“Fin, wake up.” Turukáno frowned and poked his brother again. “Fin!” He glanced at the door, waiting for the moment that his parents would enter, either worried that their eldest son was having nightmares again, or upset that he had awoken their baby sister.

Nightmares were not the cause of Findekáno’s broken moans, and this Turukáno knew. His brother had confessed to him, somewhat, after the first few times. After their mother had left one night, Turukáno watched his brother’s shoulders slump and his expression change from one of false fear to one of great concern. “Tell me what it is that ails you, brother, for it seems clearer to me than to anyone else that Irmo does not torment your slumber.”

“Aye...” Then Findekáno had been for a long while silent, until early dawn broke and the rooster gave a premature crow. “Have you ever had a dream that seemed so very real, so much so that you believed you were living within the dream?”

“Sometimes,” admitted Turukáno. “I have, now and again, believed myself to be hunting and when I woke—“

“No, no.” And Findekáno shook his head, and smiled. “I forget at times how much younger you are than I; never mind.”

In those words, Turukáno had guessed the riddle, for he was well beyond his majority despite being the younger, and had himself taken a fancy to a lady his own age. Still he was puzzled, for Findekáno showed much more interest in hunting and camping with their cousins, Russandol and Makalaurë, and with their full cousins, Angaráto and Aikanáro. Turukáno sometimes went along on these excursions, though his heart was more into the building of roads and of tall structures, and in the sailing of boats when he had the time.

He recalled the discussions they would have at times when they made camp and started a fire, and how the topic of available ladies was ever brought up in conversation. Findekáno would remain quiet at these times when the others would border upon lewd, and it made Turukáno wonder if ever they had spoken ill of the beloved of his heart. “So... who is she, Fin?”

Turukáno expected an answer of some sort, be it a name or a plea not to ask. But Findekáno looked away and turned red, and then Turukáno guessed the rest of it, and questioned no more the softness of his brother’s voice or that he painted his lashes, nor the times he sat quietly as they watched the wrestling matches instead of cheering for a victory or booing a loser. “So... who is he?”

The harsh tone of Turukáno’s words was akin to a slap in the face, and Findekáno did not even look upon his brother. There was no name given, but Findekáno issued his plea. “Brother, if you love me, you will not tell Naneth or Atar.”

Although Turukáno had sworn no oath, he kept the promise that Findekáno had asked for. Today, he struggled to wake his brother. Partly he did not want anyone else to awaken, but his greater reason was more selfish. He despised that his brother had such thoughts and feelings, and though he had yet to act upon them, even that his brother dreamed of them repulsed Turukáno. To make him rise would end the dream, and some part of this thought made Turukáno glad. “Wake up!” he hissed yet again, and yanked the sheet away from Findekáno, throwing it immediately back down upon him. “Fin!”

The chill followed by the warmth upon his naked body startled Findekáno awake, and he blinked and rubbed his eyes. “W-what? What is wrong?”

“What is wrong?” Turukáno ripped the sheet away and threw it to the floor. “What is that!?”

Findekáno chewed his bottom lip and regarded the silver dew that clung to his stomach and thighs. “It had to be the dreams...”

“Well, stop dreaming about... him,” Turukáno sneered. “Stop being so... unnatural.”

“I... I do not think I can. Can you control your dreams?” Findekáno countered.

“I do not have to,” growled Turukáno as he stalked off in disgust.

“Where are your packs?” Russandol looked over the lack of gear his cousins brought with them. “It is going to be chilly at night and your father will have my head if I return you with frostbite.”

“Which one?” questioned Angaráto as he perched upon a pile of rocks arranged in the cave that served at the group’s meeting place. The entrance was behind a waterfall, allowing them some amount of privacy, and an alert to someone coming. In it they stored some of their hunting supplies and other items that would not be affected by the elements or the small creatures that wandered in and out.

Angaráto’s brothers laughed and his cousin Makalaurë smirked, but Russandol shook his head. “You are late, and unprepared. There is no excuse for that.”

“Does your Ata know you are stealing his lines?” questioned Ingoldo. He received a glare from his cousin. “In truth, Russandol, you sound like your father more and more.”

“And? Is there some penalty for that of which I was unaware?”

“Russandol, he meant nothing by it,” said Aikanáro calmly.

“Then he should have held his tongue.”

