Fanfic Maitimelia's Story Gifts

(For my little bro, @Tyelkormo the Fair . The accompanying artwork can be found here.)

“Can we keep him, Timo?”

Maitimo frowned slightly as he eyed the squirming raccoon in Tyelko’s arms. The creature was otherwise oddly calm, but how long would that last?

“I don’t know, Tyelko,” he said with a sigh. “Raccoons are wild animals, not pets. They’re viciously prone to biting people and getting into things they’re not supposed to.”

Kind of like you, he thought, but didn’t say.

“Please?” Tyelko whined, his bright blue eyes seemingly enormous. “It’s his birthday! We can’t just abandon him on his birthday!”

“And how do you know it’s his birthday?”

“He’s wearing a party hat,” Tyelko said flatly. “And he’s eating birthday cake. Come on, Nelyo, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

Maitimo opened his mouth, ready to raise several questions, but Tyelko interrupted:

“Nobody’s given him a gift yet. And he says he wants to come home with us. Please, Timo, I know you would never let anyone celebrate a birthday alone on your watch!”

Well, this was true. Ever since Fëanáro and Nerdanel had forgotten Kano’s birthday a few years back—and then Moryo’s that same year—Maitimo had taken it into his own hands to make sure no one would be forgotten again. While he already had far too much on his plate between his own studies and managing his little brothers’ daily activities while their parents became increasingly absent, someone had to make sure the brothers didn’t feel forgotten on their special days.

“Well, doing it for my brothers, who are actual Eldar, is one thing,” Maitimo said. “But to do it for a raccoon, a mere animal—”

The creature suddenly stopped his munching on the chocolate cake, and its snout scrunched up as it gave a loud hiss.

Tyelko softly chattered at it until it calmed down, but his eyes glared coldly at Maitimo. “You offended him,” Tyelko scolded. “And I thought you were supposed to be the diplomatic one. Either you’re not acting like you’re supposed to, or everyone is calling you the wrong things.”

“Okay, okay, will you tell him I’m sorry?” At this point, Maitimo knew better than to argue whenever Tyelko translated the speech of animals, even though sometimes he had his doubts about whether the translations were accurate. Sometimes, it sure felt like Tyelko said whatever he wanted in order to tease or mess with Maitimo.

“He’ll forgive you,” Tyelko said with a somber nod. “If you let him come home with us.”

With his brain hazy from sleep deprivation, Maitimo finally nodded in agreement. He found it difficult to stubbornly refuse when both his brother and the raccoon were so cute. “All right. But we’ll keep him outside. Atar and Ammë will be furious if they find out.”

“Just like how they’ll be furious if they find out about your secret picnics with Aranya,” Tyelko said in a singsong voice.

Maitimo blushed, but could not argue against that point, and so he and Tyelko and the raccoon headed out of the woods and back towards the house.

“What’s his name?” Maitimo asked. Though sometimes it took him a while to catch on when Tyelko was having conversations with animals—especially when he was particularly tired—once he caught on, he had gotten used to engaging in the conversations as well.

“Seeker,” Tyelko replied.

“Is there anything in particular he wants for his birthday?”

Tyelko glared at Maitimo as reproachfully as though he had suggested cutting off the raccoon’s tail. “It’s supposed to be a surprise! Are you forgetting everything you know about birthdays here? Where would the fun be if you asked me or Kano or Moryo or Curvo what we wanted?”

“That’s different because I know what you all would like,” Maitimo said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know what raccoons in general would like, let alone Seeker in particular.”

“Oh, leave that to me. You just go get us some food for the party, and I’ll handle the gift.”

Maitimo agreed to this, and they soon arrived at the gardens outside the house. Tyelko offered Seeker a chair at the garden table, and Maitimo headed for the kitchen inside.

But by the time he returned with a tray full of bread, cheese, cuts of meat and bunches of grapes, he found Seeker burying himself in Nerdanel’s favorite red rose bush, munching happily away at the flowers. Tyelko was watching him, smiling and seemingly too enamored to do anything about it.

“Hey! Tyelko, tell him to stop!” Maitimo scolded. “Those are Ammë’s favorites!”

Tyelko jumped at his voice, and his cheeks flushed a bright pink, and he muttered some indistinct noises under his breath. Seeker scurried sheepishly away from the bush, chattering in response, and climbed back into the chair.

“He’s really sorry, Timo,” Tyelko said with wide, pitiful eyes. “He didn’t know, and I, uh… forgot. So it’s my fault, but don’t make him leave because of it.”

“It’s all right,” Maitimo sighed. “The roses will grow back next year.”

Besides, Nerdanel hardly tended to her garden anymore. She spent most of her time holed up in the workshop, and the care of the garden was left to the servants.

So Maitimo arranged three plates with the food, and poured chilled, diluted white wine into two goblets, and plain water into a bowl. (He wasn’t sure how raccoons would react to even small amounts of alcohol, and didn’t want to find out.) But as he made the preparations, Tyelko disappeared, presumably to prepare a gift for Seeker.

But Tyelko didn’t return before Maitimo finished, so he was left sitting at one end of the table and Seeker at the other. The heir of the House of Finwë and the raccoon in a party hat stared blankly at each other.

Then, Seeker reached for his plate and started popping grapes into his mouth.

“We should wait for Tyelko,” Maitimo said halfheartedly, but Seeker either didn’t understand him or didn’t care, and continued to devour the items on his plate. And then, Seeker hopped up on the table and reached for Maitimo’s plate. The creature’s stomach must have been a bottomless pit, much like Tyelko himself.

“Hey, no, this is mine, not yours.” Maitimo used his long arms to his advantage to hold both his plate and Tyelko’s high up and far away.

But Seeker, living up to his name and not to be deterred, grabbed onto Maitimo’s waist and began to climb his body.

So it was in this state that Tyelko found his eldest brother, squirming and yelling and dropping food as he tried to balance the plates. Tyelko couldn’t help but burst out laughing. But mercifully, he called out to Seeker, who seemed embarrassed once again as he scurried off.

“You—you looked so funny!” Tyelko wheezed, doubling over with laughter.

“I’m sure it was hilarious,” Maitimo grumbled, frowning at the scratches and small tears on his tunic.

But the rest of the party remained relatively civilized, with Tyelko and Maitimo eating their dinner and sipping their wine, and Seeker waiting patiently, now that he understood his turn was done. Then, Tyelko presented Seeker with a small drawstring bag. The raccoon eagerly opened it and grabbed at its contents: cheap jewelry and half-finished gems of Fëanáro. Though not particularly valuable to the Eldar, these trinkets all had one thing in common: they were gloriously shiny.

Seeker chattered eagerly, jumped up on Tyelko’s shoulder, and nuzzled his face against Tyelko’s. Despite everything, Maitimo couldn’t help but smile.

“Aww,” said Tyelko, his eyes huge and glittering. “Timo, we’re best friends now! Do you know what this means?”

“That you’re a raccoon?” Maitimo said helpfully.

