summon forth the wounded night by skywardstruck  

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reclaim every last piece

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A flash of light amidst nothingness. For a moment, Maitimo could feel himself breathing, smell the air of the ocean— and he could hear voices.

“They may have left you behind, but I will not, not anymore. There is too much explaining to do...”

Findekáno’s voice. This had to be a dream, it could not be anything else.

Another voice called out from the distance, one he did not recognize. “Who goes there?! Show yourself!” Breaths of panic in his ear, the stamping of feet. “You! Get back here! Kinslayer!”

“Gah— not now...!” Findekáno again. Maitimo’s body was gripped tighter, a cloak obscuring what little he was able to see. Was this all just a trick of the Void?

“Please, Maitimo... Hold on...!”

Darkness took Maitimo again before he could find an answer.

✵

Maitimo woke up to the sight of tent fabric above him and the feeling of thick fur surrounding him inside the bedroll, placed atop a pile of blankets. As his vision became a bit clearer, he could see a blue and silver banner hanging from one of the stakes, the heraldry of the house of Ñolofinwë emblazoned on its center. The sword leaning against the wall was familiar, too; he could recognize the patterns of swirls and leaves. He began to open his eyes fully, taking a deep breath in.

“Ah, Maitimo! Thank the stars you are awake,” said Findekáno, and there was no mistaking it this time. Turukáno was about to pull me away, he insisted I rest, but—”

“Is it truly you... Findekáno?” asked Maitimo, his voice still hoarse from the salt water. “This is not some dream, or delusion, brought on by my memories?”

“I promise, this is real, and I am here,” said Findekáno with a soft smile, reaching out a trembling hand and placing it gently on Maitimo’s bandage-wrapped chest. “Your hröa would not feel this, if it had expired.”

“But how? How did you— where am I, how did I get here...? Where is everyone?”

“Take a deep breath, Maitimo... I will explain everything, a little at a time,” Findekáno assured him, as he continued to share his warmth with Maitimo through the caresses of his hand. Somehow, his heart was aching from it; why could he not feel at ease? But Maitimo noticed Findekáno’s touch would always stop just below the neck, and then he found his answer. He could feel the hesitation, the reminders of what they once had, comfort mixed with mourning, with a smouldering bitterness marked by the clench of a brow.

Findekáno seemed to notice Maitimo’s discomfort, removing his hand, his expression apologetic. “We are on the coast of Araman now, hence the wind. Your atar and hánor have left with the ships,” he explained, “and now we wait until they send some back, to return for us. They did not have enough for everyone, so they left on their own.”

“I... expected they would have left by now,” Maitimo admitted; he knew Atar valued haste, and there would never have been time to search the harbour for one who had been marked for death. “So they managed to seize the ships, after all...”

“Yes, though at great cost, as you remember. As for how I brought you here, I returned to Alqualondë to, erm... retrieve something I had left behind,” he began to explain, a little awkwardly, for he did not mention exactly what he had left behind, “and when I came across it, I found you, lying unconscious on the shore beneath a pile of hull pieces.”

“Alqualondë... you were in Alqualondë?” asked Maitimo, trying to meet Findekáno’s gaze, though he could no longer see past the wall between them. “What could have happened...? All I can recall... arrows piercing me, being thrown off one of the ships...”

“Makalaurë told me the waves had claimed you.”

“That was what I thought, in that moment... that we were without hope.”

“And yet, you are here, and the ships secured,” said Findekáno. “I arrived with my host not long after, for I heard your cries, the sounds of battle, and that told me all I needed to know.” Findekáno continued to tell the full story of his part in the horrific Kinslaying— how they rushed towards the harbour with horns blaring, swords in hand, the pride of the Ñoldor burning bright in their hearts as they turned the tide of a battle that their uneasy allies in the House of Fëanáro had started.

“So... that banner I saw... it was you, all along...”

“Indeed it was,” said Findekáno, a pained sense of pride in his blunt admission. “I do not regret coming to your aid, only the circumstances that forced my hand.”

“No... this is not like you, Findekáno,” Maitimo denied, his voice shaking. “Surely I address a stranger. You... you would not... Please, no...”

Findekáno said nothing— his unwavering expression told Maitimo everything, and oh, how it hurt.

Guilt welled up in Maitimo’s heart. All of this was his fault, and he could never erase what he had done. Not only had he failed his father and his brothers, but he had dragged Findekáno down the bloody path of his family’s twisted Oath.

The Findekáno Maitimo knew would never choose to do this.

