What You Mean To Me by The Wavesinger  

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What You Mean to Me


It is winter when Fingon marches on Angband.

 

Boots crunch on frozen grass, slip over patches of ice.

 

Helcaraxë, everyone thinks. Helcaraxë.

 

No-one turns back.

 

—

 

It was autumn when what remained of Maitimo was rescued.

 

Fingon remembers the High King’s crown.

 

It looked strange against pale skin and red hair.

 

—

 

It was summer when they held hands on the streets of Tirion, and no-one jeered.

 

Instead, Fingon remembers, half the city stopped to congratulate Maitimo.

 

—

 

It was spring when they first kissed, and Fingon remembers Maitimo’s callused hands on him, hot breath against his skin, and a fierce, fierce fire.


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