A Walk down Memory Lane by Raiyana

---

Reactions

Screen

Round end table

Armchair

 

This came about because NelyafinweFeanorion asked about the brothers' reactions. Enjoy!

---

The golden light of day had revealed more smudges than the single lamp in his workroom, though it had also revealed her loving smile and so Curvo thought it worth the trade, even if he wanted to remain alone with her forever, discovering all the ways he could make her sigh with his kisses. He wasn’t quite sure how he had talked her into staying with him, promising her a bath and a robe rather than letting her go home to her own house, but here she was, in his rooms, separated by nothing more than a sectioned screen that Moryo had once made on a dare, plaiting coloured reeds together and thinking it ought to be a carpet runner; unfortunately, it was terribly uncomfortable to walk on, and so Curvo had mounted it on frames and created a small hiding space for his bath behind it.

She was splashing.

Curvo shouldn’t be thinking about water lapping at her skin, he knew, staring at the patterns on the screen, all red and golden and green, flowing together in shapes that were pleasingly angular but seemed to blur together as he tried to stare through the tight weave, imagining the sight just beyond.

He groaned.

 

“Oh, good,” Maitimo exclaimed, dropping Pity onto his bed, “you got out.” Curvo gaped; whirling to stare at the rest of his brothers crowded together in the doorway.

Behind the screen, the splashing stopped instantly.

“You need to take better care of yourself, Curvo.” Maitimo frowning at him with that disappointed expression should be forbidden, Curvo thought, wincing. He nodded.

“But I had to-” he tried, though he knew it would do no good. He held back a yawn – whatever small nap he had managed before Telperína woke him had not restored his energy greatly; Curvo knew his brothers had been right to worry, no matter how reluctant he was to admit it – even to himself.

“Yes, you know the rules are there for a reason,” Tyelkormo chimed in, giving his best version of an innocent smile, as if he wasn’t the one who most often broke the rules.

Scowling at Tyelkormo and wishing they’d all leave did nothing, Curvo found, sinking down onto his armchair with a sigh and tracing the inlaid patterns that decorated the wood with his fingertip, avoiding looking at any of them.

“Did Telperína go home?” Makalaurë asked, glancing around the seemingly-empty room. “I didn’t see her leave.”

Curvo held his breath; it was one thing to engage himself to her – quite another to be caught with her naked in his rooms. He flushed.

“Yes…” he said, casting about wildly for a way to get rid of them all – maybe except Pityo, who was snoring on his bed – and coming up short, “Why did you send her into my room – and how; the window’s blocked by that silly statue of Oromë?”

“Smoke hole,” Tyelkormo said, lounging insouciantly in the other armchair, bouncing Telyo on his knee. “Moryo tried to pick the lock, first!” he defended himself when Curvo glared at him. Telyo laughed brightly. “But your lock won, and so she went in through the smoke vent – it’s not my fault your windows are bloody stupid!”

“Tyelpië is not Aredhel!” Curvo exclaimed, for a moment fearful that she could have hurt herself dropping down and forgetting that Telperína had been perfectly fine.

“I know that, brother,” Maitimo soothed, “we lowered her down with some rope. Did you eat anything?”

“Wait, what?” Curvo felt too sluggish to follow his leap of conversation.

“I take it you did not,” Maitimo tutted. Almost on cue, Curvo’s stomach grumbled at its empty state. Maitimo glanced at Tyelko, frowning lightly.

“But I gave her the food,” Tyelko groused, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring back at their oldest brother. Curvo tried not to laugh.

“Yes,” he nodded, “she did say something about food…” then he blushed, even as he tried not to, remembering how that conversation had ended, feeling the ghost of her fingers in his hair. Running agitated fingers through his short curls – did she prefer the long hair? – he tried to banish the heat from his cheeks.

