Helmapellopë by averytinylizard  

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Chapter 2

SUMMARY FOR THOSE WHO FELT THE NEED TO SKIP THE FIRST CHAPTER: During their exile to Formenos and after years away from Nerdanel, Fëanor wants to marry Maedhros. To avoid this, Maedhros gives him three challenges that Fëanor must fulfill before they marry: to create a robe that shines like flame, a stone that shows every color of the sky, and something that captures the light of the trees. Fëanor succeeds in the challenges, creating the Palantiri and the Silmarils in the process. Maedhros, after a short prayer where what may be Varda tells him to ask Fëanor to kill and make a cloak out of the magic donkey that the Valar gave to all the towns in Valinor, does just that. Stealing the Silmarils and a Palantir, Maedhros runs away from Formenos.

He came into a village just outside Tirion wearing his new cloak, for it hid his face best out of anything he owned. It was only a matter of time before Fëanáro sent someone to look for him, and it was better to hide his face until then. He changed his speech too, making it hoarser and trading his th's for s's. He kept his hair tied back, careful to never let a lock spill from beneath his cloak, and slouched slightly. Anyone who knew him in person would recognize him, but no stranger would think he was a prince.

He took a set of rings, delicate braids of gold and silver set with diamonds and sold them in exchange for a farm in the southern outskirts that had fallen into disrepair. Its owner had moved to Formenos with Maitimo's family, and had sold it for barely anything at all. Now that a few years had passed, Maitimo could buy it for even cheaper. He could, if he wanted, live at those great mansions where youths desiring to leave their families homes stayed until finding a spouse, or at the houses offered by universities or masters to their apprentices, but that required giving a name, and he would be recognized immediately. Better to live on the outskirts, and build something for himself.

For a sapphire necklace he bought some goats, and he simply went to the market and was allowed to take some seeds to plant his own crops. He felt people stare, muttering about his Donkey-skin cloak, but nobody mocked him to his face, and he walked with his head held high. The cloak would serve him some day, he had to believe.

And as he repaired his farm and fed his goats, as he planted his crops and talked to his neighbors, he felt the most normal he had felt in years, even before his father's advances. It was wonderful to be behind no stone walls, never having to ask before leaving, hearing no paranoid ramblings. Everybody called him Donkeyskin, yes, but what a low price to pay that was, for not having eyes focused constantly on his chest!

Somedays he took his Fire-robe and his Silmarilli and danced in his house, with the curtains drawn, of course. His ordeal had given him these gifts, at least, and it seemed a pity not to enjoy them.

And at night, alone, he took out his Palantír and watched what happened at Formenos, and breathed most freely in those moments, when he saw that Fëanaro slept alone in his bed.

He was buying a great friendly herding dog, both for work and for the company, when his neighbor Cemniel walked up to him and said, “Donkeyskin! Have you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“The prince is coming to visit!”

Oh, may the Valar have mercy on him. “Which prince? There are a great number of them.”

“Oh, Prince Findekáno. He so rarely comes here, preferring mostly the mountains, or the sea.”

Findekáno! If anyone could recognize Maitimo it would be him. “Aye, it is most strange. Do you know when he is coming?”

“In just a week. So, Donkeyskin, you ought to find some finery. Your cloak is endearing to us, but a prince demands some respect.” Cemniel was, of all the people he had met in their little village, the most determined to tame their Donkeyskin.

“I have no finery, Cemniel. I think I will simply avoid him instead.”

“Oh, Donkeyskin, I was simply making a joke. Princes come so rarely here. You ought to take the chance to meet one, they are generous with their riches, and your house is so humble.”

Maitimo liked Cemniel, but she could be stubborn as few others. “I like my house as it is, and need no princely riches.”

“Still, Donkeyskin. A prince! In our little corner of the world!”

He knew that Findekáno would be coming soon, and so that he needed to hide. There was nothing more dangerous than being recognized. After just a few days inside his home he began working on making a belt for himself, wishing to place the Silmarilli on it. He could do that, at least, to not go mad with boredom in his little house.

Unfortunately, people seemed determined to see him, for someone knocked on his door. “I'm busy! Come back in a week.”

“I will not be here in a week, Master Donkeyskin. May I please come in?” Findekáno! By the Valar, why was he here?

“No.”

“Then can you leave the house?”

