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As the swan-ship fleet made ready for mooring on the shores of Losgar, Makalaurë noted how things had changed in his absence. What had been the long sprawling encampment of the entire Fëanárian Host when he left, had since shrunk to less than tenth of its size and was fashioned into a small, defensible outpost.Elves from around the outpost came and aided in speeding up the docking process. Meanwhile others milled about the tents that still stood around, and some went about their duties further inland from the beach where a few wooden cabins and one larger log house with a stone base had been built. There were also two guard towers in sight, and what looked to be an unfinished wall, work visibly still in progress, raised around the surrounding area.“I suppose we won’t be meeting with the High King here,” Findekáno sidled up beside Makalaurë, as he sized up the tiny outpost from their perch on the prow. “So it would seem,” the minstrel answered, his eyes scanning the faces of elves. None of them were of his family.“They must have long moved inland,” he mused.A hand slipped into the Fëanorion’s, and he tore his gaze away from his search to glance at Findekáno. His cousin’s face shone with kindness and hope, and it was hard not to feel unworthy being under such regard.“Then we will follow and catch up to them,” Findekáno easily said.Makalaurë couldn’t help but return that statement with a smile. Being able to smile still caught him off guard, he hadn’t done so ever since the Trees’ light went out, and it was all thanks to Maitimo’s beloved. His beloved too now, if they hadn’t terribly misunderstood his brother’s hints.His eyes slipped back to the outpost before them, and said, “We’ll have to tell whoever’s in charge of this place that your father’s Host won’t all fit within their walls.”“Work...” Findekáno huffed.Makalaurë unsuccessfully suppressed a snort of laughter at his dejected face, knowing his recently acquired lover would rather run off to explore their new surroundings than sit by Nolofinwë’s side with the elf who commanded this outpost and discuss logistics for hours. Having watched Findekáno hoist sails and row along with their crew ‘till his arms were numb for weeks on end made it all the more comical that having done all that he considered being forced to sit still in a council meeting the harder job.To cheer him up Makalaurë pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, then pulled Findekáno by the hand to finally disembark.Nolofinwë and all his children, nephews and niece, along with his sister Lalwendë were slowly gathering down at the beach as the pair joined them. They both took their places at either of his side, Findekáno as his father’s heir, and Makalaurë being the eldest son of the High King present whose faction this outpost belonged to.“Your Highnesses,” a brunette nís with an eight-pointed star on her cloak bounded up to the royal family. Her braids announced her as a scholar of some rank, though a sword and dagger were belted to her hip.She came to a stop before Nolofinwë and bowed.“Welcome to the Fëanárian Outpost of Losgar.”“Thank you, Lady...” Nolofinwë politely trailed off, and the nís took the opportunity to introduce herself.“Hyaliniel, Your Highness. I am captain of this outpost under My Lord’s command.”“And your Lord-”“Apologises for not coming to greet you personally,” Hyaliniel cut in, “but he is very busy. If Your Highness would follow me, I can lead you to his office.”Nolofinwë inclined his head in agreement. The captain turned around and began walking towards the wooden buildings farther away, and the whole Finwëan group followed her.They were led inside the large log house. The interior was warm and airy, with candles illuminating their way. They passed a couple of doors left and right before Hyaliniel stopped before one and knocked.“Enter!” called a familiar, already irritated voice from the other side, and the captain opened the door.Nolofinwë and his sister entered behind her, followed by Findekáno and Makalaurë, and as she reported to her Lord of their arrival, the Fëanorion could already see that not even half of their cousins’ would be able to squeeze into the office. That didn’t mean they did not make a valiant effort of it, with Findaráto pressed against Makalaurë’s back, while Turukáno managed to get stuck in the doorway along with one half of Aikanáro’s body and one of the Ambarussar’s arm and shoulder. And based on the muttered arguing and a pained grunt from someone in the background it was a safe bet that Írissë had thrown an elbow in an effort to fight her way through, though without much success.“Morifinwë,” he heard his uncle say, and Makalaurë turned his attention to the office’s occupant at that.“Greetings, Half-Uncle,” Carnistir drawled behind a wide desk, not even bothering to look up. He was busy penning something into a ledger, while his other hand flew over an abacus. There were also stacks of parchment and letters piled onto the tabletop, as well as a slate lying atop the organised mess, filled with calculations in chalk. A Fëanorian lamp affixed to a chain on the ceiling gave him the light under which he worked, and whatever faint glimmer the stars produced streamed through the window behind him.His hair was braided back for practicality, only one or two golden hairclips gleaming against the dark of his strands. He wore a deep red robe in the colour of Fëanáro’s House, with intricate embroidery decorating his sleeves, likely stitched by his own hand. Makalaurë looked him over with an older brother’s eye, and though he could see that Carnistir was overworked by the tension in his shoulders and the slight squint with which he peered down at his ledger, he otherwise looked good, healthy and in his element.“Almost half a year by the reckoning of the stars, but you have managed to get across the sea,” Carnistir commented, tone flat. It was always difficult to determine whether his wooden speech was a result of a divided attention or plain simple rudeness directed at those who dared to interrupt him or he had deemed guilty of the crime of finding their entire existence annoying.“The stars?” Findekáno asked.“The locals my father had made contact with, who call themselves Sindar, have been keeping track of the passage of time by observing the path of the constellations wheeling above us,” Carnistir explained. He scribbled something in a flourish that was likely his signature, then after putting the stopper over the inkwell and cleaning his quill with a rag, he leaned back heavily in his chair.“Apparently our forefathers once knew this as well, even Grandfather too, but was never passed down to the later generations.”“As fascinating as this is, and I am sure we will take the time to learn it ourselves, there are more urgent matters to discuss,” Nolofinwë interrupted. “Our host needs to be placed somewhere while we stay at your outpost, and I would like to know where Fëanáro and the rest of his forces went, and any other information that is of import.”In that moment a crash sounded from the door and all turned to see what happened. It turned out to be Turukáno, Aikanáro, and Ambarussa had all ended up on the floor, with Írissë stepping on top of the pile of bodies looking smug and victorious. The rest of their siblings and cousins who were left outside the office, peered inside the room, and Ambarussa (the one not on the floor) waved at his older brother with a cheerful, “Hi, Moryo!”Carnistir sighed behind his desk, and stared beseechingly at the ceiling.