous smirk.

     Maitimo pulled his face away jokingly.

     - I don't trust you near my face anymore. Go to sleep.

   They let out a huff, though there was no fire behing it, but settled against his chest again.

    He wrapped his arms around them once more. Tomorrow, he would deal with the curious looks and questions, but that had yet to come. At that moment, there was only their warmth and the dully throbbing bite mark on his cheek.

“A child of Iluvatar.” 

“Then the time hath come.” 

Trying to wiggle her fingers she went to groan out in pain, but the sound only clogged in her throat. She felt like she was floating and bodiless in cold ocean water bobbing in and out of the surface yet she wasn’t wet nor cold, not even warm. Chained to a floating abyss.

“Impossible!”

“We have yet to finish our preparations! Melkor topples our mountains and spills our oceans!”  

Voices. So many voices.

“King of Arda, our friends here are correct. This world, as it stands now, is ill suited for its survival. The child will not survive.”

“Brother, is this child a first-born?” 

“......” 

“If it is, where are the others?” 

Why isn’t she in the hospital? 

“Can we not preserve it?” 

“No. Lord Namo, ensure that this child pass-” 

“Please husband, this child-” 

It hurts so much. 

“Very well, Lord Namo, as my Lady asks, is there a way to save the child?”

“ …Yes. But it will require-”  

“Then you agree to take sole responsibility for the welfare and protection of this child?” 

Please.

“I, Lord of Mandos, solemnly swear to abide by thy rules Majesty.”  

Lord, have mercy on her soul. 

“Then it is settled, Lord Ulmo, thou hast news?” 

You had numerous friends as a child. As they bloomed into adulthood they developed skills that won them acclaim. Only what could they say about you? As a young child you were called árë, for there was light and warmth wherever you went. While your friends were creating creations of renowned you flittered around. Dancing like light upon the land they heaped praise upon you. It was why you wore daisies as they represented everything a maiden should be. Still, there was a widening emptiness in you. What was there to achieve with your gift? None had abused you for it and yet nothing could banish such feelings.

Early one morning you woke to sunlight. The fluffy orange cat who had found a bed in your sheets yawned luxuriously. Stretching out you reveled in the sensation of a quiet sunny day. Your door opened and in came ílë, blonde hair streaming behind her. "Mother has made breakfast." ílë's family lived next to yours and had cultivated a close friendship. Your parents had a hard days ride to the court of Queen Indis. Due to age and the seriousness of their journey you had been left behind. This invoked no sadness as court was tedious and stifling. Young you may be, but responsible enough. A friend of your mothers checked in every day on your younger sister, brother and yourself.

When you woke the little ones up there was much grumbling. Almiel huffed and rolled over, refusing to get up. Ciryon followed his sisters lead and dove under the covers. This was nothing new. Normally it was your duty to care for the younger ones. Some days Almiel awoke without fuss. If she did not then it was lots of grumbling, with Ciryon following her lead. Not missing a beat you pulled away the covers and opened the window. The chirping of birds drifted on warm air. Groaning, Almiel rolled over with a great yawn. "We are going to ílë's for breakfast." Going over to Ciryon's bed you removed the blankets. "I won't." He grumbled, but upon seeing the Almiel was up Ciryon sat up. Leaving them to get changed you went to find a dress. It was warm and merry out today, so you settled for a light blue dress with long sleeves. It was light with no ornaments though it suited the weather. Your siblings were ready in a moment. No doubt excited to partake in a delirious breakfast.

ílë, who had briefly ran next door, returned. All four of you left and hurried inside. ílë's house always impressed you with its marble fixtures. Possessing a door of rose opal colour, the symbol of ílë's family hung above. Upon entrance you were treated with an indoor fountain, light shinning down from stained glass windows. ílë's family was important in the court of Queen Indis and had connection with the Vanyar. On the maternal side she was descended from King Ingwë, although distantly. Coming down ornate stairs was the only member of the household you were not taken to. Ellótë was ílë's elder sister, although you did not know her very well. At a distance the two looked alike, but once one looked closer they could clearly see differences. Ellótë would have looked nice if she did not constantly look like she was observing everyone and everything. She was not cruel or even unkind, just aloof. "Do your parents know?" It was you who answered. "Yes, of course." The words were friendly enough, although they lacked warmth. Despite being slightly older you cowered. Ellótë's simply nodded and glidded off. 'You should not think my sister means you any harm.' Your friend reasoned.

Turning left the group entered the great hall. A large marble table stretched from one end to the other. It's high ceiling made you have to crane your head up to see. The high chairs presented during formal celebrations were put away and benches now served as seats. At the head sat Lord Falastir cut an impressive figure, sitting there in a fine silver robe. His golden hair hung loose, eyes like sapphires. He hailed from a great family. His father was King Finwë's right hand man, his mother a woman of great renown. Falastir's ancestors had faithfully served kings, thus he was seen as a worthy contender for the hand of Erulissë, King Elwë's relative and ílë's mother. ílë' greeted her father with a kiss before taking a seat. After her came you, who greeted him in a similar matter. Then came your siblings who professed their gratefulness. Once everyone was seated the doors opened and food was brought. "Where is Ellótë'?" "We saw her earlier, Atar. Although I know not where she went." Secretly you were grateful. Childish it may sound but Ellótë' scared you.

At some point Lady Erulissë swept in. ílë jumped up from her seat and rushed forward. "I hope my lateness is not inconvenient. I received a letter from King Finwë. He has invited us to Tirion, along with you're kin Y/n. No doubt you shall receive a letter from you're parents." "Really! We are to go to Tirion!" You shared a look of excitement with ílë, who returned one of equal jubilation. "Is there a party?" Almiel asked eagerly. "Why yes. His eldest grandson has just reached adulthood and the King wishes to celebrate." Elves did not commonly make great celebrations on every birthday. That being said, when one reached adulthood a party would be thrown in their honour. You had celebrated your own a while back.

The rest of breakfast was spent talking about the upcoming party. Little did you know that this was the beginning on a great change.

It did not take long for your parents to return. Immediately upon returning they were getting ready to depart once more. Quickly everything needed was packed, and to the delight of both you and Almiel new dresses were made. "I can hardly let either of you be seen in anything less than splendor. And you Y/n are a woman grown. So remember to show you're best." In a short time the rest of you're kin, cousins and all, arrived. Because you were no longer a child it meant a horse would be needed. Only children rode in the carriage. Relishing having to opportunity to act as a woman grown, it made you sad to not be traveling beside ílë. ílë must remain in the carriage with the younger ones. Instead, to your great chagrin, Ellótë was your company, for she too was grown. Thankfully she had nothing to say, and likewise it was the same for you.

The great party, made of many important families, stopped at a house belonging to Arafinwë. Arafinwë, youngest of Finwë's sons, was the most fair in temper and appearance. He great the party flanked by wife and four children. Findaráto, his eldest and heir, walked up to your horse and took the reigns. His apperance and bearing nearly took your breath away. It was no exaggeration to say he was the fairest of King Finwë's. Golden hair of the Vanyar fell to his waist in waves. Blue eyes that were reminiscent of glittering gems looked welcomingly upon you. His aura held the bearing of a king's grandson, beautiful and gentle. You tried not to look to pleased when he took your hand. Giving your greetings to Lord Arafinwë and his wife you were spirited off to join your family. Unfortunately the prince had to leave you. Hiding your disappointment you went to find Ilë. She was being assisted by one of Arafinwë's sons. He gave you a smile and was quickly whisked away to greet another. "Do you not think they look so handsome." She giggled. "Have you seen Prince Findaráto?" Ilë shook her head and you eagerly took her hand. Trying to chance another glimpse of the prince you noticed your younger sister being lead by a woman. From her bearing and clothes you supposed this was Artanis. She was lovely as her brothers. What separated her was the bearing of pride clearly evident. Not a cruel sort, but the type that drew people to her.

"I believe you are the sister." She gave you a winning smile that made your face grow hot. "Lady Artanis." You greeted her with a curtsy. Giving you an approving nod Artanis bid your sister to join her family. "I apologies if she was any trouble." Trying not to stumble on your words it took some difficulty not to shy away. "Not at all. She is a credit to your house." With that, Artanis was called over and she wished you well. This left you in charge of Ilë and your sister. "Where is Ciryon?" Almiel pointed over to your parents. They were talking to an elleth, a noble one by the looks of her. Black hair hung to her knees, pearls adorning the tresses. Her navy blue gown was plain yet carried and air of regality. Her very being seemed to be the very embodiment of nobility.

"Should we?" Ilë looked to you. Her support, tepid as it may be, encouraged you. Ilë and Almiel followed you, slightly intimidated. When your mother looked over she said "And these are our daughters. Y/n is our eldest and Almiel the youngest. Girls, this is Lady Anarië, Lady of the House of Nolofinwë." She smiled and your face grew hot. Because you had only recently reached adulthood Lady Anarië was still a stranger. Long had your family been in the service of her house. As a young woman your mother had been a companion. The same path was expected of you. In a short period of time you would serve a great lady. Lady Anarië lead all of you in for tea, however only Lord and Lady Y/n truly spoke. Keeping quiet you sipped tea and hoped to make a favourable impression. Unfortunately you were not blessed with wit or confidence. What you had learned to do was sit politely and look pretty, like a daisy.

