I should tell you by yletylyf

One

Read One

"Have you seen Mairon?"

Eönwë poked his head into Aulë's workshop. The workshop was an inferno, with an entire wall of flames that blinded Eönwë to the rest of the room. He was hesitant to fully enter; he knew Aulë was always busy.

There was a sigh, and a loud clunk; Eönwë could just make out that Aulë had set his tools down on a bench.

Eönwë instantly felt guilty, and wished to retreat. He had not desired to interrupt Aulë's work. He could be very touchy about it.

Aulë turned around. In the flicking light, his expression looked forbidding and troubled.

"He hasn't come back yet?" Aulë asked.

Eönwë shook his head. "He is not here. Come back from where?"

Aulë scratched his beard, then gave another sigh.

"We were in the southwest." Aulë waited, a heavy pause between the sentences. "We uncovered one of the traps Melkor left."

Eönwë felt uneasy. Melkor might be gone, but he was never very far from their minds, and all his 'gifts' remained from the time when he meddled constantly with Aulë's work. "What sort of trap?"

"The usual. Magma under pressure, contained deep beneath the earth, suddenly spewing out of a mountaintop to the surface. I didn't stay to find out the details," Aulë said, looking cross. One hand was clenched into a fist. "I have plenty of other tasks to complete."

"Yes, sir," Eönwë said hastily. "I apologize for bothering you."

Aulë's expression softened fractionally. "You aren't bothering me, lad. But Mairon did not return to Almaren with the rest of us. You may have to seek for him in the outer lands, if you wish to find him."

Eönwë's stomach sank a little. More and more, Mairon was making it a habit to stay in the outer lands without the company of Aulë and the rest of the smiths. It didn't feel quite right, though Eönwë had yet to articulate why that was so.

He supposed it was his instinct that Maiar were supposed to serve their Valar, not go wondering all over the continent on their own.

But, as Eönwë stiffly thanked Aulë and gave him a deep bow, that was precisely the activity he was embarking on himself.

Eönwë climbed up the tower to its roof, then launched himself off it and shifted his shape through a series of swirling forms and colors until he was an eagle, with a long wingspan that would not tire for many leagues. He soared over the great lake surrounding the home of the Ainur, and kept going—over valleys and ridges, smaller lakes and hills, rolling plains, until finally, he saw it on the horizon: a great pillar of fire, roaring its defiance into the sky.

As Eönwë approached, he had no trouble detecting Mairon. Mairon's spirit was fierce and fiery, a rainbow of flames. Eönwë had always thought it one of the most beautiful among the Ainur. Eönwë followed the pull of it, until he was forced to abandon the eagle—and his fana altogether—and slide underneath the column of flames to join Mairon beneath the earth them as a spirit.

Mairon acknowledged his arrival with a quick flash of joy and a wordless mental welcome. Mairon moved out of the magma and up onto the surface, gathering form and taking the shape of his usual fana as he reached the ground.

Eönwë followed suit, landing beside him on two feet. Their fana were of a height; their shapes roughly the same in anticipation of Ilúvatar's firstborn to come. Mairon stood out among the Ainur even so, for his hair and eyes were a striking orange, a color none of the others had adopted.

Eönwë looked at Mairon, suddenly unsure what he had come to say. To chide him? To make a simple inquiry about his activities here? To express his own feelings about Mairon's constant disappearances?

He did not have to decide right away. Mairon was not looking at Eönwë. His face was tilted up to the column of flames in the sky. They were mighty, and unwholesome: spewing heat and various chunks of rock every which way.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Mairon asked, joy shining on his face at the sight before him.

Eönwë felt a deep upwelling of pleasure of his own, not because of Melkor's column of flames but because of how they lit Mairon so magnificently. His vivid hair matched the flames; his eyes reflected them; the sparks adorned him. He looked so very alive and happy in that moment.

He was a beautiful creature.

"It is," Eönwë was able to say honestly, even if he wasn't answering the precise question asked.

"Look at this!" Mairon cried, lifting a hand and opening it to display something in his palm. Eönwë took a closer look: they were diamonds. Rough and uncut, but even Eönwë's inexpert eye could tell they would be surpassingly precious when cut and polished.

"They only form deep in the earth, with the combination of intense pressure and heat," Mairon said, his eyes gleaming. "They surface with these eruptions of magma. We would never have them without Melkor's contributions to Arda."