“Captain,” he eventually turned to Hyaliniel, who stood closest to his desk. “Thank you for escorting our guests to me, I will take it from here. If you would tell the first staff you find that we will be taking tea in the council room, please?”Hyaliniel bowed and on her way out she carefully stepped over the pile of Finwë’s grandchildren.Once everyone was successfully herded out of Carnistir’s office, he showed them to the council room down the corridor. He explained to the rest that it was the second largest room in the house, followed by the Great Hall where the small population of the outpost all gathered for what constituted as the evening meal in a dark world without the Trees to measure evening by.Before they all filed into the room, Makalaurë took the opportunity to hug his younger brother.“It’s good to see you again, Moryo,” he said.Carnistir grumbled a bit but leaned into the hug. “You too, Káno. It was strange without the three of you. We weren’t sure you’d come back, with how dangerous the storms were.”“I missed you too.”“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Carnistir shoved his brother off him, only to squawk as the twins jumped on him to have their own proper greeting. It took a while for all of them to finally enter the council room.Inside the room was a table of great size with a map already unrolled and various markers placed in key points. A mishmash of candles and lamps brightened up the room, though other than that the room looked sparce, utilitarian. Two trays of tea were set on each side of the table, along with a third tray of finger foods provided for their enjoyment, and as everyone took their place around the table the steaming cups of tea were passed around.“News first, assigning your people space for temporary housing will take some time I imagine,” Carnistir said as he stepped up to the table. He produced a long, polished stick from somewhere and pointed with it to a place on the map that he couldn’t reach from his place.“We are here,” he began his presentation. “About half a star-year ago, give or take a few days, the High King and his forces landed exactly where our outpost is now. Almost immediately, Káno and the Ambarussar turned back to fetch the rest of you. Not long after that, Atar’s faction broke camp and marched out in a North-East direction, heading for Thangorodrim where Moringotto dwells, while I was appointed to form this outpost and to await your arrival.”Here, Carnistir tapped his pointer to the mountains in the North.“The journey took them several days, perhaps close to two weeks, and were greatly slowed by their numbers, yet Atar’s forces made it to the lake of Mithrim, where they decided to set up camp and begin building fortifications. That is also where they have met the first of the local elves, who in exchange for protection had traded us information of the surrounding lands and taught us their own language, Sindarin.“The Mithrim encampment’s defences were completed to the best of Atar and Curvo’s abilities and with what materials were available, and fortunately it was only then that Moringotto noticed our arrival to Beleriand. He had sent his foul army of orcs to besiege the encampment, yet Atar’s defences held and with their greater numbers and better weapons were able to destroy most of the orc unit. Those that fled were pursued and many of them were killed.“The last report that came in a week ago told that after the attack patrols and scouting missions around the Fëanárian camp had increased and the range further extended close to the Enemy’s borders. During one such patrol, Tyelko happened upon another orc army returning to Thangorodrim, which he and his regiment ambushed in Eithel Sirion, and were pushing them back towards the Fen of Serech. No news of further developments concerning the battle as of yet.”His speech finished, Carnistir heavily put down his pointing stick with a sharp snap, and looked up at his audience. “Any questions?” After a short pause where everyone silently processed all that they’ve just heard, Nolofinwë asked, “How likely is it that this battle is still happening?”“Very likely,” Carnistir inclined his head. “However, by the time your host would complete that journey it is more likely that it would have ended, though I cannot predict in who’s favour.”“Then we should prepare for the worst eventuality and make sure we are ready for battle when we arrive.”“Planning all that can wait,” Lalwendë cut off that train of thought. “What I would like to know is where that orc unit was called back from? If they were so far from their Master then they must have been busy with fulfilling some kind of order.”“Ah, yes, I know something about that,” Carnistir said.“Tyelko had the good sense of sending out one of his best riders, formerly of Oromë’s Hunt, to follow the orcs’ trail back. He was led to the Havens of the Falas, which is under the rule of Lord Nowë, or as he prefers it in Sindarin, Círdan. Tyelko’s hunter explained to Lord Círdan’s people who the Noldor are and what we are doing here in Beleriand, and in turn was allowed to speak with their Lord and had learned that Moringotto had been assailing their Haven, up until our arrival has forced him to recall his army and have them join the assault on the Fëanárian camp. The report detailing this was sent here by bird, and presumably a copy was sent to Atar, along with a letter of welcome from Lord Círdan and the gift of this very map as thanks for saving them by basically posing as a bigger threat to Moringotto.”“I would like to take a look at those documents later,” Lalwendë said.Carnistir nodded.“If there are no other questions, we may discuss the housing issue.”~*~Many ended up sleeping in tents within the unfinished walls, while others opted to remain in their cabin on the swan-ships until they would leave. The small wood buildings were already reserved for Carnistir’s high-ranking officers and aids; however, the log house did have an upper level with several bedrooms. That is where the Finwëans stayed for the next short days.Nolofinwë immediately got to planning their route to Mithrim and how to approach a possible battle waiting for them, a course of action Findekáno found more to his taste than diplomacy and logistics. Makalaurë often joined those meetings over the map, though his presence was more a formality. He asked the right questions and raised good points, but military strategy was clearly not one of his talents, and he knew if Maitimo was here in his stead, then his older brother would be the one leading these discussions.Meanwhile their Aunt Lalwendë had descended upon Carnistir’s office with said nephew, and went through numerous documents and the ledger Carnistir was seen writing in their first meeting, familiarising herself with the running of this outpost and looking through all the correspondence that was available.What grated on Makalaurë though, was the lack of space or opportunity to spend time alone with Findekáno. They had no good reason to request a room for themselves with everyone being assigned to share with their siblings, and the outpost itself was crowded at all times. They were leaving for Mithrim soon anyway so it would’ve achieved nothing to complain.On the sleep cycle before they would leave, Makalaurë’s hair brushing routine was rudely disrupted by all of his brothers present in Losgar cornering him. Which meant that Carnistir entered the room Makalaurë was sharing with the Ambarussar, and they all sat staring at him as he moved the comb through his long tresses.With a sigh he put the comb down and dropped his hands in his lap, turning to fully face his little brother’s.