Music in the light of Telperion by Aprilertuile

The light of Telperion was giving the house a peaceful atmosphere, and Maitimo was sleeping in his bed, when the door of his bedroom opened violently and a body came to jump on him unexpectedly.

The red-head woke up startled, only to find himself nose to nose with his younger brother, Makalaurë.

A look around was enough to tell him exactly how late, or maybe how *early* it was:

"Kano. Groaned Maitimo.

-Come come come! You *must* listen to this!

-It's the middle of the night, Kano. Sighed Maitimo sitting up.

-Oh... But you're awake now! Come please, please, please, Nelyo!»

The red-head sighed but rose from his bed and let his far too excited brother pull him to his own bedroom.

There, he sat at the desk, and watched Makalaurë sit with his harp on his laps... and play a joyful *new* music.

"You wrote that music yourself?" Asked Maitimo, far too awake for his tastes considering the time of night.

Makalaurë was practically vibrating with excitement as he nodded vigorously, and started to explain in excruciating details to his brother how he did it, sheets of music scribbled on were waved around... And Maitimo couldn't help a smile.

In that moment, his little brother's likeness to their father was uncanny.

That's the moment when the door of the room opened on their *not exactly happy* parents:

"What are the two of you doing awake? Asked their mother simply.

-I finished my music! Nelyo *had* to listen to it! Listen!»

And Makalaurë launched himself in his explanations all over again, with the *same* energetic enthusiasm that infected their father who was far too happy to listen and ask questions and encourage his son to play the music for them all... and Nelyafinwë looked at his mother with a smile:

"Not at all alike, hm?" Noted Maitimo, repeating words that his father had dejectedly said not two days previously...

She smiled at him and...  Seeing that Nelyafinwë and herself were ignored as both father and son were hunched over Makalaurë's papers and instrument, she started laughing.

Indeed, their little song bird could be surprisingly alike to his father at time. No matter if those two could see it.

She hugged her eldest son, and stayed right there with him, to listen to Makalaurë's playing, and to his lively discussion with his father.

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