We are Married . . . to Each Other by Susana_R  

When Findekano woke, he knew at once from the pain in his head that he had a concussion. From his unfortunately extensive past experience with head injuries, he knew better than to open his eyes. 

He must have given some indication of waking, though, as a deep, melodious voice greeted him softly, "Welcome back to the waking world, my Eagle. How are you feeling?" 

As physically uncomfortable as Fingon felt at the moment, he still smiled to learn that Maitimo was at his side. So far as Findekano was concerned, the presence of Maitimo improved any situation.

Although whatever Findekano had done to his head this time must have been truly remarkable, for his best friend’s words had sounded strange to his ears in some way he couldn't quite determine. But Findekano still understood him well enough to begin formulating an answer.

With Maitimo, Findekano felt no need to act tough. He felt comfortable confessing, "My head really hurts, Russandol." 

Findekano opened his eyes just in time to witness the unusual sight of Maitimo wearing a startled expression. But it took only a moment for his favorite cousin to recover his composure. 

"I am not surprised, my dear Eagle,” comforted Maitimo. He explained, “You took a hard knock on the head. It has caused you to suffer a moderately serious concussion. I've called for your healers. At least one of them will be here shortly. In the meantime, you may drink this medicine they left for you."  

Maitimo lifted a ceramic cup from a marble night stand by Findekano's bed and offered it to Findekano.

This made Findekano realize that he didn't recognize this nightstand, or this bed, or this richly appointed bedchamber. Although he couldn't currently see that much of the latter, given that the lighting was comfortably dim. Probably in deference to his head injury. Maitimo was good at arranging little details like that. He was all too experienced at tending to Findekano in the wake of head injuries (and every other type of injury). Findekano enjoyed living life to the hilt, and he always threw himself with gusto into every exciting adventure he could find. 

Findekano obeyed Maitimo’s implicit command. He biddably accepted the cup. Then he gave the medicine a tentative taste, and decided that it was nowhere near as disagreeable as he’d expected. In Findekano’s considerable experience, most healing concoctions were noisome in the extreme. They were either bitter or too sickly sweet, or sometimes both at once. Disgusting, in other words.

But this medicinal draught wasn’t bad at all. It was almost tasty, in fact. The strongest flavor Findekano could detect was something similar to vanilla, but with rich, bitter undertones.

Puzzled and intrigued, Findekano took a bigger sip.

“Drink slowly, please, my Eagle,” Maitimo bade him.

“Oh, yes. Of course. That would be much wiser,” agreed Findekano. He had an unfortunately ample amount of experience with drinking healing draughts too quickly and then vomiting them right back up. More than once, he'd done so directly on Maitimo. Who had always been gracious enough not to hold it against Findekano.  

“Thank you, my Eagle,” said Maitimo. His beautiful mist gray eyes regarded Findekano with affection and worry. Perhaps even with more worry than was normal for Maitimo when Findekano was injured.

In between small sips, Findekano eyed Maitimo right back while he waited for the medicine to take effect.

Findekano’s dear friend was as flawlessly handsome as ever, but he looked tired and care-worn. This was, regrettably, not an unusual way for Maitimo to look when Findekano had come to some serious mischief.

In addition to looking exhausted and stressed, Maitimo was even more plainly dressed than was his usual wont. He wore a simple, form-fitting tunic of satin brocade. It had a slightly higher collar than he normally preferred. The color of this garment was the sapphire blue of Findekano’s father's house. There was a small amount of burgundy and ice-blue embroidery at the cuffs and collar, but the embroidery featured no small jeweled beads sewn into the pattern whatsoever.   

Findekano was quite taken aback. Not only to see Maitimo dressed so simply, but to find him wearing this particular hue. Normally, Maitimo’s personal taste ran to shades of light blue or light green. Maitimo felt that the darker jewel tones of blue and green clashed with his hair.

Findekano strongly disagreed. He thought that Maitimo looked particularly striking in jewel tones. Sometimes, Maitimo would wear them to make Findekano smile. Or, he would resign himself to wearing them if he owed Findekano a forfeit, and that was what Findekano chose to demand of him to satisfy it.

