Everything was white and silver marble in Tirion. It made Maedhros squint as the sunlight rebounded off the towers and walls but then it also made Fingon that much easier to spot. He was sat in one of the perfumed gardens, lounging on a bench and talking gaily to some tall, straight-backed noble.
He's a proper royal son, Maedhros smirked as he meandered his way towards the garden, tossing a few vacant smiles to passing folk who received them eagerly. And if all goes to plan, he shall remind me thus again tonight. His smile grew brighter then as he passed into the garden and inhaled the heady scent of a hundred different blooms. He called out to Fingon who looked up sharply and beckoned Maedhros over. And Maedhros went.
"A fine day." Fingon said quite merrily.
"Better now." Maedhros agreed, enjoying the flicker in Fingon's eyes and subtle gesture he made to the noble sat beside him. "The fresh air has done me good." he added, but not too quickly.
"I daresay it has, you walk with purpose."
"The words I seek to break with you hold purpose also."
"As do they always."
They exchanged a look, a spark. Then the noble gave a shout.
"Is that a horse? Bounding through the street?" Maedhros groaned at the interruption but the gasps of shock and confusion became suddenly apparent.
Fingon turned around to look over the fence of the garden and craned his neck. Maedhros muttered an oath under his breath and frowned intently at a daffodil.
It was Lover's Day and his lover was more interested in a horse.
"That is no mere steed, that is Rochallor!" Fingon said, there was laughter in his voice.
"Your father's horse?" Maedhros' brooding was interrupted and his curiosity peaked, despite himself. He stood and shaded his eyes from the sun with a hand. True enough, Rochallor was trotting merrily along the shinning streets of Tirion completely without rider or saddle. Elleth and ellon were staring at him as though they had never seen such a beast before in their lives. Maedhros rolled his eyes and went to sit back down, then Fingon called out again.
"And there is my father, looking none too happy."
"He's probably chased that horse halfway across Túna." Maedhros said, watching Fingolfin stride as fast as he could without actually breaking into a sprint. His face was utterly thunderous.
"Don't sound so amused." Fingon teased.
They swapped churlish grins. The joy did not last however, Fingolfin spied his son and stopped in his tracks.
"Fingon!" cried he across the way, "I would have your aid."
Maedhros and the noble both looked to him, he looked at his father and gave a single, curt nod.
"My words have not yet fallen on your ears." Maedhros stressed as Fingon stepped lightly off the bench and swept his hair behind shoulder. Don't look at his neck, don't look at that uncovered skin.
"Then find me once I am free, this will not take all day." he replied, tilting his head just enough to entice Maedhros further.
"I certainly hope not."
"That is my hope, too."
Fingon said his goodbyes to the noble and turned on his heel, flashing a last look over his shoulder.
"Quite the family." said the noble, watching Fingon disappear into the throng of the city.
"Quite the man." mumbled Maedhros.
Maedhros returned to the heart of the city an hour later. The words he had intended for Fingon burnt unspoken on his tongue and Anor was now reaching her zenith, it was noon and the day was fading fast. Maedhros returned to the perfumed gardens but found only a group of elflings lying besides the daisies, making chains which they rested atop their brows. He turned tail and sought Fingon at the stable but found only an inquisitive blonde mare. He gave her nose a pat.
The one day set aside for lovers to be together is the one day my lover discovers his power of invisibility, he thought grumpily to himself. Maedhros ruffled the mare's mane and departed for Tirion once again with steps heavy with determination.
Two hours he stalked the streets, popping his head around walls and sneakily looking through windows. He asked a few folk if they had seen Fingon, a few said yes and a few said nay but none could set him on the correct path. Maedhros glanced at the sky as he let his feet carry him where they would, the afternoon was upon him, the day was fading faster.
He came to a stop when he found Galathilion, the great white tree with great white branches stretching up as if to praise her makers or wrest the very clouds to be her leaves. The tree was usually a social focal point but she stood alone at the moment Maedhros approached, save for one, lost in thought. Maedhros felt his irritation cool to relief in an instant, he allowed himself a smile.
His footsteps were hushed as he crept up behind Fingon who was thankfully distracted. It was very quiet here, as Maedhros crept closer he could hear Fingon's breaths and the whooshing of a lilting breeze through the treetop. Fingon was within reach of his arm. Perhaps on another day Maedhros might have given his sides a good poke and delighted at the most unprincely shriek Fingon would issue but today he was not feeling so cruel. Instead he rested a hand on a hip and gripped ever so lightly.
"Maedhros."
"Who else?" he saw the glint in Fingon's eye as he turned and quickly, with his unoccupied hand, pressed a finger to his lips. "Do not answer that."
They exchanged beaming smiles and Fingon kissed Maedhros' finger. The touch was enough to set thoughts of pulling the darkling close and seizing him in ravenous embrace into Maedhros' mind, alas that they were stood in the open within the city.
"The day passes swiftly, have you finished with your horse wrangling?"
"Aye, horse wrangling and father wrangling." Fingon laughed at Maedhros' raised brow. "You've a terrible mind, meleth."