Findekáno was the shining image of a leader; so many others looked to him for guidance, the strength in his words inspiring hope. And yet there was that streak of independence, the way he brought out the best in everyone he loved, drawing Maitimo into his orbit, into his heart, into his bed. The way Findekáno always knew the right thing to say, unlocking a more rebellious and mischievous side of Maitimo whenever they had their secret trysts. How Findekáno was always determined to succeed at all costs, his smile setting all at ease and hiding his true thoughts, manipulating Maitimo while he secretly plotted at how he might oust the House of Fëanáro from power—

No, none of this made sense. If Findekáno wanted power, surely he would not throw his lot in with kinslayers.

Would he? What was power, to him?

Who was the real Findekáno? He certainly wasn’t the scheming Findekáno he recalled from the time of their fathers’ feud; nor the noble Findekáno of bygone days in Tirion, who had once told him how much brighter his fëa would shine when he forgot to be a prince. Who was the Noldo who sat before him, then?

Perhaps the truth, as always, was somewhere in between. A truth he had failed to grasp back then, when he had first said goodbye.

The memory came crashing down on him like the wave that had nearly killed him.

“And now I know the truth behind your smile,” Maitimo spat, forcing back tears. He would not allow himself to show weakness. “You always believed you could be the one to unite the Ñoldor amidst the strife... to lead them. And now you will. Tirion is yours,” he said, twisting once-treasured compliments into damning accusations. “You finally have everything you wanted.” 

“You care very little for the truth, if that is what you think of me.” Findekáno’s gaze met Maitimo’s own, with piercing silver eyes that could sense his weakness, the rot of his fëa. “I did not wish to believe it, but I have known of your ambitions for a long time... here is the proof, then. How fortunate, that you will no longer suffer my presence, that we will no longer have to endure this lie we have told ourselves— if that is what our love always was,” said Findekáno, every word, every turn of phrase carefully chosen to wound Maitimo as decisively as possible.

Findekáno began to walk away, leaving Maitimo alone in the center of the plaza, the light of waxing Telperion seeming to mock the pain in his heart.

“If this is the path you have chosen, Maitimo... then there is truly no hope for either of us.”

Maitimo returned to reality, his breath catching as Findekáno’s hand turned to grace his cheek, perhaps against his better judgement, catching the tears that had begun to form.

Maitimo was too weak, too desperate to resist his touch.

“Findekáno... I... I do not understand. You came to my aid, you killed for me...! After everything I have done, all of the cruel words I said to you...” Maitimo lamented, as Findekáno’s touch seemed to burn his cheek now with painful reminders, through scarred hands that were once gentle, now stained with blood. Maitimo did not deserve this. He never deserved this, and oh, how he wished the wave had truly taken him, as he once thought, so he would not have lived to see the monster he had created.

“Your life carries far greater weight than that. You are more important than that,” Findekáno asserted, his expression impossible to read now, beyond the subtlest thread of anger. “How little do you still think of me? That words alone would be enough to stay my hand, that I would abandon you in your greatest hour of need? Have time and distance eroded none of the resentment in your heart?”

“Even in your anger, your light shines... you were always the better of us,” Maitimo insisted. “No Oath you have sworn; this path was never meant to be yours. The ties that bound us had snapped... ”

“If that is what you truly believe... then perhaps we have never known each other at all,” said Findekáno through shaking breaths, composure wavering, the realizations overwhelming him.

“Then help me understand, Findekáno!” Maitimo demanded, strength seeming to return to his voice for a moment as his heart reached out for answers. “You share in my transgressions. There is no going back. Our houses are divided. I called you usurpers, manipulators,” he reminded Findekáno. “I accused you of plotting against Atar, who chose to slay our own kin for our cause, and I followed him without question. You knew not who started the violence when you arrived, yet you still chose the path of blood. And now, you have damned your house, too...”

“We were all damned, the moment we chose exile and turned against the Valar,” Findekáno argued, his expression pensive. “I only chose to do what had to be done. Though you say I may be a stranger to you now... I am no stranger to sacrifice.”

Sacrifice, always sacrifice, and yet Maitimo could never have seen where those convictions would lead. “You have damned yourself, for the sake of valor, for me,” said Maitimo, searching for answers, anything to cling onto, behind Findekáno’s tearful treelit eyes. “You knew of the Oath I had sworn, when you chose to carry me here, to offer me a second chance I did not deserve—”

“Do not say such things, Maitimo. It matters not what you think you deserve.” And Findekáno’s comforting voice only added to the guilt, the voice Maitimo always remembered and treasured, coming from one who had committed atrocities in his name.

