Assault to Abjury by Agelast

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Chapter 2

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It was the end of the resting period: Maitimo knew it because he had been awake for all it. He sat with his back to the wind, facing Findekáno, who still slept, his resting expression almost angry. Their cloaks made for a provisional sort of tent. It did nothing to keep the cold out, and offered little in the way of privacy. What little extra blankets and furs there were had been allocated to families, those with children.

Finally, Findekáno stirred, sleep gone in an instant. A sly smile stole over his face. "You look a sight.”

Maitimo snorted. "And you look so much better?"

"But I was not once a great beauty of Tirion," Findekáno said airily, "it hardly matters to me if my hair is a bird’s nest or my nose is red, or my face is as pale as a leek."

"As if I didn't know how vain you are about your hair. You must think me a fool."

Findekáno grinned and leaned forward. "Warm enough now?"

"Hardly," Maitimo said, his teeth chattering. "I don't think it's working."

"I think it is. I feel warmer already. Indignation is almost as rousing as an open fire."

"You are a fantasist of the first order."

"Maybe," Findekáno said, his lips brushing against Maitimo's own as he rose, taking his cloak with him. Maitimo followed him and looked up. Dense clouds hid the light of the stars. The ice before them glimmered slightly, dim reflections of ice blotted out here and there with black lumps of huddling Elves.

Turning away from the grim landscape, Findekáno asked, "Are you in the front or back today?"

"In the middle, with Elenwë and the children."

"Oh. You'll like that. You and she can discuss the books you aren't reading and the letters you aren't writing. And make sure none of the little darlings fall through the cracks before wading into a deep discussion of the philosophy of Elven nature."

"If someone would let others run point, perhaps I could be in the front today."

“And risk you sighting Endórë before me? Never.”

“Greedy, greedy.”

 

*
The wind threatened to snatch the cloak from Elenwë’s head, but she tugged it down and kept trudging ahead. Maitimo walked beside her, not speaking over-much. In truth, before going into exile, he had had only a slight acquaintance with Elenwë. They had had some friends in common -- writers and artists for the most part, but the schism within the Noldor soon saw that the split between Fëanáro's people and Nolofinwë’s was complete. And though Elenwë was of the Vanya, she had followed Indis' leadership and cleaved to the Noldor. For her, like for him, there was no turning back.

"What do you think of this weather?" Elenwë said suddenly. Maitimo glanced up, expecting to see some change in the drab grey sky, the color of slate covered in chalk dust. But the clouds that he had seen earlier drew closer and hugged the horizon.

"Lovely, but lacks something. More ice, perhaps?" Maitimo said, sneaking a cautious look at Elenwë. She gave him a wry look.

"Yes, we might run out -- oh, Mussellë, don't go out so far!"

Maitimo's head whipped toward the direction that Elenwë pointed and saw Mussellë, Calado’s daughter, had strayed from the crowd. She did not turn her head or give any other indication that she had heard them. People did that, more and more. Ice-distraction, the healers called it, the way some minds became absorbed with the austere beauty of the Ice, captivated by it, and never minding where they stepped.

"Hold on," Maitimo said sharply, despite Elenwë's alarmed look.

"Maitimo, don't do that, we must send out a rope,” she said, but he had approached the area where Mussellë was standing, but still he felt the ice shift under his weight. "Mussellë!" he whispered, but the little girl did not turn around.

"Mussellë!" It was then he heard it, the unmistakable crack of breaking ice.

Mussellë turned her head and said, uncertainly, "Amil?"

Maitimo launched himself to where Mussellë stood, and together they slipped and slid away to safety. The spot they had just stood crumbled into nothing. For a long moment, Maitimo lay still, wondering if the ice would give away if he stood. Mussellë was sobbing in into his chest, crying for her mother. Mussellë's mother, Osellë, had been one of the first to die on the Ice.

Maitimo put a cautious hand on Mussellë's head. "It's all right," he said, "it's all right." He wasn't sure which of them he was trying to comfort.