Findekano loved the way that Maitimo looked in sapphire blue especially. But Maitimo almost always refused to wear it, except for when it was just the two of them alone in the wilderness. Sapphire blue was the color most strongly associated with Nolofinwe's house. Maitimo had explained to Findekano once that if he were just Maitimo, and not Prince Maitimo, then he wouldn't mind wearing Nolofinwe’s colors every once in a while, as a special favor to Findekano. At least not so long as Findekano's father wouldn't take offense. Which Findekano's father wouldn't have, because he liked and respected Maitimo, even though they argued about politics at times. 

But Maitimo had ended that speech by firmly commanding Findekano to put aside any thought of ever successfully cajoling or forcing Maitimo to wear sapphire blue in public in Tirion. No matter how many forfeits Maitimo owed Findekano, and not even if Maitimo owed Findekano a boon, and not even if it was an open-ended boon. When Findekano had objected, Maitimo pointed out that his father Feanor would take great exception to the sight of his heir in Findekano's father's colors. Since Findekano had not been able to disagree with that, he had reluctantly resigned himself to never seeing his best friend in one of his favorite colors.

Right now, Maitimo’s glorious red-gold-brown hair was half-braided back in an appealing new braiding pattern. But he wasn't wearing a circlet or even so much as a single jeweled bead woven into his hair braids. Worse, he wasn’t wearing a single necklace or chain of office. He wasn’t even wearing an earring!

Findekano was suddenly glad that his mother Anaire wasn’t here. His mother thought very highly of Maitimo, but she sometimes despaired of him when it came to his fashion-sense. As did Maglor and Finrod, whom Maitimo referred to affectionately as 'our family peacocks' or our ‘family mandarin ducks.’ Aunt Earwen, on the other hand, was more tolerant of Maitimo’s sartorial choices. She characterized Maitimo as 'an aesthete, if an elegant one.' 

But that was how Earwen described Maitimo when he was accoutered in the elegant clothing and restrained jewelry he normally wore. Which was a far cry from what he was wearing right now! Even for just sitting at Findekano’s bedside, this was beyond the pale.

Normally Maitimo was too responsible about his position as ‘the Crown Prince’s heir Prince Nelyafinwe” to go out in public looking like this. He customarily dressed himself elegantly and formally at all times. Except for when he was engaging in some athletic pastime, usually at Findekano's urging. Today, by having left his house in such a state, Maitimo was practically inviting some member of the public to remark negatively on his appearance to Grandfather Finwe. Not to mention the danger that, by daring to leave his house in this unacceptably informal state, Maitimo was risking quite a lecture from his housemate Makalaure.

In other words, to be sitting in this strange room at Findekano's bedside looking like he did, Maitimo must be must be truly worried over Findekano's well-being. 

With this in mind, Findekano asserted meekly, “I am feeling better now. May I speak?”

“I’m glad to hear that the medicine is working,” replied Maitimo kindly, looking relieved. After a moment’s pause, he encouraged, “Yes, of course you may speak, my Eagle. I am listening.” As he spoke, Maitimo offered his hand to Findekano, in comfort. 

Findekano did not hesitate to accept. As their hands touched, it occurred to Findekano that Maitimo must have been practicing writing with his left hand again, since it had callouses from holding a quill. Findekano was not unaccustomed to holding hands with Maitimo. Theirs was a physically demonstrative friendship. 

Findekano remarked ruefully, “I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that I was injured while doing something rash. Well, something that you thought was rash.”

Maitimo tenderly assured him, “I am not angry with you, my Eagle.”  

“I know you’re not,” Findekano accepted with a guilty sigh. “You’re never angry when I’ve gotten badly hurt. But you are planning to lecture me once I'm feeling better. And I'll be lucky if it's only a lecture! If I'm not lucky, you'll have me writing lines about being more careful next time, or writing an essay for you enumerating the ways in which I was foolish and then describing in detail how I plan to be more careful in the future, or . . . worse. You know what I mean,” he accused, doing his best to keep the resentment out of his voice. 

This was a little challenging, given that a spanking from Maitimo was always a memorably unpleasant experience. Not as bad as a whipping from Findekano's father, though. But Findekano tried to be fair to Maitimo at times such as these. After all, Maitimo couldn’t help the fact that he was a stick-in-the-mud by nature, or the fact that he was elder than Findekano, and thus felt responsible for him.

Maitimo replied, "I do know." In addition to affection, his mien and tone displayed far more sympathy than he usually had for Findekano at times such as these. Then he went on to say, “You would do no differently, were our positions reversed.”  

