Whatever You Say, Ace by Isilme_among_the_stars  

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One

The first time Maedhros beheld Fingon he was smitten. How could he not be? Such soft, velvety skin! The delightful smell of his hair! Yes, Maedhros was in love from the moment he first held his baby cousin who, unlike Maglor when he was an infant, rarely cried and did not try to pull his hair.

Despite what certain elves would insinuate later, and falsehoods certain rumours would spread like wildfire among the populace, his love for Fingon was never substantially different than the platonic affection that he felt in that first moment. Maedhros was becoming quite tired of having to explain otherwise.

Just because he had gifted his cousin sparkling ribbons for his hair did not mean they were ‘involved’. They were gold, but that was only because it was Finno’s favourite colour to decorate himself with. Had he not given his other cousins gifts too? Just because he remarked upon the fine figure that Fingon cut atop a horse did not mean he was hoping to steal a kiss later. It was merely that he expressed pride in his young cousin’s growing aptitude and fine form. He had been partially responsible for teaching him appropriate princely decorum after all, and did he not also compliment his other cousins when they became accomplished? Why, oh why, did everyone seem to insist on reading further into it? Couldn’t a smile just be a smile? Did it have to be a lustful suggestion? Could not praise just be praise? Did it have to be a sign of a budding romance? Maedhros had never thought of Fingon in a romantic or sexual way.

In fact, he’d never thought of anyone in those ways. Perhaps this was why everyone read so much into the smallest of his actions. They were starved for gossip fodder. Since he’d shown no real interest in nissi, his brothers and friends eventually began to assume his predilections were for neri. Or rather, a certain nér in particular. Maglor was absolutely the worst.

“I want to date. So, you must date,” he had declared.

“No, thank you,” Maedhros declined mildly, without looking up from the book he was reading.

“What is wrong with you anyway? Atar was married at your age. Are you scared of nissi?”

“Leave off Makalaurë. Date if you want to, but don’t involve me.”

“Fine, I will date. But I’m absolutely involving you.”

He proceeded to attempt to set up Maedhros with a string of nissi. They were all lovely people. It was not their fault that Maedhros was in fact more attracted to books.

“Oh, now I understand,” Maglor declared dramatically when he walked in on Maedhros braiding Fingon’s hair, humming happily as his fingers worked.

“What are you talking about?” Maitimo asked, baffled. This was not uncommon with Maglor. Maedhros had yet to decide whether he spoke aloud what should have been private thoughts or merely neglected to voice half of what he was thinking.

“I presented you with melons and you like peaches. Isn’t he a bit young for you?”

Maitimo understood perfectly then. He picked up the comb and launched it at Maglor. Maglor merely ducked, laughed as the projectile sailed over his head and left the room.

“What is he talking about?” Fingon asked, also much baffled.

“Makalaurë wishes to court nissi, so he is determined that I must too. He’s been trying to partner me with a veritable crowd of them for months now. I’m not interested. His efforts naturally failed. Now he thinks that is because I prefer neri.”

“And he reached this conclusion at this very moment because you are braiding my hair?”

“It seems that way.”

“Then he must think…” Fingon started to giggle, “he must think we are attracted to each other!” Fingon’s laughter grew until it shook his shoulders.

“Stay still Findekáno!” Maedhros chided, trying to keep his own laughter at bay.

“But it’s the funniest thing I’ve heard today!”

“Isn’t it just?”

Fingon liked to swim.

It was rather more enjoyable than hunting, truth be told. Finrod had already wandered off with his harp seeking more interesting pursuits. Only Celegorm was still truly interested in taking down the Stag they’d been following. So, when they passed by a splendid pool at the bottom of a small waterfall in Oromë’s forest, Fingon jumped straight in, clothes and all.

Maedhros rolled his eyes, took the time to strip down to his small clothes first, and then dove in after him. The day was pleasantly warm after all, and Celegorm still had Maglor to help him bring down the impressive creature.

Yes, Fingon liked to swim, but he did not like to be cold, which he promptly became when he had to slog back to camp in his wet clothes, the clear sky ensuring the evening chill came in swiftly. He was shivering piteously by the time he and Maedhros arrived.

“I’m so cold,” he complained through chattering teeth as Maedhros hung his wet clothes by the fire to dry. He looked miserable from inside the cocoon he’d made of his blanket.

“Here, take mine,” Maedhros offered, passing his blanket over, “I’ll climb in there with you in a moment. You’ll be warm in no time.”

“He’ll warm up faster if you’re both unclothed. It’s basic physics,” Finrod pointed out helpfully, twanging idly on his harp as he sat by the fire.

Maedhros took one look at his cousin’s piteous, trembling form and began stripping.

“Did Tyelko bag his stag?” Maedhros asked Finrod from inside their now shared cocoon.

Finrod only shrugged, “Neither of your brothers are back.” He tossed them pastries that had been stashed in his pack. They scarfed them down, and now comfortably warm and fed, promptly fell asleep.

Celegorm sniggered and elbowed Maglor when he spotted them, “hark at them, Káno.”

“It’s only ‘hark’ when you’re hearing something, idiot,” Maglor replied, then pointed out two sets of clothes hung up by the fire.

“Finno caught a chill. Maitimo is kindly warming him up” Finrod explained, “did you fare any better?”

“Oh, warming him up, is it?” Maglor smirked.

Finrod frowned, confused. Maglor conferred with him in exuberant whispers while Celegorm began to dress the large hare that had been his consolation prize. When he glanced up at them, both had knowing, slightly salacious looks in their eyes.

Behind him, Celegorm heard another set of voices whispering.

“Look at that,” Lord Oromë said, “what is that odd creature by the fire?”

“It is Findekáno and Maitimo,” Vána answered dreamily, “aren’t they so sweet together?”

“Together? You mean?”

“Oh, yes. They’re going to make a lovely couple,” Vána gushed.

“I must admit, they do look quite adorable all tangled together like that. Their faces go all smooshily relaxed when they sleep,” Oromë observed.

Celegorm chuckled.

“What? Have I used the wrong words?” Oromë asked him.

“No, it’s just very vala of you. Eldar would not put it in quite those words.”

“How would you put it?”

“We’d probably say peaceful. And smitten.”

“Fine,” Maedhros threw up his hands in frustration when Maglor confronted him later, “we’re in a relationship. It’s called having a cousin. Are you happy?”

Maglor looked intently back at him. He was far quieter than usual. It was disconcerting.

“But it’s not just “having a cousin” is it brother? You’re far closer to Findekáno than you are with any of the others. You’d have any of the rest of us shiver by the fire until we warmed ourselves up.”

“None of the rest of you would have been stupid enough to dive into a pool still fully clothed.” Maedhros remarked huffily.

“I won’t deny that. But my point stands. It goes beyond the closeness between Turukáno and Findaráto even. Aulë’s forge, you’re closer to Findekáno than you are even with any of us! You have no intention of bedding him, I can maybe believe that, or you probably would have by now. But what is it that you have? It’s certainly something more than a cousinly bond.”

“I don’t know, Káno. There is no yermë. I don’t know if I am even capable of sexual attraction. But he’s more than merely a friend, I can’t explain it. I believe the right term for it is melotorno, but I have very little written so far on how that is expected to proceed.”

“There’s far more to life than can be found in your books, Nelyo.”

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