Still In The Closet by Elwin Fortuna

Still In The Closet

Year 472 of the First Age, late spring

"Who's your guard?" Maedhros asked, perched on the edge of Fingon's desk. "He gave me such an appraising look as I was coming in."

Fingon smiled. "They," he corrected. "Ninnachel is gwegwin. They are very protective of me, as one would expect, but there's more to it than that. Ninnachel knows, about me, about us. It could hardly be prevented, seeing as how they are in a like case."

Maedhros nodded. "That would be so. I distinctly recall a legal entanglement in Valinor involving one who was gwegwin who sought to marry, but was told this could not be. The Valar did not understand the needs of gwegwin in the least, and tried to force this one into playing the part of a nis, insisting that 'she' could only marry a ner."

"I wonder why the Valar do not seem to understand these cases, ours as well," Fingon said, coming around the desk and standing beside Maedhros, leaning on him unobtrusively. "Surely it must be only reason to think that there is more to love than appearance, and more to the formation of the body inside the womb than can easily be divided into two distinct categories."

"Ah, but there you may have it," Maedhros said, casually laying an arm around Fingon's shoulders. If anyone walked in, they looked like cousins having a friendly conversation rather than lovers. "The Valar form their own bodies, wearing them as we do clothes, and so they make them according to their own desires entirely, whereas you and I, and folk like your Ninnachel, cannot do so."

Fingon frowned. "That does not explain it all," he said. "For whence did the concepts of male and female come from in the first place?"

Maedhros shrugged. "From the mind of Iluvatar? He -"

"Ah!" Fingon said. "Why must Eru be male? Or if there is an All-Father, maybe there is also an All-Mother?"

Maedhros sighed. "Truly, I do not know, and talk of philosophy makes my head ache. Surely this discussion would be better had with Ingoldo -", he paused, and they looked at each other, sadness sweeping over them.

"Alas, poor Ingoldo," Fingon murmured.

"Alas indeed," Maedhros said, and they went silent for a moment. "Not least because Orodreth proves much less agreeable to our plans."

Fingon frowned, but said nothing. They were walking through trapped fields these days, every mention of a cousin or a brother likely to turn into angry words. He would have liked to point out that Orodreth had good cause to be wary, because of what Celegorm and Curufin had said and done, but to do so would at best provoke a wrathful response, an angry, unjustifiable defence of brothers whose actions it was impossible to defend, and at worst, a heartbreaking silence between them, now when they needed most to communicate.

Maedhros sighed. "I cannot bear talk of battle plans today, Findekano, or philosophy, or grief for cousins lost. Tell me something of hope, something that lies beyond the looming walls of the coming struggle."

Fingon smiled softly, and slipped away to the door, putting his head outside for a moment. "Ninnachel," he said. "See that none disturb us for any reason less than dragons attacking, for at least an hour's time."

Ninnachel smiled, standing straighter. "Yes, my lord," they said.

Fingon closed the door again, and locked it securely, feeling safe and unafraid that they would be disturbed. He came back over to where Maedhros sat on the edge of the desk, and put his arms around him. Maedhros bent his head and Fingon kissed him, slowly and tenderly. Fingon could feel Maedhros beginning to relax, letting go of the stresses and strains they were both under all these days.

"I will tell you of a dream I have," Fingon began, stroking Maedhros' hair gently. "I dream of a time when I am not a king, for truly I never sought it, and you do not have to be so far away ever again. I dream that we do not have to hide behind guards and locked doors, but can stand in the light together holding hands and see only smiles around us."

Maedhros' breath caught and a slow smile began to cross his face. "I dream of a time when we know many others like ourselves," Fingon went on. "A place where no words of hate may be spoken with impunity."

Then Fingon laughed suddenly, remembering. "I should tell you of the time Ninnachel, my champion, overheard an ill-intended remark about us and took swift and decisive action on the speaker."

Maedhros smiled. "What did they do?"

Fingon gently mimed a punch to Maedhros' jaw, and Maedhros laughed. "A decisive action, indeed." And then sobered. "What was said to provoke such a defence?"

Fingon frowned a little. "That I submit to you in all things, put much more crudely."

Maedhros laughed loudly at that, throwing his head back. "Of all the utter nonsense -!" he said, still laughing. "Oh, love, if it is like that between us, then surely..." He trailed off, looked at Fingon, still with a smile. "Do you recall the day we first met?"

Fingon gave him a thoughtful smile. "I'm not likely to forget it. Your family had come back from a long time spent wandering, as you did, and I, still only in my twenties and nowhere near my full height, was very nearly afraid of you, so tall and bright. But then you knelt to greet me and smiled, and I knew then that we would be friends."

"That is what I recall too," Maedhros said. "But also something more." He slipped off the desk, and went to his knees before Fingon. "For ever since that day, in my heart I have always been kneeling before you. You speak of me as bright, and it may be so, but you, my love, you are a white flame. You shine like a star."

Fingon made a small choked-off noise, and bent, kissing Maedhros very thoroughly. For a long moment they clung together, Maedhros still kneeling with his arms around Fingon's waist.

"What think you of my dreams?" Fingon said at last, straightening up. Maedhros laid his head against Fingon's hip, smiling.

"They are beautiful beyond words," Maedhros said. "I would love nothing more than to be able to stand on the high walls of Barad Eithel with you in the sunlight and kiss you there, caring not if any saw us, never fearing to touch you. I sometimes think what it would be like to stand next to you in the wind, so close that our hair could mingle, and that we could look at each other with our hearts in our faces, and laugh at all who would scorn us."

Fingon smiled and stroked a hand through Maedhros' hair. "What prevents us?" he said, and Maedhros caught his breath with a sudden gasp.

"You cannot be thinking - it is forbidden by the laws the Valar gave us," he said.

"Which has in no way stopped us," Fingon pointed out. "So why not speak of it? Why not be forthright about it, and let those who will think ill, think it?"

Maedhros smiled. "How well you point it out to me, love, that all along I have been dreaming these dreams without hope, never thinking that one day dreams could become reality. In truth, we have become so used to hiding that it never occurred to me that we could just stop." He stood up, embracing Fingon, who laid his head against Maedhros' shoulder and arms around his waist. "It is much to think about, love," Maedhros went on. "And I have too much already in my mind. When the time is right, then we shall speak of this again."

Fingon smiled, and together they stood for a long time in silence, wrapped in each other's arms, standing in hope against the face of the darkness that would soon loom between them.