Findekano blinked in surprise at the very thought. Slowly, he allowed, “Well, yes, I suppose so, Russandol. If you were ever to do anything rash, that is. Which I have trouble even picturing, quite frankly.”   

Maitimo favored Findekano with a wry but gentle half-smile, “I think what you mean to say is 'if I were ever to do anything that you thought was rash.'”  

Findekano’s expression turned rueful again as he said, "I can't imagine anything that I would consider rash that you wouldn't also consider rash, my Bright Flame.”  

“Mmm. You might be surprised,” replied Maitimo, and his half-smile this time was rueful as well as affectionate. 

Before Findekano could ponder the intriguing implications of that statement, Maitimo went on, “If you are feeling up to it, may I ask - What is the last thing you can clearly remember, prior to when you woke up here just now?”  

“Umm . . .” murmured Findekano while he wracked his brain. It was not normally so hard to remember what he'd been doing just before he received a knock on the head! At last he settled on, “I think the last thing I can remember is when we were all getting ready to head out to that horse race together.”

“We?”

“Yes, all of us.”

“’Us?”

“All the Finwean cousins.”

“Ah.”

“Did I hit my head at the horse race?” asked Findekano. 

“Not that I am aware of. Do you remember any major events which occurred around the time of this horse race?”

“Yes. We had just celebrated the Ambarussa's coming-of-age party."

Maitimo’s eyes widened. He looked visibly unsettled, perhaps even scared, as he murmured, “I see.”  

Findekano felt a little frightened himself, because he could count on one hand the number of times he’d witnessed his capable best friend appear scared. He asked, “What about that horse race being the last thing I remember can possibly have troubled you so, Russandol?” 

By now, Maitimo had regained his usual calm demeanor. “Do not be troubled, Findekano,” he soothed. “You are experiencing some degree of partial temporal amnesia as a result of your concussion, that is all. I did feel worried, for a moment. But now that my reason has reasserted itself, I am not unduly concerned. My understanding is that partial temporal amnesia is not uncommon in the wake of a head injury, and that it almost always resolves itself completely on its own. Although sometimes it does not resolve itself until after a head injury has fully healed. And by that I mean ‘healed’ not just in terms of the physical structures in the brain, but also in respect of one’s mind-magic shields and capabilities. The latter of which can take considerably longer.” 

“Oh,” responded Findekano. He said slowly, "I know what amnesia is, even though I had thought it was only something used as a plot device in plays and stories, instead of something that actually happens to real people. But what is partial temporal amnesia?”  

Maitimo replied in a reassuring tone of voice, "It means that a fair amount of time has passed since the day of that horse race. You are missing the memories relating to that period of time right now because of your head injury. However, you need not be troubled. All of those memories should return to you, in time.”

"I see," said Findekano. He was concerned to hear all of this. But he was not frightened anymore, because Maitimo seemed confident that everything would work out fine for Findekano, in the end.  Maitimo was rarely wrong. It could be quite annoying, at times. He was especially unlikely to be wrong when he was this confident about something. But just now, Findekano was not finding that aspect of his closest friend's character annoying at all. Rather the opposite. He felt sincerely grateful for it.

He told Maitimo, “I never thought I’d be so glad to hear you display what a know-it-all you are.”

Maitimo laughed.

Findekano smiled to hear it, because he was always pleased when he could make the somber Maitimo laugh.

Just then a quiet knock sounded at the door.

Maitimo tilted his head in the specific way that signaled he was speaking to someone mind-to-mind, and also that he had decided to let the people around him be aware that he was doing so. Otherwise, there was no way to tell that Maitimo was using mind-speech. He was annoyingly like an ancient elf, that way. Findekano was jealous of how easily learning mind-magic came to Maitimo. Findekano’s oldest and youngest Arafinwean cousins, Findarato and Artanis, were like that, too.

The door to Findekano’s sick room opened to admit two elves clad in the midnight blue robes of master healers.

“Thank you for coming,” Maitimo said to the healers. He kept his voice soft as he spoke to them, just as he’d done when speaking to Findekano.

Findekano was grateful for this consideration. He knew from experience that low voices minimized the unpleasant symptoms he suffered with a head injury.