The addition of Findekáno and Turukáno into the cave kept any further disputes from happening. “At least the two of you remembered to bring your gear,” commended Russandol after the pair spoke their greetings. Turukáno sat down beside Makalaurë to aid him in his task of fletching arrows for the group’s impending hunt, but Findekáno remained standing beside Russandol. The pair exchanged curt nods of greeting, with Findekáno’s gaze lingering a bit longer upon his cousin. Well-shaped, he was named, and there was no doubt why. His height made his form and grace that much more impressive, and Findekáno stole one final look at the glorious, fiery locks that curled down the back of Russandol’s neck – the ones that in his dreams brushed against his thighs; the ones he held onto in his moments of secret passion, yet never dared touch in life.

While Russandol began to plot out to the others how they would return to Arafinwë’s house to collect what the others needed, Findekáno reached into Russandol’ pocket to try to sneak away the map that would show their path. It was custom for only the two eldest to know the route and keep the others guessing on their whereabouts. Normally Russandol would give Findekáno his plans to look over when he arrived, but Russandol was more concerned with other matters, and Findekáno was nothing if not impatient about such things. There was always a map, though so far Findekáno had found only a scrap of cloth, a list of items with each of them crossed off, and an acorn with a missing top. He continued his search, ignoring Russandol’s words completely as he dug deeper and frowned to find nothing else. Ingoldo snorted lightly when Findekáno even turned out the pocket to examine it with a look of confusion.

“I hate to interrupt, since I know how much you like to talk,” spoke up Angaráto, “but we are not coming.”

“What?” Russandol took a moment to push away Findekáno’s hand, retrieving for him the map a moment later from his other pocket. “You are such a bother, Findekáno,” he admonished gently, gathering the other items back and stuffing them into his pocket.

“Says the magpie,” said Makalaurë to Turukáno.

Russandol shook his head again before returning to Angaráto and his brothers. “We have been planning this for weeks.”

“Perhaps you have been planning this for weeks, but we have had the misfortune of dealing with our mother and her delicate state this past year. She is due in two days, and we have been forbidden to go roaming considering the circumstances.”

“That is hardly an excuse, Ingoldo,” Russandol scolded. “You might have informed me before I made preparations.”

“I assumed she would want all of us away, except for Artaresto of course,” explained Ingoldo as calmly as he might with his cousin’s dark look upon him. “As of this morning, she changed her mind. I have taken note that many elleth are like that. Our gear is packed, but she forbade us to go with you. I tried to bargain with her and have her give leave to Angaráto and Aikanáro, but she refused this as well.”

“And then demanded chocolate raspberry cordials,” added Aikanáro darkly. “Father was nowhere to be found. I shall give you one guess as to who was so lucky as to be assigned that task.”

“So you are late and ill prepared due to your mother,” grumbled Russandol. “Someone make a note – I am never having children – nor a wife to be certain, for wives always bring forth children.”

“He makes it sound as if they do it all on their own,” said Turukáno to Makalaurë.

“May luck be on your side in that; it is a fate, sad to say, I believe we are all destined for,” Makalaurë grimly told his brother.

“Not I,” he asserted, and it was clear that there was to be no more discussion. Resigned to the fact the trio would not be joining them, Russandol moved away from the entrance to the cave, which he had been blocking since the arrival of Nolofinwë’s sons. “Go home, then, we shall plan for another trip in the springtime.”

“We really did want to come along,” Aikanáro assured his cousins after his brothers had exited.

Russandol nodded and waited for them to manage around the waterfall and out of distance of hearing before he began to privately seethe and mumble to himself about the ruin of his plans. Turukáno remained silent, fitting the feathers to the shafts. For a moment, Findekáno began to say something, but decided instead to place his hand on Russandol’s shoulder and give it a squeeze. Russandol turned his head, red hair grazing the knuckles of Findekáno’s hand, and the younger ellon sucked in and held his breath when Russandol placed his hand over his cousin’s and gave it a few tender pats before they both moved their hands away. Immediately, Findekáno looked to where his cousin and brother were sitting and relief soothed him when he saw they had not seen the exchange.

“You still have us,” offered Makalaurë.

“We are half of what we should have been,” argued Russandol, though his anger had ebbed away after his contact with Findekáno.

“More than half,” corrected Turukáno. “Artaresto never does join us.”

“Yet he too is invited, and I must plan for the possibility he might decide to.”

Folding the map and handing it back to Russandol, Findekáno placed his hand upon his cousin’s back between his shoulders and rubbed comforting circles. “We will make the best of it, those of us who remain.” He offered a smile, which Russandol returned briefly.

