Loyalty Outtakes by grey_gazania

Mother Tongue

Set after Chapter 7 of Loyalty and inspired by the Silmfic Prompt Generator: ‘The past is a foreign country. They do things differently there.’ -L.P. Hartley, 'The Go-Between’.

“What do you think?“ I asked Maitimo afterwards, as we supped in private.

I spoke in Quenya, as I always did when alone with my brothers. For all that I never spoke it with anyone else and spent most of my days speaking Sindarin, I found that I still thought in Quenya. I definitely still dreamed in it. And my brothers would always bear their Quenya names in my mind, even Pityo and Telvo, who both preferred Sindarin. Quenya belongs in Valinor, Caranthir, Telvo had said with a scowl the last time I’d called him by his mother-name. Things are different here. Stop living in the past.

Stop living in the past. Surrender to Thingol’s wishes. Give up the language in which my mother sang me to sleep, the language of my wedding vows, the language of our father’s Oath.

No. Telvo could become one with the Laiquendi if he liked, but I was a Noldo, and I would stay that way.

"It’s delicious,” Maitimo said, nodding approvingly and taking another spoonful of soup.

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I meant, Nelyo” I said, and he grinned at me. Most people saw only the grim, strong-willed lord when they looked at him, but I knew my brother. He’d had as much a hand in raising me as our parents had and, despite what he had suffered, he was still the same idiot who loved to gently tweak his little brothers’ tails.

“I think they were a little hesitant to swear fealty,” he said, more seriously.

“But they did swear,” I pointed out. “And swore honestly, I think.” At least, I had sensed no deception in Bór’s words, and I had always been well-attuned to such things.

“If you think so,” Maitimo said. “I trust you.”

I stirred my soup, considering. “What I can’t suss out,” I said, “is the relationship between their Houses. They act separate. They have different leaders, different camps – I’m not Atar, but I think they may even have slightly different languages. And yet Ulfang seems to have some sway over Bór. I can’t tell if they’re allies, sister clans…” I shrugged. “And Nâr hasn’t given me a proper explanation.”

“You don’t like him.”

“I don’t like most people,” I said, flashing Maitimo a crooked smile. “But that aside, you’re right. I don’t like Nâr. He’s slippery. And the Naugrim are hard to read in general.”

“Like I said, I trust you,” he repeated. “But the girl did well. I doubt you’ll have to deal with him much longer.”

“I hope not,” I said, and took another mouthful of soup.