*

Later, he heard, rather than saw, Findekáno coming down on him like a thunderclap. "What do you think you're doing!" Findekáno was shouting, his color high. There were people about, looking at them with curious eyes, but Findekáno did not seem to care.

He shoved Maitimo in the chest and Maitimo grit his teeth and looked on, trying to move past him. But Findekáno would not be ignored. He pushed against Maitimo, harder this time.

"You could have died! We have rules for this sort of thing and you didn't follow any of them! Where was the rope line? Did you even tell Elenwë what you were about to do? I cannot believe you would be so -- so careless! Stupid! What if you had died, what would I --"

Here, Findekáno seemed to run out of steam. Maitimo wrapped his arms around Findekáno, not caring who saw and what they thought. Findekáno was shaking.

"Shh, Finno. I am fine. The girl is fine. We are --"

"All they would say in the front was that there was an accident in children's section. I ran all the way. Maitimo, I --"

"It's all right, I understand, Findekáno."

"No, I mean, I mean I understand how my father must have felt every time I broke my arm --"

"Once is usually enough for people, but not for you."

"Oh, do shut up, that was ages ago and you are the one who did something stupid, this time. I -- I don't want you to die."

"I won't die," Maitimo said, leaning down and kissing Findekáno on the forehead. He was not gifted in the ways of foresight like some of his cousins, but Maitimo had a brief vision of the future, one he knew was true. He would not die until he had a Silmaril in his hand.

He did not tell this to Findekáno, of course. Instead, Maitimo led Findekáno firmly away, toward the space that would be their sleeping area, during the next rest-period.

*

He still considered himself bound by the Oath.

After all, he had not sworn to Fëanáro, but Eru himself. With Manwë and Varda as his witnesses. Maitimo looked upwards, and saw that the clouds had dispersed for a while, leaving only a dark sky, lit with stars. One of the few good things about the Ice was what shone above it, Varda's stars were brighter here than they ever had been in Aman, under the light of the Trees.

Starlight, the shifting ice, and nothing else, besides the dark shapes of the Noldor, walking on and on. Some speculated that they would have to walk forever, that the Valar, in their spite, would not allow them to reach Middle-earth. But Maitimo knew that it was only a matter of time before they reached the other shore, before he met with his father again, with his brothers.

What could he say to them? How could he defend himself? When he had seen the ships burn, he had not felt much rage or bitterness, but rather a complete sense of shame. It was as if he had abandoned his brothers, rather than the other way around. He had spent his whole life caring for them, one way or the other. Now, they had only Fëanáro to lead them.

Maitimo loved his father, and would have done anything for him, had done unforgivable things for him -- however, both he and Fëanáro knew that Maitimo always held something back from Fëanáro, from Fëanáro's cause. His sacrifice had never been total.

Fëanáro blamed this on Findekáno, and had once made half-serious threats about forbidding Maitimo from seeing his cousin. (This was very long ago, when Fëanáro could still make jokes about the other side of the family.)

Maitimo would not accept it, would not concede to it, even in jest. Findekáno was as important to him as his brothers, albeit in a different way.

(It turned out, however, that Fëanáro did not need to tear Maitimo and Fëanáro apart -- the two of them did a fine job of it themselves.)

Maitimo looked intently at Findekáno trying as hard as he could to see some answer in his lover’s sleeping face. But none came. Instead, he was startled from his contemplation by a cough, a foot or so above his head. Maitimo looked up to see Nolofinwë and Írissëlooking down at him.

“Hello, Maitimo. Can’t you sleep?”

“I’m not very tired, Uncle,” Maitimo said, rising. He was not so much taller than Nolofinwë, but he was taller, and at first, he had been careful not to loom over him too much. But Nolofinwë seemed not to notice, and Maitimo had stopped doing it. Írissë, who did not speak to Maitimo overmuch, took Maitimo’s place next to Findekáno.

Nolofinwë and Maitimo walked together almost companionably, trading idle gossip about this and that, how Corintur had been surprised by a fish that had leaped from one of the cracks in the ice, almost to his arms, and how Lady Yellë had trained her prize hounds into pulling her along on an improvised sled.