'When are we leaving?' Almiel whispered. Placing a small hand on her shoulder you whispered 'Not now. Hush.' The food was delectable but you had to make pains to to seem greedy. Small morsel after small morsel went into your mouth. You were thinking of this upcoming journey. At court you would have to be on form always. As the eldest daughter the pressure was on you to perform. 'Y/n will love Tirion. I promise on my honour to keep her safe until such a time as she passes into the hands of my mother-in-law.' That got your attention. Looking up from the food, eyes darting from Anarië, Toronto, ON to your mother. 'Is that not good news?' Your mother proclaimed. You felt Almiel tug at your dress. 'Sorry?' Immediately you felt stupid. As you so often felt in company. Trying to ignore the embarrassment that ran through you, you nodded, curtsied, and said "Of course". Anarië clapped her hands together. 'How wonderful! You need to worry Y/n you will feel right at home.' That was when your brain caught up to what was actually happening. Your mouth opened up like a fishes before gulping shut. On the outside you merely looked nervous, inside you wanted to run.

And you said absolutely nothing in the plans of your own future.

You knew this day would come. Ever lesson, dance music, painting sewing and so much more was to prepare you for this. But it had all come so quickly it sent your head spinning. You had wanted to spent time are your friends place and figure out your craft. Instead you would be sent far away to Tirion. Almiel and Ciryon had wept buckets of tears making it harder. Worse still, ílë would not be coming. Her parents wanted to wait another few years which while not long felt far away. One comfort was that you could visit home one last time before leaving for a new life. The remaining journey was made in silence, at least on your part. You were torn between excitement and sadness. Living at your would not be horrible. Many would consider you very luck. If you had chosen this then the situation might have been different. Now as an adult you would still have your future written by others. With neither the willpower or bravery, you were a flower petal in the wind.

Keeping back tears you bid your father and brother goodbye. They could not know your true thoughts. Ciryon wept buckets of tears that made you want to cry. Even your fathers eyes looked glassy, and yet you still remained stalwart. Riding had never been so hard. The only comfort you had was your mother and sister. Almiel had kicked up a storm when it was suggested the party leave without her. 'It may be a good die. Almiel is older now.' Your mother had reasoned. Grimly you wondered why your little sister, not yet an adult, had more spirit than you. Perhaps that was why you had no gift, your fire was non existent.

Several days passed on the way to Tirion. You tried to think on how lovely Tirion was, how lovely the balls had been. And you might find a match. These thoughts slightly uplifted your spirit during the journey. In order to be prepared you were given new dresses, that was something. Your parents could visit, friends to. And you could always make new friends at court. Or at least try to.

The night before you would arrive at Tirion, and a new life, you found yourself staring out the window. Nighttime always made you feel lonely. Telperions light ruled over Valinor at this hour. Having a preference for its younger twins light Laurelin you sadly stared at the sky. The night banished rays of light, of fire. A state without fire was a despondent state. If represented a lack of will, being lesser. Not that you had voiced these grievances to anyone. They might consider it an insult to the trees themselves. Telling the truth however was far worse in your mind. Some things were better kept hidden.

What would your life be like? Anarië had shown you the room you would sleep in. It was beautiful with light blue walls, golden pillars and a window opening out onto a beautiful garden. Anarië had been more than kind to you. Yet you would be but one of many ladies in her train. You would have to rely on your pitiful yourself, and that was a terrifying thought. Keeping hope was difficult in the face of such darkness.

The day you entered Tirion it was raining. Grey clouds blocked Lauriens light much to your dismay. Given the sudden turn of the weather your mother, sister and yourself were now in a carriage. Behind you in another were other attendants. 'Will we see the queen?' Almiel inquired. 'Likely not, your sister is serving the Lady Anarië. And one day you may too.' Almiel shook her head. 'I want to serve the queen.' Stubborn, you knew she would likely get her wish. Yet you could not bring yourself to resent her. Your own shortcomings were not her fault. Up to the marble palace your carriage trundled, bearing you along like a piece of luggage.

Under a canopy in the courtyard were a group of women. Guessing it was the delegation summoned to great you, you suddenly felt yourself sweat. These elleths were do doubt unhappy about having to wait out here in such weather. When the carriage stopped you summoned whatever courage you processed and got out. Immediately and elf stepped out and held an umbrella above your head. The four that were waiting took a step forward. Tentatively you made the remaining gap. 'Lady Y/n, we are pleased you have arrived. Our lady awaits you in her chambers.' Golden hair tumbled to the elleths knees. Her blue robes were adorned with pearls which even in this weather were brilliant in colour. Comfortingly she was smiling which made you brave enough to look at the others. Stern, but none looked angry. At least that was good. Ladies who served the royal household did many such tasks. Feeling better with this thought you relaxed ever so slightly.

They greeted your mother and the blond one bent to say kindly 'Hello there, you must be the sister.' Going up the long marble stairs was hazardous for one not accustomed to such. Thankfully being born as the First Children had advantages, and remaining upright was easier. The tall archway was white adorned with beautiful carving of leaves and words interwoven with them. On the left hand side was a large wheel. When the order was given it burst into motion and the large doors swept open. The entrance hall was white with silver banners hanging from pristine walls. Statues lined the rows looking down on anyone who passed through. Every footstep echoed, making you think of many creatures scurrying. Light came in through windows in the ceiling. Normally that was the case but given the weather torches were needed. A large throne draped in silk sat on a raised up platform, though as of now it was empty.

Going through a side passage you were lead of several flights of stairs and down a hall. Finally you came to a door embodied with a golden sun, surrounded by a disk. With a knock on the door you were let in. Anarië sat in the midst of her ladies. They sat sewing, reading or chatting away only to fall silent upon your arrival. Smiling, Anarië rose to her feet saying 'Welcome to the home of King Finwë.' Into a deep curtsey you bent, one practiced many times. With a gracious hand she rose you up. 'I thank you My Lady. It was very kind of you to allow me to serve.' With a wave of the hand Anarië insisted it was no great effort on her part. 'Gloriel, please assist Y/n in getting settled in.' Gloriel was the blond elleth with pearls. 'Pleased to meet you. Follow me.' With one last glance back at the elleths you followed Gloriel out.

'The other rooms are occupied by other ladies of the household. Queen Indis's reside on the upper levels.' Gloriel gave you a tour of the West Wing, which was now your home. Already your luggage had been brought up. Your new bedroom was so grand, but you could not imagine this being your home. Back home your bedroom was smaller and slightly messy, but it was home. This felt like a strangers room, likely was at some point. 'Feel free to make this place your own.' Gloriel stepped into the room after you. 'You will get used to this place. It will simply take time.' You wanted to tell her that this would never be your home. Not that those words every left your mouth, Eru forbid! 'Thank you, that is very kind.' Gloriel let you setting into the room first. There were four trunks in the room. Two processed clothes and the others various artifacts. Older clothes you sorted out first. More interesting were the new ones. Admiring each dress you hung them up in a grand dresser. Servants could do this task but you had requested to do it yourself. Once that was completed you set about with the smaller things. A comb and hand mirror were placed on a silver vanity. Jewelry, perfumes, books and other things found their come in cabinets and drawers. Lastly was your gardening kit. In a desperate attempt to find some sort of ability you had considered gardening. They called you the Daisy-Maiden and gardening seemed like something you could do (or so mother said).

Stepping back, you felt the place looked more familiar. Perhaps once you lived here for a bit things would be different. 'Well I should hope so. I will not be bothering with her if she proves to be a chore.' The haughty voice made you want to run and hide. When the door opened you nearly jumped. Glormiel entered followed by a sour looking elleth. She would have looked beautiful. had she not that scowl on her face. Her dark brown hair and eyes were lovely. Her strong arms showed she was not unfamiliar with physical exercise. High cheekbones and narrow set eyes put you in mind of a cat. A silver gown showed off the slim outline of her figure. 'Y/n, this is Emmeril. I sorely hope the two of you will get along.' There was a warning edge to her tone, although you had a feeling it was not meant for you.

Emmeril did not spend much time with you. The moment she could Emmeril pawned you off to another. You tried not to feel hurt by it. Besides, most others were nicer. Varya and Faniel, cousins to Queen Indis, were both golden haired and very kind. Faniel had herself just arrived from King Olwë's court. Varya was slightly younger in years than yourself, although she had been here longer.

The moment you arrived there was hardly time to relax. A ball had been planned for the return of King Finwë's eldest son and his family. For hours on end the ladies of Anarië were sent sewing. The king had ordered banners with his sons sigil emblazed upon it. Why there were not others made already you did not know. 'Is there always such a fuss whenever the prince returns home?' Sewing by a window looking out on the garden you were partly sewing partly watching Emmeril practicing her swords work. Steele gleamed in the sunlight wielded by her strong hands. Like a dancer every move was precise. 'Every time. However I do not believe Curufinwë likes them very much. Varya was completing the finishing touches to Anarië's golden down. 'Truly? Then why does the king put them on?' You inquired. 'He does love the prince and misses him greatly.' 'Does Prince Curufinwë often leave court?' 'He does.' 'Why?' Rather than answer Varya simply shrugged. You had your own guesses. It was well known that the eldest son of the kind bore no love for the queen. She that had replaced his mother as queen was as detested back then as she was now by Curufinwë. Traveling was perhaps his way of scorning her presence.

'His three eldest will be attending.' At that both let out a giggle. Excitement caused you to nearly jump up. 'Truly!?' 'They are! Have you met them?' Shaking your head you waited. 'oh Y/n you are in for such a treat! They are all so handsome.. especially.." They both dissolved into giggles. Feeling very hot you knew who they were talking about. Curufinwë's eldest son went by several names. Maitimo, meaning well-formed, was said to be tall, fair and handsome. Never having met him it left his precise features to the imagination. Trying not to look to excited you went back to sewing. Yet your thoughts lingered on the handsome prince.