Turukáno, who had looked up and witnessed this, caught his brother’s gaze. Findekáno muted his expression and dropped his hand to the side, but again he had been caught. At first, Findekáno expected the standard look of loathing from his brother, but he was surprised to see Turukáno regarding him with something akin to sympathy. Findekáno fixed his eyes on the rocky ground to hide his shame.

“Maybe we should postpone, if you have put so much planning into it. Can we take the path in spring?”

“Not you as well, Turukáno!” Russandol let out an exasperated sigh. “It should be done in autumn. There are reasons for it which I shall not reveal for the adventure would be ruined.”

“I hate to suggest we wait a year, but if your plan was for all of us and for autumn, we should really wait for Ingoldo at the least,” counseled Makalaurë.

Russandol turned the folded map over and over in his hands. “How would you precede, Findekáno?”

Although all offered Russandol advice, it was only ever requested from Findekáno, who now licked his lips and considered the situation. Turukáno and Makalaurë could easily find other things to do with the three weeks they had planned to be away, but the thought of simply going home disheartened Findekáno. “We could still take a trip into Oromë’s woods, just to camp and hunt deer.”

“If I have to kill another deer, I swear Russandol, I shall start singing that song you hate and will not stop until next year,” Makalaurë warned.

Curiosity piqued Turukáno’s interest. “Alright, I want to know what the tale is regarding the deer, but first, I want to hear this song.”

“No,” Russandol said emphatically as Makalaurë began to open his mouth. “No song. Story later. Where do you suggest we go, then, brother?”

“Well... I have no suggestion for you, except that I would go all places but home, yet not to hunt deer.” In answer to half of Turukáno’s questions, Makalaurë explained, “Father told us to bring him eight deer and demanded all does. Then he tanned the hides and scrapped the meat; I have been sore at him ever after. None of us knows what was done with the hides, and he refused to tell us and was quite cross that we even asked.”

“Is that why Tyelkormo is—“

“Yes,” growled both Russandol and Makalaurë before Turukáno could finish.

“I see.” Turukáno finished the arrow he was fletching and set it atop the pile. “Well, I am sure Naneth and Atar would be happy to host you for the next few weeks, if you wanted to come with us rather than return home. There is a festival in a few days to celebrate Nessa that is always a bit of fun. There are deer, but no killing of them.”

“Really?” Makalaurë looked much more interested in the prospect of a festival than of hunting, and now abandoned his task to place his attention on Turukáno.

Turukáno nodded. “Good wine, and a lot of singing.”

“Really?” Makalaurë slid a hopeful look in Russandol’s direction.

“Truly, you know how to court my brother,” teased Russandol. “Promise him song and wine, and he is yours.”

Makalaurë made a rather rude gesture in his brother’s general direction, while Russandol laughed. Turukáno rolled his eyes and moved noticeably away from Makalaurë. Findekáno remained silent. “I will not press you to follow me,” Russandol promised. “Enjoy the festival.”

“Really?” Makalaurë was already placing the unfinished arrows safely out of the way. “Wish I had brought my harp,” he mused.

“You can use mine,” offered Findekáno. “You can use my bed, too, if you want.” When Russandol gave Findekáno an odd look after this comment, Findekáno worriedly said, “That is, if it is still alright with Maitimo that I go with him.”

Findekáno received another knowing look from Turukáno, which he avoided. Russandol did not notice, or if he had ignored it. “Good. I would have gone into the woods on my own, but the excursion will be less lonely with you beside me.” The gaze which Russandol regarded his cousin with made Findekáno shiver slightly, and he nodded, his throat too dry for words.

“Enjoy your hunt, brother,” offered Turukáno as he and Makalaurë gathered their things and left the cave.

Soon, Findekáno was left alone with Russandol, isolated from the world behind the waterfall. “Are you sure you would not rather go to the festival? I can manage on my own,” said Russandol.

“Actually, I would prefer to be with you, Maitimo. If you do not mind,” added Findekáno quickly, his quiet words nearly swallowed up by the rushing water at the cave’s entrance.

Russandol nodded, and smiled. “I was hoping you might say that.”

“I love watching the stars through the trees like this,” whispered Russandol. He and Findekáno had just finished their supper and were relaxing in the cool grass. They had yet to pitch the tent or even spread out their bedrolls. What was left of their dinner was being investigated some ways away by a pair of inquisitive young raccoons.