Maitimo had heard that Lady Yellë, being a shrewd businesswoman, had offered her sled to the highest bidder. And now, the dogs carried the bulk of Findaráto’s fortune, which was easily more than twice as much as anyone else’s, including Nolofinwë’s. But of this, he said nothing. If Nolofinwë knew, that was good. If he did not, then it was hardly Maitimo’s business to tell him.

Nolofinwë was apparently not thinking of Lady Yellë's dogs. He said, quite thoughtfully, "What kind of welcome will your father devise for us on Middle-earth?" He looked earnestly at Maitimo. "Perhaps, in the fullness of time, he will regret his over-hasty actions?"

Maitimo said, neutrally, "You have known him longer than I, my lord."

"Indeed," Nolofinwë said with a twisted smile that was impossibly familiar. "Though surely a beloved son knows more about his father than a hated brother knows of his brother."

"I have some reason to suspect that my father's affection towards me has dried up."

"As you say. What I really want to know, Maitimo, is that if we and your father and your brothers -- if it should come to the worst, will I be able to count on you?"

Now that was the question Maitimo had been turning in his own mind. “I hope you know me well enough by now to know that I would not forsake my friends,” he began to say, but Nolofinwë waved him away.

“Indeed, they call you Maitimo the Faithful.”

Maitimo did not know if he quite hid the flinch that hearing that epithet gave him, but Nolofinwë’s eyes were sharp. There was a faint smile, playing on his lips that deepened into wide grin.

“The name displeases you, Maitimo?”

Maitimo coughed, but said nothing. He needed time to think. "Perhaps it is a little immature. I am still bound to the Oath."

"Ah." Nolofinwë looked thoughtful. "You believe that the Oath may lead you to take actions against your friends?"

"There is always the possibility. However, I hope that it should never come to that."

"No," Nolofinwë said. "And, one should consider the fact that the number of claimants far outstrip the number of Silmarils. Do you think there will be any conflicts there?"

"I hardly think so," Maitimo said, trying to keep his surprise and irritation from his face. He had never considered the notion of fighting his own brothers for a Silmaril. The notion itself was repugnant to him. But his feelings must have shown, for Nolofinwë gave him a sad shake of his head.

"Perhaps such a thought should be unthinkable, a brother betraying a brother. However..." He let the sentence go unfinished. The stark landscape of ice and snow was eloquent enough to make his point.

Maitimo said, firmly, "I am my own man. If you would like, I am prepared to swear an oath to you of my loyalty."

"Hush, you young fool!" Nolofinwë looked angry at last. "Do you still not know the harm of rash oaths?"

Maitimo looked down, to hide a smile. He knew he oughtn't smile at all, but it felt satisfying to crack Nolofinwë's seemingly impenetrable calm.

Nolofinwë sensed his amusement and sniffed. Then, he said, suddenly, "Those who march forward now. They will not follow Fëanáro. Nor any who has not suffered as we have suffered. I doubt very much that the people of the Noldor will ever be reunited. But --" Here, he gave Maitimo a shrewd glance. "If there are those who will cleave to you, I will let them."

"Very good of you," Maitimo murmured. He thought of those who had followed him from Tirion to Formenos and through Alqualondë. Whom did they follow now? Makalaurë always had his head in the clouds. Tyelkormo was too wild. Curufin followed too closely the example of his father, and the twins were too young still.

That left Carnistir, and an avenue of thought that Maitimo would have preferred not to go down.

"I think," Nolofinwë said thoughtfully, "these little chats we have are very beneficial."

"We might be able to iron out the whole Noldorin power structure in Middle-earth before we set foot there."

"Oh, my dear, I forget sometimes that you are still quite young --"

Maitimo, indignant, was about to protest --

"There are far too many unknown variables -- and known unknowns -- for any scheme we devise to work."

"Yes, all right," Maitimo said, with a sigh. "But it feels useful, doesn't it?"

"Think warm thoughts, Russandol," Nolofinwë said, clapping him in the back, and walking out into the dark.

