the springtime of lovers by Agelast

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Chapter 1

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It was a good day to explore, Findekáno was certain.

Let Maitimo satisfy his desire to sit on a grassy riverbank and read and fish -- Findekáno hadn't planned this outing in one of the least explored forests in Aman just to sit around and look at the scenery.

Maitimo, on the other hand, was tired, Findekáno knew. Even if his brothers now were all grown up -- more or less -- Maitimo seemed still to care the burden of responsibility for all of their lives and cares. He had been reluctant to go exploring with Findekáno in the first place, fretting that some emergency would crop up and need to be dealt with. It had taken all of Findekáno's powers of persuasion -- and all of Nerdanel's support -- to convince Maitimo that his family would still be intact, even if he were to go away for a day or two.

And now he lounged on the riverbank, with no apparent thought of anyone on his mind. Findekáno smiled to see him, and left the camp quietly, careful not to wake him.

Now, what was he to do?

He thought of hunting -- had brought his bow and a quiver full of arrows, but the woods he was walking through were still, with only the rather persistent sound of songbirds to interrupt the quiet. He walked for a long time, with no other object than to put one foot in front of the other.

On and on -- but now, he noticed had gone farther than he had expected to go -- he should, in fact, turn back. His thoughts turned back to Maitimo. If Findekáno had had no luck in his hunt, surely his cousin would have had some on the fishing line, if he had woken up to attend to it, anyway.

Findekáno was just about to turn back when he saw a sign, telling him to turn back.

That piqued his interest, and he continued on this path, until he came upon another sign. NO ELVES ADMITTED (THIS MEANS YOU.) Findekáno set his jaw and walked on.

Soon, there was another sign. Findekáno Nolofinwëan, it said, you idiot. Turn back while you still can. Impertinent sign! He wondered if this was some trick of Maitimo’s. Fëanorians always had a strange sense of humor. He went on.

A path had emerged from the forest, thin but clearly man-made. Findekáno walked on, quickening his pace, eager to see the place that was forbidden to him. There were more signs, more warnings. He ignored them all.

Suddenly, he saw before him a wall, one that extended far over his head. It was not made of brick or stone, but -- when he placed a hand on it -- something like the rough texture of bark. Whatever it was that the signs didn't wish for him to see, was beyond that wall. Findekáno took out his hunting knife and used it to help him up the wall. Every time his knife would pierce the wall of bark, he seemed to hear a faint groan. Findekáno felt guilty, but he had to know what was on the other side.

Soon he reached the top of the wall, and scrambled down the other side, falling most of the way. He fell back first into something soft and moist, before he realized it was a bed of moss, but one much deeper and plusher than any he had seen before. Findekáno got up and dusted himself off and looked around. He found himself in a garden, filled with plants and flowers he had never seen before. Everything seemed on a scale one to two bigger than himself. Fascinated, Findekáno examined a giant fern with leaves as long and as sharp as a sword. As he walked, he found that the ground seemed to sink underneath him, and his footsteps filled with water, from which suddenly sprang up tiny white flowers. There were flowers of all descriptions, of every size and color, all bewildering to the eye. Fruits hung down from the trees, gravid and smelling strongly of sweetness.

Findekáno reached up and grabbed one, an apple that he bite into to discover that the flesh was as toothsome as a strawberry.

What was this place? Was it a place for Yavanna to experiment? But the Earth-Queen was usually so open and inviting about her works (save only in the growing of wheat meant for lembas) -- it seemed odd to have such a place, so hidden. This place was lovely, why had there been signs to keep away?

But then he saw it, and all questions seemed to fade away. It was a flowering bush, in the middle of the garden. It stood but a few feet high, and its dark red blooms were hardly match for more showy blossoms elsewhere, there was just something about it that compelled Findekáno to come closer, bed down and pluck a flower from its branch.

That was a mistake. The whole plant seemed to shiver at his touch, and when he peered closer to have a better look, his flower sneezed on him. Of course, it did not really sneeze -- plants have no noses, after all. But still, the air was filled with pollen -- golden, sparking and all of it seemed to settle on him and be absorbed into his skin.

Findekáno shot up, feeling dizzy. His skin felt too tight for his body, he itched all over. He needed to get out here! After the first few minutes of disorientation, however, Findekáno’s mind cleared. His balance was not so easily recovered, however, but after a few failures, he scrambled up the wall and away.