'They are here!' Night had come and the ball had begun. While Anarië was making the rounds welcoming guests you and several others had slipped off. Your presences would not be noted, at least for such a short period of time. Younger ones such as yourself went out to the large balcony overhanging the courtyard waiting in great anticipation. Any moment the princes would be coming. Eagerly everyone looked out until you cried out 'There!' A crimson carriage drawn by large black horses came trundling off the path. Everyone watched as it stopped at Prince Curufinwë stepped out. Coming out after was his wife Nerdanel. Next came stumbling out two, one with hair light as Laurelin's rays and the others hair black like his father. Lastly exited the eldest. He was just as they described, flaming red hair, tall, and yet more beautiful. Had someone told you he was a woman on first sight you would have believed it. He glanced around before looking up. For just a fraction of a moment your eyes met. Something powerful moved in you at that moment. Seized with such a ferocity you left like to faint.

Staggering back you nearly fell. At that moment the rest had decided to head in. Glad that your momentary lapse in propriety had gone unnoticed you lingered behind. You were shaking with something you could not explain. Excitement? Heart beating you wanted to flee and speak to him at the same time. Following, you stopped at the entrance of the Great Hall. The rest were already crowding the princes. As much as you desired to join them you had not the bravery. You could see Maitimo's copper locks. He was smiling charmingly and talking to maidens. You wanted to join them, but something was stopping you. Standing there alone, you cursed yourself for such timidity.

The next time you saw Maitimo it was a week later. King Finwë had ordered a picnic and had his whole family attend. Apparently it was considered completely normal for Princes Curufinwë and Nolofinwë to glair at each other from opposite end of the clearing. Sitting under Anarië's canopy you enjoyed the crisp breeze. With you were Faniel and Anarië's only daughter Írissë. 'Mother, when will Tyelkormo arrive?' 'Soon, my love.' For someone whose name meant "hasty-riser" he sure was taking his time.

'My son, and you brought Maitimo.' Anarië smiled seeing her nephew. 'Aunt.' Maitimo looked completely relaxed in her company. You heard rumors that Curufinwë resented his younger brother in part because his eldest was good friends with his. Maitimo's head turned towards Írissë and yourself. Trying not to seem to shy you greeted him politely. 'Findecáno, will you take your sister and Y/n with you?' Feeling bashful you graciously rose. Findecáno took your hand and with a dazzling smile. Not wanting to seem like a complete dolt you politely allowed him the lead.

Not too far away some other ladies and royal children were playing. Írissë, wanting to play with her favourite cousin, rather unceremoniously abandoned Maitimo. Findecáno at least remembered to courteously sit you down before himself running off. To your surprise Maitimo, rather than take off, sat down beside you. Sitting there Ridgely you considered what to say. But it was Maitimo himself who started the conversation. 'You are my aunts newest lady.' 'Yes My Prince.' At least your voice had not trembled. He had a soft voice, yet deeper than you had imagined. Maitimo spoke as if every word was thought of beforehand. Then he gave you a smile. Quite lovely, the rays of Laurien illuminated his already fine features. 'Well then, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.' Deciding for a simple answer you said 'I thank you for your kind welcome.'

For a while more the two of you sat there in silence. Then, once more, it was Maitimo who began the conversation. 'What is it that you do?' 'I am sorry?' 'What I mean is, what is your skill?' Or goodness. Feeling extremely uncomfortable you wondered whether to speak the truth or not. But before you could act Maitimo's attention was taken by his third brother and cousin, who at that moment chose to fight one another. As he raced over to separate the two you felt profound relief.

The first interaction what been rather quick and only half remembered in later years. But for the next few weeks your thoughts drifted, ever now and then, to the prince. Yet life went on and soon your thoughts diverted elsewhere. Life had settled into a new normal and soon you felt quite at home here. You had friends, although you wrote to ílë often. She was doing well and ever letter asked about court. Eagerly she waited at home till it would be her turn. Truly you hoped she would be in the service of your lady. But it may please her parents to put ílë in the service of Queen Indis. or, and you did not want to consider this, be sent to serve Eärwen. The court of Arafinwë did not linger at the court of his father. Like Curufinwë he preferred to reside elsewhere, although for different reasons. You really hoped your friend would not be sent so far away.

Curufinwë briefly left with his wife Nerdanel and a select few member of his household. His sons were surprisingly left behind in Tirion. This could partly be due to the fact Queen Indis was currently enjoying a seaside vacation and therefore not in the castle. You would end up meeting Maitimo on a warm day when your sister had come to visit. While you were away Almiel had grown even more beautiful. Taller, her h/c hair had become glossy and shinny. Much of the baby fat younger children had seemed to melt away leaving behind a lovely woman. Eagerly she listened as you told her about the court. 'Oh Y/n I so want to join you at court!' Placing an arm around you, Almiel was assured that her time would come.

Striding around the secluded pond, the silence was broken when a group of horses clattered into the clearing. Startled, you brought Almiel to your side. There was a hunt going on. At the very head was Maitimo. 'is that the prince!' Almiel whispered. Sinking into a curtsy you took Almiel by the hand. 'Lady Y/n, I had not thought to see you out here.' Maitimo got off his horse and bid his men to continue on. While you knew this was simple courtesy it still made you nervous. Almiel was practically shaking with excitement beside you. You placed a hand on her shoulder. Maitimo laughed. 'I did not know you had a sister. Before you could speak Almiel beat you to the punch. 'Mai-my prince.' You nearly keeled over from mortification. She had nearly called the prince by his name!

Thankfully Maitimo it seemed took no offence to this. He asked if the pair of you would like to walk with him. 'We are having a picnic just over the hill.' As Anarië had given you leave it was quite alright for you to take such an excursion. For the short walk shrouded by trees Maitimo and you sister spoke. You walked a few steps behind them in silence. A few times you opened your mouth, but words never left. Eventually you consigned yourself to staying outside the conversation.

coming onto an oncoming clearing, Maitimo gave the pair of you leave before running of. You joined the mother ladies and talked about all sorts of things. Eventually your sister suggested a game with several younger ones. Deciding it would be prudent to keep an eye on her you followed. Just over a small hill was a crate in the earth. Rocks lead to a pond where a waterfall was falling into. On a rock you perched and quietly watched. Every now and then Almiel would show you something she found. But otherwise you said nothing else. That was when Maitimo arrived. He took a seat beside you. 'Will your sister be coming to court?' He inquired. 'Yes. I hope she will serve in the court of My Lady Anarië. It will be easier to help.' 'Your care for your sister.' 'Of course.' 'Ah, such is the duty of older siblings.' His mouth twitched. 'I dare say your task is harder.' Then, realizing it sounded rude, quickly said; 'Of course I do not suggest yours are badly behaved-' Maitimo started to laugh. 'Oh but you are right.' Relief filled you. 'They tell me your brother brought in a great big dog last week.' You said, attempting small talk. Maitimo nodded and told you of how Oromë gave Turcafinwë an enormous dog. You regaled him of Almiel's mischief. 'And the next thing you knew there were a group of ducklings following her inside! I tell you, it caused quite the ruckus. my mother has hardly touched duck since.'

The both of you enjoyed the warm long day. Hours passed with the pair exchanging tales. By the end Maitimo bid you farewell, saying you should send him more stories as he found them very entertaining. And then two days later he was gone. For years the pair of you did not met. This might have been one conversation that lead to nothing, if not for a visit from Nerdanel with her newborn son.

You did not write to Maitimo. He had written nothing to you since that day and thought Maitimo was simply humoring you. Not wanting to seem impertinent, you resigned yourself to looking back at this encounter with fondness. Year went by and you had other matters to worry about. Almiel finally came to Tirion and went into the service of Queen Indis. It made you sad but it was what she wanted. Apparently she caused quite the fuss at home. While others thought her impertinent, you admired it. Had you her spirit things might be different. On a better note ílë did come into your mistresses service.

Like last time it was quite an unassuming day. Varya, Faniel, ílë and yourself were looking at sketches of dresses. Another ball was being put on (King Finwë did love his parties) and everyone needed new gowns. 'That one is pretty.' Varya pointed to a sleek white gown adorned with swan feathers. 'Pretty, but I would hem the train less someone stumble on it.' Faniel advised. 'Perhaps the male-folk should not be so clumsy.' You jested. 'By the way, is anyone going with someone?' Your hands gripped. There was someone, but not of your choosing. Some elf you hardly knew had taken a fancy and asked Anarië. You were so alarmed and nervous you could not gainsay either of them. Later you cursed yourself as now the ball seemed less exciting.

There was a great storm roaring outside. Rain battered on the windows as Telperion's light could only just be made out in that grey mass. Anarië and several older ladies were working on a new tapestry. You could smell the beeswax candles bringing light to the room. Everything was fairly peaceful before there was a knock at the door. Gloriel entered, swept a curtsy, and said; 'My Lady, Lady Nerdanel is here.' Anarië nearly dropped her needle. 'Already? In this weather!?' Everyone stood up as Nerdanel came in, baby in arm. 'Nerdanel! And this must be Atarincë.' Anarië held the baby for a while, cooing over him. Once the greetings were over everything settled down. Unlike her sisters-in-laws and the queen Nerdanel brought no retinue of ladies, or men for that matter. She seemed quite happy to do everything herself. And so the night went on with little changing.

The moment when Maitimo and yourself met was under less than satisfactory circumstances. Your day had been going so well when Almiel raised objections about tending to Indis during the ball. There was a handsome courtier she had an eye on. They had made plans so sneak of while the revelries took place. While you did not object to the boy, you did take issue with Almiel sneaking off. 'Almiel, the queen will be expecting you.' Haughtily Almiel glared at you. In a fury you erupted and Almiel responded with a familiar tenderness. 'Is everything alright.' So wrapped up in anger you dismissed Amliel in an uncharacteristic flare of stress. Without even looking at this intruder she flounced off. Standing, stewing in your hot emotions, you did not take notice of Maitimo coming up behind you. 'Ah, I see your younger sister has come to court.' For a moment you were unable to speak. Then, turning around confused, you made to regail this stranger the tale of your frustration. 'I-' Mortified, you wanted to be swallowed up by a great dark hole. Maitimo was standing right before you. Oh how terrible this was!

