Yet Were Its Making Good, For This by LadySternchen  

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Sparked

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A sigh of content escaped Mablung’s lips as he stretched out his legs in front of his very own campfire. His very first, very own campfire. He had grown up (well, a little at least, a small voice within his head said defiantly) during these past years of wandering. While he had always walked with his parents and little sisters in the beginning, he now chose his friends’ company over that of his family more and more often, and tonight he had succeeded in making a fire himself, with no help, for the first time. 
His chest swelled with pride, he still thought a little wistfully of his parents and sisters, though he quelled the feeling quickly, knowing he would see them the next day, see the elflings’ wide-eyed look of awe for the boldness of their brother, and the gentle appreciation in his parents’ gazes.

His heart was warm with the love he felt thinking of them, but at the same time weighed down with pity. He was very lucky to have his family intact, while so many of his companions had set off orphaned, or like Nowë with just one parent left. Many had left the graves also of children or siblings behind, or like Beleg any chance of ever finding their own roots. 
Found sleeping soundly in the forest by hunters one day, no-one truly knew who Beleg’s parents had been, only that they must have been among those that had left the shores of Cuiviénen for the forest, and of whom none remained now. So Beleg had been raised by the tribe itself, belonging nowhere and yet everywhere, ever leaving a smile on every face his bright eyes gazed into. Mablung's friendship with Beleg had begun when they had both been still very unsteady on their feet, and had grown ever since. Their childhood by the shores of the still waters had been beautiful, and a small twinge of regret was always there whenever Mablung thought back to the place of his birth. And yet, what awaited them was a better, a safer place. At least so Elwë said, and when Aman was good enough for Elwë, then it was good enough for Mablung.

As if summoned by Mablung’s very thoughts, Elwë sat down beside him not long thereafter, groaning a little.

“Forgive me for joining you unbidden, but that fire looked just so inviting.” he muttered apologetically, closing his eyes for a moment.

Mablung felt rather pleased with himself at the praise of his fire, which crackled merrily.

“You are very welcome.”

Elwë opened his eyes once more, looking appreciatively at Mablung.

“You are doing really well. ’twas a long walk since our last rest. Elmo’s fast asleep already. Well, truth be told, I don’t even know when he fell asleep, as I carried him for the last hours* of our march.”

Mablung scowled, folding his arms defensively before his chest, even while he silently pitied Elwë. Elmo was a lot older than Mablung’s own little sisters, and he knew how exhausted his parents were from each carrying one of the twins while keeping up with the march. Still, his annoyance outweighed his pity now.

“Ai! I’m older than Elmo by quite a bit.” he said indignantly, and was all the more annoyed when Elwë chuckled.

“Maybe. But you can still sulk like you could as an elfling…”

“You…”

Mablung aimed a fist at Elwë, but the older elf parried his swing easily, grinning even more broadly.

“I what, little one?” he teased, making Mablung snort and turn away.

He would never admit it, even less as he knew perfectly well this was just good-natured mocking, but Elwë’s words stung. Elwë seemed to have noticed himself, for he laid a consoling hand on Mablung’s shoulder.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you. It is just… I sometimes miss our trips around Cuiviénen, the teasing, the laughter. I miss all of you. ”

This time, pity won. He had never realised that it must feel somewhat lonely to be singled out like this, regarded all of a sudden as lord rather than friend by the people one had grown up with.

“I think of that a lot, too.” he said. “Seems like an eternity ago, doesn’t it?”

Elwë nodded gravely.

“It does. All the more grateful I am to have friends like you with whom I can share those memories. Beautiful memories…”

“Childhood memories.” Mablung added, and was pleased that apparently, Elwë had learned from previous mistakes and refrained from reminding Mablung that a child could hardly have childhood memories. “It was you who made it so special for all of us.”

Even by the firelight, he could see Elwë blush.

“I enjoyed that greatly myself. And it helped me so much with Elmo later.”

“Nay, it didn’t. You’d have managed well anyway, as you have always been great with children.”

“Stop it, Mablung, really. But… you know, sometimes I wonder whether that was simply a gift by… fate. Not my parents’ death, of course…” he added hastily, his expression stricken “…but my being allowed to raise Elmo.”