“Yes—I mean, no! But, I’m part of his family now!” Tyelko grinned up at Maitimo and added, “And by extension, so are you. He says he would have been all alone today if not for us. He wants to thank you for the food and the party. It really made him feel special. And he knows he uh, stepped out of line earlier, but he wants to know if he can give you a raccoon hug.”

Maitimo smiled broadly and nodded, and Seeker jumped up on his shoulder and nuzzled his face as well.

After jumping back down, Seeker chattered at Tyelko some more, and his face fell. Holding the drawstring bag in his mouth, Seeker bounded off into the woods.

“You… you were right, Maitimo. We can’t keep him,” Tyelko said sadly. “His home is in the woods, and he’s wild, just like you said.”

Tyelko threw his arms around Maitimo’s waist, and Maitimo rubbed his back gently.

“He was indeed a seeker, and he found just the right person to make his day special,” Maitimo said, smiling. “And who else can say they’ve thrown a party for a raccoon?”

“I’m not the first,” Tyelko said, pulling away and smiling up at him. “You’ve done it every year for your Tyelkoraccoon.”

For @Glorfindel Goldtress

The House of Finwë was hosting yet another brilliant ball, in which all the nobility of the Noldor and many of the Vanyar were invited to attend. Skilled players of stringed instruments played elegant waltz tunes. The great ballroom sparkled with golden candlelight and colorful ballgowns of swishing silk.

It was all starting to blur into a muddied mess before Maitimo’s eyes and ears, though. He was simply doing his best to stay awake.

“Maitimo! Are you alright?”

Maitimo glanced up, startled, and only noticed a blur of gold before his vision focused on the sight of his cousin Laurefindelë, son of Findis. “Hmm? Yes, I’m fine,” he said, puzzled. “Why do you ask?”

“That was the third time I called you,” Laurefindelë said, his bright blue eyes twinkling in amusement. “I’ve also noticed you haven’t danced or socialized much, when normally you do plenty of both at these functions. So, truly, is everything alright?”

“All is well. Thank you.” Maitimo smiled tiredly and tried to stifle a yawn. “It’s just that I barely got any sleep last night. Moryo needed my help on an essay he was writing for Atar, and that went on well into the night. Tyelko and the twins then pounced on my bed well before the morning mingling, as always. They insisted I come along on their morning hunt, and then my Ammë needed some help hauling stone from the quarry, and now I’m here.”

Laurefindelë nodded, his eyes widening ever so slightly in a mixture of concern and fascination. “That indeed sounds strenuous, cousin,” he said, putting a sympathetic hand on Maitimo’s shoulder. “I can’t help but notice you carry these burdens quite often.”

Maitimo lowered his gaze and tried not to think about it too hard. Especially when he was severely sleep deprived, the sympathy of others moved him a great deal.

“I wish there was something I could do to help,” Laurefindelë said, his golden brows creasing in concentration.

“It’s all right. These burdens are mine alone to carry, and it comforts me to simply know you care,” Maitimo reassured him, smiling.

“Well, if you think of anything I can do, be sure to let me know,” Laurefindelë said. “Perhaps for now I can simply keep your twin brothers occupied before they get into too much trouble.” He nodded towards the Ambarussar, who stood by the punch bowl stable, building a pyramid stack out of the delicate crystal glasses.

Instinctively, Maitimo stood from his chair and bit back a curse, but Laurë (or the “other Laurë” in Maitimo’s life) shook his head calmly, gave Maitimo’s shoulder a gentle downward push, and walked towards the scene. “Ambarussar!” he called out, his voice deep and resonant, carrying across the noisy ballroom.

The twins jumped. “Sorry, Nelyo—” they immediately called out. But as they recognized their golden-haired cousin rather than their redheaded brother, their playful faces turned to bewilderment.

Laurefindelë chuckled slightly. He and Maitimo shared a physical resemblance in every way except their hair, and even then, they both had a head full of bouncing ringlets even if they differed in color. They had the same fine facial features and elegantly arched eyebrows, the same tall and broad-shouldered build, and the same warm and deep voice.

Now that he thought about it, this gave Laurefindelë an idea.


A short while later, Maitimo and Laurefindelë stood before the glistening fountain in the center of Finwë’s garden. The water sparkled with golden torchlight and the silver glow of Telperion. “O, Vána!” Laurefindelë cried out. Wherever she was, he knew she would hear, since he had a great friendship with the Valië of youth and spring. “You who adorn the world in flowers of every color, will you aid us now in a worthy cause?”

Maitimo shifted uncomfortably. He still wasn’t sure if he was totally comfortable with this plan. “Is this really a worthy cause, Laurë?” he whispered. “I don’t want us to manipulate a Valië.”

“We’re not,” Laurë said with an assertive nod. “I fully believe it’s a worthy cause to help you get a day of rest. Wouldn’t your lady friend Aranya agree with me?”

Maitimo’s face flushed redder than his hair, and he kept silent.

A moment later, an aroma of rose petals filled the breezy air. A swirl of pink petals formed in the breeze in the shape of a maiden, before it fully materialized into the form of a petite, golden-haired maiden with flowers woven into her hair.

“What can I do to help such fair ones of the Noldor?” she asked with a smile, and a spark in her green eyes.

“I humbly ask you to lend us some color,” Laurë said. “To make my hair appear copper for a brief time, and my cousin’s hair gold.”

Vána tilted her head in curiosity as she regarded them. “Is the purpose of such a request to deceive? That’s hardly what I would consider a noble cause.”

Laurefindelë shook his head. “Nay, lady. I wish my cousin and friend to take my place and have a day of rest, since he is overburdened with his family. And as we discussed this, we both realized neither of our families would be deceived. Even my horse Asfaloth will be quick to realize he has a different rider than usual. This is simply an easy way for us to swap places for a day, since Maitimo’s father wouldn’t readily consent to such a thing.”

One reason why he came to Vána for this request was because he knew she had an affinity for mischief more so than the other Valar. So this was all the convincing she needed to pull out two flowers: a deep red rose and a bright yellow daffodil. First, she took the rose and shook it gently over Laurë’s head. As a glowing pollen fell from it onto Laurë’s hair, it deepened to a dark copper. Maitimo was fascinated and unnerved to see a near-exact image of himself appear before his eyes.

Then, Vána shook the daffodil over Maitimo’s head, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it as he watched his own hair lighten into a bright gold. The color felt overwhelming to him, but then again, he would have to somehow muster up a lot of energy to pretend to be his cousin, too.

Laurefindelë let out a deep sigh, eerily imitating Maitimo. “I suppose I must collect my brothers now and return home. Good night, cousin.”

“May you have swift and pleasant travels home!” Maitimo replied, doing his best to imitate Laurefindelë’s enthusiasm and energy.

The two cousins grinned, shook hands, and departed.