To Findekano, Maitimo said, “Cousin, this is Healer Isyatur,” here Maitimo nodded towards the healer with platinum blond hair and hazel eyes. Somehow, Findekano could tell that Isyatur was the elder of these two master healers. Which was strange, because Findekano was not usually good enough at mind-magic to read ‘the weight behind an elf’s eyes,’ which revealed their approximate age. Well, to within a hundred tree years, or so.  

“Hello, Prince Findekano,” said Isyatur gravely.

“Hello,” replied Findekano. He had been raised to have good manners, even when he felt awful. 

“And this,” Maitimo said with a nod towards the younger healer, “is Master Healer Elrond.”

Elrond had raven hair and blue-gray eyes almost the same shade as Findekano’s own. This was noteworthy by itself, as Findekano had never met anyone outside of the Finwean family who boasted that exact same shade of slate gray eyes. But what actually interested Findekano more was Maitimo’s manner when he introduced this master healer. It had quite distinctly been a manner of quiet pride. It was the same way Maitimo looked and acted when he introduced Findekano as a master archer, or when he introduced any other of their other cousins by one of their earned titles.

Findekano wondered if maybe Elrond had been Maitimo’s student, once. Findekano knew that his favorite cousin was a journeyman healer. Maitimo had achieved mastery in seven crafts, and Findekano had lost count of how many crafts and trades Maitimo had pursued for at least long enough to be awarded the status of journeyman.

Maitimo did this because he thought it made him a better politician and administrator. He said it helped him to better understand the needs and capabilities of elves from many different guilds, professions, and fields of study.  

Findekano knew that his father and Grandfather Finwe both thought that Maitimo was right about this. They admired him for doing it, and valued him for it. Findekano's younger brother Turukano, on the other hand, thought that it showed Maitimo as having a lack of commitment, and that it made him a goody-two-shoes and a kiss-up, besides. Findekano thought that Turkano was just jealous.

But Maitimo, upon hearing of Turukano's criticisms, had gently reprimanded Findekano for his lack of charity and patience towards his younger sibling. Then Maitimo had gone to Nolofinwe and Finwe. He’d asked them to consider that it was unfair to Turukano for his accomplishments to be compared to those of Maitimo, who was so much older. Maitimo had tactfully suggested that it might be helpful for Nolofinwe and Finwe to praise Turukano more frequently for his own accomplishments, which were impressive indeed for one of his age. 

While Turukano had been gratified by the additional praise which was forthcoming to him after Maitimo’s intervention (of which he remained ignorant), he didn't stop being envious of Maitimo. Well, he stopped being quite as envious, but he was still envious.

Returning his attention to the two healers who had come to treat him, Findekano decided it was likely that Elrond had been an apprentice healer during the time period just after Maitimo achieved the status of journeyman healer, when Maitimo had still been practicing that craft. This would explain why Maitimo seemed proud of, and fond of, Elrond, even though he’d never introduced Elrond to Findekano before.

Isyatur hadn’t made much of an impression on Findekano. But Elrond attracted Findekano’s mercurial attention and held it.  

This younger master healer’s expression was one of somber, compassionate concern, yet there was a sparkle of friendly good humor in his blue-gray eyes. It was a sparkle which Findekano found quite appealing. Overall, Elrond gave off an impression of great power sheathed in gentleness and courtesy. It reminded Findekano very much of Maitimo. This made him inclined to like Elrond, even though Elrond was a healer. 

Findekano did not care for healers, as a general rule. He disliked their propensity for poking him and prodding him. He disliked their fussiness. He disliked the unnecessary number of restrictions they liked to apply to Findekano’s activities while he was still subject to their tyranny. Most especially of all, Findekano disliked how excessively cautious they were when it came how much time needed to pass before they finally declared Findekano sufficiently healed enough to return to his favorite activities. 

“Hello, Findekano,” greeted Elrond in a musical baritone. “Russandol tells me that you are experiencing a partial loss of memory.”

Findekano sighed, “So he says. I believe him. He would not make something like this up. That’s not his sense of humor.”  

“No, of course it isn’t,” Elrond agreed. With a sympathetic mien, he added, “I know that your loss of memories – which is a condition we healers call partial temporal amnesia – must be frightening to you, or at least alarming.”

Before Findekano could decide what best to say in order to put on a brave front, Elrond smiled empathetically, and added, “Or so I assume based on my own experience with partial temporal amnesia.”

Encouraged and interested, Findekano queried, “You lost your memories once, too?”