“I will not interrupt my work for some stranger.”

“When I heard about you, Master Donkeyskin, I was not told you were so rude.” Heard of him! Since when did Findekáno pay attention to idle gossip?

“Heard of me? Which of my neighbors told you of me?”

“None of them! I came here because I heard of you. I wished to see the strange man who had come to live here.”

Well, one could always count on Findekáno to be rude. “If you want to enter a man's house, you ought not to insult him. Now you may not have seen Master Donkeyskin, but you have heard his wisdom. Goodbye!”

He heard Findekáno laugh as he walked away, and the most foolish part of Maitimo's heart wished to open his door and follow him, for it sounded so much like the way he laughed when they were still friends.

Findekáno was only here because he didn't know who Maitimo was. If he had, he wouldn't have been so playful. Their last few months had been awful, a thousand arguments quoting their fathers and trying to hurt each other as much as they could. And when Maitimo had told him he was leaving with his father, Findekáno had acted so strangely. At first he had begged, offering whatever he could to get him to stay, insisting that Maitimo would always have a place in his home, hearing nothing about what Maitimo owed his father, as if the last months of only fighting had never happened. And then came anger, which Maitimo had been expecting, and he answered in turn. Why did he want Maitimo to stay so badly, if he was going to react like this to a simple no? And then, as Findekáno tried to defend himself, tears began to roll down his face, and as he cried into Maitimo's robes, he continued his barrage of insults and begging and apologies.

Maitimo did not want to return to that.

The next morning, again came Findekáno.  “Master Donkeyskin! I wish to apologize for yesterday. I should not have called you strange.”

“Aye, you shouldn't have. But here's a way you could make amends: leave.”

“But I still wish to see you. And I am hungry, Master Donkeyskin. May I come inside and have breakfast with you? I heard your cheese was wonderful.”

“Picture a man wearing the skin of a donkey as a cloak.” Findekáno hummed, and Maitimo said, “Now you have seen all that is interesting about me.”

“And my hunger?”

“Close your eyes and I shall give you something to eat.” Maitimo grabbed a small cheese wheel and some bread, and spied through his keyhole. Findekáno had his eyes closed, and so Maitimo opened the door.

Findekáno, as was his obvious manner, reacted to the door opening by opening his mouth. Maitimo instead put the bread and cheese in his hands and went back inside.

He heard Findekáno sit down by the door and eat, and decided that he could have his breakfast as well. He took a slice of bread and spread some soft cheese and a little of Cemniel's blackberry preserve on it. He drank some tea too, and heard Findekáno chew. He was probably doing it with his mouth open, the animal.

“Your cheese is very good! Have you always been a goatherd?”

“No, only since coming here.”

“Really! Well, then I pity all other cheesemongers, for once you have experience to match them, they will find themselves utterly outclassed.”

“Your flattery will not get me to open the door.”

Findekáno took the opening. “Then your cheese is awful and you will never amount to anything.”

“Neither will your insults.” 

Findekáno sighed. “I will be leaving soon.”

“I hope so.”

“What do you have against me?” Findekáno sounded genuinely hurt. Of course he did. Never had a day passed where the boy did not wear his heart on his sleeve.

“Nothing at all. I simply missed when my days were boring.”

“Ai, then we are nothing alike, for I came here looking for some entertainment. Tirion has been so dull lately.” Maedhros could almost see him stretching, spreading his arms, so like the old days did his sigh sound.

“So you came to stare at the man wearing the skin of a donkey.”

“Not to stare! But in search of something new. Say what you will about Fëanáro and his kin, and you can say plenty, but things happened around them.” And Maitimo felt a tightness in his chest at the mention of his father.

“Well, you have not seen anything new, but you have heard it.”

“I did, didn't I? Goodbye, Master Donkeyskin.”

“Goodbye, Findekáno.

He left early the next morning, when he was sure that Findekáno would be sleeping still (for such an energetic man, he slept in surprisingly late without someone working to wake him). And as he walked his goats to the green hills, Roandur running around them, he let himself breathe the clean air and think about Findekáno. He had loved that boy once, not enough to marry him and not enough to stay, yet he loved him still. His last memories of him before leaving for Formenos had been dark with anger, with their fathers, and now Findekáno walked again into the life Maitimo had built here, and those sweet moments of before shone again.

