A madness most discreet by Agelast

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Findekáno I

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"Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes
. Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears.
What is it else? A madness most discreet, 
a choking gall and a preserving sweet."
- William Shakespeare

 

My jealousy followed Maitimo around. No, that was not right. It followed me around. It dogged me, it bit at my soul, it would not let me be. He was handsome, well spoken, had excellent taste in just about everything, was unfailingly kind to children, animals and all irritating persons. In short, he was perfect, a most princely character. I was jealous of Nelyafinwë Maitimo Fëanárion, who was the best of us. He was certainly aware of it. He must have been aware of it, as all eyes turned to him when he entered any room. He was the tallest of the grandsons of Finwë, and he parted the crowd with a graceful wave of his hand, and left behind dozens of sighing maids and admiring nobles, all eager for a morsel of his attention.

Not me, though. I retreated behind my brother and his new bride. They were far too involved with each other to care much for anything outside themselves. As such, they provided good cover for me to beat a hasty retreat from the ballroom. I might have been able to make it out of this stuffy ballroom, in to the cool serenity of the gardens... 

“Ah, Findekáno! There you are!” 

No, it was hopeless as ever. I turned around, resigned to yet another evening of meaningless pleasantries, but I brightened when I saw that my companion was not one of my brothers, or one of those irritatingly perfect sons of Fëanáro. (But, a sly voice whispered in my brain, only one was truly, irritatingly perfect, was he not?) No, it was but my cousin, the pleasant Angaráto, who was as close to me as a brother.

“And how fares you, good cousin?” I asked lightly.

"Well enough," said Angaráto, a shade glumly.

I inquired to his mood, but he shrugged helplessly. Woman trouble, no doubt; he was just the type for it. “Has she rejected you outright?” I guessed, taking a stab in the dark.

His face fell, but he shook his fair head. “She thinks I am too intemperate and hasty. And all because I said her brother was shameless wastrel and drain on her family's fortune.”

I made a noise that could have been a sympathetic sigh, but I suppose that my face showed all too clearly what I thought of Angaráto's propensity to always speak his mind, no matter the consequences.

“Do you think I spoke too artlessly, cousin?” His fair face twisted into lopsided frown. He had been drinking, and I felt a momentary irritation that I had not. I wondered if I could persuade him to share...

“Well, you speak with more matter and with less art. It's a quality that I, at least, can personally appreciate.” 

“Because you share it, perhaps?” asked a familiar voice, quite close. I nearly jumped out of my skin, for how did Maitimo find time to sneak up to us in this quiet corner of the hall? He had managed to shake off even his most ardent admirers. Oh, I didn't want this to happen, not at all. My eyes narrowed, and my teeth clenched. I couldn't help it. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to see it dim light of the hall. But he did. Never fault the senses of the sons of Fëanáro! Their physical senses, anyway – for he frowned and asked me earnestly what was wrong.

“Nothing is wrong,” I said, and that was true enough. Nothing was right, either. I noticed that Angaráto had slipped away, seeing his beloved in the crowd, no doubt. Inwardly, I cursed my cousin's little tin pot love affair, for he had left me at the tender mercies of Russandol, who looked at me with a solicitous eye. He was about to gallantly offer me help, though for what he did not yet know. Or rather, more likely, he sought to correct me in some way. It was natural impulse, for had he not long been my teacher and model in all things? 

“You've been acting very oddly towards me lately, Káno, and I wish to know why.”

Ah! This was too much! He was so arrogant! Assuming that my oddness was somehow caused by his wretched proximity! I seethed inside, wishing to deliver a quick, caustic blow that I had had seen his father wreak upon my own, countless times before. But alas, I was as hapless as my sire, and could only gape stupidly at my half-cousin, who politely ignored my gaping mouth. 

Finally, I managed to strangle out, “It's not anything to do with you, Russandol. I am, uh, uncomfortable at this ball. I am --” here I hesitated, for the truth was at the tip of my tongue, for I have always been completely truthful to him, my best friend and my closest kinsman...

“I am in love.” 

Maitimo's face, which only moments before had been filled with sympathy that bordered closely on smugness, fell immediately. “In love? With someone here?” he repeated, his voice edged with incredulity. 

That stung. 

“Yes! Do you think I am incapable of love?” I said, my hasty temper once again getting the better of me.

He frowned and said, “Don't be foolish! I am just surprised that you are in love now, after so many years as a carefree bachelor.”

“Hardly carefree,” I snapped, “I've been in love for a long time.” 

“Have you? You've never spoken of her to me.”

“Perhaps I thought you would not understand. Your affections seem to change on a weekly basis.”

I winced at that remark, although, objectively, it was quite true. 

Maitimo said, with considerable equanimity, “You judge me too harshly. I have never acted in a rakish manner to anyone, no matter how hard the temptation.” 

“Hmpft,” was all I managed to say. All those lessons in rhetoric - utterly wasted! 

By now, Maitimo seemed quite recovered from his surprise, and he surveyed the room with unconcealed curiosity. “I would like to see what lady has captured your heart, cousin.” 

My eyes followed his, around the crowded ballroom. It was crowded, yes, but still there were ladies whose remarkable beauty set them apart. There was a languid dark-haired beauty elegantly exasperated with the many admirers who sought to ring her in. She was slouching against a pillar, her face a mask of dazed world-weariness. She was ennui at its most fashionable.

Across the room, there was a dramatically different, but no less beautiful, example of the female form. A tiny Telerin lady – a relative of my aunt Eärwen, no doubt – held court. She seemed to be cast in quicksilver, bright and dazzling. (But perhaps not as deadly as quicksilver; I hardly knew the lady, so I could not possibly judge.) Her laughter too, had a silvery cast to it, and reminded one of bells… Of cool bright days by the sea. I smiled at her, for it was difficult not to be touched by her vivacity.

And, last of all, there was a regal golden-haired lady of the Vanyar, who moved through the crowd with ease. She was not burdened with admirers, though she was possibly the fairest of all the ladies present. Perhaps they were overwhelmed by the lady's considerable dignity? I know I was. She reminded me very much of my grandmother, Indis. And, come to think of it, my cousin, Nerwen. 

Formidable, in a word.

“I'm sure they are all fine women, but none are handsome enough to tempt me,” I said, as haughtily as I could. And that was haughtily enough, although I have never perfected the great trick my brother Turukáno had, of lifting his proudly Noldorin nose skyward at at just the right moment. 

Maitimo rolled his eyes. “What paragon of beauty attracts you then?” he asked, a little wearily.

The idiot! Could he not guess? I confess, I took all of this with very bad grace. “She's not a paragon at all. She's actually very stupid and awfully vain. And to top it off, her family is quite unsuitable.”

Maitimo sighed, no doubt despairing of my lack of gallantry. “You must learn to be more gracious to those you claim to love,” he said in his special, extra chiding voice. It was one that he reserved for lessons given to little brothers who were acting particularly stupid.

“I do not make any claims at grace. I leave that to you,” I said. Oh stars, I may even have pouted. Anyhow, I must have gone too far, for Maitimo’s expression had changed from patient understanding to complete bewilderment. 

“Are you drunk?” He leaned close and my heart pounded against my chest; I was sure he could hear it and know. But he heard nothing, and instead fixed me with a sharply critical eye. I was overwrought, he said, and must be escorted home. I did not argue with him. He led me away, my arm slung over his shoulder. Ah, I confess now, I leaned on him heavily, for being close to him was a joy to me. Then, I thought only to give the fair semblance of my supposed drunkenness. I could hear muted comments of dismay as the party-goers saw Maitimo and I heading for the main doors.