“What is it then?” Makalaurë asked, resigned.Carnistir bluntly addressed the heart of the matter of the suspiciously staged gathering. “What is going on between you and Findekáno?”“What do you mean?” Makalaurë asked back shrugging, showing nonchalance.“You are a lot more friendly with him than before.”“I shared a boat with him,” the elder Fëanorion explained, employing all his acting skills to project an air of calm and some confusion at the line of questioning, as if he was truly oblivious.“It is only natural that two people who spend a lot of time in each other’s proximity would eventually develop some manner of comradery. We talked. Like, did you know that Findekáno thinks an axe is the better throwing weapon? It is obvious that throwing knives are the best. It’s even in their name, they are meant to be thrown! If we weren’t waging war on Moringotto, I would challenge him to a competition and prove that he is wrong.”Carnistir narrowed his eyes at him. “And how do you explain everything else?”“What would that be?”“You look at him a lot,” Telvo began listing, counting on his hand.“He looks at you a lot,” Pityo continued.“You touch each other a lot.”“You sometimes hold each other’s hand.”“You follow each other around.”“You sit together at every meal.”“He looks like he wants to eat you every time you sing.”“That is enough, thank you,” Makalaurë cut them off, his voice raised and irritated.“So, there is something going on between you,” Carnistir pressed.Makalaurë picked his comb back up, and resumed running it through his hair in a huff.“If there is, then that is between myself, Findekáno and Nelyo,” he said with a tone of finality, ready to shut down this conversation.Carnistir wasn’t having it, and pressed his brother further. “Nelyo is a part of this then. Is he aware of what you and Findekáno are doing?”“Mmm, probably. He’s the one who started it anyway,” Makalaurë muttered. He put down the comb once more and started on making a sleep braid.“What is that supposed to mean?” Carnistir frowned.“Nothing that you need to worry about. If Nelyo deems to share it with the rest of you, then you’ll know. Otherwise, stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Makalaurë flashed him a dangerous smile, and with a tug far more aggressive than necessary he tied off his braid with a ribbon. It was gold.~*~The host quickly packed up everything and marched out of Losgar in a long train, only leaving the original troop assigned to the outpost. Carnistir was also going with them to Mithrim, and Lalwendë opted to stay behind to run the outpost, citing her plan to continue their correspondence with Lord Círdan and working towards an alliance with him.With so many people the journey was as slow as Carnistir had told them. However, the battle described in the last report that was received had them pushing forward and skipping a sleep cycle here and there, though as elves they could easily endure a few sleepless nights. Songs were sung on the road in order to pass the time and keep their spirits light. Songs from the peaceful days in Valinorë, old songs from the Great Journey, and even singing games where Makalaurë, Findekáno and Findaráto would toss improvised rhymes back and forth. They even managed to form a host-wide canon with thousands of voices echoing and repeating a simple melody, and all those voices raised together, all mixing and blending while working in unison made for a transcendent experience.That probably-evening when they camped down for rest, Findekáno sneakily stole Makalaurë away from his eagle-eyed brothers and led him to the very edge of camp where they wouldn’t be disturbed. As soon as they settled down in the tall grass Findekáno planted a soft kiss onto the minstrel’s lips.“That was beautiful, Laurë,” he quietly said, like he was afraid to break the spell of awed wonder that had settled upon the host after the canon ended. “All those voices... and yours soaring above the rest of us.”“Oh, hush,” Makalaurë lightly swatted the other’s shoulder. “Next you’ll tell me that I have been trying to one up everyone.” Then shyly he peered at the Nolofinwion from the corner of his eye. “I heard your voice too, you know. You sounded very sweet.”“I have a serviceable enough voice to carry a tune with.”Makalaurë shook his head. “You may not be as extensively trained as myself or even Ingoldo, but your voice has its own raw beauty. When you sing your heart pours out into the world. It’s hard not to find it breathtaking.”Moved by his words, Findekáno kissed him once more, then tucked himself close against Makalaurë in a half-embrace, head resting on the minstrel’s shoulder. Makalaurë hummed a pleased little note, snuggling right back.“Do you think it was like this when the Ainur sang the world into being with Eru?” the Fëanorion asked.“I can hardly think of anything more touched by the divine than what just happened,” Findekáno said, and for a while they just sat together and watched the stars.After a time Makalaurë slipped his hand into Findekáno’s and gripped it, hard, and slightly shaking.“I am scared of what we will find when we reach Atar’s camp.”Findekáno comfortingly brushed his thumb over his lover’s tight gripped knuckles.“I don’t know what we will find either. Whether we’re going to walk into a battle or find it has already ended. But I know that Curufinwë is most likely to be toiling away in the forges, making armour and weapons for your people and strengthening the camp’s defences, and Tyelpë would be right with him, acting as his little helper. I know that Tyelkormo, despite his reckless nature, is the best hunter I’ve ever known, and he wouldn’t let himself be felled by any creature of Moringotto. And I know that Russandol would do everything to keep them all out of trouble.”“And Huan.”“Yes,” Findekáno huffed a short laugh. “And they also have Huan, the wisest of all in your family. He will keep them in line.”Makalaurë let himself be comforted by those words. Yet, deep down, he could not shake a sense of foreboding. Something that Artanis had said the day he arrived to fetch his uncle’s host did not want to leave his mind.
Maitimo will make a better King and will be more readily followed than Fëanáro.