He remembered those parties that went on too long, Findekáno falling asleep on his lap. The scars on his fingers from when he tried his hand at falconry before knowing why all the falconers wore gloves, or that not all birds were tamed. The poems, at first with awkward rhymes and stuttering rhythm, then increasingly complex and intellectual, until simplifying again into a quiet beauty. Confessing  to him that Maitimo was in fact a man, telling his best friend immediately after telling his mother.

And he remembered the moments of fumbling adolescent exploration, of awkward kisses and strange touches, a constant awareness of that line that should not be crossed. Maitimo had teased him often, asking to go for a swim, if this new hose showed off his legs, if he could braid Findekáno's hair. He hadn't known if what he felt was real want, but Findekáno's cheeks would always go red, and he would wipe his palms on his robes, and look fetchingly silly. Sometimes, when Maitimo let him hold his breasts, or kissed his neck, he would move his hips up, adorably trying to rub against air. Findekáno would try to tease as much as he was teased, but his attempts were even more awkward than Maitimo's. Still, Maitimo remembered him being a good kisser, enough that he wondered who could have taught him that.

It was easier to not miss him when he wasn't there. To speak with Findekáno was to love him, and Findekáno would only speak with him unknowingly. And besides, Maitimo was past this innocent teasing. It was better to forget him entirely once Findekáno went back to Tirion and to resenting the Maitimo he knew.

He did not miss Findekáno after he left. He forgot him quite easily, in fact, with his work and his dog and his goats. He made friends with the miller, and bought a spinning wheel and dyes and sold wool alongside the milk and cheeses, and was happy. He did not miss Formenos, and he did not miss Tirion's palaces, or his brothers or his uncles or his father. He could see them whenever he wanted! There was nothing to miss.

“Did you hear Prince Nelyafinwë is missing?” Cemniel had declared it her duty to bake his bread, and was much chattier when doing her chores than Maitimo was. Most of the time, this was an endearing habit. Sometimes it meant that she brought up awkward topics.

“No. Does anybody know what happened?” Was Donkeyskin taciturn? Maitimo couldn't remember.

“Well, no, if they knew what happened they probably would have found him already!” Cemniel breathed in, as she often did before talking for a long while. “But we know he wasn't kidnapped, for he packed before he left, and we know that a guard was bribed, and he insists it was done by Nelyafinwë himself. He says Nelyafinwë told him he had a darling in a nearby village, so people suspect elopement, and considering how his parents married that is not out of the question. Still, who trusts a guard that can be bribed? I think he went back to Tirion to continue his studies. It may be illegal, considering the exile, so you have an explanation for the secrecy, and fits the fact that everyone insists the prince was completely normal! Any explanation that talks about sorcery or Melkor or any of that nonsense should not be trusted, because it doesn't fit what we know of the boy, though I suppose I do not know him personally, so my word should not be trusted. Say, Donkeyskin, you came from the north. Do you know anything about what could have happened?”

It took Maitimo a second to realize Cemniel was finished talking. “I told you, I come from northern Tirion. Nowhere near Formenos. But, I heard no rumors of sorcery, so take that as evidence against your least favorite theory.”

“Oh, everything to the North of Tirion might as well be Araman to me, Donkeyskin. But the lack of sorcery does not help me know what happened.” Maitimo hoped she never would.

“Well, who is looking for this missing prince, anyway?”

“I think it is almost the whole royal family! His father is up north torn with grief, of course, and his father with him, but Turkafinwë and the Ambarrusar are looking for him in the wilderness, Arafinwë’s children are looking for him along the coast, Curufinwë the Younger is looking for him in Aulë’s Halls. I can't remember where exactly Morifinwë is looking for him, but Kanafinwë came to Tirion to look for him, and Finwë Nolofinwë and his childrens are looking for him in Tirion and its outskirts.”

Oh, Valar help him. “How long until they come here to look for him? And why did they wait so long to start the search?”

“Well, Curufinwë wanted to keep the search private. You know how strange grief is, he probably did not want the whole world breaking down his door to tell him everything he had done wrong. I can only hope his son is alright, wherever he is. If it had been my child missing…” Cemniel sighed. “But I do not know when they will come here. Oh, Donkeyskin, I promise life here usually is not so exciting. Ai, a prince, missing!”