 

*

Making his way back to the riverside took far longer than Findekáno had anticipated. The sky above him grew dark -- here, so far from the light of the Trees, he could make out of faint sparkle of starlight against the night sky, washed faintly with silver light.

Findekáno stopped and sighed. He felt a tightness in his chest, a feeling a loss so sharp that he wondered at it. Did those still in Middle-earth look up at the same sky and wonder about him? He wanted so badly to go and explore there! Even these far-flung corners of Aman were not enough for him. He wanted more, he wanted new lands and new people…

Maitimo would call him a hopeless idealist -- but what did Maitimo know? He was as ignorant as Findekáno himself. More so, in fact, since he was so very convinced in his perfect knowledge...

"Ignorant, am I?" said Maitimo, raising his lamp. "And yet I am not the wandering in the dark, in a completely disreputable condition."

"In a completely disreputable condition?" Findekáno said interestedly. He was not particularly surprised that Maitimo has had answered his thought. Findekáno had always had a pronounced habit of speaking his thoughts aloud, and anyway, Maitimo's hearing was like a bat's.

"You are naked," Maitimo pointed out. Findekáno looked down.

So he was.

*

Of course, Maitimo was aghast at Findekáno's actions, when he learned of them. Findekáno, clothed now and warming himself near the fire, did not see the need for such alarm. He nibbled at the fried trout that Maitimo had made earlier. It was, alas, too dry for Findekáno's liking, but he nobly restrained himself from criticizing Maitimo's cooking.

Maitimo did not feel the need to return the favor. Instead, he held forth quite forcefully about Findekáno's stupidity and rashness, his foolish need to prove himself, his lack of self-preservation, and his utter unconcern for the needs of others. "Breaking into Yavanna's secret laboratory! Ignoring all the signs that told you to go! What is wrong with you?"

"It wasn't a laboratory," Findekáno said stubbornly. "It was a garden. And if they didn't want visitors, they ought to have enacted better ways to keep them out than a piddling little wall." He paused. "And those creepers that tore off my clothes and stole my bow, when I was coming out, so as far as I am concerned, we are even."

"We will have to discuss your complete disregard of the rule of law some other time,” Maitimo said.

"What good would that do?" Findekáno interrupted himself with an enormous yawn. "Excuse me, Maitimo, I must go to bed. Will you douse the fire?”

But Maitimo wasn’t done with him yet. "You didn't eat anything, did you? Touch anything? My father was once invited to one of Yavanna's labs and he said smelled a perfume that nearly set his hair on fire. And that was with Yavanna there herself."

"Oh, I ate some fruit -- nothing interesting about it," Findekáno said, rising. "And some flower got its pollen on me. But it's gone now. See? Nothing."

"I hope that is true."

Findekáno grinned. "Are you worried about me, my dear?"

“Oh, go to bed, Findekáno.”

 

*

Findekáno woke up in the middle night, sweating and desparate. He reached out for -- something, Anything. His heart racing, his skin felt too tight on his body. He twisted, sat up, and crawled over to where Mairimo slept, curled up on his side.

"Psst, Maitimo," Findekáno said. Maitimo moaned in protest, but did not otherwise react.

"Maitimo, please, I don't -- I feel queer. Help me." Still nothing. It was as if he had taken a sleeping draught. Findekáno felt like shaking him. "Maitimo!"

Nothing.

Groaning, Findekáno got up, stooping so his head wouldn't hit the top of the tent. Outside, he straightened, and saw it was later than he had imagined, certainly morning, if an early one. He stalked out toward the river, intent on perhaps bathing and feeling better. Instead, he ran pell-mell into Makalaurë, who sat on on one of the large rocks at the edge of the riverbed and watched the water dreamily.

As soon as his hand touched Makalaurë, Findekáno feel something like an electric shock -- like the sort his uncle would sometimes experiment with -- all throughout his body. He shivered and pulled back, his mind blank except for -- except for some hunger, some need to touch, to push and push until he would explode.

Makalaurë did not seem to notice any sort of danger in the air.

He laughed, in a sheepish way, and said, "Oh, hello Findekáno! You look shocked to see me -- I can't blame you. I chucked the music competition (there was no one interesting playing, anyway) and decided to come here... What's wrong?"