As much as he truly believed his elder brother was more worthy a King than his father, he hoped with all his fëa that no ill has befallen his Atar.~*~The stars shone brightly in the sky when the host of Nolofinwë finally reached Mithrim. The lake, as a dark mirror was perfectly still, reflected in its smooth surface their distant light.Fortunately, there was no battle in sight. There were a few foul-smelling pyres smoking some distance away, and the earth held its fair share of battle scars, but it was clear that they had arrived in the aftermath.The Fëanárian encampment was more of a stronghold than a camp, with a tall stone wall encircling the perimeter, each brick singing with enchantments. Behind the wall there was a sea of tents, but a few rudimentary structures could also be found; stables, a smithy and armoury, storage spaces. All practical in their function, but lacking the beauty of how elves usually built, pressed by time and war to do away with frivolities. It must have greatly bothered Fëanáro’s sense of aesthetics.The gates opened for them, having seen their banners long before their arrival, and the Finwëans entered with a small entourage of guards, the rest of the host left outside to set up temporary camp.Of all the sons of Fëanor to greet them, it was the unlikeliest of them who now stood before them, and he did not look pleased in the slightest to be the one assigned for the task. Curufinwë.Dressed in his hard leather apron with bulging pockets filled with scraps and tools, thick gloves still on and protective spectacles pushed up into his hair, he scowled down from his upturned nose at the newly arrived group.“Hail, Nolofinwë,” he said the words with disdain.“Hail, Prince Curufinwë,” their half-uncle greeted a little more respectfully to highlight the slight his nephew showed him in denying a title.Curufinwë scoffed, and grumbled something that sounded much like, “I don’t have time for this.”“Settle in, the kitchens are that way, the outhouses the opposite direction, I’ll appoint you an aid or someone to show you around. I am going to be taking my brothers now,” he said, and gestured for the twins, Makalaurë and Carnistir to follow him as he turned away.The shouts and insults that burst out of their cousins was to be expected after anything Curufinwë ever said in a short temper. Nolofinwë strode forward and swiftly reached the fifth born of Fëanáro in a few steps, and heavily placed his hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.“You won’t brush me off so easily, Nephew,” he said with an edge to his tone. “I have sworn to your father that I will follow him and here I am. Already we have missed your first encounter with enemy forces, we are lacking in knowledge and experience regarding these lands compared to you, and I have all my people to take care of. You will not deny me an audience with the High King.”Curufinwë none too kindly shoved Nolofinwë’s hand away from his shoulder, and looked back at his half-uncle with a hateful glare.“The High King is indisposed. Apply for an appointment for his nearest convenience and come back some other time. Atar may even consider seeing you,” he snarled nastily.“CURVO!” A deep voice boomed over the commotion, and all fell silent, even those who had other business and were only incidentally nearby.From across the encampment Maitimo’s red hair gleamed bright even in the dim starlight and the sparsely placed torches. His tall frame stepped out from the shadows, and with a grim face he approached the gathering consisting of his brothers, cousins and uncle. The eldest son of Fëanáro stood with all of his height and dressed as one who was ready to put to good use his entire broad frame. He wore the red of their House’s colour, a great fur lined cloak draped over his wide shoulders clasped with a brooch of an eight-pointed star, and its ends near brushing the ground. He was dressed in a finely made tunic and breeches made of fabrics fit for royalty, while pieces of armour peeked out from under the cloak, accentuating his strong build with vambraces and a gorget, while a set of big pauldrons added to the bulk of his silhouette. His sword hung from his hip and his heavy boots were enforced with metal greaves.Yet what drew everyone’s attention was the crown shining atop his head. A crown made of copper wrought in the shape of dancing flames, studded with tiny gems of rubies and diamonds, and in the centre above his brow was set a single fire opal, flickering with different sparkling shades of reds and oranges, and a hint of rainbow colours hidden in its depths.“If you cannot even pretend to be courteous to our newly arrived family, then get out of my sight,” Maitimo said, his tone resonating with authority.Curufinwë turned, and without a word he stomped off and disappeared among the tents and the throng of elves milling about.Once his little brother was gone, Maitimo, very deliberately, loosened his stand and made himself appear the slightest bit smaller and less intimidating. His hard expression smoothed out to become something gentler, though he did not smile.“My apologies, Uncle,” he said and respectfully tipped his head in a bow. “He has been under much strain lately and would much rather be with Atar than anywhere else.”Nolofinwë graciously acknowledged the apology with a nod, then immediately posed the question, “What did Curufinwë mean by Fëanáro being indisposed?”“He did not explain?”At his uncle’s negative answer, Maitimo briefly shut his eyes in an almost pained expression, then drew himself up to his tallest once more, looking the very picture of royalty.“High King Fëanáro was greatly injured in our latest battle. As long as he is not recovered enough to take up his duties to his people once more, I am King Regent in his stead.”Shocked gasps and silence of disbelief washed over their cousins, but Makalaurë barely heard it as his heart plummeted, his fears and Artanis’ words of foresight coming true before his eyes.He is not dead, the minstrel thought desperately, and viciously clung to it just as Pityo and Telvo grasped at his hands tightly on either side. At least he is not dead.Visibly struggling to get over his shock, not quite believing the news, Nolofinwë eventually managed to ask, “What happened?”Maitimo looked around at the open space with many elves going about their duties, and said, “Not here,” and led the group through the camp. They stopped at a large tent, similar to what Nolofinwë used as a command tent, and drawing the flap aside he let them inside.“We may speak more freely here,” he said, and took his place at the head of the table.“Less than a star-week ago, the battle against Morringotto’s returning orc army was drawing to a close with ourselves as victorious. What little orcs were left fled back towards the mountain, Thangorodrim, but Atar would not let any straggles remain alive. He pursued them far ahead the rest of our troops, and even as we followed close behind, we could not quite reach him. Then Moringotto revealed that he had more than just orcs under his command; Úmaiar sworn to his service called Valaraukar, creatures of shadow and flame.“As Atar drew close to the gates of Angband, many of these Valaraukar were released and assailed him. Tyelkormo and I reached him just as he started to face off with them. With great effort, together and along with the strength of our men, we managed to fell one of them, but not before Atar received a cut from a flaming blade across his chest, and several burns from a whip of fire wrapped around his legs.