For my Lómion (and Íri and Tyelko), @Tyelkormo the Fair

~~~

Other kingdoms were starting to celebrate spring by now, but not Himring. It felt so unfair. Even Tyelko wrote to Maitimo from Himlad that the grass was starting to get green again and he was able to let his animals out to graze. But this was not the case in Himring. The ground was still rock-hard there, and the kingdom was continually pummeled with dump after dump of snow.

Maitimo and Lómion both sat in the study. Maitimo quietly worked at his desk to draft some important letters, and Lómion sat at the window seat with a law textbook. He had given up on trying to concentrate on the material, and instead he gazed moodily at the increasingly dark sky.

“It’s going to snow soon. I can feel it,” Maitimo said with a sigh, rubbing his shoulder, which always tended to ache worse whenever a storm rolled in.

Lómion was so lost in his thoughts that he did not hear or respond.

Noticing this, Maitimo put his quill pen down and glanced at him. “Lómion?”

Lómion jumped and nearly dropped his book. “Yes, Ada?”

“Are you alright?”

Lómion only shrugged and returned his gaze to the window, which caused Maitimo to frown slightly in concern. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

Maitimo folded his arms and tilted his head, clearly indicating his skepticism. “You know if you want to talk about it, I’m happy to listen. But if not, that’s fine.”

Lómion blurted out, against his better judgment, “My begetting day is in three days.”

Maitimo nodded slowly. He had seen enough loss and suffering in life to understand why this was a thing to be upset about rather than celebrated.

Though Lómion already felt guilty, he couldn’t stop the following words from tumbling out of his mouth as well. “I was keeping it secret from you. Because I know you’re all… nice and caring and all that… and you probably want to throw a ball for me or something similarly fancy. But I… I don’t feel much like celebrating. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. I understand completely.” Maitimo left his seat at the desk and came beside Lómion on the window seat, and put his arm around his shoulders. “I remember my first begetting day after I was rescued. I didn’t… exactly want to celebrate that either. My brothers and cousins, bless them, tried to make it nice for me. They decorated my tent with flowers and made me a little tart with rare berries. But I hated all of it. Eating was still difficult and painful, I looked like a nightmare and felt even worse, and I wasn’t sure I’d be anything other than crippled and maimed and bedridden for the rest of my life. So, I wanted to curse the day of my birth, not celebrate it.”

Seeing the horrified and perhaps even ashamed look on Lómion’s face, Maitimo winced, wondering if he had said too much. So, he tried to backtrack. “But even if I hadn’t been to Angband, those celebrations would have still been hard. We had lost our grandfather, our father, and our home itself. Our life was different, and not in a good way. To celebrate without those we had lost would have felt… wrong. Is that how you’re feeling?”

Lómion’s words felt locked up in his throat, but he nodded, buried his face in Maitimo’s shoulder and sobbed.

They shared moments like these often. Though it had been many months since the tragic loss of Aredhel, the pain was not diminished, especially not for her son.

Maitimo didn’t say a word, and only held Lómion tightly and rubbed his back until he sighed, pulled away and wiped his eyes.

“Will you let me do a little something, though?” Maitimo asked with a gentle smile. “There will be no grand celebration, and I won’t go around telling people of the occasion. I promise, you won’t notice my preparations at all. But I’d rather you not spend the day languishing in misery, and… I always love a chance to spoil my family, even if only a little.”

Perhaps Lómion was too worn out from his weeping to argue, but he couldn’t help but smile at the hopeful look on his Ada’s face. “Alright, fine. But promise me you won’t make it too fancy—”

“I promise.”

“—and that you won’t embarrass me.”

Maitimo only gave a thoughtful hum. “That… I’m not so sure I can promise.”

Lómion rolled his eyes and did his very best to look irritated as Maitimo laughed and ruffled his hair. But he couldn’t stop his twitching lips from eventually forming a smile.

“There’s one more thing I need you to promise,” Lómion said, turning his face away before Maitimo could see his smile. “If you’re going to bake something, you can’t put pistachios in it.”

Maitimo only blinked in confusion at the completely random change of subject.

“I, uh…” Lómion ducked his head a little and lowered his gaze, “I’m allergic. Very allergic.”


Maitimo was not one to break his word, and sure enough, Lómion didn’t notice any of his preparations. In fact, he entirely forgot the conversation about his begetting day, even on the day of. He didn’t remember his own begetting day until he was in the middle of listening to Maitimo explain how Lómion was to accompany him to a meeting with Lord Preston of Doriath.

“Wait a second,” Lómion blurted. “Is this seriously what you had planned for my begetting day celebration?”

Maitimo was clearly trying to keep a straight face, but his lips twitched with a suppressed smirk. “You did say you didn’t want a big fuss about it, and I agreed. We also both agreed you are not to spend the day languishing in misery.”

“So you’re putting me to work? With the snottiest lord in Beleriand?”

“Don’t worry, the meeting shouldn’t take long… depending on how long he talks, anyway.” Maitimo gave Lómion a confident pat on the shoulder before opening the door to the parlor. There, a thin Sinda with limp blond hair, a slightly upturned nose, and pouty lips, sat primly on a sofa with a teacup.

“Lord Maedhros,” he said snidely, “I have been waiting for quite a while. My tea has gotten lukewarm.”

“I am very sorry you had to suffer such a great discomfort,” Maitimo said dryly. Lómion snorted and tried to keep a straight face himself. If there was one thing he appreciated in life, it was Sarcasm.

“And who is this… young chap?” the snotty lord demanded, as though he didn’t hear Maitimo’s remark.

“This is Prince Maeglin, my son.”

Preston’s bored expression grew slightly more intrigued, as though he had added a fine addition to his collection of gossip. “Your son, I see? I can’t help but notice he looks quite different than you. Forgive me, my lord, but according to the public records, I do not recall you ever being—”

“You are forgiven for your prying.” Maitimo cut the lord off and folded his arms, gazing at him unamused. Lómion glanced up at Maitimo before folding his arms as well and offering Preston a salty glare of his own.

And contrary to Maitimo’s implication that the meeting might take a while, he settled the diplomatic business with Preston as swiftly as though he were knocking aside a weak opponent’s sword. An agreement was made and the meeting ended within ten minutes. Maitimo never even sat down or took any tea, and Lómion never had to say a word. So then, what was the point of all this?

After they dismissed Preston, only then did Maitimo sit down and send for some tea. He looked considerably irritated, which only added to Lómion’s confusion.

“I’m sorry. That didn’t go at all how I had planned,” Maitimo explained before Lómion could voice his questions. “I had hoped to give you an opportunity to practice some diplomatic speaking, against an opponent with whom I permit some use of sarcasm. Preston deserves whatever sarcasm you have coming to him, clearly. But given how he couldn’t seem to refrain from expressing his curiosity over our personal business, I thought it better to handle it all myself.”

“Ah, that’s all right.” Lómion shrugged. “But I still think it’s a strange begetting day present.”

“That’s because it wasn’t a present. It was supposed to be a means of keeping you occupied… wait a minute. Lómion, are you saying you do want me to do something special for you after all?”

“I never said I didn’t!”