*

Elenwë was muttering under her breath. Maitimo strained to hear what she was saying, and was a little surprised to learn that it was math formulas. At his look, Elenwë smiled wanly at him. “That is how we met, you know, my husband and I.”

“Oh?”

“We reached for the same book at the library. I didn’t know who he was, and spoke to him quite tartly. I don’t think he was used to it.”

She laughed and Maitimo laughed with her. He could quite easily believe that -- Turukáno was such a serious-minded person, he thought it unlikely that he would be used to it.

“But it was good for him, wasn’t it? In the end?”

“Oh, yes. He shares very nicely now. I’m glad I married him.”

Maitimo smiled. He had no idea why Elenwë had decided to share these reminiscences with him -- relations between them had been quite cool after the incident with Mussellë, but eventually, the cold and the loneliness seemed to win out.

“I feel as if we --” Elenwë said, and then shrugged. “As if we have something in common, as odd as it seems. There are no others of the Vanyar here you know. I mean, there some who share our blood, like Laurefindil, but no one like me."

"I am not of the Vanyar," Maitimo ventured.

"No, of course not! Imagine you in Valmar!" Elenwë began to laugh. "How you would stick out! That is not what I mean, of course. You and I are both outsiders, I mean. Do you not think so?"

"I --" Maitimo sighed. "I feel ungrateful, but yes. I am an outsider."

"It isn't that they don't love you," Elenwë said.

"But that you are different, and even your suffering is different."

"So, you see what I meant," Elenwë said.

"Yes, I know what you mean."

*

There was a scream that seemed to last forever, reaching out into the darkness. Findekáno was shaking beside him, straining every last nerve to get out of Maitimo's grasp. He looked at Maitimo, his eyes wild. "Let me go. Let me go, Russandol. I can save them."

"Finno, no, you can't," Maitimo said, looking forward to the patch of open water, where, only a few minutes before, had walked Turukáno and Idril. There was a rope line, and a line of people approaching the hole in the ice. But a shout went up, and Maitimo swore when he saw a fair colored head -- free of its hat -- dart past the the rope line and dive into the water.

"Elenwë," he cried and let Findekáno go. They matched each other's step, getting to the hole. Maitimo had wit enough to grab the rope. Findekáno was shouting for him to stand back when Idril burst up through the water, followed closely by Elenwë. They had only a few moments to snatch them from the water and move back, as the ice began to fall again, chunks of it, larger than Idril, slamming against the ice all around them. Running, falling, half-rolling away, until last they were away.

Idril, in Maitimo's arms, began to sob, so quietly that he could hardly hear her. Someone -- he thought it might be Írissë, took her away from him and enveloped her in blankets. Someone else tried to do the same for him. But he pushed them away. "She went into the water, help her!"

Elenwë and Findekáno's clothes were frozen together. The blankets went around them both.

"We must go back for Turukáno," Elenwë said, hopelessly. "I couldn't find him. He must still be there."

Nolofinwë came forward and enveloped both Elenwë and Findekáno in his arms. He said no comforting things -- there could be no comfort, not just yet.

*

The march went faster after Turukáno’s death. It seemed as if a flame had been lit under them, and every step they took, the closer Middle-earth came. Maitimo stayed in the front of the line, scouting ahead either with Findekáno, or without him.

Findekáno saw it first, and cried out, his hand half to the hilt of his sword. Maitimo looked up and saw a bright disc of light in the sky, silver-colored, like Telperion come again. He could hear the shouts of the others, seeing it. Light, after so long in the darkness! Light, brighter than the stars!

Findekáno began to laugh and Maitimo laughed with him. They ran together, towards the light.

*

Later, the disc of light disappeared again.

"Never mind," Findekáno said. "Surely it will come again."

“You speak from experience, do you?”

“It would too cruel -- oh, never mind. Nothing is too cruel now. Let’s talk about something else.”

“What would you like to talk about?”

 

Findekáno looked at Maitimo, his expression considering. "I have hear some gossip that has been making the rounds. About you. Do you want to hear it?"

