The way of things by firstamazon

The way of things

Read The way of things

Fëanáro entered his study and caught Maitimo on the act. For weeks, he had wondered which of his children would sneak into his paperwork and sort it out in neat, organized piles. He had thought it was Curufinwë for, although they shared the same passion in metallurgy, his son was much more systematic with his own things.

“What are you doing?” He asked between exasperated and amused.

“Organizing what needs your urgent attention,” Maitimo said lightly, without looking up – the cheeky thing didn’t even look chagrined. He tapped the pile lightly on the table and placed a small piece of parchment on top that read CROWN.

“Mm. So you are saying my desk is a mess?” His lips curled up, taking the admonishment from his words.

“Well… you are, atar. I really don’t know how you can work like this! It’s complete chaos!”

“It’s part of the creative process,” he shrugged. “I don’t care about being organized as long as I know what goes where.”

“And when you have someone to put the ‘whats’ in the ‘wheres,’” Maitimo laughed. 

“Ha, you got me there. And what kind of issue goes under this, my brilliant son?” He pointed at the Crown pile and kissed the top of Maitimo’s head.

“Everything haru Finwë asks of you or that has been passed on to uncle Nolofinwë that you should be aware of.”

Fëanáro grimaced. "Right. And these?"

Maitimo bit his lower lip. “I took the liberty of writing some replies. Nothing special, only some propositions to which I knew your opinion about – like the loaning of fertile land to poorer families under some of your liege lords – and I was going to ask your permission later. I hope you don’t mind, atar.”

Fëanáro frowned. He suspected this wasn’t the first time his firstborn took care of such things – and now it was explained why Fëanáro couldn’t remember answering all the “thank you” notes he knew he should have, but, somehow, they found their destinations none the less.

They stayed silent while Maitimo kept forming new piles that went under categories like HOUSEHOLD, LORDS/ALLIANCES, or MINER’S GUILD.

“You really like the role of a politician, don’t you, Nelyo?” He mused out loud, realizing he should have admitted this long ago, putting aside his grudges in favor of his son’s happiness.

Maitimo looked up briefly and blushed to the tip of his ears. All of his children knew what he thought of those who wore masks and played the dirty games of politics. He stared at Fëanáro in a blatant conflict between admitting his heart’s desire or enraging his paranoid father.

Fëanáro sighed out loud and started brushing Maitimo’s lush, wavy hair. “You should go.”

Maitimo whirled in surprise. He wasn’t expecting Fëanáro’s acquiescence, but it was even clearer that he wished it so. Fëanáro smiled, and, in return, Maitimo answered with a beautiful smile of his own.

“Are you sure, atar? I really don’t want to do something that will upset or anger you, so if you’re just saying it became I like doing it-”

“Just? That is all the reason I need, dearheart! You enjoy it, and you should go learn it from your grandfather and, yes, your uncle. I hate the games he plays, but even I have to admit he is the best in what he does.”

Maitimo grinned wildly. He stood up too briskly, toppled the chair, and threw himself into Fëanáro’s arms, whooshing the air out of his lungs. “Thank you! I promise I won’t let you down.”

“Of course not,” Fëanáro chuckled into his son’s shoulder – Maitimo already was the tallest of them all. “You will be my eyes and ears and mouth in that nest of vipers.”

Maitimo laughed. “Deal.”

But the way his eyes shone and the unfaltering smile that split his handsome face in two all but told Fëanáro that it was not only the court and politics Maitimo was so very eager to be a part of.