"Do you call them 'contributions' in front of Aulë?" Eönwë asked, his voice slightly chilly, although he wasn't going to argue with the beauty of the diamonds. They were pristine and sparkled enticingly in the firelight.

"No," Mairon said, but he looked wholly unabashed. "What did you come out here for, my friend?"

Eönwë drew his brows together and thought hard about the answer. He didn't want to be confrontational about this.

"You are frequently absent from Almaren."

Mairon's gaze grew distant and unfocused. "I suppose I am," he answered, sounding distracted.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Not exactly," Mairon said. "Arda is a large place. Almaren is such a small part of it. Do you never feel the urge to explore?"

Eönwë let his eyes fall partially closed, looking at Mairon through his narrowed lids for a few quiet moments.

"It is only that I think of you, and wish for your opinion, and then cannot find you," Eönwë said eventually. He let the question remain unanswered. He did not want to ask himself whether he felt Mairon's urge to 'explore.'

Mairon's entire demeanor changed at this; he went from contemplative to excited, a grin breaking out on his face.

"Why, Eönwë, are you saying you miss me when I am not by your side?"

"Yes," Eönwë replied stoutly, unafraid of being mocked.

Mairon's grin faded into a gentle smile. He lifted a hand and rested it on Eönwë's shoulder. "And what is it you'd like my opinion on now?"

Eönwë stared into his flame-colored eyes and nearly lost track of the entire conversation. He did not know why he was like this around Mairon. No one else seemed to afflict him so.

"I finished the designs for the coronets," Eönwë said, after an embarrassingly lengthy silence.

"Oh, wonderful," Mairon said, his eyes shining again. "I shall affix diamonds to yours."

Eönwë felt simultaneously pleased and profoundly embarrassed.

"No," he said firmly.

"No?" Mairon asked, his face falling in disappointment. Eönwë did not like disappointing Marion, so he strove to explain, though it was not in his character to explain himself overmuch.

"I do not wish to stand out."

"Well," Mairon said contemplatively. "In that case, I will fashion jewelry with diamonds for any who ask it of me, so long as they acknowledge the jewels are indeed contributions to Arda, and not evil."

Eönwë felt his stomach swoop. "Troublemaker," he accused.

"That's me," Mairon agreed, but he seemed curiously resigned rather than displaying his usual glee at this comment, a comment Eönwë made often. "I suppose I can return to Almaren with you now, since it's you asking."

Eönwë wondered who had else asked, and been rejected, and whether Aulë's bad mood had been about more than an interruption to his work.

But he did not press Mairon for details. Mairon turned into a swirl of colors and became a falcon, smaller but faster than Eönwë's eagle form, and they took to the skies together.

 

"I haven't been gone that long looking for diamonds, have I?"

Mairon was frowning as he waded through the mess that was Eönwë's tower in the city of the Ainur on Almaren. Mairon was constantly trying to organize this space, and Eönwë was constantly letting it fall into entropy when Mairon was not around. Currently, Eönwë's piles of drawings and tools and stonework and figurines were being taken over by an excessive number of plants, growing happily in the lamplight filtering in through the long walls of windows, and birds and insects flitting around the plants.

Mairon was trying to weave a path among the chaos, and making faces at it all. "It's so untidy," he complained. "What is all this doing here? Did Yavanna visit and leave a mess?"

"It is not a mess," Eönwë said shortly, yet knowing very well he would never convince Mairon.

Mairon bent down to a flowering vine, extended a finger, and carefully picked up a small butterfly. The butterfly readily transferred itself to his finger, where it perched and slowly opened and closed its wings.

Mairon held it out to Eönwë. "What are these doing here?"

"I… thought of you when I saw them," Eönwë admitted slowly. "It is the only other thing I've ever seen in Arda with such a color."

Mairon looked down at the butterfly. The main parts of the butterfly wings were a light and dark tan, but the edges of its wings were bright orange spots with black centers. Like Mairon's eyes.

"Oh," Mairon said, his eyes soft and pleased. "You thought of me?"

Eönwë nodded, once, and said nothing.

Mairon looked at him with that soft pleasure, as they stood there exchanging feelings without words, in thought or otherwise. Eönwë thought his heart might burst from it.

Eventually, Mairon managed to recall himself to their original conversation. "But this cannot be why your tower is a menagerie."