“I did,” confirmed Elrond. “It happened to me when I was about . . .”

Here Maitimo interjected, “You were about two hundred Valinorean Tree years old at that time, Elrond, based on the system of timekeeping that Findekano is familiar with.”  

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” Elrond said, in graceful acceptance of Maitimo’s correction. “Thank you, Russandol.” 

Turning back to Findekano, Elrond explained, “When I was about two hundred Tree years old, I got hit hard on the head. When I regained consciousness, I thought that I was only five Tree years old.”   

“Oh my, poor you!” marveled the amazed Findekano. “That is a lot of time to lose.” 

“It was, yes,” agreed Elrond. “It was quite disorientating. The last thing that I could remember, I’d been a journeyman healer, and a new-made journeyman healer, at that. And yet, the companions who were with me when I awoke assured me that I was a Master Healer!”  

Findekano, who tried to see the funny side of most things, jested, “Well, I hope that none of your companions were in desperate need of a Master Healer at the time!” 

Elrond smiled, “Fortunately, they were not.” With a rueful chuckle, he appended, “That’s all that situation would have needed!”

Maitimo was still holding Findekano’s hand, but he extended his other arm to pat Elrond reassuringly on his hand. 

“I see,” said Findekano more somberly, in response to Elrond’s rather concerning statement. Then he asked the question which concerned him most at the moment. It was, “How much time am I missing?”

Elrond said carefully, “I will answer that question for you, Findekano. Or perhaps I will let Russandol do so. But first I would like to examine your physical injury, if I may.”

Findekano sighed, “Oh, very well. If you really must do that first.” 

Maitimo squeezed Findekano’s hand tighter with just two fingers. It was a signal that meant, 'please behave yourself like a proper prince.'

Findekano squeezed back in answer with three fingers. That meant, ‘I would be sticking my tongue out at you right now, except that I am acting like a proper prince, you killjoy.’

The good-humored sparkle in Elrond’s eyes seemed to brighten as he said to Findekano, “I sympathize with your frustration, but I do think it best for us to examine you first. To begin with, it would help me to know how much pain you are in, on a scale from one to ten. With one being only a little pain, and ten being the worst pain you’ve ever felt in your life.”

Findekano had only just opened his mouth with the intention of saying ‘a two,’ when Maitimo interrupted.  

“Findekano,” he offered, “I promise that I will grant you a boon of your choice, if you will do me the courtesy of being honest and completely forthcoming with Elrond and Master-Healer Isyatur.” 

Findekano considered this. He bargained, “Can it be an open-ended boon?”

“If you will continue to be honest and completely forthcoming with every healer over the next several days, then yes, it can be an open-ended boon.”

“And that means I can ask you for anything I like?” pressed Findekano hopefully. With Maitimo, if one didn’t specify all the terms of a deal in advance, he could wriggle out of doing what Findekano thought they had bargained for. 

With a musical chuckle, Maitimo conceded, “Yes, it does mean that, you highway robber. Well, within some reason you may ask me for anything, and I will do my utmost to comply.” 

“We have a deal, then,” said Findekano munificently. He was doing his best impression of their Grandfather Finwe being magnanimous.

He must have done a good job, because Maitimo’s lips twitched into a smile. Findekano was pleased at first, but then he became somewhat concerned. He thought that his best friend must still be very worried, otherwise Maitimo would not be showing his thoughts and feelings so openly in front of two strangers. Well, one stranger and one relative stranger. 

Maitimo was still smiling as he directed, “Answer Elrond’s question now, please, Findekano.”  

Findekano informed the amused Elrond, “If I keep my head perfectly still, then the pain is at a four.”

Elrond smiled again. This time it seemed like a relieved smile. “Given the extent of the initial injury to your head, that represents excellent progress. Although I can imagine it might be hard for you to believe that right now. What level was your pain at before you drank the medicine I left with Russandol?”

“Oh, did you make that, Elrond? It was surprisingly non-terrible,” praised Findekano.

“I’m glad to hear that,” replied Elrond. “I’ll pass your review along to one of my former proteges, it is his formulation. He and his family have made a study of how to make medicines more palatable.”

“That’s a better use of medical subsidies than most I could name,” complained Findekano. He gave Maitimo a significant look as he spoke, because Maitimo had supported many, many less worthwhile medical research projects. What is worse, he had spent copious amounts of time arguing in favor of them at councils Findekano had been required to attend, boring poor Findekano silly in the process. 

