Racing Towards the Start by Agelast

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Chapter 1

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A soft buzzing in Findekáno’s ear roused him from his state of perfect languor.

He watched it calmly before Maitimo shooed a fat honeybee away. It had been attracted, perhaps, by the honey they had spread on their bread for their noonday meal, or a fistfuls of flowers Findekáno had yanked out from the soft, loamy earth, thinking to present it to his mother later. For now, the flowers were scattered haphazardly around them. They were seated under the shade of a large oak tree, and Laurelin was at its full zenith. Patterns of leaves played across their faces and their hands, dark green tinged with deeper gold.

Maitimo was patiently getting the tangles out of Findekáno’s hair, and braiding in a ribbon of gold into the plait of dark hair. He was intent upon his task, and did not look up when Findekáno stirred.

“When I was walking here, I heard someone talking about you,” Findekáno said.

Maitimo’s hands paused from his work. “Oh? Anything interesting?”

“He was explaining to his friend who you were -- Fëanáro’s eldest son,” here Findekáno hesitated, and Maitimo tied up the braid securely. “But not his favorite.”

“Oh dear,” Maitimo said plaintively, “I wish people would be more creative with their gossip.”

“I was hoping for something more salacious myself,” Findekáno confessed with a rueful chuckle. “But really the fault lies with you -- after all, you have not raised any honest maiden’s ire for a very long time. I wonder if you’ve lost your touch.”

“Have I?” Maitimo pushed him gently away. “You’re done now, move off.”

Findekáno got up quickly -- too quickly -- and felt the afternoon press gently on his shoulders, beckoning him to sit and rest for a little while longer. Indeed, the woods were still, not even a bird sang. But once decided, Findekáno could very rarely be swayed from his chosen course of action. He offered Maitimo his hand, which his cousin took.

“We should race to the river, don’t you think?” said Findekáno once Maitimo was up and had a chance to adjust his clothes, to brush of the bits of grass and breadcrumbs from them.

“What would be the prize?”

“Why, the satisfaction of beating me, old man.”

Maitimo clasped Findekáno’s hand and held it for a moment, considering. “I don’t know that the satisfaction would be so very great. Now that Artanis has beaten your record.”

Findekáno frowned and said, “It hardly counts! She uses that wretchedly distracting hair of hers tactically, I tell you. It flows and it blows and gets in your face, as she steals over the finish line. Grandmother, of course, is very proud.”

They decided that old stump ahead would be their starting line and the river road, their track. Findekáno stretched himself, allowing himself some few casual glances to Maitimo’s way. Maitimo, for his part, made no bones about watching Findekáno.

They were off with a shout, and Findekáno quickly outpaced his cousin, who was, in truth was going rather slowly. As soon as Findekáno disappeared over the bend of the road, Maitimo slipped into the woods.

+

The road met the river in a gently curve, the gravel mixing into the sandy shore. The waves danced and sparkled in the light, and song of the dips and drops and splashes of water carried with it a lightness and playfulness that other, more serious minded waterways lacked. It was only a slim, little river, an overgrown stream in some ways, and it lasted but a few more miles until it was fed into a larger river that flow south to Tirion.

Findekáno came upon it, a little out of breath, only to see Maitimo waiting for him there.

“You appalling cheat!” he cried, rushing up to his cousin, who only laughed. Maitimo’s laughter was rare enough to make Findekáno pause for moment, though by then they were almost nose-to-nose. Findekáno was by no means short, but compared to his tall cousin, he often felt quite dwarfed.

It was not the physical aspect of Maitimo’s tallness that made him feel that way -- after all, a Feanorian could look down on someone even if they were a few feet tall, like Curufinwe now was -- but --

Oh, something else. Findekáno pressed his hand over the back of Maitimo’s neck and they swayed a moment, silent. Maitimo’s eyes shone bright and his mouth trembled with unexpressed amusement.

“You cheat,” Findekáno said, his breath whistling along Maitimo’s shoulder, to his neck, along his cheek. “What will your punishment be?”

Maitimo bent his head a little forward, his tongue flicking out to catch a drop of sweat on the tip of Findekáno’s ear. “That’s for you to decide.”

Findekáno jerked back and wrinkled his nose. “Why did you ...”

 

Very deliberately, Maitimo leaned forward -- only an inch or so -- and pressed a kiss on Findekáno’s mouth. It was a tentative kiss -- a brush of the lips and then gone, but before Maitimo could pull away, Findekáno clapped his hands firmly on both sides of Maitimo’s face, and have him a kiss that was teeth and tongue and fingers pressing against skin.

When they separated, Findekáno blinked, looking like he had emerged from a dark cave to the world of light. His hands trailed down Maitimo’s neck, and tugged at his collar. “Maitimo, I want...”

They landed with a thump on the sandy ground, Maitimo on top of him. Findekáno pulled Maitimo’s tunic over his head, but there’s a moment when they were both tangled in its arms. Finally, Maitimo cast it aside, and Findekáno fell upon him eagerly, desire and curiosity mixed together into a heady brew. He delighted in the beauty of Maitimo’s face, and in his strong and well-knit shoulders, his skin that was dusted with freckles the color of nutmeg.

But for all that, he did know know quite what to do, but Maitimo did, loosening the ties of Findekáno’s hose, and snaking down until, oh, Findekáno stiffened in Maitimo’s embrace and hid his face in the tangle of hair.

Maitimo said, quietly, “Would you like me to stop?”

“No.” Findekáno swallowed hard, tried to relax. Maitimo made soft noises, as if to sooth him, Findekáno wondered if he did that for his brothers, it certainly seemed as though he did not even notice it.

A few strokes from Maitimo, and Findekáno came with a jerk. His cheeks were flushed, and he sat on the ground, unwilling to move. He watched Maitimo get up and wash his hands in the river, and finally, said, “Maitimo, but you...”

Maitimo turned back to him and grinned, rubbing away the water that had spilled in the front of his hose. Findekáno watched him, mesmerized, and then said, “I would like to do the same for you.”

Maitimo’s smile was oddly crooked and utterly charming, far different than the expression that passed for smile in Tirion. This one reached his eyes. “No need,” he said, “there will be other times.”

“Yes.” Findekáno paused. “Will there be?”

“If you wish,” Maitimo offered his hand to help Findekáno up, which he took.

“Yes,” Findekáno said again, who felt, opening before him a new and strange path. He could not find a reason to regret it.

Not when Maitimo walked with him.