"And you've a terrible habit of being swept away beyond my reach."
"Through no fault of my own, the grandson of Finwë is greatly desired to handle all kinds of issues."
"You are cruel, to tease me so." Maedhros whispered, raising his hand from hip to the gentle curve of Fingon's body.
"And you are cruel to withhold words promised." Fingon took a step closer, tantalizingly closer.
"Then let me share then quickly and pray keep your eyes open for unfriendly ears," Maedhros hated to see the desire withdraw from the eyes of the one he loved most, he reminded himself he'd probably hate the despair in them more - if they were to be found so close together sharing words of honey and promise. Fingon nodded.
Maedhros had barely opened his mouth to speak when they both heard it; tinkling laughter. They swapped looks devoid of glee and took a few hasty steps away from one another, Fingon still looked terribly put out. I shall ask forgiveness tonight, I shall atone.
Rounding a corner came three elleth; two dark haired, one golden. They stood in a tight group on the other side of Galathilion and it seemed to Maedhros they were parting ways, they kissed one another's cheeks and gripped one another's hands all the while chatting excitedly. Fingon was watching too. The two dark haired maidens linked arms and turned the way they came, the golden elleth hummed a tune as she continued forwards towards the shifty pair.
Has ever there been a lady who walked so slow? Maedhros grumbled internally. As she came closer, however, he found himself humbled. Elenwë reached up to brush her hand along one of the pearly branches and examined a leaf between her thin fingers. Her song was merry and her steps light as she circled the tree but they stopped suddenly when her gaze fell upon the two, as did her melody. She smiled and even Tirion, bright and white, seemed to grow more radiant.
"Galathilion rejoices in the sunshine." she said simply and with much joy, lifting her face to the heavens.
"As do we all." Fingon replied, bowing slightly. Maedhros followed his example.
"Truer words ne'er spoken," she laughed. "And I especially, the cold is a thing I cannot abide."
"Take comfort, winter is but a speck on the horizon. this summer will be long and warm indeed." Maedhros said, or rather, hoped.
"A thought of much comfort! Come, shall we walk a ways? The day is yet young." Maedhros could have scoffed at her words, oh, the irony.
"I shall join you for a time, we have not had chance to speak for a long while." Fingon linked his arm with Elenwë's and then they were both looking at Maedhros. He weighed his words carefully before shaking his head.
"The day may be young but I've much to do, tasks no amount of beauty may turn me from." Maedhros said, dramatically. Elenwë looked disappointed at first, then a polite smile graced her lips. She gave a bow and said "Alas, such is the burden of high birth."
She would know, aye.
Fingon looked worried, confused. He asked a silent question with his eyes and Maedhros replied with a weak smile containing as much affection as he dared show. It had been enough, Fingon nodded and his eyes cleared.
Maedhros watched them lope away slowly and not towards any particular destination. He raked his hair back with his hand.
"This won't do."
The door to Nerdanel's private studio was still ajar. Maedhros stood outside and stared but saw nothing, his eyes were glazed as a silent war raged in his own head. It had been more than an hour since Fingon had gone inside, yet it had been less than five minutes since his mother had slipped out, gracing her son with a fond smile as she departed. She could be back at any moment, Maedhros thought to himself, the sun seemed to beat down hotter now than it had at noon. This may be your last chance!
Maedhros steeled himself.
Then he stepped inside.
His mother's studio was an untidy place, there were half finished statues and busts and tiny clay models everywhere, lining every shelf and covering every surface. A thousand eyes spied Maedhros passing by and he suppressed a shudder. He had always been loathe to enter this place, even as a child. He gave his steps speed and passed along the hallway quickly until he came to the main studio door. Maedhros placed a hand on it, he'd never been allowed inside.
As he pushed the door open, he hoped he'd made his unruly twenty-year-old-elfling-self proud.
"Maedhros!"
He couldn't reply, he was gawking and gaping at the interior of the studio, his mother's most sacred hollow. It was mostly empty save for the odd table, chair and homely decoration but more than that; it was absolutely immaculate. There was not a scalpel nor pot out of place. Maedhros didn't know whether to laugh or rub his eyes.
"Maedhros?"
He snapped around at Fingon's voice and for a moment his heart feared and skipped a beat.
"Why are you dressed thus? In metal and jewels?"
"Jewellery, sweet Maedhros, nothing more." Fingon said with a dismissing shake of his head and fond smile. "Trinkets of beauty."
The explanation satisfied Maedhros, he nodded and crossed the room to the centre where Fingon stood, garbed as a King. As he drew closer Maedhros felt the stab of fear in his breast a second time and the briefest flash of some dream appeared before his waking eyes, he saw Fingon dressed as a King again.
But there was more metal, cruel and grey.
"Peace, Maedhros! What grips you?"
He felt cool hands on his neck and closed his eyes.
"Nothing, nothing."
Fingon, with a finger, turned Maedhros' face to his and looked at him severely. Maedhros smiled and tucked black hair behind pointed ear. "Chasing you around the city all day has made me tired, 'tis your fault I fall to dreams on my feet."