Maitimo rolled his eyes. Then he asked pointedly, “And what number was your pain at before you drank the non-terrible medicine, my dear Eagle?”

“It was . . . pretty bad,” Findekano reluctantly admitted. “A seven, maybe even an eight?”   

“I am sorry to hear that,” said Elrond regretfully, and he did, actually, sound genuinely sympathetic again. “We will do our best to stay on top of your pain. Next, I would like to examine you with my mind-magic. May I look into your eyes?” 

Findekano thought about refusing, but then Maitimo gave him the two fingered ‘behave yourself’ squeeze again.

“I suppose so,” Findekano assented, with a resigned, put-upon sigh.

“Thank you,” replied Elrond. “This should not hurt.”

Then he knelt beside the bed and gazed deeply into Findekano’s eyes.

Findekano felt only the gentlest of touches to his mind. It felt like butterfly wings, or like a playful breeze on a nice spring day. 

He complimented Elrond, “Your mind-touch feels almost like that of one of Este's Maiar. But more comforting, somehow. More familiar.”

“That makes sense,” Elrond responded absently. “We are good friends these days, you and I.”

After several minutes, Elrond stood back up and said with another relieved smile, “The physical structures of your brain are healing well, Findekano. Your mind-magic has been affected by your injury, but only in ways which should heal on their own, given enough time. That is probably what has caused your partial loss of memories,” Elrond finished.  

“I see,” said Findekano. He didn’t, really. But he was confident that Maitimo could explain it to him later, when he felt a little better.

Elrond offered, “I would be happy to explain what I mean by that in more detail later. But right now, I would like to examine your physical injury, if I may.”

And here came the two fingered squeeze from Maitimo again.

Findekano squeezed back with three fingers twice. It meant, ‘right now I would be kicking you if I weren’t acting like a proper prince, because you’re acting like an ass.’ Although Maitimo defined what he was doing at times such as this more boringly. He called it ‘being unjust to you by assuming that you were going to be rude while you were still successfully resisting that base urge, Findekano.’  

Maitimo squeezed Findekano’s hand back with all his fingers. That meant he was apologizing.

In appreciation, Findekano graciously allowed that Elrond might examine his head wound. Elrond kindly warned him to close his eyes, explaining that he needed to brighten the lamp in order to examine the place on the right top side of Findekano’s head. It was where most of the pain was coming from. 

Even with his eyes closed, the brighter light made Findekano wince.

Maitimo squeezed his hand gently, in comfort. In his deep, soothing voice, he offered, “Please feel free to squeeze my hand as hard as you like, my Eagle. I’m strong. I won’t break.”

“Uh-huh,” was all Findekano could manage in reply. Elrond had started to gently move aside some of Findekano’s braids near the top of the right side of his head, and it already hurt a great deal.  

Even as his eyes watered from the pain, an upsetting thought occurred to Findekano.

He gasped, “My hair! You didn’t have to cut any of my braids away after I hurt my head, did you?” That had happened to Findekano once before. The hair on that portion of his head had taken a long time to grow back. It had been quite challenging for him to dress his hair in ways that the bald spot didn’t show too badly.

While Findekano liked clothes and jewelry and took care with his appearance, he wasn’t terribly vain about most things. But he was vain about his hair. Findekano had inherited his mother’s incredibly curly hair and he wore it much as she did, in hundreds of tiny braids. Maitimo had made him gold wire clips to secure the end of each of his braids. The clips were so delicately made that they looked almost like ribbons. Findekano customarily wore each of his many braids secured by those clips, then braided the little braids half-back. 

In addition to the gold clips, Findekano often wore beads of yellow gold, sapphire, lapis-lazuli, and moonstone woven into his braids. The yellow gold was because Findekano liked yellow gold, and because those beads looked well with the clips Maitimo had made him. The sapphire was for his father’s house. Lapis lazuli was the gemstone that resonated best with Findekano’s own magic. Moonstone was the one that resonated best with Maitimo’s. He’d gifted some of his moonstone beads to Findekano after they first became ‘friends because they had worked hard to have things in common’ instead of just ‘friends because they were cousins who got on decently well.’ 