"Manwë collected the birds from the vicinity of Illuin," Eönwë explained, taking the butterfly from Mairon and placing it back on the bush. He carefully omitted the fact that Manwë had had nothing to do or say about butterflies; that had been all Eönwë's doing on the expedition. "Yavanna did help with the plants, to make it suitable habitat for the birds. The lamplight is affecting them strangely, compared to those who live here in the center of Almaren. We are trying to determine why."

"Manwë and his bird obsession," Mairon muttered under his breath, as though it would somehow make a difference in whether Eönwë heard him or not. It didn't; Eönwë heard him perfectly, and gave Marion a flat, unimpressed look.

"Strangely, how?" Mairon continued, pretending to ignore the look.

"They fly directly towards the light, sometimes burning themselves on it," Eönwë explained. He approached one such example and held the bird gently in his hand, lifting it to show Mairon. "This one lost an entire wing. It was dying when Manwë found it."

Mairon peered carefully at the bird. "It seems lively enough now."

"Yes," Eönwë said, watching the bird chirp happily in Mairon's face. "But it will never fly again."

"Why not?" Mairon asked, taking the bird carefully from Eönwë's hands and lifting it to his own face. He touched his nose gently to the bird's, who trilled a series of high notes. "Grow it another wing."

"We cannot grow wings for birds," Eönwë said, startled. "Are we Eru Ilúvatar?"

Mairon lowered the bird but stared at it some more, gently running a finger over the side with the missing wing.

"We cannot create a bird from nothing," Mairon agreed, "but we can manipulate the substances of Arda. It is why we are here! Should we not try it?"

"I am studying these birds, not creating wings for them," Eönwë said, feeling uneasy.

"You don't need this bird for your study though, surely?" Mairon asked, giving Eönwë a blinding smile and batting his eyelashes.

Eönwë stared at Mairon without any expression for some time. Mairon's smiles did not diminish. He knew Eönwë would give in.

"I do not need this bird," Eönwë agreed, giving in. "But promise me you will not accidentally kill it while trying to help it."

"That doesn't sound like me at all," Mairon said, looking mildly affronted.

"Of course not," Eönwë agreed quietly, if insincerely. He did not wish for strife with Mairon.

"I will think on it. In the meantime, where are the drawings you mentioned for the coronets?" Mairon asked, without letting go of the bird.

"Here," Eönwë said, moving a long set of trailing vines out of the way and spreading out his drawings on a desk.

He had sketched out designs for bands that would rest on the forehead; the Ainur had decided they wished to adorn themselves as they were adorning Arda. The weavers were busy inventing new cloths and fabrics, while the smiths worked in the forges to create beautiful things. And Eönwë and Mairon had collaborated, as they always did, on new designs.

"Beautiful," Mairon said, taking one in his free hand and studying it. "But then, your work always is."

Mairon leaned forward and kissed Eönwë on the cheek. Eönwë felt hot and flustered, and did not move a muscle. Mairon took no notice of his stiff reaction, smiling as he turned and left with the designs and the bird.

He was humming happily as he went.

Eönwë leaned against the wall and stared at the butterfly with the striking spotted pattern that came flitting past, only to rest gently on his hand.

"I'm so far gone for him," Eönwë told the butterfly. "What am I to do about it?"

 

Mairon stayed in Almaren for a while after that.

He cleaned up Eönwë's tower, over Eönwë's objections, building cabinets to keep plants away from valuable objects. He switched out the wooden doors for glass, so that they became display cases. He seemed exasperated with the plants and birds—living things he could not hammer into some sort of order—but grudgingly left them alone when Eönwë reprimanded him for trying to tidy them away.

And Mairon returned to work in Aulë's forges. If he was quarreling with Aulë over anything, there was no sign of it at all, though Eönwë watched carefully for it.

"You've been spending a lot of time near Aulë's forges," Manwë said, suddenly appearing over Eönwë's shoulder and startling him greatly. Eönwë had indeed been standing outside the forge, gazing at the door and lost in thought. "Surely you do not wish to exchange my service for his?"

Eönwë took a sharp breath and turned around. Manwë was holding an eagle on his wrist and giving Eönwë a piercing look. He appeared ready to head out for somewhere, though he had not told Eönwë where.

"It is not for Aulë that I linger here," Eönwë confessed ruefully.

"I see."

Manwë's gaze did not get less serious, and the silence was weighty.

"What do you think of him?" Eönwë asked, feeling bold and daring.

"Mairon?" Manwë clarified. He stroked the head of the eagle rhythmically, studying Eönwë.

Eönwë was careful not to react or betray any particular emotion. It was not that he did not trust Manwë; he trusted Manwë with all his heart. But what he felt for Mairon was too precious to display, much less discuss.