"You need not chase any longer." Fingon's voice was low. Maedhros was about to grin and say if that's the case then I'm the King of the Noldor, but then he was being kissed so fiercely and so deep that for a moment he could do naught, nothing at all. Fingon growled into his mouth and Maedhros regained himself, matching the intensity. His hands dropped to Fingon's waist and he bit the princeling's lip as he, all too easily, came to him.
They were pressed together, ragged and very nearly didn't hear the studio door open.
"Nerdanel!" Fingon whispered, pulling away from the kiss.
"What?" Maedhros whispered back, reluctant to part when at last they had collided. Fingon allowed him steal a few more kisses before he put a hand on Maedhros' chest and pushed them apart. "Nerdanel, your mother, returns." he breathed again just as the door swung open.
Fingon's words finally registered and Maedhros gave an audible groan. He ached all over.
"This is getting ridiculous." he said. Fingon jabbed him with his elbow.
"Yes, it's quite the likeness isn't it. Your mother has a gift." Fingon said loudly, looking at son rather than mother. Maedhros gave him a queer look and Fingon gestured with his eyes. There, in the middle of the room, was a half-finished bust, depicting some regal looking elf with a fair face and a ghost of a smile. Maedhros blinked, he hadn't even noticed.
It really was a fine likeness.
"It's a work in progress!" Nerdanel said merrily, unclasping her cloak and hanging it on the back of the door. She spied her son and her subject. "Maedhros, all is well?"
"I bring no ill news, Nana. I saw your door was ajar and curiosity stole me."
"You are your father's son." Nerdanel said with accusation and affection in (more or less) equal part. Maedhros smiled at the remark and heard his mother and his lover reengage in a conversation left part finished but it all sounded as though they were stood at the far end of a tunnel rather than in the very same room. Were the Valar playing some cruel game with him? Letting him creep closer and closer to his heart without actually letting him embrace it?
Am I being punished?
"Maedhros? Maedhros?"
He didn't want to answer.
"My son, are you quite well?"
"I wondered the same when first he entered, he is of a fey mood today."
"I'm quite well," Maedhros said to both of them. Fingon looked apologetic, his lips were still flushed from their kiss. "The day has made me weary."
"Return home then, you will find it quiet tonight." said Nerdanel with a knowing twinkle in her eye.
"Your sons are occupied?"
Nerdanel laughed, a hearty sound. "On Lover's Day, all sons are occupied."
Fingon's eyes grew wide.
"I completely forgot." he said, his attempt at a smile turned out more like a grimace. Maedhros laid no blame at his feet, he felt no anger. He felt tired.
"You are as bad as your father!"
Maedhros raked his hair back with his fingers and huffed.
"I think I shall return home." he said, more brusquely than he had intended. Fingon stared, unable to form words nor sentences with faltering tongue and Nerdanel nodded.
"Find peace son, and rest well." she watched her son closely and with concern as he made for the door.
"Maedhros," said Fingon. Maedhros turned. "Enjoy the solitude, enjoy the quiet."
Fingon flashed him a smile that was utterly churlish and Maedhros felt himself smirking despite the sullen mood he had fallen to. And as he passed through the door he could have sworn Fingon had winked.
Princelings don't wink, he thought to himself, befuddled. But then they aren't supposed to love their cousins, either.
The wine filled the glass and the scent filled the room, it was strong stuff; heady. Maedhros sipped and pulled a face, the taste was bitter too. The last time I'm stealing wine from Maglor's room, he grumbled.
But still he sipped and sipped and then poured more once there was naught left to sip. His father had joked once that alcohol and melancholy were as marriage and love-making. Rather apropos for today. Maedhros laughed at his own musing, it was as bitter as the wine.
He was still brooding when came a knock on the door, brisk and energetic. Maedhros let out another sour bark of laughter and took a deeper draught. Interruptions! More interruptions!
The knock came again. Then again. And again. No matter how many mouthfuls of wine Maedhros had, the knocking still persisted. Finally he stood, slowly as not to cause his head to swim and go toppling over, and marched over to the door. The knock came again. "I'm right here you bloody fool!" Maedhros called as he twisted the key in the lock, he had half a mind to return to his chair and ignore the intruder.
But curiosity had the better of him, once again.
And it was to curiosity he lifted a glass to every night since.
There stood Fingon on the other side, pale and beautiful and dressed in gossamer and silk. Maedhros dared not breathe, he dared not take his eyes from Fingon's. They stayed connected as Fingon took a step inside and as Maedhros reached to push the door closed with the tip of his fingers. He had to look away then, to the key in his hand but Fingon was moving too, forward, with slow steps.
Maedhros remained near the door, fumbling with the key. He could hear his own heartbeat, his breaths got shorter and he could not get the key to turn! He jangled it in the lock a few times and praised every Valar in Aman when he heard a click.
Maedhros turned. Fingon was stood before the fireplace. He smiled when he saw he had Maedhros' attention, and it was an utterly wicked sight.
Fingon let the robe fall to the floor.
"It is Lover's Day," said he. "Let us celebrate it."
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