So he did notice something wrong after all.

Findekáno tried to think, but it was impossible.

"Makalaurë," he said instead, "may I kiss you?"

"Oh, all right," Makalaurë said and Findekáno swooped down and did so. It felt good, kissing Makalaurë, far better than any other kissing he had ever done. But it wasn't enough, and Findekáno fell to his knees, banging them painfully against the rocks.

"Whoa, Finno, be careful--” Makalaurë said, steadying him. Findekáno leaned into his touch, almost panting. "Where is Maitimo? I thought if you were going to be kissing anyone, it would be him. Isn't that the reason for your little trip?"

"Why does everyone think that? We are just friends! ... And besides, if you thought that, why are you here?"

"I -- because it was unfair of Maitimo and you to leave me behind! I may not be your especial friend, but you should have asked me."

"That is ridiculous and petty and immature and -- I want to kiss you again. Will you let me?"

Findekáno reached for him, but Makalaurë warded him off. “And why do you wish to kiss me all of the sudden?”

“I got into a bit of a scrape yesterday. Broke into Yavanna’s secret garden (no, don’t snigger like that), and I -- may have upset something. A flower. Now I feel like if I don’t touch someone, if I don't kiss, if I don’t -- I think I will die. Why did you think I wanted to kiss you?”

“I will have you know that many people wish to kiss me, Findekáno. After all, I am a musician, and some people find that irresistible, though you have never… Not that I minded, you understand. After all, Maitimo is -- adequately charming. I suppose.”

It made Findekáno’s head hurt to think that he had inadvertently burdened into some new form of sibling rivalry between Maitimo and Makalaurë. He just wanted to come, damn it. He pushed his hose down, taking out his cock, and began to stroke it. He looked at Makalaurë heatedly. “I have never done this with Maitimo.”

“You haven't?” Makalaurë said, with a sly smile. He kneeled down and pushed Findekáno down flat against the ground. Findekáno struggled to get out his clothes, but Makalaurë disrobed him easily enough. Dazed, Findekáno thought that his cousin was far more experienced than him, perhaps the stories were true…

He cried out, as soon as he felt Makalaurë’s cock brush against his own. And then he started to move, and Findekáno moved with him, delirious with delight. His arms locked around Makalaurë’s waist and he buried his face into the crook of Makalaurë’s neck. “More,” he whispered. “Makalaurë, please.”

Makalaurë obliged, snapping his hips against Findekáno’s own. Findekáno heard himself chanting: yes, yes, yes, Kano, more, until -- he heard a shout, and Makalaurë froze on top of him.

“What hell are you two doing?” Maitimo shouted, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.

Makalaurë swore under his breath, but Findekáno was not so quiet in voicing his dismay.

*

Two identical pairs of grey eyes bore down on Findekáno, and he shifted his hands to better hide his nakedness. (His clothes were still on the riverbank, although Makalaurë was sitting there, fully dressed.)

Findekáno had not realized how much Maitimo and Makalaurë looked like each other, and, coincidentally, how much they looked like him. It should have not been as fascinating -- arousing, if he was honest --

“I say we summon a Maia of Yavanna and have them give Findekáno the antidote, if it exists,” Maitimo said.

“No! Please, I don’t what them to know,” Findekáno said, grabbing Maitimo’s arm.

“You think they don’t know? Oh, Findekáno…”

“Perhaps it’s not harmful, which is why they let him through in the first place,” said Makalaurë, “I find it difficult to believe that such a place would go unguarded.”

“Maybe they were out for lunch?” Findekáno said, trying to get up. “Anyway, I think it’s mostly worn off anyway, so you should just -- stop worrying --” He faltered at Maitimo’s glare.

“Findekáno, what has happened to you is very serious. Perhaps it does not seem so to you at this time, but you have been under some enchantment for more than a day. You say you have recovered, but judging from your … physical condition, I do not think the worse of it has passed.”

“Fine,” Findekáno sighed. “But I should note that neither of you have made me come, and if I could, I would surely recover.”

“Excuse me,” Maitimo said icily. “But I haven’t tried.”

*

So, they were going to try something new. Findekáno and Maitimo’s tent, while adequately roomy for two people, seemed rather cramped with three. But Makalaurë could not bear to be left out. He said he wanted to see what happened. Maitimo said his interest was lecherous and Makalaurë had only grinned and said that perhaps what Findekáno had was catching.