Findekáno stretched his arms up over his head and let out a yawn. “I wonder what it was like to live at Cuiviénen.”

“Pretty boring, probably. Just talking and singing and swimming and...” Russandol turned his head to the side and winked. “Well, you know. I mean, what else were they going to do all day?”

Findekáno’s face turned crimson and he regarded the stars with deeper concentration. Beside him, he heard the grass rustle as Russandol stretched out. Instead of moving his arms above him, however, he reached far out on either side, fingertips brushing Findekáno’s side. The sound of a short, surprised gasp broke through the trickling of water some distance away and the chirrips of crickets nearby.

“Sorry,” apologized Russandol, drawing his arms back in.

“No, that... you are fine, no worries,” Findekáno mumbled. He turned his head to steal a look at Russandol, and practically jumped when he found he was being looked at in turn. Once more he stared upwards and tried to appear deeply intrigued by the stars.

“Fin, I have to ask a question of you.”

“Yes... I think we should pitch the tent now,” answered Findekáno, sitting up abruptly.

His wrist was taken hold of before he could stand, and Russandol held it firmly. “Findekáno, is something wrong?”

“Wrong? What? No, not at all,” he replied, making another attempt to stand. Russandol would not let go, preventing him from escape.

“You have given me several odd looks today, and many more previously. Or, rather, I find there is increasingly a lack of eye contact. I would have you tell me why.”

Even now, Findekáno averted his gaze. “I fear you will not be happy with my reason.”

“Fin, we have known each other since boyhood. We are the best of friends. What could you possibly say to make me unhappy?” wondered Russandol.

“If I were to tell you, there is a chance that friendship might be lost,” Findekáno replied quickly. “Would you really wish to jeopardize so long an alliance as ours?”

“You place it in peril by refusing to answer.” Russandol let go of Findekáno’s wrist. “Go,” he said sadly, with a dismissive wave of his arm. “I will not continue to force the issue.”

Findekáno stood up once released, but did not stay so for long. He settled back down beside Russandol, shoulder to shoulder, both of them staring at the same tree. “I am sorry,” Russandol finally said, glancing sideways at Findekáno. “It is only just that it seems to concern me, whatever is on your mind, and I am one part worried and one part suspicious that either I or one of my brothers have wronged you in some way.”

“No, it is not that,” Findekáno assured him.

“Then what? I ask not of you, but of myself... I wish I could recall what it was that I did.”

“Nothing. You did nothing.” Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Findekáno sighed and asked, “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“Why?”

“Please, just... if you answer, I will tell you what is wrong with me,” offered Findekáno.

Russandol contemplated the question. “My parents, my brothers.” Russandol thought a little more. “There was a girl who lived down the road, once when we were children.” At this Findekáno’s shoulders slumped, but Russandol continued. “It... really did nothing for me. It was quite disgusting, in fact,” he recalled mirthfully. He sighed and it was his turn to find a point in the distance to stare at. “What you have to understand, Findekáno, is that females hold little interest for me. It may be an unpopular idea, but my desires are of a mate who I can hunt with and camp with, who will not be so inclined to spend their time weaving and gossiping and whatever else ellyth do.”

“I like you, Maitimo.” It came out suddenly, and seemed to surprise even Findekáno. He had meant to give more of an explanation, but there it was.

“Well, I happen to like you, too, Fin.”

The words rushed forward now. “I mean... I really like you. I really, really like you. I like you in the sort of way that were you not my cousin, I would not ask you about kissing, I would actually try to kiss you.”

“Would you?” asked Russandol quietly. He received a nod in answer. “Then what matter is it that we are cousins?”

“It matters just because it does,” reasoned Findekáno. “Cousins are forbidden to—“

“Forbidden to have children, yes, but that would not be an issue. I am unaware of any limitations on love.”

No answer came from Findekáno, for he was still trying to comprehend what Russandol had just revealed. He was not revolted by the idea, in fact, he seemed to be rationalizing and encouraging it. Findekáno dug his thumbnail discretely into the bend of his arm to check that he was still awake.

Meanwhile, Russandol was wiping the back of his hand against his mouth and running his tongue across his teeth. His breath was no doubt reeking of the fish from their supper. He mentally scolded his dinner decision, but then, had he planned to kiss Findekáno afterwards? No. Did he plan to now? Given the opportunity... he had to admit to himself, he had wondered about his cousin’s preferences, and was happy to be placed in such a position.

