Different beat of the heart by firstamazon

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Different beat of the heart

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Maitimo coughed himself awake. Water spurted from his mouth, burned his lungs. He laid back and blinked – and immediately regretted it. Blinking hurt. He shifted slightly and felt something soft beneath him. Not grass. A blanket, perhaps. His fingers traced the embroidery, and he recognized Nolofinwë’s sigil. Why on earth was he lying on his cousin’s blanket? He tried to remember what happened but, as soon as he moved to stand up, a figure, black against the light, loomed over him, and he heard a distinguished relieved sigh.

“It’s alright, he’s awake!”

Findekáno.

Of course, it came to his mind now. They were in the woods, hunting. Pityafinwë’s feet had gotten stuck underneath a rock on the river, and he couldn’t move. Maitimo had gone into the rescue and… blank. Findekáno loomed closer and, as his face came into view, Maitimo flinched to see such concern in those piercing blue eyes. Somewhere far away, he realized shouting, and his brother’s voices asking for his health, chattering nervously, trying to snap out of a hysterical behavior – and this Maitimo knew because Tyelkormo was the loudest, Curufinwë’s language the foulest, and Carnistir’s the sullenest.

He laughed softly, standing on his elbow to look past Findekáno’s shoulder, but the movement made his head throb so painfully that he closed his eyes, and his hand flew to his temple.

“Easy now, Maitimo,” Findekáno says softly with a cold hand on his shoulder. “How do you feel?”

“Like my head has been cracked open.”

“Well, yes,…” his cousin laughed.

“What happened, Finno?”

But before Findekáno could answer, Macalaurë had crossed the river and threw himself on the ground beside him, taking his hand and gripping it so tight he almost took it back. “Varda’s tits, Rusco, you nearly scared me to death!”

“I’m alright… I think,” he said quietly, a little bemused, and he touched his still throbbing head again.

“If it wasn’t for Findekáno, you surely would’ve drowned! We were too far away to reach you,” Macalaurë bit his lip apologetically as if it should have been he who rescued his brother instead of his (slightly) younger cousin.

Carefully, slowly, Maitimo sat up and took a good look at Findekáno – and just in time to see a blush color creep on his naked chest, neck, and ears. He didn’t have much time to think, for another figure approached, this time a limping one; he shoved both Findekáno and Macalaurë out of the way and fell on his lap, clinging to his neck in a choke-vise embrace. Their soaked clothes squished unpleasantly, and Maitimo grimaced with the cold.

“I’m sorry, Nelyo, I promise I will never go into the river again,” Pityo sobbed on his shoulder.

Maitimo frowned, but his hands came protectively around his young brother. He wondered if all the fuss was merely for having being knocked out by some stone, so he stole a glance toward his cousin, who now sat beside him and watched him surreptitiously. He, too, was soaked, and only then Maitimo realized that water dripped heavily from Findekáno’s hair and eyelashes. His eyes rested longer on the latter, observing how a droplet clung to the feathery hairs, making them look thicker like black butterfly’s wings.

A strange tightness on his chest told him that, perhaps, Pityafinwë was too heavy for him. Indeed, his leg was already numb with the weight, so he gently pushed the shivering boy away and brushed wet hair off his face.

“It’s forgiven, little one,” he smiled, even if he didn’t know exactly why he should forgive. It was not like Pityo had dragged him inside the river. Was it? “Go find yourself some dry clothes,” he said instead.

Macalaurë helped Pityo up and said, “Come on, Tyelko and I will do a crutch for your leg.” Macalaurë took him back through the river where the rest of the brothers were, to a tree where they had laid their packs and where Telufinwë sat, hugging his knees with something akin to desperation in his eyes.

When Maitimo’s gaze turned back to Findekáno, he found his cousin staring at him with a sheepish, innocent air, enormous blue eyes, that made his chest hurt once more. He frowned, and as if his head had answered the heart, it throbbed.

“Aulë’s hairy balls,” Findekáno muttered under his breath – which made Maitimo chuckle, and that hurt – and moved closer with a white cloth that he had by his side. It was stained with blood. “It had stopped, but maybe even this small effort was too much for you, Maitimo,” he said, pressing the cloth into the side of his head. He winced, for that was where the throbbing was coming from.

“Macalaurë said you saved me,” he said, inquisitively, turning his head to face Findekáno.

Findekáno blushed again and bit his lower lip. His mouth was very red compared to the rest of his wet skin, and his lips were full and looked very, very soft. When the tip of Findekáno’s tongue moistened those full lips, Maitimo realized he was staring and lowered his gaze, frowning.

“You jumped to help Pityo, but the stream was too strong and was drowning you both. When I realized what was going on, I couldn’t see you. So I jumped,” Findekáno shrugged.

“Do you think I hit my head on a rock? But… how could that have happened?” He mused, looking at his wrinkled hands.

“Actually, Pityo kicked you in the head,” Findekáno laughed, “and he was really worried you were going to wake up dumb or something.”

Maitimo snorted, but then he looked closely to Findekáno, a new kind of admiration for his friend birthed inside of him. “You jumped to save me – us – Finno. That was very brave of you!”

This time Findekáno laughed out loud and pressed the cloth again to Maitimo’s head. “Nothing that you wouldn’t have done for me, coz,” he threw Maitimo a dazzling smile that made him gawk. Had he ever noticed how beautiful Findekáno’s smile was? Was he being ridiculous? It must be his injury...

“You gave us quite a fright,” his cousin was saying, but it was difficult to concentrate. “Your head was bleeding so much that it stained the water all around the two of you. We all thought…” Findekáno swallowed hard, and a shadow passed over his face. “But it was just a deep cut,” he grinned brightly again. 

Maitimo blinked, astounded. He was definitely not being ridiculous. That smile...

“I will address it with some herbs now, see if it stops the bleeding.”

Maitimo let his cousin do it, acutely aware of the proximity of their heads. He could feel Findekáno’s warm breath – sweet, like honey mead – whispering on his cheek. When he was done, Findekáno withdrew a fraction, and their gazes locked for a while. Maitimo’s mouth suddenly felt dry – and he vaguely wondered if Findekáno’s honey mead breath would be able to slake his thirst.

His cousin smiled then, as sweetly as ever, and leaned to press a soft kiss on his cheek – chaste and innocent, but Maitimo’s heart leaped like a wild stallion. Unbeknownst to what he was doing, Maitimo put a hand on Findekáno’s waist, felt how the warm skin shivered.

“Thank you, Finno,” he said a little breathlessly, and strangely delighted in the way his valiant cousin flushed and smiled back.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Maitimo,” he smiled, eyes so bright it might have burned his cornea and imprinted itself in there.

Findekáno laid by his side, then, and Maitimo let himself fall back into the soft blanket. His eyes searched the clouds, and he was aware of his cousin’s body pressed close to his. His fingers traced shapes in the blanket, and the only thing he could think of was how his heart seemed to beat differently – more in tandem with the light inside Findekáno’s deep-blue eyes.