And then they all agreed that Makalaurë could stay as long as he did not speak.

Findekáno lay down on the pallet, and waiting for whatever was going to happen. Maitimo dipped his finger into a pot of sweet-smelling unguent, which he spread on the inside of Findekáno’s thighs.

Makalaurë sighed, running his fingers through Findekáno’s hair. “Will that be enough, do you think?”

“You said you would not speak,” Maitimo said with a sigh.

“I lied,” Makalaurë said blandly. He looked down at Findekáno. “Do you think it will be enough, Findekáno?”

“No,” Findekáno sighed. “I want it, Maitimo.”

“See? He wants it, give it to him, Maitimo. It being your cock, you understand.”

“And you the poet… Findekáno is -- young. He hasn’t done this before. Stop corrupting him.”

“I don’t mind being corrupted,” Findekáno said. He looked away, bashfully. “Anyway, I know you would be careful with me.”

“Oh, hear him now! How quickly our little Findekáno learns what drives Russandol wild. Appeal to his sense of responsibility, his fanatical desire to take care of things, Finno, you can’t go wrong.”

“Shut up, Makalaurë,” Maitimo said, with gritted teeth.

Findekáno sat up and pulled Maitimo close to him, kissed him so quickly that he did not have a chance to protest. Maitimo looked surprised and -- oh, Findekáno thrilled to see the heat in his eyes, the ardor was that building. “Please, Maitimo, I want you.”

He felt Makalaurë breathing down his neck, his clever hands running up and down Findekáno’s back. “And what about me, Findekáno? Will you forget me so easily?”

"Both of you, I want both of you," Findekáno said, gasping. "Now, if you would hurry up!"

"No need to worry, dear one. I take care of my lovers, while my brother takes care only not to have one," Makalaurë said, kissing the back of Findekáno's neck.

Findekáno swallowed harshly, at the kiss, at Maitimo diligently working him open with his fingers, thick and strong. Maitimo did not look at him, nor at Makalaurë, but instead concentrated at his work.

But Findekáno was curious, even in his lust-addled state. "Why does he bait you so? Why do you let him?"

"I don't listen to him," Maitimo said, "and that is the worst thing you can do to Makalaurë."

Makalaurë hissed at him, and bit at Findekáno’s neck. “Findekáno will listen to me.”

“Now, could we please just,” Findekáno said, squirming in the increasingly fraught space between the two brothers. “Turn our attention to me? For a bit?”

“Of course,” Maitimo said -- or rather, he purred, and Findekáno did not know that Maitimo’s voice could do that, feel like a caress against his skin. Makalaurë hummed in frustration, and he reached around and began to stroke Findekáno's cock, until it was stiff and aching. Maitimo finally seems satisfied that Findekáno was adequately prepared. He drew out his cock, and pushed it gently against Findekáno's hole.

"You know that I do love you," gasped Findekáno, biting his lip hard enough to bleed. "I don’t see the point of pretending otherwise, you always know when I lie. Regardless of -- whatever I’m under. I love you, wildly, extravagantly, completely."

"I know," Maitimo said, pushing in.

"Don’t we all?" Makalaurë said, sighing.

After that, there was not much talking.

Maitimo seemed to know his business well enough, and Makalaurë was not above helping him when he saw fit. Between them both, Findekáno was worked over, fucked, until he came, and came again, and finally, he fell asleep, firmly cemented in between his cousins. (With both a lazy affection born of lust realized and other, less seamly things.)

 

*

Later, by the river, Findekáno bathed himself and tried to keep his eyes forward. He did not particularly want to talk to anyone. Maitimo seemed to have the same thought, and had gone down stream.
Makalaurë, however, had stayed close, and was now singing aloud, as he washed his hair. The lyrics were oddly familiar.

Oh, Findekáno the Valiant,
Of whom many songs are sung,
Climbed a forbidden wall, that foolish gallant,
Found within a fruit that hung --

 

“Oh, do shut up, Makalaurë! You know very well it was a flower!”

But Maitimo had come by that time, and shouted for them to hurry up.

*

Of course, they never speak of it again.

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Chapter End Notes

Thank you to my beta, Suzelle!