“Well, then… good thing I already did!” Maitimo smiled as, at that moment, a servant girl arrived, carrying a tray filled with not only tea, but also cookies. These smelled of honey and were filled with sweet berries.

In his life with Aredhel and Eöl, sugar and even honey had been a rare treat for Lómion. But now, living in a house of a former king, Lómion had become quite the cookie afficionado. He could tell right away these hadn’t come from the kitchen chefs. Rather than being perfectly round, they were a little uneven, and they lacked the pristine frosting which normally came from the skilled artisans in the kitchen.

But Lómion liked this about them, because that meant he knew exactly where they came from.

“No pistachios,” Maitimo said with a wink.

“I appreciate you not trying to kill me,” Lómion said with a faint smile as he reached for a cookie. “It sure is an upgrade over my last adar, if I can even call him that.”

Maitimo chuckled. Before his time in Angband, he would have been horrified and concerned by such a joke. But after spending decades in torment, he had learned a thing or two about dark humor, and this was something he and Lómion understood about each other.

Lómion bit into the cookie. With its blend of rich honey and warm spices, he could only describe it as tasting like a hug.

“Thanks, Ada.” Lómion’s smile broadened. “It’s very you. I still don’t know how you manage to bake with one hand. How do you even crack an egg?”

“I can show you sometime. It’s not that hard; it just takes practice.”

Throughout their conversation, Maitimo had noticed something different about Lómion, something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. His stare looked somehow moodier than usual, which was saying something. But at the same time, he seemed cheerful and in a relatively light mood, and his expression did not otherwise betray any dark or despondent feelings.

Finally, Maitimo figured it out.

Eyeliner.

“Lómion! Are you wearing eyeliner?” he exclaimed.

Lómion’s charcoal-lined eyes widened and a flush came to his cheeks. He fidgeted awkwardly in his seat. “It’s, uh, just an experiment, Ada—”

“It’s alright. I don’t have a problem with it,” Maitimo reassured him, more saddened than amused by Lómion’s sudden nervousness. Surely, whenever he dressed or presented himself in a way Eöl didn’t like, he must have paid the consequences. And even though Lómion knew full well that Maitimo wasn’t Eöl—nothing like him, in fact—those instincts of fear remained in his body.

“My brothers Maglor and Curufin like to wear it too,” Maitimo continued, hoping to distract Lómion out of his anxiety. “And they both picked up the habit from our adar. He liked to use bits of charcoal to line his eyes, and our mother seemed to like it a lot when he did that.”

Maitimo smiled wistfully at the memory of when he and Laurë, as small Elflings, had once decided to spy on their parents in the forge. Nerdanel had traced a finger around some of the smoky lining of Fëanáro’s eyes, and then pulled him in for a passionate kiss… Maitimo and Makalaurë had run away screaming. They had learned that day it wasn’t so fun to spy on their parents after all. And the other brothers all had to learn that same lesson in their own timing.

“I did notice that about Uncle Curufin,” Lómion said quietly.

“Is that where you got the idea?”

Lómion only shrugged innocently, and Maitimo smiled and patted his shoulder before standing up. But just then, he got a horrible idea. What if Lómion was wearing the eyeliner because he wanted to impress an elleth? Not that Maitimo knew of any young lady around here who had caught Lómion’s attention, but what if there was one running around unbeknownst to him? Maitimo had only just become an adopted parent to this young ellon! He wasn’t ready for this!

Shaking the thought aside, he said, “Come on. There’s one more thing I have planned for you, and it’s the most important thing of all.”

Hesitant to receive any more attention, yet unable to resist his curiosity, Lómion nodded and followed Maitimo out the door.

They left the castle and trudged through the half-melted sludge on the ground. Without a word, Lómion held Maitimo’s arm as they walked. The terrain was rough and slippery, and Maitimo still walked with a slight limp thanks to Eöl. It had only been a few months since those horrific events, and though Maitimo liked to think he was fully recovered and could do everything he normally could, the idea of him walking through all this snow and mud made Lómion a little nervous.

Maitimo, picking up on this, glanced at Lómion with a sheepish yet grateful smile.

They eventually came to the garden. This was a neatly arranged landscape surrounded by a low brick wall covered with vines, though the vines still looked like drab sticks at this time of year. There were no signs of flowers yet; their reserved plots were still full of nothing but mud and snow. The trees here were not budding yet, so they still looked dull and skeletal, bowed under the weight of melting snow. A cold drop from one of them landed right on the tip of Lómion’s nose, and he yelped. Maitimo chuckled and offered him a clean handkerchief.

“Some begetting day,” Lómion grumbled. “First you make me help you deal with a snotlord, and then you make me snotty myself!”

He blew his nose into the handkerchief. Cold weather always had a way of making his nose run.

“Don’t worry. You could catch a mortal man’s head cold and still be nowhere near as snotty as Lord Preston,” Maitimo said with a solemn nod.

Lómion couldn’t help but crack a smile. And then, for the first time that day—maybe several days—he laughed.

They came to an unassuming corner of the garden, with nothing in it except a decently large plot of dirt. Maitimo reached into a hidden pocket in his cloak and pulled out a tree sapling.

Lómion tried not to look as unamused as he felt. If this was some sort of flowering tree, especially a pink one—

“Don’t worry, I think you’re going to like this one,” Maitimo said, as though he knew Lómion’s thoughts. “I’ve been wanting to fill this space of the garden with something, and I also want you to have more places you can call your own here. This is a weeping willow, and I would like you to have it. It may not look like much now, or even for a few years, but over time, it will grow thick and full. It will have such thick coverage that if you hide under its branches, no one will see you.”

Hiding from people? Lómion was sold!

Maitimo didn’t even have to say another word before Lómion found a small garden shovel sitting nearby and started to dig a little hole for the tree. “I just wish it could grow up now so I can start hiding from people now,” he admitted.

“Well, the best time to plant a tree is twenty-five years ago, as the saying goes. But you still have lots of growing to do, Lómion, and I look forward to watching this tree grow along with you.”

Lómion smirked and paused his digging to glance up at Maitimo. “Ada, you’re such a sap!”

“Ah, your uncle Curufin would love you forever if he heard you make such a pun!” Maitimo grinned and handed Lómion the sapling, and he placed it in the ground and filled the hole with dirt. He then patted the ground with surprising tenderness.

The memory he had been suppressing all week once again rose to the surface of his mind. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it or even think about it because it was too painful. And he still didn’t entirely want to, but planting this sapling made him think of the beautiful tree by which his nana was buried, and… it seemed unfair to leave her out of this celebration when she had worked so hard and risked so much to make his every begetting day special in the past.

Before he could convince himself otherwise, he spoke in a cracked voice.