“Please, just tell me... why...? Why all of this?” A final, desperate plea. “Why, Findekáno... why... me...?”

Findekáno’s gaze turned away in the silence. He pulled back his hand to clutch his chest, the perfect image of courage giving way to tears and the anguished cries of a wounded heart as he finally spoke his truth.

The answer Maitimo knew all along, and feared more than anything in the world.

“Because all this time, I have been selfish, and I could never be rid of you,” Findekáno admitted. “Even if the waves had taken you as Makalaurë said, my heart would still ache for you, my hröa would still crave your touch, and my fëa would never forget the the joy of our union, the emptiness of your absence. I would still rush to defend you, without a second thought. Yes, I killed for you. I spilled the blood of our own kin and I would do it again if I had to! And I carried your unconscious hröa from Alqualondë to Araman to be here with me because I refuse to continue lying to myself, I am tired! I am tired of pretending... that I have ever stopped loving you.”

“Findekáno... I...”

Maitimo was stunned into silence.

What could Maitimo possibly say? He had always struggled to share his feelings openly, forced to adopt the guarded, stern, poised image of his Atar’s firstborn, perfect and well-formed. He would be the leader of their house, no room for weakness in the eye of Tirion’s political storm. But he would never be Curufinwë, he could never be perfect in Fëanáro’s eyes. Nothing was ever enough for Atar, for himself.

But it was enough for Findekáno, who loved him for his flaws and not in spite of them. Findekáno who loved Maitimo for his noble heart, his sense of duty, his willingness to compromise and seek friendship above conflict. Findekáno who had loved him then and still loved him now.

Findekáno, who was so loath to abandon the will of his heart, that he would rather drown in sin with Maitimo than leave him to die.

And no matter how much the realization hurt, how much it threatened to suffocate him— Maitimo’s heart wanted, his fëa crying out to be known again, to be loved and touched. He had always wanted this, whether in dream or waking, as tendrils of truth had battled endlessly against a fog filled with falsehoods, in his images of Findekáno: Findekáno the politician, the mediator, the kindhearted cousin, the lover.

Findekáno who was everything, who gave him the courage to be imperfect.

Findekáno soon noticed Maitimo could not produce words, and finally turned to face him once more. “If you would at least remain at my side... it would set my heart at ease. Even if you do not feel the same...”

It was then Maitimo recovered enough strength to sit up in his bed.

“Enough, I beg, Findekáno...!” cried Maitimo, the tears finally overtaking him as he reached out to pull Findekáno into his embrace beside him, finally giving in to what he had always wanted. “It has only ever been you, melmenya, and it always will be! You say you are selfish in loving me... then please, allow me to be selfish too,” he pleaded. “Even now, when there is little left of me but the Oath and the blood on my hands... even still, you make me whole. My heart has not forgotten you. It has not forgotten our love for one moment... and it never will again.” Maitimo’s words fell from his lips in staggered breaths as they shook from the weight of it all, his feelings that he’d forced to keep locked away, unspoken, unanswered for so long.

“Maitimo... Russonya... I never thought...!”

Findekáno could only weep, knowing this, knowing Maitimo’s love had never faded.

“I never could have imagined... that I would have your love again, that I would have you again,” said Findekáno as he returned Maitimo’s embrace, hands holding his face gently; joy melding with regret, relief with longing.

“I am here, melda,” said Maitimo with a teary smile. “I am here because of you.” Maitimo rested a hand against Findekáno’s cheek, catching his tears as their foreheads touched.

“As am I,” Findekáno replied warmly, smiling in return. “Know that I would follow you unto the ends of Arda, and beyond, wherever this path may lead us.”

Even into the Void, Maitimo knew. They both knew.

A memory then awakened, as Maitimo was reminded of the blissful past he had thought long gone. For a moment, he was beneath the golden glow of Laurelin with his beloved, about to make a choice that would change their lives forever.

He stood on the edge now; it was almost like before, almost, as their warm breaths mingled in the cold air of Araman.

“I am glad to have you with me... I love you more than anything, Finno. You are everything...”

The choice now could not have been clearer.

Maitimo’s heart finally gave in as he closed the space between them, their lips drawn together like the fateful wave that brought him to shore. A gentle wave, this time: Maitimo could feel the softness of Findekáno’s lips as his beloved eagerly returned the kiss; the tender surface of Findekáno’s brown, treelight-freckled skin; his elegant braids with gold ribbons as they fell between Maitimo’s fingers, strong arms that held Maitimo close as if the wind could separate them if he dared to let go.