"He is not happy in Aulë's service," Manwë said eventually. "I do not understand how such a thing is possible, but I cannot deny the evidence before me. Do you know why this might be so?"

Eönwë thought about it. "Aulë wants him to do as he is told. Mairon gets strange new ideas and disappears to chase them down. There is no telling him 'no' when he is in such a mood."

"And does this worry you?" Manwë asked, his tone dry.

"No," Eönwë answered shortly, before thinking about it.

"Perhaps you should consider that question more deeply," Manwë said, but his tone lacked any judgment. It sounded like simple advice.

Eönwë bowed very low as Manwë melted into a swirl of colors and became an eagle, mighty in wingspan and prowess, and launched himself into the air alongside the smaller eagle he'd been holding.

It was a very dramatic exit. Eönwë memorized the details for his own use, later.

 

Mairon, of course, also noticed that Eönwë was hanging around Aulë's workshop more often than not. But instead of asking him about it, like Manwë—like a normal person—his reaction was to hide in a hedge, lying in wait.

As Eönwë walked beside the hedge on his way to the forges, a swirl of white and red robes sprang towards him, and a staff whirled through the air. Eönwë ducked away from the staff on instinct, taken by surprise yet not confused.

"You want to spar again," Eönwë surmised dryly, as Mairon tossed a second staff towards Eönwë. Eönwë caught it neatly out of the air.

It was Mairon, of course, who first among all the Ainur came up with the idea of carving a length of wood into something hard and heavy—for whacking against another stick, or someone's fana.

Eönwë knew for certain Manwë did not approve. But the disapproval did not quite stop Eönwë. Sparring with Mairon was exhilarating. Eönwë stepped sideways and swung his staff at Mairon, who promptly blocked it with his own.

"You never know when Melkor will return and be the one to jump out of the hedges," Mairon said with an exhilarated laugh.

Eönwë knew Mairon best of anyone, he imagined, save Eru Ilúvatar himself… and yet. He often had no idea whether Mairon meant the things he said. Melkor was extremely unlikely to make it to Almaren unimpeded, to jump out of hedges and attack. What did Marion gain by discussing such a thing?

But Eönwë didn't press Mairon on the subject. He almost preferred not to know some things, when it came to Mairon.

He swung his staff again, pressing Mairon hard, stepping forward as he did, forcing Mairon to retreat, backing him up against the hedge. Mairon feinted a lunge to the right, but Eönwë didn't fall for it: he leaned into the feint as Mairon pulled back. He swung his staff low, knocking Mairon's feet out from under him.

Mairon fell with a breathless laugh, landing in a graceful heap of white and red, his clothes astray and his hair falling over his face.

"I win," Eönwë declared.

"You always win," Mairon said, still laughing. "How is that possible?"

"I know you," Eönwë explained, taking the question seriously. "Your moves and your tells and what you are thinking when you fight."

Mairon blinked up at Eönwë, no longer laughing. "And you do not think I do not know you just as well?"

Eönwë extended a hand, and helped Mairon stand, and dust himself off, and straighten his hair and clothing.

"In truth, I do wonder," Mairon continued, giving Eönwë his most intense stare. "We have been near-constant companions since we entered Arda and first spoke one another's name. And yet sometimes I wonder if I really know you. You are so silent and stoic, and seldom say what you are thinking."

"You know me," Eönwë said, without blinking.

"Do I? Why are you hanging around the forges so often? Aulë thinks you are spying on me."

"Manwë thought so as well," Eönwë admitted.

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing."

"Will you also tell me nothing?"

Eönwë finally blinked, a few times rapidly, and considered his answer at length. "I am watching for the next time you run off."

"I am not running off," Mairon said, flashing a brilliant smile. "Exploring Arda is hardly the same thing."

"If no one knows where you are, it feels like running off," Eönwë disagreed.

"Bah," Mairon said, waving a hand through the air. "You need not be so concerned for me. And you needn't lurk and spy. Would you like to come inside my workshop and see my latest projects?"

Eönwë looked at him, then nodded.

It was an agreement to drop the topic as much as it was an interest in seeing the workshop. Mairon knew it, and gave Eönwë another sunny smile. He grabbed Eönwë's hand and led him down the path and inside his own workshop, adjacent to and slightly smaller than Aulë's forges.

"I finished them," Mairon said proudly.

