Small Eccentricities by Michiru

A Study in Madness

Sadly, the fun I had with fonts in the Word version of this piece cannot be supported here (as far as I know). Towards the end there are supposed to be a scattering of font effects used to simulate damage to the letter.

On a more scholarly note, this is meant in a small way to emulate the dramatic monologues of Robert Browning's poetry, wherein more is revealed about the speaker than the speaker's subject.

Letter to Ambarussa Fëanárion from his twin, dated the thirteenth year of the Sun, and recovered from the ruins of Amon Ereb in the course of the War of Wrath. Set aside for Nerdanel of Tirion by King Arafinwë, along with others of her sons’ effects recovered from Beleriand before its destruction.

Dearest Ambarussa,

Maitimo has done it again. For a time it seemed as though Findaráto must prevail; he was mightily determined to secure the greenwoods for his brother, who suffers from the cold since crossing to the continent. Nevertheless, Maitimo was victorious, and we may now truly name ourselves lords of the western plains. Maitimo made that face again when I thanked him for both our sakes, but I suppose the loss of his hand still pains him. (You will recall my last letter, wherein I gave an account of Findecáno’s most daring and heroic rescue of our brother? Your response has been late in coming; at times I fear you do not receive my letters at all. Do please forgive my anxiety; your letters are my life bread.)

As for our brothers, Carnistir is closest at hand. He is to the west of our holdings—truly at the edge of the world! – in a land called Thargelion in the native tongue. The best wine in Beleriand comes from that region, fortification I fear our brother will need. The Naugrim traffic the area often, and though their trade has already begun to line his coffers, Carnistir complains that they are foul and crude, and can scarcely tolerate them. Knowing his temper as we do, this can be taken to likely mean that they are perfectly inoffensive, if rather hard on the eyes. (I have included some sketches of them, based on his complaints, which, as you no doubt remember, can be almost poetically descriptive. If they truly appear as Moryo claims, I am forced to admit he has a point in that they lack any aesthetically pleasing qualities.)

The other four reside to the north, and I cannot but feel Maitimo has been somewhat unfair to himself in the ordering of his realm: it is wretchedly cold and barren. I visited for a brief time on the way back from the council before turning south, and agreed to submit myself to a tour of the land. I laughed when Maitimo named some straggly, stunted shrub a tree, but he was quite serious. Even so, his sense of humor is fully intact, and he freely laughed along with me. He said it did more for his recovery to see me smiling again than any physicians’ arts. When have I ever stopped smiling? At times I fear Findecáno came too late to fully save our brother, and that his hand is not the only of his faculties missing. Still, his wits are largely undamaged, save those small eccentricities I have thus far mentioned, and others like them. Harmless as their nature is, I feel we are obliged to forgive him them.

Macalaurë has been placed to Maitimo’s immediate east, guarding principally a gap in the northern hills, which are otherwise susceptible to attack from the Enemy. We will hear no more songs of the majesty of horses from our minstrel brother; he says he is sick to death of cavalry and bitterly wishes he were closer to men with an appreciation for music. He speaks, of course, of the Thindar, whom you may have come across in your travels, though they generally keep to themselves and are wary of strangers. Though more delicate than we, they have much more control over their voices and more discriminating ears. I cannot but think he would tire of them if granted his wish of lordship over Himlad, for they insist one of their Moriquendë jesters is the greatest musician of all the world, and you know how conceited our songbird is.

Himlad is where Maitimo has stuck Tyelcormo and Curufinwë, and I have yet to decide whether I agree with his reasoning. Tyelcormo would be much happier fooling around with the horses in Macalaurë’s place (and more effective at it; the songbird still looks awkward and ridiculous when mounted) and Curufinwë continues to sulk. Not long ago this behavior was on account of Maitimo abdicating on behalf of all of us. While Curvo has yet to get over his frustration at Maitimo’s selfless tyranny, now he is also grumbling that he would be better suited to deal with the Naugrim than Carnistir. Of course, they fascinate him, and the feeling is apparently mutual—they make regular enquiries after him, according to Moryo.

I made reference to Maitimo’s reasons for consigning our brothers to misery. Chiefly, they are these:

First of all, he says, switching Macalaurë with Tyelcormo and Curufinwë with Carnistir would cause problems to make the present inconveniences seem a joy. Carnistir would be far too close to both Angaráto and the Thindar of Himlad (which parties he detests equally), as well as to Arafinwë’s other children (whom he also dislikes, but less passionately). Macalaurë, by Maitimo’s prediction, would forget all about watchfulness in pursuit of his art (though I feel the songbird’s conduct during Maitimo’s captivity ought to have laid this fear to rest). Furthermore, of course, Moryo and Macalaurë are too polar of temperament to coordinate effectively in the joint running of a realm, which would foster avoidable tension between us if they were left in close proximity to each other.

Secondly, Maitimo harbors some dream of an alliance between us and Findaráto’s people, brought about by a renewed friendship between his two brothers and our own Tyelcormo and Curufinwë. Apparently, in our very early youth, they were fast friends, but I personally have little recollection of those days. Perhaps you remember something of it? As Maitimo tells it, they were inseparable.