“Tyelko and I recovered him and took him off the battlefield as we sounded the retreat. The Valaraukar did not follow us.”“How hurt is your father?” Nolofinwë asked. It was clear he did not know what to think of these events and had fallen back to hiding himself behind his blank politician’s mask.“The healers say that Atar’s wounds while severe will heal in time. The cut had made him lose much blood and he has been unconscious for some days, only waking recently. The burns on his legs were muscle deep and has affected his nerves. He claims that he can feel them but numb and he hasn’t been able to walk yet. He might need to relearn how to walk and will need to rely on a cane. He had also breathed in the hot smoke that the Valaraukar and their weapons produced which had injured his throat and lungs. He’s been told to rest his voice and refrain from talking much in order to heal.”A sombre mood settled inside the tent. Makalaurë could feel the Ambarussar clinging to each other by his side, and Carnistir slumped in on himself, arms crossed and closed off. And Makalaurë himself... he was caught between an overwhelming sense of relief and grief. Relief, for his father was still alive, and would live. Grief for all the hurt he had sustained and would be affected by for the rest of his life, scarred, limping on a cane and forced to cut his work short in the forge whenever he becomes short of breath.Tears gathered in Makalaurë’s eyes, and he wiped at them before they had a chance to fall.“I would still like to see Fëanáro,” Nolofinwë quietly said.“Of course,” Maitimo replied and moved to draw away the tent flap. “We’ll go together and see what the healers think about a visit.”He then turned to his cousins and said, “I’ll have Tyelpë come and show you where you can eat and rest.”Before Maitimo left with their uncle, he gestured for his little brothers to follow, and together they trekked through a series of tents. They came to a section of the camp where healers were buzzing about and ducking in and out of various tents, carrying water, herbs and other supplies.“Your Majesty,” a stern nís in healer’s robes called out and rushed to their side with hurried steps.“Lady Laiquënissë,” Maitimo greeted. “Would my father be able to take some visitors at this time?”“I believe His Majesty is up for it, but I shall look in on him all the same,” she said and disappeared inside one of the bigger tents.A few moments later Laiquënissë came back.“His Majesty would like to see his sons first.”Maitimo looked to Nolofinwë, who nodded, “That is alright. I understand.”Makalaurë glanced at his younger brothers, and saw the mix of uncertainty and fear in the twin’s eyes, while Carnistir was still as closed off as before. His own feelings were not the most stable either, but as he evaluated the emotional state of the other’s he knew this could only happen in one of two ways.“Would you like me to go first?” he asked the Ambarussar. He could see the reluctance in their faces at the thought of seeing their father again, the one who almost had one half of them burned alongside the swan-ships, and now he laid just inside, burned himself. Yet, Makalaurë had asked just in case getting over it quickly would give them more peace of mind. Or if not, then while Makalaurë was inside with Atar, they could gather their courage to face him.Pityo squeezed Telvo’s arm, and gave his elder brother a nod.Makalaurë gave the twins a quick hug and told them, “Alright,” and he patted Carnistir’s arm with what he hoped was a comforting smile.Unexpectedly Maitimo placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him so they faced each other. Then what Makalaurë felt next was his brother’s lips pressed to his skin, placing a kiss to his brow. It was a gesture Maitimo had often did in the past with all his little brothers, yet this time the touch lingered a few moments longer than his usual brotherly affection.Makalaurë’s skin tingled and heat rushed to his face. He had hoped Findekáno was right with his assumptions of Maitimo’s goals when it came to the three of them, and this being their first interaction after their kiss at Losgar was making him entertain the possibility of it being true. Otherwise, if it was all proven wrong, he would hate himself forever for falling for Findekáno’s stupidity and becoming a homewrecker, and he’d be the reason why the perfect relationship his brother and cousin shared would be ruined.A series of unfortunate thoughts to be having right before seeing his injured Atar for the first time in months.“I am proud of you, brother,” Maitimo’s breath tickled his ear as he whispered into it.As Maitimo pulled away Makalaurë looked up at his brother, and had absolutely no way of discerning the nature of the love he saw in Maitimo’s eyes. So, instead he banished all conflicting feeling into the far recesses of his heart, and steeled himself, walking inside the healing tent with unwavering strides.Fëanáro looked so unlike himself that Makalaurë almost did not recognise his father. It was not the burn scars or the many layers of bandages wrapped across his chest, nor the singed ends of his hair falling just below his ears. No, what made Fëanáro unrecognisable was how small a space he deliberately took up in his own bed. How the lustre of his hair was gone and hung limp onto the pillows, how the pallor of his face was accentuated by the beginning gauntness of his cheekbones. It was how the fierce light in his eyes burning brighter than the stars were reduced to a pair of sputtering coals that had yet to go out.He looked like a broken man, and not of the body despite his injures, but broken in spirit.Fëanáro slowly looked up to see his son, and a small spark returned momentarily to his eyes. Makalaurë couldn’t see his injured legs beneath the covers, and the gash he received to the chest was wrapped tightly in bandages that smelled of a mixture of herbs. Yet, he could see that the Valarauka’s flaming sword has nicked the left corner of his father’s lip as the scar ran down all the way to his chin, and burn blisters had formed at the edges of the wound.“Kánafinwë,” he said, and the name came out in a gravelly rasp followed by a wheeze, gasping for air.Makalaurë hurried over to his side in alarm.“Do not speak, Atar. You must rest your voice so your throat may heal. Is there any water in here? You should drink,” he half admonished as he fretted over his father.Finding a cup and a jug of water by the bedside table, Makalaurë poured and handed the cup over to Fëanáro. He accepted it, and Makalaurë gladly noted that while the grip of his fingers was loose, his hand did not shake. Mercifully, his hands were spared from any damage, which meant Fëanáro would not have to suffer living without his craft.He thirstily drank the whole cup, and as he handed it back to his son, so did he offer a mental knock of ósanwë through their familial bond. Makalaurë opened his mind to him, just enough that only his surface thoughts leaked through.So, you have returned, Kánafinwë, Fëanáro’s words came to his mind.“Do you resent me for bringing Uncle Nolo and his people over the sea?” Makalaurë asked, his tone carefully neutral. Then through the parent-child bond he added, Think your next thoughts you send to me very carefully, Atar, for I will spare the little ones from your disdain and bar you from them if I have to.The coals of his father’s eyes flared with emotion, but he heeded his son’s threat of denying his two youngest from him, and remained silent until he had his thoughts in order.I am displeased that Nolofinwë is here, Fëanáro said. But I cannot hate you, nor the little ones for that. Neither do I hate you for disregarding my orders in favour of your elder brother’s.Makalaurë’s eyes widened as he stared at his father. He had not expected to be so easily forgiven for his disobedience.Fëanáro looked sad as he watched his son’s obvious disbelief.