“You didn’t have that ring before,” Moryo observed quietly, and Curvo lost all control of his cheeks, lowering his hand to stare at it, seeing again the soft smile on her face when she looked at hers in his mind. “Wait…” he paused, and Curvo wasn’t quick enough to snatch back his hand before Moryo had caught it, turning it this way and that. “You didn’t…” he continued, something like wonder in his face. Curvo nodded once. “You did!” Moryo exclaimed, picking him up in a tight hug, “Congratulations.”

“Congratulations on what?” Makalaurë drawled, studying the flute that was left half-carved on Curvo’s dresser. “He’s been able to work silver for years, Moryo. That ring isn’t even complicated, it’s just a simple band.”

Everyone stared at him. Maitimo was the first to crack a smile, but Tyelko’s loud laugh rung through the room before he could speak.

“Our little brother is engaged, Káno,” he drawled, jumping up to wrap Curvo in another tight hug as soon as Moryo let go. “To Lady Telperína.” Tyelko smiled widely, his strong hug nearly squeezing the breath from Curvo’s lungs, the unspoken approval making him feel warm all over. Tyelkormo was good at ósanwë, but he never really sent words, having learned the art with Oromë’s hunting dogs and Huan; Tyelko’s soundless communication was made up of emotions and imagery, but Curvo never had trouble understanding him.

“Engaged?” Makalaurë shrieked, dropping the flute to stare at Curvo, whose blush returned with a vengeance. “To Telpë!? My Telpë?”

“She’s not yours, Káno,” Curvo scowled, “And she doesn’t like Telpë!” He wasn’t quite sure how he knew that, but it felt like truth.

“But… but you! But she-!” Sinking down onto the bed next to Pityo, Makalaurë stared at him, shocked. “Little Curvo… in love? Since when?”

“At least since you took her hunting with us, Káno,” Moryo replied drily, always pleased to know things Makalaurë didn’t, “though possibly before that – our Curvo looked mighty pleased to have her in his arms with no one watching, even if he was teaching her how to shoot.”

Curvo wondered if his cheeks could catch permanent fire. “I-,” he opened his mouth to protest but couldn’t quite find the words. Infatuation, he had called it then, and scoffed at himself, but he had known he was lying.

I liked you then, too – more than I should, the soft admission floating into his mind on her voice did not make him blush any less, suddenly reminded that she was right there and still naked.

“I’d say earlier,” Maitimo interjected calmly, patting Makalaurë’s shoulder with an amused grin, “our Curvo was very interested in your friend… the day he saved her from Atto’s wrath.”

Makalaurë spluttered something unintelligible, staring at Curvo who felt himself nod, a single tight jerk of his head; he had found her most beautiful, even then, even before he knew her heart well enough to feel his own flutter at the thought of her smile. In his head, he could feel Telperína’s soft laughter, quiet and happy in a way that made his heart swell.

 “Well, then,” Káno said, nodding as he got to his feet; Curvo immediately felt worried. That look on his brother’s face was one he had learned to treat with wariness. “I think I feel a song coming on!” Káno exclaimed, his eyes glittering mischievously. Curvo groaned, hiding his face in his hands. With a teasing smile, Makalaurë took up his most dramatic pose, declaring in a loud and far-carrying voice. “Curvo and Telpë, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Makalaurë fell back onto the bed, laughing at his own wit, and the rest of them shook their heads, fondly exasperated.

Really, Telperína commented drily in his head; Curvo had to stop himself chuckling, though he could not stop the small smile that appeared on his mouth.

“Have you told Atto?” Tyelko asked. “Or Ammë?”

“Atto knows,” Curvo replied carefully, determined not to think about just how much Fëanáro knew. “But I thought I should get cleaned up a little before I told Ammë…”

“Well, then,” Maitimo decided, nudging Makalaurë off the bed, “Káno will go and get you some food, and when you have eaten we’ll let you get a few hours of sleep; the rest of you can keep people away from here for a few hours, I’m sure.” Nodding in that way that meant it wasn’t simply a suggestion, Maitimo dismissed the others, who left with a few more good-natured jibes that Curvo knew he wouldn’t have avoided no matter how they’d found out.

