Breakfast, like most meals, was nearly wordless. Fingon never wanted to interrupt Maglor’s thoughts, and Maglor was constantly busy writing down new songs and verses. Every once in a while, Maglor might ask for a word that meant a particular thing that he could not remember or Fingon would ask for the sugar or salt to be passed, but more or less they might have both been eating alone. Today, Fingon had tried to wait until after they had eaten to ask his question, but he had wondered about it so long, that he finally blurted it out.
“Do you think you could teach me how to play?”
Maglor looked up blankly. “Play what?”
“To play harp. Unless you think I could not learn.”
“I think anyone would be able to learn, but, why would you want me to teach you?” asked Maglor.
“Why not? You are very good at it, and, well, you are here.” Fingon pushed his food around his plate. “It is something I have wished to know for a while. Now I finally have the time to do so.”
“I do not think I would be a very good teacher,” Maglor admitted. “I will give it a try, though. After breakfast. Do you have time then?”
“My schedule for the day is free,” said Fingon happily. “I shall be your willing pupil.”
They spent the morning in the back yard. Fingon learned a few chords, and Maglor taught him basic theory and how to read a chart. Future lessons were scheduled, and Fingon went to the market in the early evening to purchase produce and search for a harp. Nothing he liked was in his price range, and nothing in his price range was what he wanted. He returned that evening with a basket of carrots and peppers, a box of eggs, and a set of harp strings. Although he had never made a harp, and had no clue where to start, he reasoned it would be cheaper and more interesting than simply buying one that was already made.
---
Silence. Maglor’s harp was at rest, as was Maglor himself. Fingon was in his own bed, staring up at the ceiling. He found himself feeling very lonely now, even with all of the new people he had met. He missed Turgon, for he had never had his own room before, and had always had someone to talk to before bed or just after he had awoken. There was no one to take care of the little things, like making food or mending shirts. All the necessities were done by Maglor or himself; sometimes, such as with the dishes, the tasks were put off until necessary turned into immediately from the stench in the kitchen.
Beyond loneliness and self-reliance, there was also the lack of security. Although the house was near other residences, it was back from the road and close to the woods. A howling wolf could put Fingon on edge; branches cracking too close for comfort would sometimes spook him. It was different from hunting and camping in the woods, for he would never do such things alone. Always there was a group, his brother and his cousins, or at the very least, there was Maedhros.
Maedhros was who he missed the most. For some reason, he had assumed that this plan would lead to more time with his lover, but it had not. Maedhros had his own responsibilities. His apprenticeship was something he had taken seriously, and he oft worked long hours and caught himself up in projects he would spend days on. When he did come to call, it could be counted upon for him to bring others along as well – perhaps Uncle Feanor, or Caranthir, or sometimes even Curufin, who seemed a little lost himself with Celegorm yet missing.
Fingon wondered where Celegorm was, and if his sister was with him. Of course, it seemed logical that they were together, the more he thought on it. It made no sense that they would both be missing at the same time had they not gone wherever they had together. It still seemed hasty that they had run away; then again, it was something Fingon had long considered, but he did not have the courage or adventurous nature of his sister.
The light of Telperion flowed into the room, and Fingon rose from bed to draw the curtains. He reached the window and a breeze fluttered through, the curtains wrapping around his arms to expose the view to him. The woods were dim, and yet, inviting. Fingon watched a rabbit nose at the ground under his window. A doe wandered out from the trees, and lifted her head, flicked her ears. Everything was quiet, with the exception of the breeze as it whistled through the leaves and needles of the trees.
Fingon stepped back from the window. He wanted to be out there, in the woods, out in the freedom of the outdoors. He hastily grabbed a pair of leggings from the back of a chair and donned them quickly before moving into the sitting room. He left a note for Maglor in case his cousin woke and found him missing, and then proceeded to the door.
There was no hesitation as he stepped out into the chilly air and padded barefoot down the steps to the ground. He walked around the house and found the deer was gone, but the rabbit remained. Past the creature he walked, slowly into the woods, minding the rocks as he went. The path he wandered seemed to have been cleared for him. A stream blocked his way at one point, but he waded through it, ignoring his wet legs and the fabric that clung to them when he reached the other side.
In a clearing, a very small one at that, he found the one he realized he had been seeking. She was sitting on the ground, with the doe resting beside her. Unlike the last time, Nessa was dressed in a flowing green gown that reached just past her knees and covered most of her form. “I was beginning to think you were not going to come back,” she said. “It was hard to reach you, and I had been searching for so many years for someone like you. Still, sometimes what I want is not what others want.”
Fingon held out his hand to her. “I wish for you to teach me to dance.”
“Is that really what you want?”
“I know it is,” he said. “I can feel it, deep inside of me. I have thought of little else since I danced with you around the fire. Show me how to dance – how to really dance as you do,” he insisted.
Nessa took hold of Fingon’s hand and stood up. “This is not the sort of thing you will learn in a single night,” she warned him.
“I know. I have patience. And I have time. Once I set my mind to something, I devote myself to it,” promised Fingon. “This is what I am meant to do.”
“Aye, it is. How will your family feel about that? What about your lover?”
Fingon searched Nessa’s face to see if there was hidden meaning in her words, but he saw none. “I should hope they will support my decision. If they do not, well…” Fingon smiled ruefully. “It would not be the first time.”