I remember raising you and your brothers to ask questions about the world around you, to ask how something works, to ask when you do not understand something, to question how something is perceived versus how it actually is, and even to question whether someone’s actions are right or wrong, regardless of the power and authority they hold. I cannot fault you for questioning my judgment, even if it was done silently inside your heart and not openly to my face like Nelyafinwë had done so.
He turned away and hung his head in shame, the telltale sign of tears shimmering in the corner of his eyes. When did obedience become more important than the trust of my own sons?There was nothing Makalaurë could say to that.And now I see that you also believe that I should abdicate the High Kingship in favour of Nelyafinwë, the thought came with a bitter edge to it.“Who dared to say that, Atar?” Makalaurë deflected with a question. “It couldn’t have been Curvo, and I know for certain Nelyo does not desire the throne for himself.”Maitimo may not want to be King but he would take up the Kingship out of necessity. Though Makalaurë had not been here to see the start of his brother’s Regency, he had seen before these events that Maitimo made better and wiser decisions than Fëanáro.Turkafinwë is not a stupid boy, his father answered. He may not see the full extent of every thread of political intricacies, but he can read the emotions of others better than most, and can clearly see the impact my rule has wrought compared to Nelyafinwë’s.That came as a surprise. While Makalaurë knew the hunter was capable of butting heads with their father, he did not expect Tyelkormo to actually speak out against his authority as King.Perhaps it explained in part the reason for Curufinwë’s foul mood, to be at such odds in ideology with his favoured older brother.Makalaurë sighed, and looked his father in the eye.“I do believe Nelyo would make a fine King,” he admitted.“You have been erratic in your moods and behaviour even before you were crowned King, Atar. The poison words of Moringotto have clawed themself so deep in your fëa, you see deception and betrayal in places where there are none. Or if there is any, your mind magnifies them to absurd proportions. And look where it has led us; all seven of your sons are now bound to an Oath of your making that has forced us to kill elves for jewels that weren’t even the main reason why we wished to come to these lands in the first place.”A single tear rolled down Fëanáro’s cheek. Anger wanted to rear its ugly head, as it had done in answer to every adversity ever since the Darkening, yet he was too beaten down in both body and spirit to truly feel it, the great number of Valarauka he faced in battle and his close brush with death showing the enormity of how futile his revenge was against a fallen Vala.Makalaurë reached for his father’s hand, which Fëanáro readily held on to.“Atar, in all this time you have not allowed yourself to grieve,” his son said with great emphasis. “Perhaps if you had done so sooner you would’ve made your choices with a clearer head. The anger you have been projecting in order to push down your anguish has hurt you just as much as it has been hurting us.”Makalaurë swept a hand to indicate their surroundings in the healing tent and continued, “Take this opportunity of being confined to your bed, and just give yourself time to grieve. Grieve for Grandfather, grieve for your Silmarils if you must, and reflect on what has transpired, on what you truly feel without the influence of Evil, and what you want going forward.”He then rose from his place, making ready to leave. Yet he held onto his Atar’s hand as he delivered his parting words, “And while you do that let Nelyo rule in your stead as he sees fit, and once he hands you back the Kingship you may decide the fate of the crown.”Fëanáro gazed up at his second born from his bed, as if he was seeing Makalaurë with full clarity.
You have already pledged your sword to your brother.
“My sword and my voice I give to him, and where he goes, I shall follow,” he said, and with a small kiss to his Atar’s singed hair he exited the tent.---His little brothers had their own turn to speak with their father. The Ambarussar had shuffled in together, and those waiting outside could hear the twins’ raised voices as they laid into Fëanáro, followed by the faint sobs of confusion and the start of what one day could be reconciliation.Carnistir’s visit was short, and not much was heard from outside the tent besides the tones of a stilted conversation. Carnistir came out from the healing tent with a posture much calmer than the closed off hunch he went in with, but remained just as silent as when he first heard the news of their father’s injury.Finally, Nolofinwë went in to speak with his half-brother. Makalaurë could not hear a single word of what transpired between them, but there was no shouting, no explosive argument, and the minstrel hoped that that was a good sign.Once their uncle exited the tent, Maitimo led them through the camp once more and showed them where they may take their rest. Nolofinwë quickly found his way to his children and the Fëanorions drifted to their own section of tents.“Where is Tyelko?” Ambarussa asked. “We haven’t seen him yet.”“He’s not hurt too, is he?” his twin added.“If he is not here yet, then he will soon be coming back from patrol,” Maitimo reassured them. “Huan is with him, so he’ll be alright.”That seemed to placate the twins somewhat, and the two retreated inside a tent assigned to them. Carnistir followed their example, and drew his tent flap resolutely closed in a clear message that none should bother him.Makalaurë stuck close to Maitimo, reluctant after the day’s events to be on his own. His elder brother, sensing his mood, drew the minstrel under one arm, his large cloak fully enveloping him.“Let us retire as well, songbird. It has been too long since I last saw you,” Maitimo rumbled into the other’s ear.Makalaurë leaned his head against Maitimo’s strong chest and uncertainly asked, “Would it be alright if we asked Finno to join us?”