Maitimo prepared to stay inside until this search ended. He needed to pickle his vegetables, salt his meat, milk his goats and prepare to make as much cheese as possible. He bought too much food for his goats and dog, and built a roof and tall walls over the goat pen, so he could feed them without being seen. He didn't know when one of his relatives would come here, and he needed to be prepared to stay inside for a few months at least.

He worked quickly, keeping an ear out for any rumors of approaching princes, and was thankful for this little village’s lack of notoriety. That bought him enough time to hide when word came that Findekáno was coming to search the farms on Tirion's southern outskirts.

And as he did not know when Findekáno would arrive, he hid as soon as he heard rumours of his imminent arrival. He was, most likely, being paranoid, staying inside longer than he needed, but he could not risk being seen. Perhaps that was how his Donkeyskin would serve him. Being seen as odd in one way would maybe make people more likely to forgive other oddities.

He stayed inside for months, at least. Findekáno seemed less like he was searching through the countryside near Tirion as he was combing through every house in the region, and Maitimo did not know when he would come near. So he did not risk going out those long months.

It was lonely. He looked at his Palantír as often as he could, always at hours Fëanáro was usually asleep. He did not want to risk Fëanáro knowing where he was, or even that he lived in a small rural house, for that was all he could probably guess from what the Palantír would show him.

He wore his fire-robe and Silmarilli often, too. Even having the sight of his family, and his dog and his goats, he needed a way to find some comfort without wasting what food he had. He danced with those robes, wore the Silmarilli as he did his work, anything to make a life as isolated as this less dull.

Of course, the Silmarilli created problems for him.

He wore his Silmarilli as he spun his wool, for he needed to be productive even in these dull days. Besides, the Silmarilli gave more than enough light to work. To wear them was not simply sentimental, it was practical!

So much light they gave off, in fact, that without his notice their light could be seen through the keyhole, and was seen by a passerby. “Copper-top,” came a sigh, and as Maitimo stood up to see who had spoken, the passerby said, “Maitimo!”

Panic blinded him. It was Findekáno, and he was found, damned. Maitimo needed to keep him quiet, and he hoped their friendship of old would be enough. “Findekáno, keep your voice down.”

And Findekáno whispered, saying again, “Maitimo.” He sounded in awe. “All this time, under my very nose.”

“Please do not tell anyone.”

“Everyone is so worried.”

“Tell them not to be.”

Findekáno sounded grieved. “Maitimo, let me in. I cannot have this conversation with you through a door.”

The most childish part of Maitimo refused to open the door. “Yes, you can.”

“Not unless you want people to overhear us.”

Ai, he was damned. He put the Silmarilli in the small box he had for his jewelry, and threw on his donkey-skin cloak. He opened the door, and Findekáno did not wait a second before throwing his arms around him. Maitimo untangled himself from his embrace and closed the door.

Findekáno was smiling wildly, grabbing Maitimo's hands and kissed them, and Maitimo needed space. “Maitimo, Maitimo, what good it is to see you after these long years. Oh, these people have named you wrongly. Donkeyskin , they said, having you in their midst.”

“It is good to see you also, I suppose.

“Why did you run from Formenos? Maitimo, dear Maitimo, what is it you're doing?”

“I cannot tell you. Besides, why do you sound so upset? You never wanted me to go.” He could pull his hands away from Findekáno's mouth, but not get him to let go.

“No, I wanted you to stay in Tirion, with me.” He sat them down on the bed, holding still his hands. “Maitimo, for the sake of our friendship of old, tell me, why would you leave like this? I do not believe it is solely because you wanted to be a goatherd.”

“It would be better for both of us if you did.”

“I cannot. My Maitimo would not have left in the night, leaving no note and stealing jewelry and a horse.”

Maitimo tried to stand, and Findekáno put his hand on his thigh and kept him down. “Your Maitimo had no reason to run. Trust that I did.”

“And trust me not to tell whatever secrets you hold.” As he spoke, the hand on Maitimo's thigh rubbed circles with its thumb. Round and round on the inside, and Maitimo was aware suddenly that Findekáno had wanted him once. He was in his bed, in his house, in a place nobody knew Maitimo's name.