“I will be right back,” he promised before walking toward a clump of bushes. He pulled some of the fragrant plant he had noticed earlier up from the ground and walked back. “Here, chew on this,” he said, offering half of the mint stems and leaves to his cousin.

“Why?”

“Because it will make your mouth nice and clean. Unless you intend to kiss me with fish breath...”

Findekáno shoved the plant into his mouth and Russandol did the same, sitting down again with his knees pulled up to his chest. Although Russandol eventually spat his back out onto the ground, Findekáno swallowed the fresh mint when he was done chewing, hoping it might alleviate some of the jitters he was feeling in his stomach. He jabbed his nail into his skin again – still awake, he decided.

“Should we pitch the tent first?” Findekáno heard himself asking. Now that what he wanted was so close he was not so sure of himself. Prolonging it suddenly seemed to be a pretty good plan.

“No; we might defer to logic or something.”

“Right. So, here then?” Findekáno wondered if the loud pounding of his heart was audible only to himself, or if Russandol was hearing it as well. He knew his shaking was visible when Russandol placed his hands on Findekáno’s shoulders.

“Are you afraid?”

Unable to lie, Findekáno nodded, but did not look away. “Yes.”

Russandol nodded back slowly and rubbed his hands up and down Findekáno’s arms. “Me, too,” he admitted, and then he leaned forward with his head bowed and pressed his lips to Findekáno’s.

- - -

Instead of properly pitching the tent that night, they grabbed their gear and stumbled themselves beneath an old pine. After kicking away the fallen cones, they hastily spread out one bedroll for them both to retire on, and used the other as cover once they had shyly removed their clothing. It was not the first time they had seen one another in such a state, but it was the first time they were both staring at the ground, stealing glances, blushing madly, and stumbling on words.

“Do you... mind not having a campfire? We would risk damage to the tree... and the smoke would just go, er, it would have no where to go...”

“This is nice, we, umm, we can just keep warm together, then, and, umm, and the breeze is less under here.”

They had spent an hour kissing in the open before realizing they could be easily caught if there was anyone else in the woods. Now, hidden under the thick branches, they settled down, Russandol on his right side and Findekáno on his left, facing one another but not yet touching.

“I was thinking...” Findekáno buried his hands under his pillow, wanting to use them for something else but not wanting to appear too eager. “I was thinking, we planned three weeks, but we could probably make it five or six, since we have the provisions for it.”

“True, but after three weeks, we would be sought after by our family, wondering where we disappeared. It would cause undue worry.”

“Right.” A light gust blew Findekáno’s hair over his face, and he grumbled and shoved it back.

Russandol sat up and laughed. “Turn around; let me take care of that.”

“What?”

“Your hair. Let me braid it for you so that it is not such a nuisance.” As Findekáno rose and sat in front of Russandol, the redhead said, “You keep courting disaster with this hair of yours. I never noticed until tonight how many times it winds up tangling in your food. You should really keep it braided.” Russandol began to work on Findekáno’s long hair with a frustrated grunt. “How can anyone with such beautiful hair let it get so snarled?”

“It snarls on its own accord. Ow! Quit pulling it!”

A long, thick portion of it was brought forward over Findekáno’s shoulder. “Here, hold this,” directed Russandol. A few minutes and many yelps later, he had separated another long chunk of it. “Tomorrow,” Russandol informed his cousin, “the first thing we are going to do is find a place to bathe, and then you are going to let me tame this mane of yours.”

“How do you—ow – plan—oww!—to do that?” Findekáno grimaced as Russandol fought against the unruly tresses.

“Braid it. All of it.” Russandol quickly plaited Findekáno’s hair into one long, thick rope and tied off the end after retrieving the errant piece of cloth from the pocket of his discarded trousers. “Lots of little braids will be more manageable, and you can keep them braided for weeks before having to redo them.”

“It will look stupid,” argued Findekáno as he looked over his shoulder.

“No, but it does look stupid when you are eating and trying to pull your hair out of your mouth because it got all wrapped around your trout.” Russandol placed a finger over Findekáno’s lips before he could issue forth his protest. “No arguments or no more of this.” His fingers slid down and moved beneath Findekáno’s chin, tilting it up. They closed their eyes and kissed again.

With his head bowed down, Russandol kissed Findekáno’s neck and moved down to his shoulder. As Findekáno moaned louder, Russandol grew bolder, drawing the soft flesh between throat and shoulder into his mouth and sucking on it until Findekáno cried out.