“Of course,” he answered, and Makalaurë thought he felt his brother hide a smile in his dark hair, disguised as a peck on the head. “He is always welcome with us.”Maitimo’s steward was sent to fetch their cousin, and they entered the spacious tent reserved for the King Regent together. The ground was carpeted with soft rugs, and there was a desk shoved to the side with an armour stand nearby. There was enough space for an impromptu receiving are with two nicely carved chairs and a small table that barely had room for more than a bowl of fruit to hold. But the most space was dedicated to the sleeping area with a bed large enough to accommodate Maitimo’s tall stature, and his clothes and weapons chests pushed up to the foot of the bed.The eldest son of Fëanáro deposited his brother in one of the chairs and pushed the fruit bowl pointedly before Makalaurë, then went and took his cloak and armour accents off himself. He then retrieved a comb from the cabinet beside his bed, and began to unravel the braids in Makalaurë’s hair.“I should be the one doing that for you,” Makalaurë mumbled, and picked at a few pieces of grape at Maitimo’s repeated insistence.“Why? Because I am suddenly King Regent?” his brother asked, and started running the comb through the glossy black tresses.“I have pledged my loyalty to you, My King. It only seems right.”Maitimo pulled at the hair. “And I have promised you my protection in turn. Besides, you are my brother and heir, you need not prostrate yourself before me. You give me your service when specifically asked, I do not want your servitude.”“Is it servitude to care for you?”Maitimo put the comb aside and let his fingers gently caress the dark curls. Makalaurë turned halfway in his seat and looked up at him with shining eyes.“No,” Maitimo sighed. “But now I am caring for you,” and he kept running his fingers through his little brother’s hair.He did not re-braid Makalaurë’s hair and he did not have any intention of doing so it seemed. They enjoined the companionable silence and the air of intimacy until Findekáno finally arrived.The Nolofinwion carelessly tossed aside the tent flap as he came in, and then stopped dead in the entryway to lovingly take in the sight of his beloved.“Russo,” he said, adoration radiating from his voice and a joyful smile bloomed on his lips. Then in the next moment he threw himself at Maitimo and pulled his head down for an ardent kiss.The first thought that ran through Makalaurë’s mind was that the two of them really were perfect together. A pair of handsome néri in the flower of their youth, and so very obviously in love.His second thought was, what the hell was he doing here? The sudden sense came over him that he was intruding, and was reminded that Maitimo and Findekáno already had each other. Why would they want Makalaurë too?He knew he had this conversation with his cousin once, and had even acted as new lovers with him, but it was a different beast to be so confronted with the very real and unbreakable love that existed between the two.Makalaurë slowly stood from the chair, and trying his best to remain unnoticed he carefully sneaked towards the exit. He did not succeed.A fistful of the back of his robes were grabbed onto, forcing him in place.“Where do you think you’re going, Laurë?” Findekáno’s smooth voice inquired. “Just giving you some privacy,” Makalaurë averted his gaze. “So you may have your reunion in peace.”Findekáno pulled him close and tipped the minstrel’s head up by his chin so he could show the pout on his lips.“Still so doubtful,” he said. Then he captured Makalaurë’s mouth in a soft kiss, right before the eyes of Maitimo. Makalaurë felt like he was on fire, and he couldn’t make up his mind if he should be thrilled or mortified... or perhaps he should be fearing for his and Findekáno’s life.“And here I thought I have managed to convince you in our time together,” Findekáno lamented.Makalaurë unexpectedly felt himself being pushed and he stumbled right into his elder brother, who was kind enough to catch him in his strong arms. Arms that snaked around his waist, with hands resting dangerously below his hips. Arms the held him against a firm body that could easily engulf his own.Then there was another body pressing itself to his back, and Makalaurë found himself trapped between his brother and cousin.A hand trailed up the younger Fëanorion’s side and stopped when it reached his ear. Slender fingers lightly brushed and toyed with one delicately pointed ear tip, and it made Makalaurë’s chest rapidly rise and fall, pushing close against Maitimo’s ribcage, as he fought to catch his breath.“Russo, won’t you tell this silly sparrow how much you want him to stay with us,” Findekáno addressed Maitimo, yet purred the words into Makalaurë’s ear, causing tingles of aural pleasure to spark in the minstrel’s mind.Maitimo studied his little brother’s face, head tilted to the side. He buried one hand in Makalaurë’s soft curls, and the small gasp his action elicited ignited a flame behind his eyes, as dazzling as the multitude of colours flickering in the fire opal in his crown.“Is it so hard to believe that I desire you, just as much as you desire me?” Maitimo murmured in his deep voice.Stripped of his words, Makalaurë slowly shook his head. Paused. Then rapidly nodded, and ended up hiding his face in his brother’s broad chest.Findekáno pressed closer against him, almost squishing Makalaurë between the two bodies, and wound his own arms around the sons of Fëanáro.“He’s scared he will somehow ruin what we have,” the Nolofinwion explained to Maitimo.“No, my dearest,” Maitimo frowned, and gently coaxed Makalaurë to look him in the eye. “If anything, I would have ruined everything with Finno, for initiating all of this. It is only my luck that Finno is so lenient with me, and was so very willing to try a relationship with you too.”Findekáno huffed. As if the thought of breaking things off with Maitimo had ever crossed his mind. “So you see, little brother, you loving us will not ruin anything,” Maitimo resumed. “And having both my Kános with me, by my side, would make me the happiest I can imagine myself.”Makalaurë did want his brother to be happy. He couldn’t think of anyone more deserving of happiness.His mind made up at last, his fëa settled inside his heart, and his eyes traced the fair features of Maitimo’s face, the red tumble of his hair containing a few smaller braids, the flaming crown resting upon his King’s head.“Nelyo...”“Hmm?”“Can I kiss you?”Maitimo leaned down as Makalaurë rose to his tiptoes, the warm weight of Findekáno at his back moving with him, and their lips met in the middle. The eldest son of Fëanáro kissed his brother with a burning hunger and Makalaurë countered them just as fiercely with his own, less he would be overwhelmed and drown in them.Findekáno moaned right beside the minstrel’s ear, and Makalaurë shivered at the nice sound. A mouth attached itself to the curve of his neck, and he leaned back into his cousin and felt his backside brush against Findekáno’s growing hardness.“Ai, my lovelies,” the Nolofinwion exclaimed, and found one of Maitimo’s wandering hands, removing it from where it was pawing Makalaurë’s muscled thighs. He kissed the knuckles and nuzzles his face into that huge palm, and suggested while peering at his lover from beneath his lashes, “We should make use of that nice bed over there. And perhaps we could lose a few pieces of clothing on the way.”Maitimo rumbled an agreement deep in his chest, the vibrations having Makalaurë’s ears happily twitching.Findekáno smiled, and holding onto Maitimo’s hand he led the three of them towards the bed. Boots were the first to go, followed by Makalaurë and Findekáno’s outer robes tossed in a pile on the carpeted floor. Maitimo reached up to remove his copper crown, but his brother snatched his hand away before he could complete the action.