Anger was gone replaced by complete and utter mortification. Never before had you been so embarrassed. 'Lady Y/n.' he gave you a courtly bow. In return you made a clumsy attempt at a curtsey. 'I see you are having trouble with a younger sibling.' With some relief you recalled that conversation from so long ago. yes that was right, he would understand. Still, you would rather he had never come across this mess. 'What did she refuse to do?' Why he took such an interest you did not know. 'My sister is simply being rash.' Although unhappy with her you still had no desire to see her in trouble. Instead of Maitimo simply deciding to leave, he continued his interest. 'In what way?' 'I am sorry...she does not mean to be bad.' Could you lie? Yet that felt wicked. 'My sister is young.'

Maitimo seemed to realize that to intrude further would be unbecoming. 'I did not receive any letters.' He said changing the topic. With a burning face you confessed that you though he would find it impertinent. To which he laughed and said you could do no harm in doing so. 'So, may I ask why you are down here?' Now that you thought about it, why was the prince here. This was the servants quarters and you were only down here to have a private conversation with Almiel. 'To get away from my brothers.' Smiling slightly, you told him of a small hiding place in the woods when your siblings acted up. 'I was not always a very good sister and daughter. It is after all my duty as the eldest to help.' Maitimo shrugged. 'I confess that to chastise you in this matter would be hypocrisy.' 'Do you hide often?' 'At times.' For some time the pair of you chattered away about siblings. You learned many things, the antics of his third eldest brother, the sneaking out at night and many more.

Sunset had fallen by the time you two broke apart. Afterwards, two days later, you wrote a letter.

Notes passed back and forth between the pair. Even after Maitimo left for his fathers castle in the mountains. About every second week there was a letter, either from you to Maitimo or the other way around. This was you found out Maitimo, aside from having a very elegant manner of writing, was a gossip. By Eru he could give you and the other ladies a run for your money. Letters were a very interesting affair.

By this time Maitimo had become a sort of facet in your life. Not overwhelming, but there. Whenever he would visit the two of you would sit and talk for a while. It was a relationship no one but the two of you knew. Although you liked your friends there was something absolutely delicious about having this secret.

And so years went by before the next great change in your relationship, where it became friendship.

The reason one would not call this a "friendship" before is because it lacked substance. There was joy to be found but it is like the acquaintance between two who regularly sit beside each other yet do not interact apart from that.

This time it was you visiting him. Or rather your mistress visiting his mother. The palace Nerdanel had been allocated upon her marriage was smaller than most but very lovely. You supposed this was the only way Nerdanel and Anarië could met up when not at Tirion. According to Maitimo his father would sooner set himself on fire than allow the "pestilent of the half-brother" enter (although Curufinwë would sooner have said invaded) his domain. Nerdanel had greeted Anarië group before everyone had tea. Once formalities were over everyone could do as their hearts desired. Here was far more relaxed than the palace. Varya, Faniel and yourself took a stroll in the large garden. Everything was overgrown and that simplicity excited you. The only downside was ílë's absence. Despite that you were determined to make the most of it.

'You must love this Y/n.' Faniel said. 'Yes this is very lovely.' 'Not doubt when you get married you will own a lovely garden.' A sinking feeling settled in the pit of your belly. gardening was not your calling. But with no gift gardening was all you could think of doing. 'Do you think Queen Indis will join us?' Varya picked some lavender. You could have kissed her with relief. 'No. At least there are no plans as of yet.' You said, disappointed. 'Well I hope so. You should know Ereme had yet to give my gold ribbon back.' Faniel huffed. 'Why not ask for it back?' Varya asked. 'I intend to. She should have given it back long ago.' 'Then you would be within your right to accost her soundly.' The two girls agreed, you remained silent. 'Could I accost someone?' You did not dare voice your worries.

Maitimo had quite suddenly strolled onto the path. In fact he had quite nearly ran into the three of you. Quickly curtsies were made. 'Rise up. I see my aunt has arrived. I must say hello...Y/n! How are you?' Both your friends looked at you in astonishment. 'V-very well.' You tried to make the smile seem natural but the stares were nearly intolerable. He did not dally very long. Soon he was off and the interrogation begun.

'You never told us!' 'What is the nature of the relationship?' 'How did the two of you meet?'

The barrage, well intentioned, made you want to flee. You told them it was hardly a relationship. That all this amounted to was writing meaningless words. Unsatisfied, they eventually stopped when it became clear you were as yielding as iron. After swearing them to silence the walk continued and nothing more was spoken. At least on that day.

'Turcafinwë!' Maitimo was not shouting at you. Still it was frightening. Normally so calm, Maitimo now seemed apoplectic with rage. You had not meant to overhear this conversation. Having been dismissed early that day, the few menial duties being done, today was given over to pleasure. Hiding behind a bush you read The Queen's Ballads, written and based off the love Queen Varda had for King Manwë. Daytime was spent enjoying stories of love when the commotion quite rudely disturbed you. Getting up you saw Maitimo towering over his silver haired brother. A few feet away was Huan, the rather large dog Turkafinwë owned.

'In the house! Turcafinwë what have it told you!' You would have ran away, and would have, had a tear not rolled down Turkafinwë's cheek. feeling moved to pity you stepped forward. 'Is everything alright?' Maitimo did a double take. 'No. We are quite alright.' His tone was clipped, eyes still on Turcawinë. Now you truly wanted to flee, but Turcafinwë looked at you so imploringly it was impossible. 'What did he do.' Shooting his brother an petulant look, he said; 'Let a filthy Huan into the house.' Looking over at the golden haired dog you saw a fine layer of mud on his paws. Oh dear. 'And now I will be the one who has to clean this mess up!' Large muddy pawprints lead their way up to the house. His anger seemed to understandable. Still, years of having to look after Cirdan and Almiel made you use to such scenes. Although never had such a large dog been brought into the house.

'Why do we not get maids or servants?' 'Because I will be blamed for this. Even though my brother here is practically grown.' 'Such is our lot.' You said, trying to take the sting out of the situation. When Maitimo still looked sour you offered to assist in the clean up. 'You need not trouble yourself.' Insisting, Maitimo eventually relented. And so for hours the three of you busily got to work. Such labor was nearly backbreaking, yet it was all worth it. As sun set the floors were practically glittering. Afterwards Turcafinwë made himself scarce. Exhausted Maitimo and yourself collapsed on the entrance stairs. 'I thank you.' 'It is no problem.' 'Ah yes. Two younger siblings.' he nodded 'I recon not as exhausting as so many brothers.' 'You speak truthfully.'

That was when you said something that transformed the relationship. Mere acquaintances rarely touch on anything too deep. Normally such sentiments are kept to those better known. But with your guard down and feeling utterly relaxed, you said; 'In truth I find it quite unfair. I mean, what if we are older? Should we constantly shoulder every burden simply on account of being born first?' Maitimo's head came up. Then he was on his feet pacing. 'You are quite right. Sometimes I find it quite infuriating.' Quite agreeing, and feeling deep seated frustration you had never given words to, you told him of how despite the love, there was resentment. 'She tore apart mummy's dress and I got the blame.' Years later the injustice still stung. Maitimo was an attentive audience. 'And your own troubles must be greater, as a prince.' He nodded. 'Tis true.' Looking out onto the sunset, you said 'If only I had the strength to tell others my feelings.' You could not imagine telling your parents this. They would be greatly disappointed and that worried you. 'Sometimes it is alright to draw a line.' The light shimmered in his bright blue eyes, and the two of you took each other in.

This was the true beginning. From that point on your relationship changed. No longer was he a mere prince but one so entrenched in your mind. Two days later Maitimo met you in the tea room and proudly told you of how he spoke to Nerdanel. 'I promise I was perfectly polite with my mother. But I told her in no uncertain terms that would I take responsibility for my siblings actions which are not of my doing.' Smiling, you congratulated him on the victory. If only you were so resolute.

This relationship brought many things to your mind. the more you bared to Maitimo the more you wondered about certain aspects of your life. Timid and shy, you told him of how you wished to be free, to make your own choices. He was sympathetic and told you of his woes concerning Curufinwë. 'It is just to very hard Y/n. He pulls me one way when my heart feels another. I love my cousins and yet he seeks to tear us apart.' As more and more was revealed you finally shared a great secret. 'I do not have a gift.' Like telling some dark secret you whispered it. Sitting in a room alone the two of you need not worry for eavesdroppers. 'Are you sure?' Maitimo questioned. 'I mean, what talent do I have? Everyone said I was good at gardening so that is what I chose.' Maitimo thought for a moment. 'What if your gift transcends such physical tasks?' 'Sorry?' You puzzled over what he had said. 'I think not everyone's gift is physical.' You gave him s small smile. 'That is kind of you to say.' 'No I mean it. What is my fathers gift?' You wasted no time in saying; 'He's a smith.' 'That is true. But it is not what sustains him, not like what music is for Maglor. It is the fire within him. His will to be great. His fire. That alone makes him great. Each elf belongs to something that makes us one with the world. An essence that dwells within us. I too have no physical gift. Sure, I excel at a great many things. But I have a feeling there is something else. Something that I belong to.' You pondered on his statement for a long time.

'See? No more garden.' Your parents had been quite shocked to find a prince come to visit. Once the walls of formality were down Maitimo did not bother with displays of majesty. He visited you as any normal person might visit a friend. Now everyone knew the prince was your friend, which was quite embarrassing. Today the two of you made war on your part of the garden. 'There. Do with this area as you will.' The two of you looked at the place where flowers and fruits once grew. You liked gardens, but laying waste to this area was liberating. When you were little mother had said this small plot of land could be yours. To do with as you wished. Feelin pressured to garden you planted there. But now it was time to truly make it yours.

