Just and Equitable Government by Himring

Chapter 5

Time passes and..

…they are walking across the paddocks in fleeting watery sunlight, Russandol still pale and exhausted and Findekano rather shaken by yesterday’s abdication ceremony. Russandol halts and calls out, a clear sound in the morning air. A dapple-grey mare comes trotting over from the other side. Russandol speaks to her gently, patting her neck. Then he brings out pieces of apple and offers them to her. She huffs a little and deigns to accept.

It is a peaceful scene and, watching it, Findekano sighs inwardly and allows his roiling emotions to be soothed. So he is caught completely off guard, when Russandol turns around and attempts to hand him the remaining apple pieces, saying:

‘Here.’

He stares at his cousin. Clearly, this is not just an invitation to take his turn in offering the mare a treat.

‘But you can’t give me Allinte!’, he protests, very much disturbed.

There are still so very few things that Russandol seems to be able to enjoy as straightforwardly as Allinte. The last thing Findekano wants him to do is to sacrifice his own horse.

‘Not acceptable’, murmurs Russandol, shrugs slightly, and turns to start looking around for a different horse to give his cousin.

It is only the choice of words, only the slight hunch of Russandol’s shoulders that warns Findekano, just in time, that here, discreetly concealed among all the things Nelyafinwe Maitimo as Head of the House of Feanaro has been giving away for the good of the Noldor, there was to be a personal gift from Russandol to Findekano.

‘But she is beautiful!’, he amends his opinion hastily. ‘Of course I want her!’

Russandol gives him an uncertain sideways glance.  Then he tentatively extends the apple pieces again. He tips them into Findekano’s outstretched hand. Those hunched shoulders of his relax.

Allinte is beautiful—spirited and gentle with it. As Findekano introduces himself to her, paying her lavish compliments together with his bribe and allowing her to familiarize herself with his scent, he is aware of Russandol watching him closely.

His cousin has stopped saying foolish and embarrassing things to him.  That would be a very encouraging development, except that Findekano suspects what has really happened is that his cousin has simply swept up all that raw emotional mess and withdrawn behind the thickening walls of his strengthening self-control, so quickly and comprehensively that it almost looks as if he were running away from it all and from Findekano as well. He feels much farther off now, even when they are standing right next to each other.

But here, between them at this moment, snuffling daintily at his chest, regarding him with her large brown liquid eye, there is a living, breathing, affectionate being his cousin is fond of, a being that Findekano, it seems, has been given as a kind of hostage, in earnest of feelings that cannot otherwise be expressed. Findekano scratches gently behind Allinte’s left ear. The mare seems pleased with this. Findekano senses that Russandol is satisfied that this should be so.

‘I will take good care of her’, Findekano promises.

‘But of course,’ says Russandol, surprised enough to let his reserve slip a little.

To Findekano, for a brief sunlit moment, it seems that Russandol is saying: But of course, Findekano, don’t you know I would trust you with anything, anytime, anywhere?’ Only he cannot really be saying that, can he? For surely that would make everything so much easier and, as it is, things go on being very difficult in ways he cannot fully grasp.

The sun goes behind a cloud. Russandol is looking white and cold. In his condition, he really ought not to be standing around in paddocks and giving horses away to all and sundry. It is time to take him back and hand him over into Makalaure’s care again.

***

‘He is trying to buy you off with a horse!’, says Turukano derisively.

He, too, has been shaken by the abdication ceremony, much more than he expected to be. His immediate defensive reaction is to pour scorn on all Russandol says and does, for he cannot afford to give up regarding Feanorians as universally glib and treacherous just yet.

Findekano loses his temper with his brother for the first time since Elenwe’s death.

‘You know nothing whatever about it!’, he yells, surprising them both.

Allinte is not intended as any kind of payment, neither for Alqualonde nor for Losgar nor for Thangorodrim.  Russandol doesn’t think that way. He merely wanted Findekano to have the best thing he had to give—or rather the best thing he thought he had to give, for of course he is wrong about that. It is Turukano who sees bribes where there are none and so owes it to his dignity to refuse them.

There is one thing, though, that Turukano is right about. The horse is not enough. Findekano keeps on currying Allinte; he brushes her dappled flanks and combs her mane and tail until she looks like a queen among horses.  Finally, when he is sure nobody is watching, he puts his arms around her neck and buries his face in her mane. He draws three sobbing breaths; then he is quiet.

Chapter End Notes

"Allinte" means "very fast" (Quenya) according to Pixellated Feanor. She is not a race horse, though, nor a war horse, either.