He opened a closet and emerged holding out two circles. One was in gold and one in silver; both were very beautiful, with graceful twists and curlicues of metal. The silver one had a dozen glittering diamonds set prominently in the centerpiece.

Eönwë took the silver circlet Mairon offered him. The diamonds had been cut from that clear but rough stone and forged into polished, shimmering gems of perfection. They seemed to glitter with their own light as Eönwë turned the circlet in his hands.

He was still not quite sure whether he wished to wear it in front of everyone. But—

"It is splendid."

"I always do splendid work," Mairon said, with a crooked grin.

"You do," Eönwë agreed.

Mairon settled the gold circlet on himself, adjusting it until it sat evenly on his forehead. Then he reached out and took Eönwë's silver circlet from his hands, reaching up and placing it gently on Eönwë's brow.

Eönwë's heart was beating very fast. It did not usually do that; it was not like he depended on the heart to pump blood to his limbs to keep him standing upright. It was raiment. But it was raiment that was reacting strongly to Mairon's presence right now.

Mairon took his hand again and guided him out of the shop and down the hall until they were standing in front of a wall of metal that was polished to give a perfect reflection.

The sight of them took Eönwë's breath away: Mairon with his pale skin in contrast to his fiery eyes and hair, his fine tunic and the gold circlet lending him an air of nobility. Eönwë thought himself rather less pretty, but he liked the picture he presented next to Mairon: white hair and skin painted with colorful whorls, framing Mairon's red and orange, the diamonds sparkling brightly on his brow.

"We are ready to conquer Arda," Mairon said, nodding with distinct approval.

"You sound like Melkor," Eönwë said, with contrasted disapproval.

"Perhaps we will succeed where he failed," Mairon said, nudging Eönwë in the ribs. Eönwë knew he was teasing. He liked to use the idea of Melkor to tease, to get under everyone else's skin. It usually worked, but Eönwë simply shook his head this time and changed the subject.

"Have you forged circlets for anyone else?"

"Not yet," Mairon said. "But I will not forget."

"Do not forget the diamonds for the others."

"I will not," Mairon promised. "But yours will be the loveliest because you are the one wearing it."

Eönwë's lips twitched in an involuntary smile. He smoothed it out at once into a straight face. "When will you forge the others?"

"Not just yet," Mairon said, the expression on his face growing mischievous. "I have some other projects I've been working on."

Eönwë looked at him. He was up to no good. But Eönwë had never stopped at that knowledge, had always plowed stubbornly ahead in order to stay at his friend's side.

"What have you done now?" he asked, feeling half amused, half resigned.

"I'll show you when I'm ready," Mairon said with a grin. Gathering his robes around him, he turned and swept off down the hall with a combination of eagerness and careful dignity.

Eönwë watched him go, feeling very fond.

 

Eönwë learned the answer to his questions much later. He was tending to the birds, enjoying their song and their erratic flights, when he gradually became aware that it was not bird song he was listening to—at least not entirely.

It was piping, a strange trilling of a sort he'd never heard before on Arda, coming from the balcony of his tower. Intrigued, Eönwë went to investigate.

Mairon, dressed in a lavish tunic of scarlet and gold, was perched on the rail of Eönwë's balcony, holding a long thin tube up to his lips and parallel with the ground. He was blowing air over it, his fingers moving in time with the notes. It was obviously the source of the piping sounds.

Mairon took no notice of Eönwë—or affected not to—as he continued to play. Eönwë clasped his hands behind his back, stood still, and listened.

It was music, like string instruments and singing, but different. It was more ethereal and breathier sound. It was beautiful.

Mairon stopped playing abruptly, and held the instrument out to Eönwë. Eönwë stepped forward and accepted it, somewhat reverently. It was made of a very thin, very light stone, white with swirling rose patterns. It was carved with a series of holes down its length.

"I made it for you," Mairon said with a smile. "It's a flute."

Eönwë loved music—as did all the Ainur. But he understood why Mairon had come to him in private first. The Ainur had played string instruments since Aulë first fashioned them in Arda to echo the music of creation, and new forms of music were—well, new.

Unless they had all collectively seen something in Ilúvatar's mind, the Ainur as a body were reluctant to change their ways.

Eönwë accepted the flute and pressed it to his own lips. He played a variety of notes, running up and down the scales, experimenting with the sounds. When he had familiarized himself with the basics, he lowered the flute and gave Mairon a short nod.

It was a lovely instrument.