The plants and fruit was not put to waste. Maitimo helped you make and make jam, and bundle up flowers to give up. Once that was done you raced back out to your plot of land and spun around. 'Look Maitimo! Its all mine!' Giggling like a child you danced on the grave of deception. Maitimo joined in the revelry, not caring how ridiculous the pair of you looked.

Your parents were to come home before dinnertime. While meat cooked in the oven you went upstairs to change. Maitimo stayed downstairs to keep an eye on things. After a while you came downstairs to find Maitimo reading. To your surprise it was The Queen's Ballads which had him so enthralled. Maitimo had once said romance books, while not wholly unappealing, were not his style. Yet it seemed he was not entirely honest. Just as you had been dishonest about your "gift". Making a noise, Maitimo jumped up blushing furiously. Nearly falling over with laughter, you tried to console him while in the grips of laughter. When you finally calmed down Maitimo looked like a tomato. It was not Maitimo reading romance that was so funny, but his abashed reaction which sparked hilarity.

'Wait no! Do not put it away.' Maitimo paused in the act of hiding his shame. 'I did not mean to tease you. Just your reaction.' Still looking abashed, Maitimo sat down. You walked over and looked to see which ballad he was on. 'Do you like this book?' he nodded. 'I thought you did not like romance.' Maitimo looked down at his feet. 'I do not mind it.' 'But why hide it?' Taking him by the chin, you tilted his face up. 'I told you my secrets, now you should tell me yours.' Your smile made him smile. And the two of you spent the remaining day reading. Just as he encouraged honesty from you, so did you in him.

When you fell in love with Maitimo one could not say. The pair of you were around each other so often it was hard to tell. Often these days he came around to court. The two of you would spent time talking about books while going on long walks. These meetings normally took place in private. It was better than way. Now that it was known the prince was your friend lots of questions were asked. Thankfully Anarië put a stop to it, and other events took their course so that soon this matter was forgotten.

Laurelin's light covered the sky in its great golden blanket. Nearly hidden by tall grass Maitimo and yourself gazed upwards. 'My father would never, imagine!' His words had merit. Curufinwë would rather pitch a fit than subject himself to the loathsome embrace of a romance novel. 'Ridiculous things.' He would say. This came from an elf who married one bar beneath him. For Nerdanel was not of royal stock, nor was she very beautiful. At least in the conventional way. It was her mind and spirit Curufinwë fell in love with. You told Maitimo their own story was quite like a romance novel itself. The pair of you nearly laughed and imagined how Maitimo's father might make of that statement.

'Your father would be the princess.' Maitimo snorted. 'Well, he is royalty.' The statement was so ridiculous Maitimo looked ready to heave up his lunch. If someone came across the field they would hear giggling. But no one did. 'What would I be then?' He asked. Sitting up with a straight far, the replied; 'The troll'. 'Hey!' He gently pocked you in the side in well humored reproach. 'What would you be then?' Maitimo had settled back down onto the ground. 'I? Why, I would be a queen.' Being silly, you stuck your nose into the air in what you felt a very good imitation of his father. 'Oh? And why is that?' You shrugged. It seems like the best roll, so long as one it not the villain. Do you not think I would make a good queen.' 'I think you would make a rather fine one.' After that, Maitimo settled into silence. You suddenly realized he was not entirely at ease. 'Maitimo?' 'Yes?' 'Are you alright.' His cheeks turned slightly pink. 'Its my grandfather the king. He wishes me to marry.' Your own face heated up. 'To whom?' He shrugged. 'They have no one in mind. But they all seem to think that because my father and uncles married early I will to. And the woman I marry may one day be a future queen.'

For the first time a sick twist of jealousy reared up within you. Slight nausea crawled in the pits of your belly. The idea of this unchosen woman (whoever she might be in the future) sickened you. It was an ugly emotion you were not entirely familiar with. Naturally you had felt jealousy before. Only never before had it been so powerful, or painful. 'Do...do you have anyone in mind?' You dared. 'No one as of yet.' This should have made you happy. Instead you felt plunged into the depths of sadness.

King Finwë was not the only one considering Maitimo's options. Those were hard days. Everyone else seemed keen to touch on the subject, everyone expect you. While countless maidens would no doubt be disappointed when someone was finally chosen, they would move on. Maitimo was merely a fantasy they would soon forget. But he was your friend and you had the horrid feeling that when he married, you would be utterly heartbroken. At night, alone in your room, you prayed to the Valar for guidance. If only there was some remedy. To either cast off these feelings or for him to return them. You liked to imagined he loved you. Yet you were convinced that was day dreaming.

'Y/n dear, are you well?' Nerdanel was an unfamiliar person to you. Kind, but not one you have ever been well acquainted with. The two of you sat in her tea room. An invitation had been issued to you by Maitimo. Having arrived early Nerdanel graciously allowed you inside. Maitimo was still out hunting with his brothers at this time. For the past few days Maitimo's future had nearly consumed you. Yesterday there had been a rumor of Maitimo being seen with an elleth. Torment had gripped you until it was revealed to be some cousin on his mothers side, not him.

'I am very well. Last night I did not sleep so well.' Nerdanel had a way of looking at you. Like she could see far beyond. Nerdanel's silver blue eyes were so like her eldest sons. But there was a depth to them no other had. Telperion's light alone could match it. 'My son is eager to see you.' Did she know? Feeling bashful, you wondered if she could truly see things. 'As am I.' You tried a smile but it was forced. 'My son sets much by you.' You nearly collapsed right then and there. 'That is...kind of him.' Trying not to stutter, it became harder by the minute to remain composed. Perhaps she did not like you. Oh Eru that would be wretched. 'My son talks a lot about you. He said the two of you met up when Huan was loose.' This time the smile was real. 'Yes. I remember that. Maitimo was quite irate.' 'I have no doubt about that. Afterwards Maitimo quite refused to deal with Turcafinwë's antics.' You wondered if she knew of your involvement in persuading him down that particular path. 'That may be for the best. His face was red as a tomato!' Idle chatter was stopped when horses came clattering into the courtyard. Standing up, the pair of you looked out the window. Maitimo's red hair was easily spotted. Nerdanel laid a strong hand on your shoulder. 'I think, Y/n, you have little to worry about. Although it will not come about of your design, I think.'

Curufinwë looked down at you with those hard grey eyes. Before you he stood, looking at you like one gazing upon something unpleasant. You had never even exchanged words with the eldest prince, only knowing of his reputation. Crimson red hung over his figure, reminding you of those childhood tales about angry spirits. His black hair hung about him like some shroud. Hands clutched each other as you attempted to remain outwardly calm. Any moment you expected him to come flying at you shrieking like some harpy. Surrounding him were other such cold hearted elves. Only ílë had been allowed to accompany you. Even with her presence you felt utterly defenseless.

'I hear you have been around my son.' He made it sound like you were some leech, rather than his sons friend. You tried to say something, anything to defend yourself. A look of outrage crossed his face and you wanted to flee. Fainting seemed preferable. 'Have you anything to say?' Shaking your head, you considered running, pride be damned. Your silence only seemed to spur him on. 'It would seem you have taken to my son Maitimo in some way. You are often seen together, you in his wake. I wonder what you mean by it.' Finally, you spoke. 'We are simply friends.' The words were weak, pitiful. Yet Curufinwë seemed to hold no pity. 'If you are a spy, which I believe you to be, then I will seek retribution! Do not think be blind of my half-brothers machinations! A sly cunning creature you may be, but I am not to be fooled. Do not think me like some young love smittened boy. Is that what you think I am!'

This was worse than you had imagined. Tears welled up in your eyes, body shaking. An elf, looking worried, leaned over and whispered something to Cururfinwë. 'Are you bought by this display!' He turned on his companion. The elf bowed and stepped back. His companions were starting to look uncomfortable. Curufinwë did not seem to notice, or at least not care. His attention was back on you, his victim. 'The house of Nolofinwë will not be intertwined with me and mine. This foolish girl is not fit for my sons company. I will speak with my father the king and he will deal with you. Now get out!'

You fled, ílë hot on your heals. Sobs bubbled from your throat in painful gasped. Everything swam before you in the race to safety. Like a wild animal was chasing after you, you ran, not even noticing ílë calling out. Reaching your room you slammed the door shut and slid to the ground. For how long you cried one could not say. Eventually someone did knock and you stumbled to your feet. There on the threshold stood Anarië. 'Your poor girl.' She pulled you into a warm embrace. For a moment you stood there rigidly, then relaxed and cried anew. Once you were suitably calm she lead you to bed. 'Warm tea and a good nights sleep. You need not attend me tomorrow.' Someone pushed back the covers. Slipping into bed you were given a cup. A taste of mint, and you started to doze off. Soon you slipped into sleep, Anarië's thin fingers stroking your hair.

You did not witness the next days happenings. But Faniel, Varya and ílë regaled you with the details. Apparently Curufinwë had gone to the king, who agreed to your banishment. But the next morning Anarië had stormed in and brought her brother-in-law to task. There had been an uproar as the two exchanged words, none kind. Eventually the king and Nolofinwë had to break them apart. After both had pleaded their cases the king made his final decision. You would only temporarily be sent away, and not officially. It stung that you were to suffer such a punishment, but it was the best that could be done. The next day your things were packed up. Your friends and lady bid farewell. 'We will see you soon.' Promised Anarië taking your hands. Her words made you want to seep. She had been so kind. Giving a curtsey, you said; 'I thank you for your kindness.' And with one last look at the devastated look on your friends faces, you were gone.

Your parents were sympathetic. Rather than chastise you for improper conduct, they were kind. Your mother ranted about Curufinwë, saying things you did not think she would say. 'This shame is not on you, but that odious prince!' Home was much the same as it had been since both its daughters left. Cirdan was still at home. Nearly an adult, he was good at writing. His room was filled with scrolls and books. Days were spent listening to his thoughts of various writers, and what he would create next. Staying at home was not so terrible. You received plenty of letters from friends and Almiel. Old acquaintances greeted you warmly. Everything seemed well, so despite the injustice of it all you felt better.