“No, leave it on,” Makalaurë insisted. “I like it on you.”Findekáno nodded, agreeing with his cousin, and Maitimo acquiesced.“It is very finely made,” the Nolofinwion said, watching as the tiny rubies and diamonds shimmered in the candle light that was lit throughout the tent. “Did Curufinwë make it?”"Young Tyelpë, actually."Then putting an end to the idle chatter, Maitimo pulled Findekáno in for a searing kiss, his hand moving to undo the laces of the other’s breeches. The pile grew on the floor until there was nothing left to add to it, and the three elves found their way in a tangle of limbs and kisses atop the bed.Findekáno pulled Maitimo up to sit at the headboard, while he himself sat on his heels right beside him, and the two explored each other’s skin with mouth and tongue. Maitimo had one hand buried deep in Makalaurë’s long luscious locks, and as his brother kissed and nibbled on one nipple then the other, the elder Fëanorion steadily guided Makalaurë’s attentions lower and lower down the chest, the naval, until he reached his cock, long and flushed red.Makalaurë’s head buzzed at the sight, of having his dearest brother’s cock so close to his face. He held his tongue flat and licked the underside of the shaft from root to tip, and at seeing the cock jump and Maitimo groaning into Findekáno’s mouth, he hummed a pleased little note. The sound’s vibrations travelled from his tongue to the cockhead’s slit, and Maitimo fisted his hand in Makalaurë’s hair to shout, “Káno!”“Yes?” the other two cheekily asked at the same time, then after sharing a glance they dissolved into peals of laughter.“Fuck,” Maitimo muttered, and rolled his eyes exasperated, which set the two Kános off once more.In retaliation he shoved Makalaurë’s head even lower down his body and spread his legs wide, putting his hole on display. That had the younger Fëanorion shutting up.“Go on then,” Maitimo teased back. Hooking a leg over Makalaurë’s shoulder he drew his brother’s head closer to his most private parts. “Prepare me.”Looking up at Maitimo from his vantage point below, seeing him sitting imperiously amongst the pillows, completely bare except for the crown resting atop his cascade of red hair, Makalaurë could do nothing but obey his King. Placing his hands on his brother’s thighs, he buried his face in between the soft cheeks and licked at the rim, working his tongue inside Maitimo’s hole.Maitimo squirmed and sighed feeling the wet intrusion, and with his brother so wonderfully occupied he turned his attention to Findekáno.His cousin had been intently watching the scene, eyes trained where Makalaurë’s tongue repeatedly disappeared inside his beloved, while he absently moved a hand up and down his own cock.“Finno, come here, love,” Maitimo called him over, and Findekáno climbed atop him, sitting on his lover’s lap with the Fëanorion’s hardness sliding between his ass and his cock trapped between their bellies.Then they began to move, grinding and sliding against each other’s skin, their dripping pre-cum slicking things up. Maitimo and Findekáno embraced and exchanged wet and biting kisses. Makalaurë then inserted his first finger alongside his tongue, and Maitimo moaned his pleasure.By the time Makalaurë had three fingers thrusting in and out, he had his head pillowed on his elder brother’s thigh, and he watched light-headed as Maitimo’s big cock glided smoothly between their cousin’s ass. His own cock stood painfully hard, cum pooling in his lap as it flowed down his shaft.At a particularly well aimed thrust of his fingers against the sensitive bundle inside Maitimo, his elder brother cried out, “More, Laurë! I-Ah... I need you inside!”Soon enough Makalaurë removed his fingers, and lined himself up with Maitimo’s hole and slowly buried himself deep in one long thrust.“Oh... Nelyo...” the minstrel sighed, and struggled to find his words from the blinding pleasure of being inside his brother, his love, even as he stayed still and allowed Maitimo’s body to adjust to being penetrated.“Nelyo... you feel so good,” he babbled, watching Maitimo’s dishevelled state. His red hair was a mess, and the copper crown of flames was slightly crooked on his head. He was gasping for breath as Findekáno danced on his lap, rubbing himself against his sensitive cock, and now impaled by his own little brother.“More,” Maitimo managed to say, and he moaned together with Makalaurë as he moved inside him.Makalaurë set a steady pace, enjoying every sound he could coax from his brother’s lips.“Russo,” Findekáno called. “Russo... I want to fuck your mouth.”Maitimo looked at him in a daze, already half blissed out from pleasure and slowly getting close. He had just enough presence of mind to string together the meaning of his cousin’s words, and nodded.Findekáno dismounted the Fëanorion, and with an initial shakiness to his legs, he stood beside the bed. Maitimo turned his head towards him, and found himself at eye level with Findekáno’s wet hardness. Breathlessly, he opened his mouth and reached for the other’s shaft. His hand wrapped around the base of the cock and Findekáno’s hand that had been already grasping it, and together they guided it inside the warm cavern of his mouth.Makalaurë watched Maitimo swallow around Findekáno, the way his cheeks hollowed and his throat moved with the action. Even filled from both ends, he still looked powerful, and so very beautiful.He sharply snapped his hip forward and thrust inside Maitimo faster and harder. Findekáno followed the same relentless rhythm, and holding Maitimo’s head in place by the hair, he fucked into the eldest Fëanorion’s mouth.Feeling close to the edge, Makalaurë took Maitimo in hand, his fist easily moving up and down the wet cock. It did not take long for his brother to come after that, and he painted their stomachs and Makalaurë’s hand white with his seed.Makalaurë followed suit, coming deep inside Maitimo, all but singing his name. Exhausted, and both fëa and hröa feeling light from pleasure, he fell forward and half collapsed on top of Maitimo, not even caring about the mess he was lying in.Between half-lidded eyes, he watched as Findekáno finished inside his elder brother’s mouth, their cousin’s skin glistening with perspiration, and his dark braids partially undone, gold ribbons falling loosely onto his shoulder.Maitimo swallowed his lover’s seed, and he lazily pulled Makalaurë up to be able to share the taste of Findekáno on his lips, licking inside his little brother’s mouth. Makalaurë sleepily hummed into his mouth, and silently decided that the next time he’ll suck their cousin’s cock.Findekáno climbed back into bed, and tucked himself close to the sons of Fëanáro. He helped Maitimo take off his crown with one hand and placed it on the bedside table. Then he curled into the others’ warmth, reaching for both Maitimo and Makalaurë.Makalaurë felt Maitimo arrange the blankets around them, and he drifted off to sleep with his hand in Findekáno’s, their fingers entwined, and to the steady beat of Maitimo’s heart where his head rested on his brother’s chest.