“Nana used to do a special hunt for me. Every year. There were times when Ad—Eöl, I mean—either was angry at me and wanted to deprive me of a celebration, or on the other extreme, he wanted to be fully in charge of my celebration and leave Nana out of it. So Nana couldn’t often give me a gift or bake me a special treat, but she could always hunt. Eöl couldn’t tell her no, after all. We always needed to eat, and she was a far better hunter than he ever was, and even he had no choice but to realize that. So every year, Nana’s challenge was that she would catch me something bigger than she did last year. So she started off small with squirrels and rabbits when I was an Elfling. Then eventually she started catching big birds like pheasants. And last year, a year ago today, she caught me a huge stag. Bigger than anything I’d ever seen in my life. She hauled it home all by herself, too. I asked her how she would possibly manage to find something bigger next year. She laughed and said she’d find a way, but… she never did…”

Lómion turned his face away from Maitimo and wiped his face again, pretending he was just wiping his nose. But a strong pair of arms closed in around him.

Lómion never could fool Maitimo, even if he attempted to fool himself into thinking he didn’t need any help.

They shared a long moment in silence, with Lómion crying into Maitimo’s shoulder. He hated how often he needed to do this. Well-meaning people often told Lómion time would heal all wounds, but so far at least, he was discovering this to be quite untrue. But the good news—the only good news—was that now Lómion had a father who was always happy to lend a shoulder to cry on, no matter how many times Lómion needed it. Maitimo didn’t seem tired of it yet, and maybe he never would be till the end of time.

Finally pulling away, Lómion wiped his face again and sighed when he saw the smudges of black on the handkerchief. He had cried most of his eyeliner off, apparently.

“You know,” he said quietly to Maitimo, “I don’t actually mind—that much, anyway—when you embarrass me or say cheesy sentimental things.”

“Good,” Maitimo said, smiling and ruffling his hair. “Because I am obligated to do those things once in a while.”

“Once in a while? You do them all the time!”

Maitimo shrugged and nodded, admitting defeat.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m cold,” he said, standing. “And you need to fix your eyeliner.”

Lómion rolled his eyes and stood up as well, taking Maitimo’s arm once again. “Fine.”

But by “fine,” he actually meant: Thanks, Ada. I love you, and I’m proud to be your son.

For my adopted-extrovert friend, @Glorfindel Goldtress

Laurë stayed quiet and out of the others’ way as he accompanied the Fëanorians home. As hard as it was to stifle his bubbling extrovertedness, he figured it would be best if he could make it home this first night without any questions from Nerdanel and Fëanáro specifically. Out of all the parties involved, they would be the most resistant to this scheme—hence the secrecy in the first place.

At first he was nervous somebody would start asking him too many questions. But he repeatedly rubbed his eyes and yawned, and made no conversation with anyone, and they all seemed distracted enough not to notice his presence much at all, let alone that there was anything different about it.

Telperion’s light was waxing by the time they left the ball, which meant the morning mingling was only a few hours off. Laurë recalled Maitimo telling him about how Tyelko and the twins jumped on his bed every morning before Laurelin’s first light, and his heart ached with pity for his cousin. No wonder he was exhausted all the time!

Funny… that gave him an idea!

Laurë grinned to himself and hoped none of the Fëanorians saw. This shiny new idea might risk revealing the secret a little too soon, but perhaps it was just the thing to teach Maitimo’s brothers some manners.


Maitimo only hoped there was enough bounce in his step as he socialized with the guests at the ball. How exhausting it already was to pretend to be Laurë even just for an hour! Thankfully, his growing experience in court politics had taught him how to charm just about anyone with a warm smile and thoughtful conversation. All those he conversed with who didn’t know Laurefindelë well, didn’t seem to suspect a thing.

Laurë’s parents, though… Maitimo was a bit more worried about that.

Just thinking about the idea of trying to deceive Findis and her husband Fanyareno gave Maitimo such great anxiety that he resolved early on to come clean with the secret immediately. As soon as he found them at the end of the ball, leaving the ballroom and looking around for Laurë, Maitimo rushed up to them.

“This is outlandish, and I apologize,” he blurted. “But I am not Laurefindelë. I am his cousin Nelyafinwë Maitimo.”

They both stared at him incredulously. Both the parents had such an innocent and confused gaze that it filled Maitimo’s heart with guilt.

“What is the meaning of this?” Findis exclaimed. “You look just like my son. I don’t understand.”

Maitimo hurried on to explain the idea Laurë had proposed, and how Vána had helped them with the disguise.

“We only did this because your son is so kind and wished to alleviate me of my burdens with my family just for a day,” he concluded. “Between my family and my studies and my position on the City Council of Tirion, I’m always kept up late into Telperion’s hours and awoken before the morning mingling. There is no ill intent behind this plot at all, and I didn’t wish to deceive you. But this is the only way I can find some relief from my obligations for a short while.”

He carefully watched the expressions on their faces, and to his relief, they turned from shock and confusion to understanding and sympathy.

“If you had not told us this, I suppose I would have noticed how weary you look,” Fanyareno said. Though he was a dark-haired Noldo, Laurë clearly inherited his bright blue eyes from him. “I’d wonder what in all Arda Laurë had been up to, to drain him so when he came here as bright and invigorated as ever.”

All three of them chuckled at the idea of Laurë behaving so wildly over the course of this one short evening that he somehow managed to deplete his vast reserves of energy.

“And I grieve that you feel you have to go through such lengths just to get some needed rest,” Findis added, putting an arm around Maitimo’s shoulders. “Would your parents not meet you with understanding?”

Maitimo shook his head and blinked back tears. Nerdanel probably would have understood him just fine, but she was overburdened herself, and her first loyalty was to the will of Fëanáro. And Maitimo didn’t feel like explaining all that.

“Well, come. Asfaloth will bear you to our home swiftly and gently,” Fanyareno said with a warm smile. “And you may stay and rest as long as you need.”


Laurë decided not to go to bed at all that night. It was only a few hours until the time came for his plan, anyway.

He bade the brothers good-night and closed Maitimo’s door, though he was careful not to lock it, since Maitimo spoke of how he never felt right in his conscience about locking his door. And he listened carefully, waiting for silence.

The twins chattered for almost an hour after that, but everyone else seemed to go quiet fairly quickly. As Laurë waited for them to finally go to sleep, he wandered around Maitimo’s room with curiosity and fascination. The place was a bit of a disaster, with open books and scattered parchments and half-drunk cups of tea everywhere. Laurë debated whether he should offer his cousin a helping hand. On one hand, the mess was clearly a result of Maitimo’s overwork, and he certainly would have preferred a calmer and cleaner environment to be in. But on the other hand, having his things moved might cause him even more stress when he returned.

Laurë decided on somewhat of a compromise between the two: he didn’t touch any of the open books, and he did nothing to the parchments except stack them into a pile and place them on the great desk. And he dumped out the teacups and put them in a stack so a servant could collect them to be washed the next morning.

Before long, Telperion started to fade, and Laurë knew the morning mingling was about to happen. The house was dead silent. Perfect!

He tiptoed down the hallway until he came to what he vaguely remembered to be Tyelko’s room. Based on the smells of fur and leather wafting from the door, Laurë figured his memory was correct.