Findekáno would open his lips just slightly to deepen the kiss, Maitimo following, their mouths searching for the warmth, the wholeness they had lost and always desired. Their shared tears collecting, flowing like the fountains in the pools of Estë. Their bodies shifting until they locked perfectly into place, Findekáno falling backwards into the soft bedroll, Maitimo now resting above him, Findekáno tracing fingers down his back, over every scar as if his touch alone could heal them.

When their lips finally parted, Maitimo and Findekáno laid beside each other, Findekáno running his fingers through Maitimo’s thick red curls as they basked in the glow of the moment.

“Russo... meldonya.” Findekáno was the first to break the silence. “To see you smile again, to hear you say those words again. I am truly blessed... But...”

“What is it? What troubles you?”

“Above all, I... I am sorry,” said Findekáno tearfully. “I had abandoned you then, when last you said goodbye. So much pain could have been avoided... perhaps I could have come for you sooner—”

“Finno,” said Maitimo, his voice just above a whisper, “you are blameless in this. We were both blinded by lies, by ambition, by the wills of our fathers. And more importantly... you are impossible to forget.”

Findekáno caressed Maitimo’s cheek, then his ear, holding between his fingers the ruby earring that had marked their bond as it once was. “I knew you had not forgotten,” he replied with a smile. “I knew that somehow, beneath it all... the Maitimo I fell in love with was still there, waiting...”

“It was you who once helped me find him. But the world has changed... we have changed,” said Maitimo, his expression wistful, mournful. “The Dark has changed us all. We can never be the same again, not after this; we cannot return to what we once had,” Maitimo reminded Findekáno, their hands gently clasped together, hands that were used to slay their kindred. And Findekáno nodded, for the cost had been great, to have what he was blessed with now.

“I know not what is truly left in me anymore,” Maitimo admitted. “All I know is the dreaded Oath, the blood on my hands... memories of things that once were. The bliss, the beauty, the Light... it is all gone. Gone... gone forevermore... our innocence along with it.”

“I wish for us to love each other as we are, not to rekindle what was lost,” Findekáno assured him, his thumb running over Maitimo’s fingers, recalling their shape. “I hoped... we might build something new, upon the ashes of the old. It was all I could think of, every night I sat beside you, praying to the stars that you would wake and come back to us, that none of this would be in vain...”

“Then let us make a future together that is worth the cost,” declared Maitimo, a new sense of determination in his heart, vitality returning to his hröa as he began to rise from the bed, enough to stand with Findekáno’s support. “I can only hope... that the rest of my family desires it, too.”

“As do I, Russo,” said Findekáno, holding Maitimo in his arms once more. “As do I.”

✵

Over the next few dark days, Maitimo would slowly regain more and more of his strength. Findekáno was always there, whether it was for sparring, hunting, or cooking. Sometimes, Findekáno would even sing a gentle song on his harp to lift Maitimo’s spirits, during which Elenwë and Itarillë would often join in to harmonize.

“You should sing the one about the wolf who chased the stars,” said Itarillë one night. “But give it a happy ending, instead. I always feel sadness, when the wolf falls into the sea...”

“You wish for me to improvise?” asked Findekáno, not used to being put on the spot like this at all, cheeks flushed a bit. “How... would the wolf find what it was searching for?” 

“A wise question,” said Elenwë, “the stars are beyond our reach. We look to them for guidance, not to claim them— is that not the point of the tale?”

“Very true,” Findekáno nodded, “I shall have to think about it...” Could the wolf fly, with the help of another? Or a star could fall to the earth and gift the wolf its light. Or...

“Perhaps the wolf finds something else instead,” suggested Maitimo unexpectedly, a curious smile on his face as his words interrupted Findekáno’s train of thought. “Something the wolf did not know it needed, but comes to treasure more than anything.”

Findekáno couldn’t help but smile back. “Yes, that is precisely it— thank you, Russo; how I wish I had thought of it! I believe I know what the last verse shall be...”

As Findekáno began to sing once more, he was reminded of hopeful words Maitimo spoke many years ago, when they were much younger.

Others may try to decide your fate for you, Maitimo had told him, their hearts burdened by expectations. But the future may still be yours... if you reach out to claim it.

Findekáno would never regret listening to the will of his heart, above all else.