“No need not sound so melancholic, you’ll raise your own children soon enough.” Mablung said gently, sensing his friend’s pain.

Elwë shook his head.

“I don’t think so. For one, Elvish law forbids me to wed ere our journey is completed…”

“Aye, and who ever cared about law when falling in love?” Mablung asked with a small smirk.

Ha, he thought, now it’s your turn feeling awkward. Serves you right for belittling me earlier!

“True. But I truly would not want to. Elmo is still a child and needs me and honestly, I cannot even imagine a time past this journey. Valinor has never seemed further away. And also… I don’t know. Finwë has his Míriel and even Olwë spends all his free time with a maiden of his host he claims is just a friend, but…” Elwë waved his hand in a gesture that said clearly “…but everyone except them knows it’s more than friendship.”

Mablung chuckled. He, too, had noticed that.

“I do not feel likewise with anyone.” Elwë went on. “There are so many I love dearly, but that is not… not like they say this one bond is like.”

Mablung tilted his head slightly.

“You believe it then? That the Quendi form only one union in life?”

Elwë nodded, gazing into the dancing flames.

“I do.”

“Well, then a lot of bonds will be formed on this journey.”

They both chuckled, not needing to explain any further- everyone knew of all the romance going on in their camp.

“Aye, but that is testing, is it not, not truly bonding?” Elwë said softly. “I mean, how are you supposed to know if you are drawn to a nís or a nér if you don’t know how you feel when things get more intimate? I could not tell for myself, certainly.”

“Lucky Lord Enel can’t hear you speak now.” Mablung pointed out with a barely suppressed laugh in his voice, and watched Elwë wince at the very thought. “But I agree. One could argue, though, that it needs no testing, that you would recognise your love when meeting them, regardless of their sex? And that maybe it only feels to you like one needs to know in advance because you feel you have to push any thought of bonding away from you right now? That you cannot even give in to the idea of feeling for anyone so deeply?”

Elwë regarded Mablung for a while, looking at him in something like admiration.

“You have a wisdom far beyond your years, Mablung.” he said. “Maybe you are right. Maybe I will find out one day. But be that as it may, I am truly glad to have you as my friend. And not just because you already give more solid advise when it comes to love than most adults.”

Mablung smiled even as a strange sensation welled up in his chest. He looked at the firelight dancing on Elwë’s silver hair, and inwardly sighed. If only he could give himself such solid advise, for try as he may, he could not have denied his feelings towards Elwë had his life depended on it.

 

As he lay by the dying fire later, Mablung tried to recall exactly when the admiration he had always felt for both Elwë and Finwë had turned into more, if indeed seeing Elwë leave Cuiviénen to venture into the unknown had been the turning point. True, what he had felt then had been something quite apart from admiration, but rather sympathy and a feeling of dread. He had very much feared for all three ambassadors, and his thoughts had ever been on them, though he had stopped voicing them after his parents started to be concerned. They had told him that he was too young to shoulder such sorrow, and that trying to make everyone well was impossible, most of all for a child so young.

Despite his parents counsel, Mablung had started to spend much time with Elmo, and before long, they had truly become friends. Mablung would make sure that Elmo joined their games rather than sit alone, and when the elfling would suddenly be overcome by tears in the middle of even the most joyful games, Mablung would comfort him. Mostly, that was due simply to Mablung’s nature and his friendship to Elmo, but a small part of him also felt that this was something he could actually do for Elwë.

The day Ingwë, Finwë and Elwë had at last returned to them had been one filled with joy and wonder. Changed they were indeed, a light shining in their eyes that faintly recalled that which shone in Lord Oromë’s, and they had been dressed in fine raiments that had sent Míriel into fits of excitement. Mablung chuckled at the thought even now, and how they had all teased them about Míriel being happier about Finwë’s clothes than his safe return. But the moment that really stood out clearest in his memory was of Elmo running at his brother, blinded by tears, and of Elwë kneeling down in the gras regardless of his fine raiments and enclosing Elmo in his embrace.

Somewhere between then and now, all those emotions had mingled into a true and deep love, and young though he was, Mablung knew in his heart that this love would be at once his greatest treasure and gravest peril.