Cracking open the door, he found Tyelko sprawled on his bed—lying on his stomach on top of the blankets, with one leg bent and resting on top of a pillow, one arm hanging off the bed, and his face on the very edge of the mattress.

Fascinating! Laurë thought.

Trying not to burst out in laughter, he crept closer to the bed… and then pounced on it.

“Good morning, Tyelko!” he sang, bouncing up and down. “Time to wake up!”

Tyelko yelped and fell to the floor with a thud.

“What in all Arda, Nelyo!” he exclaimed, climbing back to his feet and rubbing his reddened eyes.

“I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t miss your morning hunt,” Laurë said with an innocent smile.

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard,” Tyelko snapped, grabbing a pillow and throwing it in Laurë’s direction. It hit him square in the chest, but Laurë caught it gracefully in his arms upon the impact.

Tyelko tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Something’s not right. You’re never so energetic or coordinated in the morning. It’s why you’re useless in my morning hunts. What has gotten into you? If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think you got possessed by our cousin Laurë.”

“What if I told you you’re not terribly far off from the truth?”

Tyelko raised his pale brows, and Laurë went on to explain the story of his agreement with Maitimo and how Vána made it happen.

As he concluded the tale, Tyelko took another pillow and gave Laurë a firm whack to the face with it. Laurë uttered a muffled cry.

“That’s for waking me up the way you did,” Tyelko snapped.

“You do that to Maitimo every morning. And since he is, in your words, ‘useless in morning hunts,’ the entire exercise seems a bit counterproductive to me.”

A sudden change of mood took over Tyelko’s face: the anger and indignation faded to a sullen pout, but there was also some hurt in his eyes.

“Nelyo wanted to get away from us so badly that he sent you to come here and bother us instead, huh?”

Now Laurë felt a twinge of guilt in his heart. Had he done something wrong after all?

“You’re not the reason why Maitimo needed a break,” he tried to reassure his cousin. “He loves you, all of you, very much. The problem is, he knows you all need him and he feels too guilty to ask for breaks. And he doesn’t feel your Atar will give him permission to stop or slow down. I promise he will return and he and I will resume our normal places very soon, but everyone needs a break from such bustling activity sometimes. It’s not because he wanted to get away from you, Tyelko.”

Tyelko’s pout remained and he folded his arms, but his expression softened just a little. “But why did he send you here, then? He could have just left and gone somewhere else if he wanted. Why does he think it’s good enough just to send someone else who looks and talks like him? We’re not stupid! We’d have all figured out you aren’t him at some point.”

“We realized that. The purpose of this agreement was more to maintain the appearance of your household running smoothly so your parents would not be suspicious, since they would not have agreed to Maitimo leaving for a day or two.”

Tyelko shrugged and didn’t respond. Laurë took that to mean he had no further argument.

“Now,” Laurë said, standing up, “if you’ll excuse me, I have someone else to wake up! Two little twins, specifically.”

A mischievous grin lit Tyelko’s face. “I think I’d like to help with that!”


Maitimo barely even remembered arriving at Laurë’s home and crashing in his bed. By the time he had any sort of consciousness, Laurelin’s light was beaming in at full strength: it was high noon.

Maitimo sat up and stared into Laurë’s mirror: a magnificent piece spanning from the floor to the ceiling, framed in ornate gold filigree. And he nearly jumped out of the bed when he saw his own reflection: a wild lion’s mane of messy golden curls, absolutely wrecked from a night (and half a day) of heavy sleeping.

At first he felt a twinge of guilt for ruining Laurë’s hair, but then he remembered it was his own hair, just a different color.

Now, it was almost time for Aranya to take her midday meal. Should I see her when I look like this? he wondered, making a vain attempt to smooth out his disheveled locks.

If it were just about him, he would have decided against it, but then he remembered Asfaloth. Aranya would absolutely adore him, and she might not get another chance to meet him.

After hurrying to get dressed and make his hair look somewhat presentable, he went down to the pastures, where Asfaloth pranced around in a sprawling green pasture.

“Asfaloth!” he cried out. He surprised himself with how much his voice sounded like Laurë’s in that moment. “Thank you for accepting me for now even though I am not your usual rider. Will you bear me one more time to a special place in the woods?”

Asfaloth was nearly impossible to look at in his blinding white coat, glimmering with the reflected light of Laurelin. But he paused and listened as Maitimo spoke, and lowered his head as though in respect.

The horse needed no saddle or bridle, so Maitimo climbed up on him bareback, and he shot off into the woods like a loosed arrow.

Maitimo had never ridden a horse this fast, yet he didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid as the trees rushed past him and the wind whipped his hair back. Asfaloth’s gait was so smooth, it seemed more like he was flying than running. Maitimo couldn’t help laughing with delight.

They reached the spot in no time at all, and Maitimo couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed when Aranya spotted him, and her face paled in shock. She dropped the apple she was eating, though thankfully it landed in her lap and not the water.

“Don’t be afraid, Aranya,” he called out to her, dismounting but keeping a distance away from her. “I know this is hard to believe, but it’s me, Maitimo.”

She stared at him in bewilderment, much like Laurë’s parents had. “What in all Arda did you do to your hair?”

“You don’t like it?” Maitimo feigned offense. Perhaps it was a little mean, but he couldn’t resist teasing her a little.

“It’s alright.” Aranya folded her arms and scowled. “But I like your real color much, much better.”

“Well, don’t worry, it’s not permanent. It will only last for a day or so.”

And he told her the story, feeling as though he couldn’t tell it fast enough for the sake of clearing up the misunderstanding. “I wasn’t sure if I should come at all because I knew it would be startling and confusing. But I also thought, since I have Asfaloth for a day, you deserve to meet him too.”

He gestured to Asfaloth, and Aranya’s dark brown eyes widened as she seemed to notice him for the first time.

“Oh, yes… you made the right choice.” Aranya slowly approached the stallion and held out her hand to him, and he placed his muzzle gently into the palm of her hand. “This handsome boy certainly makes the sight of Blond Maitimo tolerable.”

Maitimo chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Would you like to go for a ride?”

Her face lit up, and she glanced up at him in disbelief. “Can I, really?”

“Of course! Though I will warn you, he is very fast, so perhaps I ought to ride with you.”

“Well, if you insist. As long as you ride behind me, though, so I don’t have to look at your hair.”

“I didn’t realize you hated Laurefindelë’s hair so much,” Maitimo commented as he lifted Aranya by the waist and carefully placed her on Asfaloth’s back.

“I don’t. I just hate when you in particular have any color that is not your own beautiful copper.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” Maitimo mounted behind Aranya and wrapped his arms around her waist, and together they laughed as Asfaloth took off, swift as the wind.


Laurë was beginning to regret his decision not to sleep at all that night.

So far, he had gone hunting with Tyelko and the twins, helped test Curvo’s latest Impossible Puzzle (which was aptly named), proofread Moryo’s essay again even though it didn’t really need proofreading, and gone out to feed Huan. Laurë suspected the latter task was a further instance of revenge on Tyelko’s part. Apparently Huan in his eagerness to get fed would tackle the person and slobber all over their face, and Tyelko doubled over in laughter when he saw Laurë return with his face dripping with dog drool.