As for why Maitimo desires an alliance between us and them, he insists that Findaráto is the power in Beleriand, though Nolofinwë now bears the crown. He bases this assertion on the criteria of wealth and relation to the people, both native and from our homeland. Strangely enough, though Findaráto is the youngest of the Lords of Noldor to have crossed to Beleriand, he has the greatest portion of treasure brought from over the sea, and holds the love of both his own people and the natives. It is an intriguing situation, and Maitimo has me convinced that, did Findaráto but ask, Nolofinwë would have no choice but to hand over the throne.

Maitimo still holds some deep affection for his fellow copper-tops, never mind that his relationship with our other brothers has somewhat strained. I am uncertain whether the news will touch or frustrate you, as I am myself caught between the two emotions. I will try to present the issue with as much objectivity as I am able, so as to influence you in neither way, and thus allow you to draw your own conclusions. It happened this way:

Having had Maitimo explain his motives to me, particularly in regards to Findaráto, and remembering the fierceness with which our cousin attempted to win the plains, I questioned Maitimo as to whether it would have been more prudent to his goals to concede the greenwoods to Findaráto.

“Perhaps,” he replied with a smile, “but I, too, have a brother to protect.”

He was so tender, and we have had so many conversations on the matter since his recovery—all, thus far, to waste—that I had no heart to correct him. Please forgive me; I know beyond doubt that he includes you in that statement in his heart, though by some craft of evil his tongue is unfree to voice it.

Having thus enjoyed Maitimo’s reaffirmation of affection, I hastened to remind him that we did, indeed, come of age in Aman, and do not require mollycoddling; we, too, took the Oath. He merely ruffled my hair and quietly agreed in that tone that so irked Father—the one where you can tell he disagrees, but is choosing to humor you. It has not ceased to frustrate me, and my visit concluded bitter sweetly, on my part, as I was half wanting to strangle him and half wanting to embrace him and never let go by the end of it. It seems that particular effect Maitimo exerts over others has emerged unscathed from his captivity. If Ilúvatar still looks upon us with any favor, I pray He blesses Findecáno for returning our beloved eldest brother to us (for all that he is an intolerable bore most of the time).

Forgive me for not writing you earlier, but you can imagine the legion activities that have kept me occupied since my last letter. I am sure you have gathered that Maitimo has since quite recovered from his ordeal, but, beyond the initial days of his deliverance, which I considered sufficient cause for the desertion of my other duties for time enough to scribble the good news to you, his convalescence has had all of us too occupied for me to break away and write you.

I made mention of this news in an earlier passage, and lest you think your eyes deceived you, or that my brains were addled when I put pen to paper, I will repeat it now: one of Maitimo’s first acts upon his recovery was to waive our house’s right to Father’s crown. Lordship of the Noldor has thus passed to our esteemed half uncle. Even imagining Father’s likely reaction were he alive to see it fills me with no small amount of trepidation for Maitimo’s safety. Were they not overwhelmed with joy at his return, I feel our brothers would have disowned him. Despite his compelling case that retaining responsibility for the well-being of all the Noldor in Beleriand might conflict with our Oath, Tyelcormo can still be heard muttering at times that Maitimo's captivity has addled his brains— a comment which, I am sorry to say, our eldest brother has not denied.

On a lighter note, I quite see now why you would refuse to bring your page with you on your travels; the fellow is extremely impertinent and superstitious, and refuses to carry my letters to you. I have resorted to borrowing Carnistir’s chief courier to maintain contact with you; he must be twice your boy’s age, and yet is three times again more dedicated in the service of his master—though I need hardly extol his merit to you.

While                                        question your long absence    must warn you                        having                        erse affect upon our broth       .                        refuse to spea    f you,            tread on light feet in my presen                        wing, as                                    I will not tolerate their foolishness. Still                                fully accountable for                                                no doubt          the      guilty enough              not imagine what t   long silence                          be doing to their consciences.

never       y                                     what happene             know all too well

experience                             you.                             give you tim                           to   reco                                                                       ast renew    ntact                      brot                             inds at  nothing else.

—Here the damage to the letter is too extensive to decipher even small pieces of the text. It is probable that it deals with the construction of dwellings in the greenwoods, as Ambarussa’s next letter references design plans not mentioned in any of his previous recovered letters. The next legible section reads as follows—

— that while I understand your just anger at Father, it hardly becomes you to hold a grudge against the dead. Nor is it kind to take out your ire on your brothers; Maitimo is quite convinced that you died in that fire, and the others, though less psychotic in their dementias, are little better—save Carnistir, who, as I mentioned, has been admirably dedicated to maintaining our correspondence. You need hardly come back with the intention of submersing yourself in the rigors of familial engagement; I know how tiresome you always found it. I had more in mind that we should scout our land together. There’s fair game in our woods, and the dogs have taken to the area immensely well.

Faithfully, your loving brother,

Pityafinwë Ambarussa