"No," Maitimo said, avoiding Findekáno's eye.

"I will tell you anyway. They say that you seek to revive the customs of Cuiviénen."

Maitimo gave him a startled look. "Oh? Which ones? I think your father would decline some of the more strenuous gestures of fealty."

"You know which ones I mean," Findekáno said shortly.

"The Valar, in their wisdom, put a stop to that particular custom, of marrying widows. Besides, she would say no."

"You haven't asked her?"

"Findekáno, I am not so hungry for supporters that I would -- I wouldn't."

After a long pause, Findekáno nodded. "I know."

"So now we can talk of things that matter," Maitimo said. "What are you going to do once you are on the other shore?"

"You may well ask," Findekáno said breezily. "I have my ambitions, the same as anyone. Artanis and I have been arguing -- discussing -- about how we will achieve our goal of finding new lands and new people."

"You didn't make a wager, did you?"

"What! Of course not, that's preposterous --" Findekáno coughed. "Anyway, I know I'll win."

*

 

They landed on Middle-earth with flowers blooming underneath their feet. Like any who had walked too long, they were reluctant to stop, and marched to the very gates of Angband, where Nolofinwë smote the gates. There did not seem to be anyone in.

As they march away, Maitimo spared a glance upward, to the peaks of Thangorodrim, and felt some strange feeling of recognition that he could not quite articulate.

They marched on.

*

It was on the shores of Lake Mithrim that they finally halted. The Sindarin Elves that they had encountered in their short time on these shores told them very readily where the rest of the Noldor could be found, though other news was scarce. Maitimo looked across the lake, to the smoke of the other settlement and thought to himself that he might approach his brothers before the others did, and see how things would be between them.

He told no one his plan, nonetheless, when he made his way -- as inconspicuously as he could -- but of course, Elenwë spotted him almost as soon as he was able to make a break for the woods.

“I hope you will come back?” She looked doubtful, holding a basket of clothes in her hand. They had not truly spoken since Turukáno’s death, not even to dispel the rumors that had followed. She was quieter now than she had been before, but Maitimo thought, with regret, that he had not known her in Aman, nor she him. Neither were at their best now.

“Yes, I will,” Maitimo said, and tried to smile. “I hope there is no doubt about it now.”

“No,” Elenwë said, lifting a corner of her mouth. “No one can doubt you know. Though Findekáno will surely follow you too.”

“I will be back before he knows anything about it.”

Elenwë smiled, but did not bother to contradict him.

She was right, in any case. Findekáno joined him before Maitimo had even left the woods surrounding the camp. He had climbed a tree in the meantime, and looked a little impatient, as he had been waiting for Maitimo for some time.

Maitimo stopped and waited for him to climb down. “I am not running away from you, you know,” he said, with only a hint of reproach.

“Who said you were? Can’t I miss my beloved cousins as well?”

“It would be a surprise for them, certainly.”

“Yes. Father is powerfully curious about how this will shape up, you know. He wanted to send a large group of warriors with us, but I convinced him otherwise. You and I will be enough protection for ourselves, will we not?”

“I thought I was being rather subtle, going out by myself.”

“Oh, love. Just look at you -- you are simply not built for subtlety.”

“Hurtful brat.”

“I’m only telling the truth,” Findekáno said with a laugh.

They walked companionably for some time, until the thunderous sound of horses stopped them short. In a few moments before they were surrounded by mounted horsemen, all of whom wore the star of Feanaro on their arms.

A large dog bound toward them -- Huan -- and nearly knocked Maitimo over in his greeting.

Their leader was Tyelkormo, who seemed to be enjoying himself greatly. “Oh, see here -- two traitorous kin! What, you do not bow before me? Do you not have even a scrape of good breeding in you?”

“Why should we bow for you, Tyelkormo?” asked Maitimo wearily, pushing Huan gently away.

 

“Because I am the King of the Noldor,” Tyelkormo said, pointing to his head, where he was indeed, wearing a crown. “Obviously.”

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Chapter End Notes

Thank you to my beta, Elleth!