He caught himself starting to fall asleep at the supper table, and was promptly awakened with a sharp elbow to the ribs.

Makalaurë—the other Laurë—looked pointedly at him. “You’re just asking to have the twins draw something on your face using sauce,” he whispered.

Laurefindelë smiled gratefully. Makalaurë was the only one who had figured out his real identity without any explanation, and he seemed rather unamused with the whole thing, so Laurefindelë was a bit surprised he cared enough to warn him this way.

For perhaps the thousandth time that day, he pitied Maitimo and wondered how he managed to function as well as he did.


The next morning, the spell of Vána was beginning to fade. When Laurë woke up, he noticed some gold highlights beginning to appear in his auburn curls (which were getting matted already, despite his best efforts).

Interestingly, Laurelin was already shining and no little brothers had woken him up, so Laurë hoped his lesson had stuck and Maitimo might have some more peaceful mornings from now on.

He doubted the brothers would appreciate a sentimental goodbye, so he headed out to the stables to fetch Morirámo so he could return him to Maitimo, and they would resume their rightful places.

To his great surprise, Tyelko, who was riding Huan and carrying a colorful pheasant over his shoulders, turned and rode towards him as he started to leave.

“Timo’s coming back soon, right?” Tyelko asked. “I’m glad, but… at the same time, you’re better at morning hunts than he is.”

Laurë laughed heartily and clapped Tyelko on the shoulder. “Well, I am often awake at these early hours and would be happy to take Maitimo’s place in one of your morning hunts again, if you find my presence tolerable.”

“Hmm… I think you’re just barely tolerable enough. If you really want to, you can come tomorrow. Watch out, though: one wrong move and you’ll quickly become intolerable to me again, and then you’ll be uninvited from my hunts forever.”

Laurë nodded seriously, trying not to smirk. This was as high a compliment as anyone could get from the Hasty-Riser!

“I think you’ll find Maitimo in a very pleasant mood once he returns,” Laurë said with a wink. “Until tomorrow, then!”

With that, he urged Morirámo to a canter, and rode away.

It took him a much longer time to return home than he was used to. He had to keep reminding himself that Morirámo did not quite possess the same capacity as Asfaloth, and so not to tax him too much.

And Maitimo was only grateful he had managed to wake up in time to get dressed respectably and put Laurë’s room back the way he had found it before Laurë returned. He was even more grateful to see glints of copper returning to his hair.

And though Laurë was in his usual high spirits when he returned, Maitimo tried not to laugh when he noticed the faint dark circles around his eyes. So it wasn’t just Maitimo: the sort of life he lived was exhausting to anyone, even Laurefindelë with his abundant energy and undying optimism!

“Are you glad to get back to your peace and quiet?” Maitimo asked.

“What are you talking about? Your brothers were no trouble at all!”

Maitimo folded his arms and raised his eyebrows, and then Laurë broke character and grinned sheepishly. “I must admit, though, I am glad to return to a place where I won’t bathe in dog drool or be in danger of my face being a canvas for food art during supper.”

Maitimo burst out in laughter, and Laurë couldn’t help but join in.

“In seriousness, thank you for doing this for me, my friend,” Maitimo said. “I very much enjoyed the company of Asfaloth, and the opportunity to rest uninterrupted. I needed this more than I realized, I think.”

“It was the least I could do. And, though they are little rascals, I truly enjoyed the opportunity to get to know your brothers better. If you ever have need of my services again, don’t hesitate to call on me.”

The two cousins shook hands one more time, and at that moment, they realized something.

The spell had faded about halfway for both of them, so their hair was half copper and half gold in each case. They looked absolutely indistinguishable from each other.

“I have a twin!” they both said out loud, in the exact same tone of voice.

They grinned, bowed to each other, and parted ways.

Potato Day​

For @Server Room Gremlin , sometimes known as Potatvo - may this story be permission to take all the potato days you need!

Aranya agreed to keep watch over the healing halls while Arcamë and Tecno went to take their midday meal. Such a shame—it meant she had the whole healing halls to herself and the peace and quiet along with it. There would be no listening to Tecno prattle on about whatever boiled vegetable was being served with lunch, and no forcing interaction with the other servant girls who simply stopped their conversation and gave her strange looks whenever she tried to join in.

But as she sat lost in her own thoughts, embroidering a tiny snail immersed in a landscape of flowers, a tall stranger, clad simply in a flowy tunic and leggings, strode in. Aranya glanced up and blinked in surprise. For one thing, this stranger walked upright and with confidence, unlike patients who tended to hobble or limp in, or else come in supported by a companion. Second of all, this was a nís Aranya did not recognize, and she was at least vaguely familiar with every servant in the House of Nolofinwë.

It took Aranya a moment to find her words. “Can I help you?”

“Perhaps you can,” the stranger replied in a cool, but not cold, voice. “You are the healer Aranya Estiel, yes? I come on behalf of another.”

“Is someone else hurt somewhere and unable to get to us?” Aranya asked, her concern rising.

“No. This is a matter of exhaustion, not injury. My concern is for my husband and his brother, and I was told you may be able to help.”

“And who are your husband and brother-in-law?”

“Curufinwë and Nelyafinwë, of the House of Fëanáro. I am Tancaquárë, Curufinwë’s wife.”

Aranya dropped her embroidery hoop and nearly fell off her chair. Maitimo had spoken often of Curvo’s wedding while his family was in the frenzy of planning it, and naturally, Maitimo had sacrificed many nights of sleep to help with the preparations. (This had made Aranya somewhat bitter and angry on his behalf, more so than he seemed to feel for himself.) Once the wedding was over, Aranya had forgotten all about it, since it didn’t directly impact her life, and Maitimo’s life returned to its normal rhythm afterwards. And since Aranya had only ever seen any of Maitimo’s brothers a few times in her life, and even then not really interacted with them, for her to suddenly meet the wife of Curufinwë was quite the shock.

Tancaquárë raised her eyebrows slightly at Aranya’s reaction. “You needn’t look so shocked. Contrary to popular belief, Curufinwë is civilized enough to take a wife.”

Aranya opened her mouth and tried to think of an apology of some sort, but only after Tancaquárë smirked slightly did Aranya realize this was a very deadpan joke.

“What did Maitimo and Curvo get themselves into this time?” she asked, recovering herself enough to form coherent thoughts again.

“Everything,” Tancaquárë said dully.

Aranya nodded. “Sounds like them, all right. What can I do to help?”

“I don’t wish to take you away from your work here—if you turn out to have more patients than zero, anyway—but I have built a campsite for them not too far from here, and I hoped you and I could take turns making sure they’ll stay there. Because I think they’re both prone to wandering off if left unsupervised.”

Aranya’s brows furrowed, her confusion growing with every word. But Tancaquárë hadn’t finished explaining yet, and she continued, “The problem with both of them is they’re refusing to rest. I found Curvo in the forge this morning with bloodshot eyes, having worked since the evening mingling yesterday. He was starting to nod off while holding a heated dividing iron, which I promptly took away from him. I’m worried he’ll have an accident in the forge if he keeps on working the way he has been, and I told him as such, but he didn’t listen. He resumed his work despite all my protests, and if I took a tool away from him, he took it up again.