Findekáno found himself back down on the ground again, spread out under Russandol and at his mercy. There was no doubt Russandol was taller, but he was much more muscular and therefore much heavier. Had Findekáno not been so overwhelmed by the fervent attention he was getting, he would have shoved Russandol from him, if he could. Instead, he closed his eyes and tilted back his head, gasping when he felt Russandol’s lips seal over his skin. There would be marks, he could feel them forming already, but with any luck they would be gone by morning if he slept well.

If he slept at all.

Something was pressing down, being forced between his thighs. Findekáno spread his legs to relieve the pressure on them, and felt Russandol’s leg being lowered down, his knee roughly pushing against his groin. No one else had ever touched him there before, and even when he dreamed he did not masturbate, he simply released due to the dreams. Strong hands took hold of his hips and fingers dug in, and his bottom lip was bit into, pulled on, more kissing, harder, longer, warmth flowing through him, and then—

“Wait, Russandol,” panted Findekáno against his counsin’s lips. Another kiss muted him, and for the second time he felt Russandol shift his arousal. The tip of his erection, both hard and yet soft, nudged Findekáno’s entrance. With both hands against Russandol’s chest, Findekáno gave a firm shove. “No!”

“What? What is it?” Russandol sat back on his heals, heavily panting, sweat gleaming on his brow.

With his bottom lip trembling, Findekáno admitted, “I am... not ready for that yet.”

Russandol nodded, and leaned down to kiss Findekáno’s forehead. “Sorry. I should have asked. It was just... you were so...” Another kiss was given, this one shared. “Never be afraid to tell me no.”

Findekáno nodded.

“I will always stop when you tell me.” One final kiss was placed on Findekáno’s lips, and Russandol moved off of his lover. His hand reached down and touched the hard length that jutted upwards, and Findekáno gasped. “Can I... do this?” he asked as he wrapped his fingers around it after licking his palm. Findekáno nodded, and the world narrowed. Everything he had ever felt in his dreams was magnified to an intensity he could hardly have imagined. Body tensed and toes curled up, fingers clawed into the dirt, he let out a short, hoarse scream when Russandol dipped his head down, sun kissed curls tickling Findekáno’s abdomen and thighs.

“If you are going to do that every time, we had better find an even more secluded campsite.” Russandol milked the rest of Findekáno’s release with his hand, smiling down at him. “What were you doing, saving it up?” he teased, wiping his hand off on a small patch of grass.

“Sorry.”

“It was not a complaint.” Russandol kissed Findekáno a few more times before settling down beside him. “Mind if I try something?” When Findekáno froze, shoulders stiffened, Russandol assured him with, “I already told you I would not do that. I do not attend to release within you, I just want to release against you.”

“Oh.”

“May I?”

Findekáno gave a little nod, still exhausted.

“Can you roll onto your side? No, the other way, facing away from me.” Once Findekáno was arranged as Russandol wanted him, the elder came close, his erection pressing against Findekáno’s lower back. One long leg was lifted over Findekáno’s hip, along with one long arm over his chest, holding him firmly while Russandol rubbed against his back and nipped his neck. By the time Russandol was groaning and nearing his climax, Findekáno was hard again as well. The low groan in his ear as a warm, sticky dampness spread over his back sent Findekáno over the edge once more.

- - -

Cradled in Russandol’s arms, Findekáno relaxed and nuzzled his lover’s chest. “How long do you think we will be able to keep this a secret?” he asked. They had spent three days in the same spot, experimenting beneath the pine tree. They agreed to move on the next morning, lest someone should happen upon them.

“Maybe a few weeks, but I think someone is bound to figure it out.”

Findekáno sighed, not looking forward to what his brother or father would have to say about his newfound love. “I would rather spend forever under this tree with you, away from the rest of the world.”

“Appealing as that is, I am sure there are some things you would miss,” reasoned Russandol. “Let us dwell not upon tomorrow. Tonight, let us pretend it is only you and I, here, beneath this tree, and nothing more than that.”

That is how they spent the night, and the next, until the days and nights ran together and time was forgotten. Three weeks passed into four without their notice, and it was only when Makalaurë and Turukáno came to look for them that they were brought away from their private escape. A noisy entrance into the woods by their brothers alerted them in time. They each parted for home when they left the woods, sharing a secret that they knew they could not keep for long, but still would cherish for all time.