 

Behind the screen, Telperína was enjoying the bath, scented with an herb she didn’t recognise but quite liked, sluicing water over her skin and rinsing her hair with a smile. Curvo had gallantly offered her his own back, the sunken marble a thing of beauty, the edge carved with a series of fantastically lifelike animals in miniature.

Getting out of the bath, she towelled off her skin, admiring the thick weave of the towel. Wringing the water from her hair and taking the thin silk robe he had handed her from the small end table where she had left it, Telperína froze at the sound of loud voices. The seven brothers all together in one small bedroom made her blush at the idea of discovery, a sudden thrill of fear-tinged excitement running through her.

The conversation – at least she now knew why Maitimo had thought to send for her, in a sense – only made her blush brighten, feeling almost like an intruder as she listened to them spill things Curvo might have preferred to admit to her himself.

Frowning at the nickname Makalaurë liked to use for her – it still sounded wrong to miss out the softening y in her name that came from her Telerin Atto, even if her name in Tirion was generally pronounced without; especially for a nickname that implied close friendship – Telperína listened to their teasing. Feeling her cheeks heat at the thought that Curvo had been just as affected by that day in the woodland glade as she had felt, but at the same time feeling a sense of satisfaction, she reached out to him, brushing against his fëa in a light caress.

I liked you then, too – more than I should, she admitted, thinking it was only fair to tell him so, now that she was unwittingly being served up such tantalising glimpses of his heart. Maitimo’s statement made a light gasp escape her, clapping her hand over her mouth in the next moment though she knew they had not heard her over Makalaurë’s loud singing. Fondly exasperated with her friend, she still couldn’t stop herself remembering the adorable way he had blushed the first time she took his arm, even if it lay many years in the past. Had he really liked her, even then? She had thought his assistance kind, his features intriguing, but she had not truly believed him in any way amenable to her presence.

With a slight sigh of relief, she heard Maitimo order them all out to let Curvo rest; she felt slightly guilty that she, too, was keeping him from sleeping. The tiredness that threaded through his voice made her heart squeeze, wanting to scold him for recklessness at the same time as she wanted to kiss him for the care he had lavished on her gifts.

 

“You may come out now, Lady Telperína,” Maitimo called wryly, making her stiffen in shock. On the other side of the screen, Curvo groaned.

“Maitimo,” she greeted, stepping out from behind her cover, the crimson silk robe belted tightly around her body. Her hair was making the back and shoulders wet, and she knew she must look more than a little worse for wear compared to her usual fine dress. Combing through long silver strands with her fingers, Telperína waited for him to speak, knowing that Maitimo lingering – and not giving her away to the rest of them – was a good sign of his regard.

“Nelyo…” Curvo muttered, getting to his feet and wrapping a bare arm around her shoulders, tugging her against his side. Telperína flushed, wrapping her arm around him in turn and letting him lean on her when he sagged lightly.

“You’re asleep on yor feet, Curvo,” she scolded ineffectually, moving with him towards the bed.

“This is my wife, Tyelpië,” Curvo continued stubbornly, staggering slightly when his foot hit the bedpost. Maitimo chortled, grabbing his other arm and holding him steady.

“You may wish to use the word ‘betrothed’ for now, little brother,” he murmured, lowering Curvo to sit on the bed. Maitimo knelt to pull off his boots. Curvo nodded happily.

“My Tyelpië,” he repeated softly, smiling up at her. Telperína bent to kiss him, pulling back before Curvo felt quite pleased to let her by the look on his face. She smiled, pressing him down onto the bed.

“Go to sleep, Curvo,” she whispered, pressing another kiss to his cheek, “my Curvo.” Pityo turned over with a small snore, and Curvo climbed under the sheets with a happy groan that turned into a somewhat louder snore than his little brother’s, curling up around Pityo.

Amused, Maitimo offered her a gallant arm, leading her out the door and closing it softly behind them. “This was not what I had expected from today,” he said quietly, striding off down the hallway, shortening his steps to let her catch up. “What happened to your foot?” he wondered, a small frown on his face as he looked at her bare toes. Telperína looked down. Her left big toe was bleeding slightly from a torn nail.