Findekáno could do so many things, Maitimo realized, without consequence. He alone of the two of them was a prince now, and Donkeyskin the strange goatherd was no reason to prosecute a prince. Ot blackmail, he could give conditions for his silence, and what choice would Maitimo have but to obey? He left the lion's den only to let a tiger into his home! He needed to leave. He shook, and kept his tears from flowing and stood up and walked where he kept his shepherd's crook. He held it in his arms and stayed quiet.

“Maitimo, tell me, please. Whatever trouble has found you, I will help you with it.” He had his hands raised up, either showing his lack of weapon or preparing to protect his face.

“You can help by staying quiet. So long as people don't know where I am, I shall stay safe. Tell people you did not find me, and I shall hold you the most generous of my friends.”

“If they don't find you during this search, people will ask Manwë for help. You cannot stay hidden forever.”

His father, asking for the help of the Valar? Wouldn't he want them not to know what he had planned? “I shall have to trust him to keep me hidden then. I am hiding from something that no just lord would expose me to.”

Findekáno tried to step closer, and Maitimo held his crook even closer, ready to strike him if he tried to hold him again.

“What are you hiding from? Makalaurë is worried about you, and he spoke strangely and kept so much hidden also.”

Maybe if he told the truth, Findekáno would step away. If he was as Maitimo remembered him, he would understand and give him space. If he wasn't, Maitimo would run again, finding a new hiding place each time his family came close.

“I have a suitor, Findekáno, and he terrifies me.”

Findekáno stepped away, sitting again on the bed, before reconsidering and sitting on the chair by his desk. Maitimo set his crook on the floor. “And your father? If you could not refuse him by yourself, could he not have done it? I have never thought your father to be the type to let some overconfident man browbeat his children into submission, whatever his faults.”

“My father wanted me to marry him.” He sighed. “What you see me wearing are the clothes he made for the wedding.”

Findekáno slapped his thighs, and his voice almost reached a yell. “Damn him, then, him and this suitor both! Hide at my father's house, and let him try to force you then.”

“I do not wish to be at any man's house. I wish to be alone.”

Findekáno made a gesture to get up from his seat, but stayed in place. “Then we need to think of something. Could you go to your mother’s house? Surely she would oppose this marriage.”

“If I saw her, I would need to tell her the whole of the story, and if I did that, the tale would kill both me and her.”

“Then could you find someone to marry? Make your suitor give up his pursuit that way?”

“Who? I cannot marry a man, nor live with one, and you know I cannot love a woman.” Maitimo sighed. “But it is the best choice, I think. I should have left that house long ago, and no father can tear his married child from their household.”

“Then I will help you find a husband. Someone gentle, and who will keep away this suitor.” And Maitimo let himself stand close to Findekáno, hold him close, and feel him breathe against his stomach. Findekáno was careful with his arms, never letting them fall anywhere that might upset Maitimo, and Maitimo felt that friendship run through his veins again, keeping him warm after those years of cold. “I promise. Ai, we will solve all these problems of yours.”

And as night fell, and Findekáno had to leave, Maitimo told him to come back tomorrow, so he could give him some food for the road in his search for a husband.

Maitimo went out early that morning, hoping to buy all his groceries in time to make something for Fingon. He bought lard, and venison, and some onions and potatoes. Pasties would be easy for him to eat on the road, and were not so difficult to make.

He made the filling, spicing it as he knew Findekáno liked, letting it cool before working on the dough. He cut the lard into the flour, making sure he did not overwarm or overwork it, until it seemed properly integrated while still loose. He then added cold water, and mixed some more, and started to cut the dough into pieces before rolling it into circles.

He heaped as generous a filling as he could into each pasty without it overflowing, and as he crimped the first one, a thought came into his head, A pity, that Findekáno is leaving to look for a husband for me!

A pity? No, why would it ever be a pity for Findekáno to help him? Yes, Maitimo was not ready for a husband, but clearly one was needed in this situation. Findekáno was simply being kind, doing the work that Maitimo could not do.

But if I am looking for a husband who is kind, and brave, wouldn't Findekáno be perfect?

He would be. Ai, that was the trouble, he would be. And Maitimo was about to send him away on a quest to look for this new husband. He obviously did not want Maitimo still, if he agreed to do this without complaint. And besides, even if he did want to marry Maitimo, he was not ready yet. He needed a little while.

Then leave a sign that will take a while to find.

