Long before, in the bliss of Valinor, before Melkor was unchained, or lies came between them, Fingon had been close in friendship with Maedhros; and though he knew not yet that Maedhros had not forgotten him at the burning of the ships, the thought of their ancient friendship stung his heart. Therefore he dared a deed which is justly renowned among the feats of the princes of the Noldor: alone, and without the counsel of any, he set forth in search of Maedhros . . . . (The Silmarillion, "Of the Return of the Noldor")
Two days earlier, Findekáno had passed out of the forest that surrounded Lake Mithrim to finally reach a desiccated plain. Only the toughest grass could survive its cold drying winds. He knew if he kept walking through the night that the sun would rise upon the even more desolate landscape of bare mountains dotted with the occasional dreary cave, which preceded the sheer cliffs of Thangorodrim. He still had no idea how he would gain entrance into the depths of foul Angamando.
Overwhelmed with rage, he screamed. "Can you hear me, Manwë?" No. Of course, you can't, or won't. He envisioned a young Maitimo holding a sobbing little Carnistir to his chest crooning endearments. Never had Findekáno known a brother to equal Maitimo. He carried unselfishness to an extreme. Maitimo had turned his back on their relationship in order to protect him from those last days of madness in Valinor. Findekáno shouted again, the sound bouncing off the bleak rocks. "Hasn't he suffered enough?" If you think he hasn't suffered enough I'll take his unforgiven sins upon myself. He kicked a stone and walked with greater energy, his anger fueling renewed determination.
Much later Findekáno settled down onto his arse on a brittle black boulder in the long-cooled lava field. Not a comfortable seat. Maitimo would have enjoyed examining the rocks though. He felt less infuriated with Manwë for the moment. Having shot a rabbit, he was confident that he probably would not starve within the next short period at least.
"Accept my apologies, Manwë Súlimo," Findekáno said, addressing the King of the Valar in what he hoped was a somewhat more reasonable tone. "I do not know what has become of my manners recently."
The sweat on his forehead tingled from the faint breeze, which brought no relief but instead intensified his awareness of the sulfurous odor in the air. "Let me restate my petition, please." It was nearly impossible to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Although, no doubt Manwë can see into my heart, he thought. And if Manwë can read me, then he can descry Maitimo's good heart. Surely that must mean that there is some hope.
Author's Note
This title is from the ballad "Silver and Cold" by A.F.I. (2003). Pandemonium recommended this song to me a couple of years ago as having lyrics which reminded her of my ongoing storyline of Maitimo and Findekáno.
Your sins into me,
oh, my beautiful one,
Your sins into me.
<< Previous Page | Next Page >>
All stories and artwork are used with the permission of the author or artist, and authors and artists retain all copyrights to their work. All content included in the compilation, unless otherwise noted, is rated General or Teens according to our Ratings Guide. All links go to the Table of Contents for the story, where readers can access more information about rating and content for the story as a whole. We are not providing further information on ratings or warnings as part of this project and remind readers with sensitivities, as always, to use caution in selecting stories to read. We welcome questions about the content shared here at moderator@silmarillionwritersguild.org. Characters and material associated with J.R.R. Tolkien's works remain the property of his estate. Creative work using this material has been written solely for the enjoyment and enlightenment of its writer and her or his associates and copyright infringement is not intended. No profit is made on the materials shared on this site.
Site design © 2010 by Dawn Felagund. Photography © 2010 by Bobby Felagund.