“Makalaurë,” she said, gesturing in the direction of her home with her free hand. “He moves very swiftly; I had to abandon my shoes at one point. I must have hit it on the cobbles.” She had noticed the pain at the time, though it had paled against the throbbing in her wrist, but the water of her bath must have removed the small clot of blood. Maitimo’s eyes hardened.

“I apologise,” he replied softly, “I did not ask him to force you here.” Catching her wrist gently, he raised an eloquent eyebrow. Telperína nodded. Maitmo sighed. “I’ll have a word with Káno,” shaking his head, he led her down a small side corridor, “let’s get your wrist tended, too, I have some oil for the bruising.”

“Lady Telperína,” the nissë walking towards them, a stone-dusty apron wrapped around her curves, the red hair she shared with three of her sons making her impossible to mistake for someone else. Lady Nerdanel smiled. “Don’t you usually visit Makalaurë?” she asked, frowning mildly as though Telperína’s presence was a puzzle.

“Yes, my Lady,” Telperína replied, bobbing a quick curtsey, “or Curvo.” The name slipped past the guard of her teeth, already too familiar to her to go back to the formal Curufinwë. Telperína blushed brightly.

“Lady Telperína met with an unfortunate accident, Ammë,” Maitimo interjected smoothly, making Nerdanel’s focus shift, “she was caught in a prank-war of Turko’s and Moryo’s – she fell and hurt herself a little.”

“Oh dear,” Nerdanel sighed, “will those boys never grow up? And you’re all wet, dearest – isn’t that Curvo’s bathrobe?”

“It was near to hand,” Maitimo deadpanned. Telperína felt dumb-struck at his audacity.

“Well, I shall send one of the servants with a dress for you when Maitimo has seen to your injury,” Nerdanel promised. “Did you get Curvo out of his workshop?” she asked, turning to her son once more.

“Yes, Ammë, he’s in bed asleep, now. Turko will bring him some food later, but I’ve told the rest of them to leave him be until he is rested.”

“Good, good,” Nerdanel replied, “off you go, then, we can’t have our guests be injured. I’ll have a word with Moryo and Turko about their behaviour.” Her stubbed toe was beginning to smart, Telperína realised, looking down at the bloodied appendage and cradling her wrist against her chest.

“Did you finish that statue of Yavanna, yet?” Maitimo asked. Nerdanel frowned lightly, shaking her head. “I thought it might be suitable to form her shape together with that of a tree, her roots stretching deep into the ground.”

“And her branches – or arms – reaching for the light and air…” Nerdanel mused thoughtfully. Whirling on her feet she hurried off in the direction she had come from, a hasty ‘don’t expect me for dinner’ thrown over her shoulder.

Gaping up at Maitimo, Telperína could hardly believe her ears. “You lied to Nerdanel!” she exclaimed.

“She won’t remember to scold Moryo or Turko,” he replied, “that’s why I asked about the statue. You will learn, Telperína, that my family is very distractible by creative impulses… Curvo is no different, really.”

“But…” Telperína tried, but she had no real argument.

“I didn’t think you were so keen to explain to my Ammë why you are wearing Curvo’s robe, Curvo’s ring and was found bathing in his personal chambers…” he teased. Telperína blushed brightly, glaring at him as she smacked his arm like she would have Makalaurë. Maitimo grinned, a smile that transformed his face, softening the kingly visage and making him the fond older brother of Makalaurë’s many stories. “We’ll treat your foot, and I’ll send a page for one of Ammë’s dresses – that robe is hardly conspicuous if you were to wear it home-” Telperína knew he was right; the back of it had been embroidered with a giant Star of Fëanáro that spanned her whole body. “- and then you can return when Curvo is awake – or he could fetch you, I assume you haven’t told your parents either.”

“Very well,” Telperína sighed, taking his arm once more and letting him lead her down the next corridor.