He still had a pasty he had not filled. And after filling it with half the meat he had left, he went to his jewelry box and took out two rings. One was silver, a delicate little band that had never fit Maitimo quite right and yet he had never had the heart to sell. But Findekáno had smaller hands than his, and it might fit his ring finger. The other one was gold, purposely made to see the hands that made it, flawed with intention. Atarinkë had made them long ago for the whole family, knowing his skills were not so far that he could make a perfect ring, and so leaned into imperfection.

He washed both rings and put them into the pasty, and closed it and crimped its corners and marked it, so he'd know to put it at the bottom of the basket he'd give Findekáno.

And as they cooked, he could not wait to give them to Findekáno, and took the chance to steel himself.

Findekáno was in a village three days away from Maitimo when he bit into a pasty and his teeth hit a piece of metal.

A knock came frantic at Maitimo's door. He opened it, and Findekáno held out his fist and said, “You dropped them into the pasty.”

“I know.” Maitimo knew that half of confidence was acting. So, he acted. “What do you plan to do with the rings?”

Findekáno sounded winded, as if he had run the whole way from wherever he had discovered the little proposal. “You— I did not think you meant to do it.”

“Well you know now .”

“If… If you think that you can trust me to keep you safe, then I shall strive to deserve that. I will marry you, as soon as you like.” Findekáno blushed, and added, “And if you think that you can grow to love me, I shall strive to deserve that, too.”

Maitimo kissed him, softly, slow enough that Findekáno could move away if he wanted. He liked the kiss, with no fear and no unwanted advances and no fathers. It wasn't the kisses of childhood, or adolescence, when he knew no fear, but still, if Maitimo had to kiss someone for the rest of his life, he would not mind it being Findekáno.

As he pulled back, Maitimo sat them on the bed and had to say, “I do have conditions of my own, before we marry.”

“Of course.” Findekáno seemed to be struggling not to smile.

“First, I want my own bedroom, to which only I have the keys. I know how it sounds, but—”

“If you need that, then you can have a whole house of your own. I won't resent your need for space.” Findekáno seemed genuine, even about the house.

“I also ask that we not have children. And that you do not insist on this.”

Findekáno seemed grieved at this. “Is this about not wanting to bear children, or not wanting to raise them?”

Maitimo knew that most men would not like to be told that he would not ever have children. Still, a part of him resented even the question. “Both. But I think it is enough to know I do not want them.”

Findekáno nodded. “Any other conditions?”

“I would like you to know who my suitor was.” Findekáno deserved to know, if only so he understood what Fëanáro asking for Maitimo meant.

“Maitimo, tell me. I shall keep quiet, if this brings you shame.”

He held Findekáno's hands, needing the grounding. “It was my father.” Findekáno frowned, clearly not understanding. “Findekáno, my suitor was Fëanáro.”

And Findekáno stood, and said, “The Valar must know. Surely they will do something once we tell them.”

“Findekáno, you promised me your silence.”

“But I did not know this. ”

“Findekáno, the last thing I want is for the whole world to know my shame.” He sat them on the bed again.

“It's not your shame! It's his, and I refuse to let him live with no consequence while you spend the rest of your life in fear.” Findekáno sounded so incredibly angry.

“Findekáno, it does not matter what consequences you think are appropriate. This is not a monster from a great tale, who you only have to slay to fix everything. He's the monster and he's my father. I only want him away from me, and to forget all he tried to do, and having to stand before the Valar and tell them what happened will not help me.” Findekáno still had his lips pursed, ready with a retort. “Or at least, not yet. I want to discuss where we'll live and whether you think we should marry now, or in a few months.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m sorry. We shall act as you think is appropriate.” And he breathed deeply, before starting again, “I think we should wait a few days to marry, if only so I can find you a golden ring, and well, we'll need a few months before finding a house of our own, so we shall need to stay somewhere while doing that . You wanted a room of your own, so we cannot stay here because this house, while lovely, has barely enough room for you , so maybe you could move to my father's house…” He seemed ready to ramble for as long as he lived.

“Actually, Findekáno, I think we should stay at my mother's house.”

Chapter End Notes

thank you so so so so much for reading!!! this was the first fic i wrote where i was genuinely proud of what i wrote instead of being like, eh, good enough. english is my second language, so if you have any critiques of wording and grammar i would especially apreciate it.

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