“So I decided to seek the authority of the household to assist my case. Fëanáro and Nerdanel are away on a trip to a certain mine about three days’ journey away, so Nelyafinwë was the one I sought. And he was good for nothing. I found him equally bleary-eyed, having claimed he worked since the mingling yesterday on some sort of political document, and then he went straight to his morning training session and apparently forgot a water flask. Besides, I barely managed to speak to him because his other brothers were all vying for his attention.

“And naturally, I didn’t see any of the other brothers as fit to aid my cause. Kanafinwë wasn’t even awake yet, Turcafinwë and the twins were bouncing off the walls, and Morifinwë offered me nothing more than a grunt. So I concluded the House of Fëanáro is currently in a state of anarchy.”

“That’s their typical state,” Aranya muttered.

A trace of a smirk appeared on Tancaquárë’s lips again, and she concluded, “So I decided to take matters into my own hands. I went out to the woods and built a campsite, hoping it would help both of them to be removed from their respective environments. And as I worked, Findekáno came by, being on a hunting trip. When I explained to him what was going on, he suggested bringing you into it. He says you’re the only one who can convince Nelyafinwë to rest. And I figured if Nelyafinwë rests, he may exert his influence over Curvo and convince him to do the same. Do you agree with this reasoning?”

Aranya nodded slowly, fidgeting with a piece of thread as she thought it over. “It’s sounds to me as good as plan as any. Though I can’t promise I have any special powers over Maitimo. Sometimes he doesn’t listen to me either. But I can certainly do my best to help.”

This answer seemed to please Tancaquárë, who gave a satisfied nod.

At that moment, Tecno and Arcamë returned. Perfectly timed, since Aranya would have needed to wait for them before she could leave anyway.

“Such delicious boiled potatoes!” Tecno announced with a pompous nod.

“Potatoes…” Tancaquárë’s gaze grew distant and thoughtful. “Yes. That is what Curvo must become, and his brother too.”

Aranya wasn’t entirely sure what Tancaquárë meant by that, but she didn’t ask.

After Aranya told Arcamë she needed to deal with an “offsite patient,” she and Tancaquárë soon arrived at the campsite. This looked like a pleasant place to spend the night: two small white tents with the scarlet banners of Fëanáro draping down their sides. A fire pit was already built and ready to be lit, and wooden cartons were piled with fruit, cheese, bread, and dried meat. Luxurious, plush pillows and blankets could be seen within the tents.

“There they are!” piped up a cheerful voice nearby. From the trees emerged Findekáno, followed closely by Maitimo and Curvo, both with a strained look in their dark-circled eyes.

“Is everything alright?” Maitimo asked with an anxious tone to his voice. “What is the urgent matter you told Finno about?”

Aranya glanced in confusion at Tancaquárë, who looked undisturbed as she calmly said, “The urgent matter is for both of you to take a day off and spend the whole day doing nothing.”

Both the brothers betrayed a look of relief for a moment, but then Maitimo gave a deep sigh of resignation, and Curvo frowned indignantly.

“So there was no actual crisis,” Curvo said flatly.

“Yes, there was.” Tancaquárë folded her arms and stared boldly into his face, which wasn’t hard since she was nearly his exact height. “I consider you narrowly avoiding catching yourself on fire to be a crisis.”

“Well, I consider lack of furnishings for our future home to be a crisis!”

“And there may be a crisis in Tirion if I don’t get my speech finished right now,” Maitimo muttered.

“Also, how exactly does one do nothing all day?” Curvo added. “Even if you do nothing but sit there and stare at the pond, you’re still technically doing something.”

“Exactly. And if I have to be doing something all day simply by existing, why not spend that time doing something more productive, such as trying to make sure Tirion doesn’t burden future generations with excessive debt due to their reckless spending?”

A sound nearby interrupted their arguing: a tiny, pathetic squeaking sound. As the group listened more carefully, they realized it wasn’t a squeak, but the mewing of a kitten.

Naturally, the debt of Tirion and matters of crafting were forgotten as the group set forth to find the source of the sound. And by a nearby stream, they found what looked like little more than a little black piece of fuzz.

Aranya and Tancaquárë exchanged a knowing smile, knowing the care of a kitten was the one thing that could unite Maitimo and Curvo and make them forget about their other worries.

Finno announced he was going home to fetch some milk for the helpless kitten (and he departed with a wink, knowing he was leaving two couples to their own devices). Tancaquárë then insisted on coaxing the kitten to sleep, so it could preserve its energy until Finno returned with milk, and she practically thrust the kitten into Curvo’s hands. “He needs someone safe to guard him. In the tent,” she said flatly.

Curvo nodded dazedly and disappeared into the tent without any further protest.

Aranya noticed perhaps a trace look of disappointment in Maitimo’s eyes, though he forced a cheerful or at least somewhat awake voice when he said, “Well, with that being settled, I suppose I must return to my work—”

“No,” Aranya and Tancaquárë said in the same vehement voice.

“I felt exhausted after watching you for one morning. You shouldn’t have to carry all the burdens of Tirion’s future, or solve all the emotional problems of your brothers— including my husband’s. I’m available to assist on that front now,” Tancaquárë said with a wry smile. “I don’t wish the uncle of my future child to destroy himself for the sake of everyone else.”

Maitimo smiled sheepishly and turned his face away, and Aranya caught a brief glimmer of a tear escaping his eye.

“The weight of Arda, or even Tirion or your family, doesn’t rest on your shoulders,” Aranya added, reaching up to put her hands on Maitimo’s shoulders. “Strong and capable as they are.”

Apparently not one for frivolous small talk or formalities, Tancaquárë promptly turned and disappeared inside the tent Curvo had gone into.

For the rest of the day, the group accomplished absolutely nothing except taking naps, snacking, and taking turns cuddling the kitten. Stories, songs and laughter filled the air well until the time of the evening mingling, when Aranya decided it was time for her to return to the House of Nolofinwë. In the privacy of Maitimo’s tent, she gave him a proper goodbye kiss, and then bade farewell to the rest of the group.

She realized in that moment that Tancaquárë had planned the second tent to be not only for Maitimo, but for Aranya as well—a somewhat cheeky move!

As Telperion’s silver beams shone at their full strength, Anca and Curvo both began to feel more awake. They had both always felt their most alert during these evening hours. So they whispered to each other of their plans: for a home of their own, and a third person to fill the home with.

“These things will take some time, Curvo. You don’t need to spend endless hours in the forge, making our sets of tools and cookware and lanterns and everything else. We don’t even have a place to put it all yet. Your father’s House was not built in a day; I don’t expect that much of you.”

“I know.” He gazed at her softly, and gave a small sigh. “It’s just… it’s fun to think about and fun to work on, and hard to stop once the work is started.”

“Yes. But I married an Elda who is only made of the stuff of the earth. Not a machine of constant output.”

She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Whether she said it aloud or not, she knew he would understand her meaning: she would always love her Curvo, whether he was creating or at rest.