Mairon glowed as though Eönwë had grinned at him, rather than simply nodded.

Eönwë ran his fingers over the flute a few times, thinking. Then he lifted it to his lips again and played—not basic scales this time, but a true song.

The song had long been in Eönwë's mind, but he had yet to translate it to musical notes. The song's first theme was bright, cheerful, with a very great range from high to low and back to high. The second theme was steadier, varying little, but echoing and complimenting the first theme's notes as a harmony does a melody. The themes came closer together, by degrees, until they blended into a single note of purest happiness.

Eönwë swallowed as he let the flute drop from his mouth, looking to Mairon for his reaction.

Mairon was looking very serious, for a change from his usual teasing demeanor. "It's beautiful," he said, then paused—again, uncharacteristically. "Did you—did you write that for us?"

Eönwë nodded, once, curtly.

"It's perfect," Mairon said, looking moved. "Thank you."

Eönwë did not say anything, but kept looking at Mairon steadily. There was a considerable gap of space between them. Eönwë wished they were closer. He looked at Mairon's lovely face, his beautiful soft lips, and wished—

"I have another gift for you," Mairon said, cheeks creasing in an excited smile, wholly ignorant of Eönwë's chaotic thoughts. "Though it is not so nice as a song."

"I can be the judge of that," Eönwë said loftily.

"Of course," Mairon said.

On light feet, he jumped off the tower, robes billowing behind him handsomely. Eönwë followed him as Mairon wove his way down the streets to the balcony of his own tower, where a row of curtains was fluttering in the breeze.

Mairon brushed them aside, entered the tower, and emerged in short order. He was carrying something, looking very content and pleased with himself, as he held out his hands to show Eönwë.

Cupped within Mairon's hands was the dove with the missing wing—but wingless no longer. In place of the missing feathered wing was an array of spines arcing outward in a semi-circle, translucent webbing stretched in between each spine. It mimicked the bird's natural wing in size and shape, if not texture.

"It was easier to design this rather than grow feathers," Mairon explained, running his finger gently over the webbed wing. The bird was relaxed and comfortable under his touch. "These are struts," he explained, gesturing at the top of the wing. "They function like the bones in the arms in our fana, and together allow the wing to rotate and move. They attach to these rotor-style gear for the socket, like the elbow joints of our shapes, and these are the ribs," he finished, pointing to the array of spines. "Most of the construction is one large, flexible segment, while the tip here is segmented, to mimic the motion of the primaries in turning."

He paused. Eönwë was quiet, looking at Mairon rather than the bird. He was shining with joy again, the way he had at the discovery of the diamonds. He was made for this, Eönwë abruptly realized. He was made to explore and push boundaries and strive for progress and creation. And Eönwë loved him for it.

"What do you think?" Mairon prodded, when Eönwë said nothing.

"It can fly like that?" Eönwë asked, uncertain, looking back down at the bird.

"Oh, yes. The construction weighs only a few ounces. And see? The natural features are growing over the attachment as the bird adapted to it. I think, in fact, it will be stronger than before."

Eönwë reached out and gently caressed the bird's head with the back of one finger. It trilled happily at him. He could not decide what to say. More pertinently, he did not know what Manwë would say if he could see this.

Was it beauty or blasphemy? Healing or heresy?

"I did not expect you to take so much care for a bird," Eönwë said at last.

"It is not about the bird," Mairon said. "Did I not say it was a gift for you?"

Eönwë nodded, his throat thick, still bereft of ideas for anything to say.

Mairon breathed over the bird, murmuring a prayer of life and strength, and then lifted his hands to the sky and launched the bird into the air.

It took off, flapping its new and old wings in sync, excited and happy to be free and whole. It flitted from window to window until it reached the top of the tower, and then disappeared, swallowed by the sky.

"It worked," Eönwë said, his voice betraying his surprise.

Mairon turned and smiled at him—less like his usual grin, a smaller and more subtle smile. It reflected a serene inner pleasure.

"It worked," he agreed.

"The dove is like you," Eönwë mused. "Flying to a different beat. Happiest when free."

"And? What do you think of it?"

Eönwë considered the question for a moment, and then made up his mind. He had only ever had one response to the enigma that was Mairon, after all.

Eönwë leaned forward and kissed Mairon on the lips. An electrifying thrill ran through him, his heart thumping loudly in excitement and gladness.

A startled expression flared on Mairon's face, but it quickly relaxed back into a shining joy.

"It is magnificent," Eönwë said, "like you."