Once the shock had worn off you now had the chance to think on your situation. Every time you remembered Curufinwë's chastisement your face burned with anger. Everyone you spoke to agreed this was badly done. If only you could tell Curufinwë yourself. One could dream. Missing your friends, it became hard to make new ones. You sent a note to each of them, this was not the end. Maitimo's letter was the hardest to write. Apologizing for all the trouble caused, you begged his pardon and offered to give space if so desired. Crying, you had sent it out with a heavy heart. Perhaps you were not wholly innocent. He was likely suffering because of your friendship. Believing this was the end you swept for days.

Some nights you slipped out of the house into the woods. Cloak obscuring your identity, the lonely figure with a broken heart wandered into its shadows. Telperion as your only light you traveled down old paths half forgotten. On your neck was a pendant bearing the insignia of Nienna. May the Lady of tears take mercy on you. All you could think of doing was waiting for things to get better.

You would go back home, where your parents absolutely forbid you from ever speaking from Maitimo again. Reluctantly you consented out of habit.

"Hello, I hope this is not an intrusion. I am here to see your daughter Y/n.' Maitimo's voice made you nearly drop the book. Hardly daring to believe it you stood up on shaking legs. Presently you were completely unprepared for visitors, much less a prince. Even if he was a friend. Grabbing a robe to throw over your evening dress, you stood there frozen in your room. A knock sounded at your door and mother pocked her head in. 'Y/n, you have a friend.' Nervously you followed her down the stairs. Standing by the entrance was Maitimo. He did not look angry, on the contrary Maitimo looked delighted to see you. 'Y/n, I hope you are well.' Coming down the steps you unconvincingly told him everything just fine. Naturally no one believed this, poor liar that you were.

Maitimo had suggested a walk, just the two of you. Likely for the best as this was not something your parents needed to witness. Walking into the woods you followed Maitimo, all the while wondering what to say. Convinced Maitimo was here to break things off you tried to remain calm. 'Do not cry.' Not that you were ever good at this. Emotional by nature you were disposed to weeping. Every step sent leaves rustling on the ground. Each time you wondered when Maitimo would speak.

'I am sorry for what my father said.' 'Its alright.' 'No it is not. I will have you know the pair of us have hardly spoken to one another since.' This did not make you feel any better. 'Please do not on my account. I would hate to be the cause of any discord within your family.' Maitimo snorted. 'If anyone had caused trouble it is my father.' 'Does he truly believe I am a spy?' Maitimo sighed. 'I hardly know the mind of my own father.' For a few more steps the pair of you walked. 'When will you come back to court. I plan to stay a while longer.' Feeling a chill you replied; 'I do not know. Your aunt may call upon me soon.' 'Happy to hear that. I miss your presence.' Did he still desire your friendship? The momentary elation was quickly quashed with the knowledge that this could not continue. He was already in enough trouble as it was. And who is to say he will continue this friendship. At the walks end you promised Maitimo your friendship, not having the bravery to indicate otherwise.

Maitimo stood before you, arms crossed. For the first time he had a frown on his face. Anarië had summoned you back to court after a short time. Thankfully Curufinwë had left with most of his family. Most except his wife and eldest son. Avoiding Maitimo you had kept to your tasks. Two weeks past in this vain, until Maitimo tracked you down. 'Sorry. Lady Anarië requires my attendants.' Eyes downcast, you tried to hold back the tears. 'Have I given a reason for offense.' Tea rattled in its cup. 'I hold nothing against you My Prince. You have given me no offense.' To your surprise Maitimo's hands touch yours. Looking up, you realized his eyes were oddly bright. You felt like dying right then and there. For the first time you felt small, something disgusting and worthless. Many time in your life you had felt lesser, but never like this. Because you could not help not having a gift. Yet you had made the decision, completely of your own free will, to hurt him. You tried to convince yourself that this was for the best. In truth you had not the heart the pursue this. With no fire burning in your soul, you could not stand up to royalty or handle a broken heart, which would solely be the outcome of all this.

'My father sees sense Y/n. We do not love each other and....and he knows that now.' Nothing could have hurt more than those words. What sin had you committed that the Valar should punish you so harshly? A tear rolled down your cheek. Immediately Maitimo pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the tears. While meant to be comforting it only threw you into greater turmoil. His words and touch hurt more than if he had slapped you. You knew it would come to this. Maitimo would never come to love you. And in time he would completely forget about some silly little girl who once loved him.

'I beg your pardon, My Prince. But we can no longer continue this friendship. It grieves me to hurt you so, but it is best if we part ways.' For a few moments Maitimo stares at you. There was a mixture if hurt and shock on his face that made you want to weep. For a few moments he just looked at you with those eyes. Eyes that were a mixture if blue and grey, giving them a silver look in Laurelin's light. 'Is this because of my father. For I can assure you he will do no such thing again. My aunt and the king brought him to task for it.' Any other might have felt relief at such words. But the warnings from your parents and Curufinwë overpowered your personal desires. All your life you had obeyed the commands of others. So engrained in you it was that to do elsewise was beyond you. And so you acted their decision.

'I am sorry.' Was all you could say. And you could hear his breath pick up. Avoiding his eyes you looked to the floor. Maitimo's stance suddenly changed. You felt him go ridged before saying; 'Very well. I bid you good day, My Lady.' Formally he bowed, turned on his heel. and left. Watching Maitimo go you could only think of the look in his eyes. He left you alone in that hall with only loneliness and self disgust for you inner weakness.

When your parents said you best come home it was obeyed. Anarië was sad to see you go. Faniel and Varya were sad to see you go, and ílë was nearly in tears. The room you had lived in for years was emptied of all your things. It went back to the cold room you arrived in long ago. Never did you imagine coming into Anarië's service would cause you such pain. Once this place had felt foreign, bit leaving it made you feel empty. All your friends would be torn from you. And Maitimo...oh what had you done. He was a Tirion no longer, having gone to his fathers castle. There was no farewell, no last words. You thought he hated you. And one day you would be a mere memory. He would move on and find another more worthy of his love. And you would whither away dreaming of what could have been. This state was most hateful and it had been of your own making.

It rained all the way back to home. Cold rain and strong wind battered against the carriage. Beating and raging, you felt a strange satisfaction. Unable to express your full pain in any meaningful form you liked to think the weather expressed it. From Tirion to home the pain accompanied you, and lingered longer. When you arrived on their footstep your mother pulled you in close. Weeping in her arms you did not tell her the full extent of your pain. Never before had you felt so small. Like a child you had allowed everyone to pull you where they willed. You might as well be a child for all the good that did.

You bedroom was done up. Mother had placed flowers on your night table and windowsill. The sheets smelled like lavender like all those years ago. Books suited to your tastes sat in the bookshelf, waiting for you to read them. Anyone would think this the loveliest room in all of Valinor. But as the door shut behind you, it felt like a prison.

The story might have ended there. In fact, your role in this chapter had ended. Your part was played, your use spent. Now all that was left was the actions of others more willful than yourself. There were however three who still had their part to play. In Tirion palace two women stayed up and pondered what to do. Almiel had plead with Indis that she might take a short break. Once granted she speed of the Nerdanel's castle were her eldest son currently resided. Lady Anarië pondered over Y/n's condition. She was not blind to the situation and her eldest son had told her of Maitimo's plight. So that very night she picked up her pen and wrote three letters. Almiel would see Maitimo first. She convinced him of her sisters great love for him. Shortly there after he and Nerdanel received letters. Anarië pleaded Y/n's case so effectively that Maitimo immediately set out.

One fine summers day you sat looking out a window. The market just a few blocks away brought most of the town to its stalls. You watched couples go, arm in arm and felt miserable. Worst yet, it was partly one of your own making. You wondered what Maitimo was doing now. Was he still wroth? You wondered how you might act once news would come of his marriage. That would be an evil day for you. How would you be able to bear it? You imagined walking arm in arm towards the market, in a world where you made the decisions. Your imagination was so overcoming that you could actually see him.

A tall elf with tumbling red hair was walking towards your house. At first you thought it a mere illusion before he looked up and Maitimo's eyes met yours. You could hardly believe it. What was he doing here? Remaining seated, you watched him knock on the door and your parents greet him. Soon he was on the second floor. For a moment the two of you simply stared before he walked over. Kneeling down, he took your hand in his. 'Y/n, if you would hear my case then please listen. I know there are those who would have us part, but I want you to know that is not my wish. Nor do I think it yours. So if you will have me, I swear to love and cherish you to the end of my days. But if you say no then I will press you no further. I leave the choice in your hands. Send be a letter with your answer.' He pressed a kiss to your hands, bid you goodbye, and left.

Afterwards you parents were won over. They saw what you desired and championed his and your cause. And so that night you wrote a letter.

Maitimo slide the silver band on your finger. Applause erupted throughout the great hall as hundreds who had assembled to witness the marriage of Curufinwë's eldest son, stood up. Rainbow flooded into the hall as as light came through stain glass windows. All your friends and family had come. A crown resembling daisies intertwined sat upon your head, a dress white as snow fluttering with every move. As you advanced down the stairs well wishers pilled in and it took nearly and hour to leave. The fresh morning air was a blessed relief as the pair of you walked towards the carriage. Now inside and alone, Maitimo took you by the chin and pressed a kiss to your lips. His eyes were so beautiful. Cradled close, you had never felt so loved. But there was one thing looming over you. This should have been the happiest day of your life. The day you married the elf you loved. But you knew that despite your merry state, you had hardly played a role in it.

