“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.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
--Cast with names translated for easy reference
Fëanáro – Fëanor
Russandol – Maedhros; Fëanor’s eldest son
Makalaurë – Maglor; Fëanor’s second son
Tyelkormo – Celegorm; Fëanor’s third son
Nolofinwë – Fingolfin
Findekáno – Fingon; Fingolfin’s eldest son
Turukáno – Turgon; Fingolfin’s second son
Arafinwë – Finarfin
Ingoldo – Finrod; Finarfin’s first son
Artaresto – Orodreth; Finarfin’s second son
Angaráto – Angrod; Finarfin’s third son
Aikanáro – Aegnor; Finarfin’s fourth son
Fëanáro – Fëanor
Russandol – Maedhros; Fëanor’s eldest son
Makalaurë – Maglor; Fëanor’s second son
Tyelkormo – Celegorm; Fëanor’s third son
Nolofinwë – Fingolfin
Findekáno – Fingon; Fingolfin’s eldest son
Turukáno – Turgon; Fingolfin’s second son
Arafinwë – Finarfin
Ingoldo – Finrod; Finarfin’s first son
Artaresto – Orodreth; Finarfin’s second son
Angaráto – Angrod; Finarfin’s third son
Aikanáro – Aegnor; Finarfin’s fourth son