Notes:

I want to thank everyone for being so patient in waiting for part two. It has been a few months but I want you guys to know I have not abandoned this fic. Part two was a bit difficult to write as I kept changing things about the readers backstory 😅. The next chapter will not take as long (hopefully).

I wanted this chapter the demonstrate the readers lack of autonomy in her own narrative. She makes very few decisions in her own life. It is only when others such as Almiel take action that she is able to accomplish her desires. While the reader certainly consents to the marriage others are the driving forces. In a way this links her with Maitimo's plight later on. Maitimo and his brothers follow their father with full faith in his guidance. Despite the fact they are full grown the sons seem to find it difficult to disobey Feanor. Although Maitimo does refuse to burn the ships, showing he is more likely to disobey than the rest, there is still that compulsion to follow. We will get more into Maitimo in the next chapter. After chapter 3 we will have less flashbacks.

Daisies have several different associations in various cultures however they are usually affiliated with attributes such as humility and innocents. They are a reflection of the readers current world before everything went down. This will be brought up again in later chapters.

The frigid air of Angband cruelly caressed Maehdros’ body as he hung, limp and numb, from the mountainside of Thangorodrim. He craned his head at the golden light that peaked above the horizon. It was so strange - it was a light eerily familiar with Laurelin.

He had met you there - under the golden tree of Valinor. The pink blush of your dress matched the Yuletide decorations and complimented your buoyant smile. It was one that he had soon begun to detest. 

He’d refrained from burning the ships at Losgar for the sake of you and his dear friend Fingon, through whom he had met you, but that wasn’t something he had ever cared to admit. No, he feared what his father might do to him in wrath were he to admit it. But that wasn’t to say that the indignation that his father felt to quite literally everyone of the Eldar save a precious few wasn’t a growth in the caverns of his own mind. The friendship that blossomed between the two of you had long been neglected and cast away. 

It could have been a trick of Morgoth’s. It was not out of character for the fallen Vala to torment Maedhros with impersonations of loved one’s and visions of the peaceful life he led before leaving home. Teasing him with memories and voices and phantom touches was something Morgoth seemed to take pleasure in, and though Maedhros had - wrongly - begun to harbor ill will towards you for a short while, Morgoth didn’t seem to mind taking full advantage of your memory from time to time. 

“Friends? A lover?” Morgoth would say as Maedhros reached out his free hand to take yours and kiss it under Laurelin’s light like he did that day upon your first meeting, only to prod his fingers at nothing but the biting cold air of Angband, “It would seem they have forsaken you, even in memory.”             

It was not, in fact, a picture of the light of the tree. Emerging over the horizon was a fiery orb hung in the sky, beautiful and terrible and, quite frankly, frightening. Maedhros had never seen anything like it. If it was an illusion, it was most certainly not one made of memory. 

Metal flickered in the blazing light, and when a rich, clear sound echoed off the mountainside, Maedhros recognized the gleaming gold to be the gold of the trumpets of Fingolfin.

He couldn’t really say he felt any bitterness or contempt as he watched the blue banners arise over the hills in the West. There was no resentment or hatred rising up in his throat like bile. After countless days (years? decades?) hung on the mountainside, Maedhros couldn’t really feel anything but desperation. 

Years of enmity were lost on his mind as he cried out to his kin marching over the hills. His voice was strong; his cries echoed on the rocks and down into the valley. He made no notion to stop, no matter how hoarse his throat would be or how cruel and fierce his lashings of penance.

Harsher still was the response of Fingolfin’s host - or rather, the absence of a response. 

______________________________________________________________________________

Turgon was the first to spot the great bird hurrying toward Hithlum bearing his brother and his cousin. He cried out in astonishment, and a hundred more gasps followed his own. Surprise soon turned to horror. 

Blood poured out of Maedhros, but from where could not be seen lest he was unswaddled. His face was contorted in anguish, and he clutched onto Fingon like a vice.

Despite the years of disregard he displayed for your relationship and the resulting contempt you festered for him, you almost pitied him. Almost.

You didn’t move as Fingon dismounted the great bird, only stared at the shrunken body of someone once loved and once loathed. Nothing stirred in your gut at the sight of him like it should have. There was no fierce rage blistering your insides as you watched Fingon carry Maedhros across the concrete in Hithlum like years of friendship had not been tossed to the wind - as Maedhros, unworthy as he was, re-entered your life, at least for the moment in thought. There was no real pity enveloping your now-still heart as you watched the black-haired archer haul his dear friend - your friend - to the healing rooms. 

You wished you hadn’t looked.

Amidst the blood and dirt that caked his skin you saw Maedhros’ once gleaming eyes wild and frantic. You adored when those eyes were warm and kind and you loathed him when they were cold and piercing, but something entirely gut-wrenching crept under your skin as you saw Maedhros Fëanorion in utter agony and panic. 

You shrugged, then turned away and made your way to your chambers. He’d lost too much blood - if he made it to the morrow he’d not remember you, or the tears that he surely would have seen pooled up in your eyes upon his return. 

______________________________________________________________________________

It seemed that even though Maedhros wouldn’t remember the day’s events, he was determined to make sure everyone else would. His cries of anguish were indescribable; his screams unlike any you had ever heard before, even crossing the Grinding Ice. You had tossed and turned for well over half the night, and you were about to visit the healers, well, the ones that weren’t occupied with Maedhros, if there were any, for some sleep inducing herbs when a knock sounded at your door.

“Are you awake?” came the voice of Aredhel. You did not bother to cover yourself before you answered. She wore a grave look on her face - one she had not worn since Elenwë had passed. Her eyes were tired and her brow was taught. Her lips were puckered slightly and set in a straight line. Her voice was quiet.

“He is calling for you.”

The screaming stopped for a moment as the words settled. Out of an old habit that had not quite died, you nearly reached for your slippers and robe. You stopped yourself and let out a sharp breath.

“Will you not come?”

Aredhel had been alienated from the sons of Fëanor, just like you had. She knew what it felt like to be separated from friends, from family, but it was unlikely that she knew the weight of her request.

You scoffed, “No.”

“Nesa, plea-”

“Tell Findekano to color his hair,” you said sarcastically, “and find a gown that flatters him. I doubt any of mine will fit. The patient is tired. He will take the ba-”

“Nesa!” Aredhel said, new vigor in her tone, “Please.”

Another scream rang out. Aredhel’s eyes glossed over and she elongated a blink. She was exasperated, however much she tried to conceal it for selflessness’ sake, and desperate. 

You sighed, “Let me get dressed.” 

You couldn’t tell if the sound of your boots against the marble floor had become significantly louder than you last remembered it or if you were subconsciously stomping your way to the halls of healing to drown out Maedhros’ cries. In his defense, he had admittedly gotten quieter; it could have been because his pain was lessening, it could have been because his throat was hoarse. Your steps weren’t deliberately quick, but the irritation that was held behind each one made it seem like you were eager to be somewhere. You stopped abruptly a few feet away from the door. You heard him let out a guttural groan before inhaling sharply.

You took a long, deep breath before opening the door. 

“Thank Eru you're here,” you heard Fingon say, “He won’t stop begging for you. It was getting worse and worse, albeit his condition has improved.” 

You grimaced. The smell of blood and desperation filled the air. Maids and aides were rushing in and out of the room, still unable to keep up with the clean water and dressing despite the improvement. How bad was it? 

Your feet, once trampling under you down the hall, now felt heavy and slow as you made your way to the chair by the bed. Your robes would have to be thrown away - you were sure whatever liquid that was in the floor and soaking into them was not clean water. It was a shame. You liked these robes - long and golden and royal blue. They made you look taller. 

His eyes had no tears in them - perhaps he’d cried himself dry - as he looked at you. His face was twisted and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. Your eyes trailed to his neck and to his chest, where numerous smaller bandages were fastened. When your eyes fell lower, you found yourself horrified. 

His right hand was gone. 

That had been where all the blood was coming from, you concluded. You watched with widened eyes as one of the healers wrapped the bleeding nub tightly with another clean cloth. The blood, though still pouring out profusely, seemed to be letting up a bit. 

You met his eyes again. They were as blue as ever, and even Morgoth himself couldn’t douse the fire inside them, but they were glistening and frightened and desperate. They widened as he saw you again.

“No!” he shouted, “Leave me alone!”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Fingon and Aredhel both said he called for you, and for what?  So he could send you away? What a waste of your time! You took a step closer, despite his protests. 

“I told you to leave!”

You said nothing.

“But my lord,” said a healer gently, “You called for them - said it was someone that loved you.” 

He looked to the healer and made a near snarl, “Do not patronize me!” He turned to you. “You are the worst enemy I have ever had!”

Ah.

You reluctantly made your way to the chair next to the bed as the aid tried to reason with him, to no avail. He lashed out at you with his left hand. You stopped him firmly with your right. 

“Maedhros,” you said, and for a moment he looked at you and seemed a child again, unmarred and burdened not with the grief of the East, “I am not Morgoth, and you are not in Angband. You are in Hithlum. You are safe.”

 He seemed, for a moment, at comfort, and though his turmoil did not leave him, he despaired no longer.

You sat with him in silence for a long while, but it was not a comfortable silence. He tried to make conversation with you, perhaps to distract himself, or perhaps because in his delirious state, he thought you wanted to be there.

You suppressed a scoff. To watch him bleed? After all he’d done to you, though, maybe he thought you’d like it. 

Time dragged on. For a while, the healers insisted you stay until he was asleep. As the night grew older and your thoughts wandered to memory, you found yourself staying not at the healers’ request, but at your own free will.

Maedhros had done terrible things, yes - though he wasn’t as active as his father in Alqualonde and he didn’t burn the ships, he had pledged himself to you. He had made a promise under pain and longsuffering - one that he had broken. But how much pain, and how much longsuffering before he was vindicated? Before his transgressions annulled? Were they reconciled when he was taken, or when his hand came off? You couldn’t help but pity him.

It was a pain you knew too well. 

Crossing the Helcaraxe had been hard on everyone, and losing your left hand didn’t make it any easier. Losing it was painful and healing hurt more, but nothing was as detrimental as what came next. At first, you had been the ‘funny aunt’ to Idril who could use puppets on her arm, and a beacon of hope and a picture of determination to a young Aredhel, but as time went on, you found themselves looking at you with poorly hidden pity, eyes clouded over like storm clouds amongst stars at a masquerade ball. 

But it was not pity that Maedhros really needed - no. It was redemption. 

His disregard for those he claimed to love was prominent, proved at his departure and highlighted by his actions. But his father had gone mad and his grandfather was killed. He was in a tight spot. Was he truly evil at heart? It seemed cruel to expect him to compromise, what with part of him already compromised. But how else was he to be redeemed? Was he to fast? Or to cut off his hair like Fingon had his hand?  Was he to kneel on your doorstep for one hundred days, begging for vindication? For your forgiveness?

You could give him that - forgiveness. It was far-fetched, or so you thought, to bargain for unearned forgiveness when he had a bucketload of consequences that were to come with his actions - a lack of your love and tender care that he once had being one of them.

Your mother would chide you. Forgiveness was to be given freely. Only Mandos himself and only by leave of Mawë could mercilessness be wrought, and whether or not a person was deserving of it was not for any of the Eldar to decide, not even the greatest. It was something you struggled with as a child - after all, anyone could hurt you, but that didn’t matter as long as they couldn’t hold a grudge to rival your own, right?

Maedhros stirred. You let go of his hand - when had you reached for it? - as if it burned and stood abruptly. Dawn was upon you. His body was broken. You knew the emotional turmoil he would soon undergo, and you doubted he would make it. He could reckon his fortune for forgiveness with the Decider himself. 

______________________________________________________________________________

You slept throughout the next day, though no rest came to you. Memories and subtle convictions plagued your mind. At last, late in the afternoon, you decided to have a bite to eat and get some fresh air. 

Thirty pairs of eyes followed your form, breaths held and shoulders tense as you made your way to the kitchens of Hithlum. You had not toyed with the prospect of being bombarded with questions about the state of the Noldorin prince, but, you supposed, it was for the better. You knew little about his condition as of today, and you wished you knew less than you did. 

Despite the beauty of the day, a cloud of tension stalked Hithlum eerily. The gardens were almost too quiet. If you hadn’t any fear of being caught, you would have talked to the spotted swan orchids potted near the bench. 

You sat in silence for a moment and rued leaving your room, beginning to doze off after you had decided to rouse and go about. You jumped when the bench shifted underneath you.

“I don’t suppose you're the worst enemy I’ve ever had.”

You sighed and looked down at the bowl in your hands, elbows resting on your knees. “That isn’t what you said last night,” you said, “Or all those years ago, for that matter.”

Maedhros fell silent for a moment. “I know.”

It seemed as if the both of you had a bubble around one another, and the proximity forced them to squish and mold against one another. It was only a matter of time before one of them would pop, leaving you vulnerable and Maedhros even more so.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a long, awkward while.

You said nothing.

“Melda, please-”

“Do not call me that.”

He let out a broken sigh and hid his face away from you. Not that you were looking. His mouth contorted into a grimace, and tears pricked his eyes.

“Woe is me!” He said suddenly and quietly, but his voice grew louder, “Woe is me! And woe is the day I left you on those white shores! Now I am at a loss - of a love and of a limb. My departure was the greatest of my misdeeds. I shall rue it, and of all my fell deeds, leaving you behind shall be accounted as the worst.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little smug at his admittance. 

“I see that hanging by your wrist for thirty years has not quipped that tongue of yours.”

“No,” he replied, “And I fear nothing ever shall. But for the will of my tongue, I’d have all that I have ever wanted by now - all that I have wished for while hanging from that precipice. How now shall I go on?”

“Do not be a fool,” you said, rather harshly, but years of biting winds and boots filled with snow will make a person harsh, “What is done is done. There is no use lamenting what once was, for by lament alone it shall not come again to be.”

“If you would hear my lament,” he said, “Then maybe you would forgive me.”

You straightened your posture. “You have not asked my forgiveness - and do not do so yet! You have a great deal to learn before you can be reconciled, if I see fit.”

He raised his eyebrows, “If you see fit? I beg your pardon, but was I false to hope that you might hear my plea? Did you lose your mercy and compassion on your journey?”

“I lost many things.”

Maedhros squared his shoulders towards you. His eyes trailed down your frame, and then widened. His breath hitched, and a tense silence befell you both.

“I am sorry,” he said after a while. His voice was timid and shy. Even in begging your forgiveness, the Fearnorian pride that tainted his blood did not cower; his words were ever confident, ever secure in their purpose. Upon looking at your left arm, which his right now mimicked, his boldness left him.

“Hush. You are bold to ask forgiveness of your misdeeds towards me, but you did not cut off my hand.”

He said nothing. For a moment. Your posture straightened. His, though you were now vulnerable to him, slouched. 

“Then forgiveness I do not ask of you,” Maedhros said, “only one thing, if your kindness would go so far: council. I do not know what to do next - how I am to relearn all that I have known.”

“It is a long process, even for the greatest of the Eldar - even for one filled with the light of Valinor,” you replied, “It will end, but it feels like it never will.”

“What does it feel like?”

White shores flashed across your eyes. You could feel your mother’s disappointed gaze burning into your back. Green lights came into your peripheral, and for a moment you could feel Turgon’s embrace and Idril’s excited shivering. Your mouth twitched into a fleeting smile. Then there was a crack, and a splash, and a woman’s scream and a man’s desperate pleas to the gods - whichever ones were listening, Manwë or Ulmo or Melkor himself. You gripped the bench with your right hands. Your heart beat increased and a weight fell upon your arm like heavy stones. A thousand tiny needles pricked your skin. You began to feel stiff and lifeless. This time, there were no harp-calloused hands hauling you to the dry, and the weight on your wrist only got heavier. Your eyes flew open.

“Cold,” you said quietly, and shuddered, “As if the chill was drawn from all the waters and the ground and the winds of Eä and even the cold of the souls of the wicked, and then sewn onto my bones.”

You slowly reached with your right hand towards what used to be your left.

“And sometimes, I feel stiff - like my hand has been covered in tar and I cannot move it,” you continued, “And sometimes, there is nothing.” 

Maedhros did not dare meet your eyes.

“They will look at you with such pity that maybe their gazes will regrow it, but they will not. Until they know your power, your will, your resolve, until deep down they fear you, they will whisper to one another how unfortunate you are to have suffered such a loss. Your arm will heal, but until you have surpassed resolution and have become fortitude incarnate, you will not again be well.” 

Maedhros didn’t respond at first. He sat for a good long while, unsure of whether you were talking about your hand or something entirely different. Your gaze was directed towards the morning glories climbing up the Western stairs, but your eyes were somewhere far off from the gardens of Hithlum. 

“How do you bear it, then,” he said, “Until it does heal?”

“There isn’t anything for it,” you replied, “Except to bear it. In Valinor, maybe, you would heal in time tenfold. Though, from what I heard, providence in Valinor is not an option.”

“No, it is not. But I have told you already, it is my greatest regret. And you have said it yourself: what is done is done.” His eyes were filled with determination, but void of all hope. 

The sun began to set, and the two of you sat together late into the night. Memories floated about your mind of your life before your departure - before his departure, and sooner or later your mind drifted to your memories with him. Some were good memories, but most were not. His departure - his oath - replayed over and over in your mind. 

“Why did you do it?” you said, “Why did you leave?”

He was quiet for a moment, and you couldn’t tell if he was hesitant or thoughtful.

“I would have left all the same, I suppose,” he said, finally, “or been forced out, anyways. A man will be worthy of his father’s name or be tainted by it  - after the attack at Alqualonde, I do not know which would have been worse.”

You seemed unsatisfied with his answer, but what he told you was the truth - and he knew of nothing else that would satisfy you, not even a lie. 

“I would have loved you all the same,” you said.

He let out a sharp breath, “Would you have?”

You cast your gaze down. “I have endured bitter cold and hardships across the Grinding Ice. What is time to the Eldar? But it is my greatest loss. I loved you even then.”

He stood, abruptly, and knelt in front of you, clasping your right hand with his left. “You knew what I had done then. Can you not love me now?”

You retracted your hand, “You think too highly of yourself. My love for you is trapped under the ice; miles now lie between memories.”

“You held it in your left hand, then,” he reached again for you and found your wrist. “I have given my right in atonement. Is that not enough? Shall I give my left? I gladly will.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you said, “By your right hand you were fell and your deeds were wicked, but by your left you may yet be forgiven. Convince me.”

“What will it take?”

“What will you give?”

“I have told you already,” said Maedhros, “if that is not enough, then I will give you everything.”

You searched his blue eyes for a lie or a fault, but you found none. Your resolve nearly broke when his eyes roamed across your face, searching desperately for your reaction. Would it break him - for you to tell him to get lost? No. He had endured so much, and he did not break you when he was separated from you the first time. You imagined vividly enough to make yourself believe that he would break, and soon had yourself convinced that it was mercy that led you to give him his chance.

“Sit up. Hold me for a while like you did long ago,” you said, “Let me think, and perhaps my terms will not be too great.”

It was not mercy. Forgiveness was difficult, even more so if one’s wounds had gone untreated for too long; but perhaps it would come a little easier if you found solace from your afflictions in the careful embrace of your guilt-ridden afflicter. Your heart stopped at his touch, and though you knew it wasn’t forgiveness, something welled up in your heart that made you wish that things were not as they were, or at the very least, that they could go back to the way things had been.