For Maitimo’s next begetting day after that, Findekano had gifted some of his lapis lazuli beads to Maitimo. Maitimo was very restrained when it came to the jewelry he wore on a daily basis, but he almost always wore Findekano’s lapis lazuli beads.

Findekano was so concerned about the possibility that some of his braids might have been cut off that he decided to lift his left hand to check for himself when Elrond was slow in answering.

“Ah ah ah - don't touch!” Maitimo scolded, even as he caught Findekano’s left hand with his right before Findekano could lift his hand up to his head.

Findekano huffed in exasperation. “You are so bossy sometimes, Russandol!” he accused.   

Maitimo soothed, “I know. Your hair is fine, Findekano. I promise you it is.” 

“Your hair is more than fine,” Elrond elaborated cheerfully. “Your braids cushioned your skull, otherwise your head would be hurt worse. The wound itself is mostly just a bruise with only a small scrape at the top," Elrond continued. “That was part of the problem to begin with – that the swelling didn’t have anywhere to go - but the danger of damage to your brain has passed now. In fact, although we will still need to keep a close eye on you, I think it is safe to say that you are out of the woods.”

“Thank Eru for that,” breathed Maitimo, sounding profoundly relieved but still shaken.

Findekano squeezed his hand reassuringly.  

“Yes,” agreed Elrond solemnly.

“I am glad to hear that you think I am healing nicely,” Findekano informed Elrond. “But are you finished yet?”

“Almost,” Elrond replied. “First, I would like Master Healer Isyatur to take a look, too. To see if he concurs.”

“Ugh. Fine,” allowed Findekano.

Maitimo must have been really worried before, and really relieved right now, because he didn’t even give Findekano a silent scold to behave himself.

Isyatur warned Findekano, “My fingers may be cold, your Highness. I apologize for that.”

Findekano frowned. He’d never liked the cold. Well, except for when he was outside doing something interesting. He rarely noticed it then.

Isyatur’s fingers were cold. But he didn’t poke Findekano for very long before he took them away and announced to Elrond, “I do concur, Student-mine. He is healing nicely.” He added, “You did a very fine job with this complicated injury, Elrond.”

“Thank you, Teacher-mine,” replied Elrond, sounding proud.

Blessedly, someone turned down the light, so Findekano was able to open his eyes just as Isyatur excused himself with the explanation that he had patients he should get back to at the Healing Hall. 

Isyatur brusquely assured Findekano, “You are in good hands with Elrond, Prince Findekano. He’s one of the best master healers I’ve ever had a hand in training, and he’s had an unfortunate amount of personal experience with partial temporal amnesia.”

“Thank you for your assistance, Master Healer Isyatur,” said Findekano in farewell. He could have proper manners even when Maitimo wasn’t prodding him to. 

“I’ll walk you out, Master Healer,” said Maitimo to Isyatur.

“That would be most kind of you, Councillor Maedhros,” replied Isyatur.

To Findekano, Maitimo said with another squeeze of his hand, “I will be right back, my Eagle. I promise.”

“I appreciate that, Russandol,” said Findekano sincerely. “Thank you.”

Maitimo favored him with another smile before turning away.

As his best friend accompanied the more boring of the two master healers out of the room, Findekano reflected on how odd it was that the elf had addressed Maitimo as “Councillor Maedhros.”

Findekano pondered whether Maitimo might have taken on another name during the time that had passed since the last thing Findekano could remember. It was certainly not impossible that Maitimo might have done so. Maitimo disliked both his father-name and his mother-name. Actually, 'disliked' was too weak a word. Maitimo was whole-heartedly embarrassed by his mother-name, but he went by it anyway, because he was actively appalled by the implications of his father-name.

But Maitimo did like his nick-name of “Russandol,” which is why Findekano addressed him so. Well, unless Maitimo was being difficult, or Findekano badly needed him to pay attention, in which case Findekano called him Maitimo. Findekano also referred to his best friend as Maitimo when he was speaking to other people who were not Maitimo’s close friends, so that they would know whom he was referring to.

Unfortunately for Maitimo, his favored name of Russandol was, in the opinion of their Grandfather the King, too informal a name to use in public situations.

With all of that taken into account, Findekano would not be surprised if Maitimo had come up with a new name for himself. The name ‘Maedhros’ sounded almost but not quite like it was made of standard Quenya words. It sounded rather like Maitimo had made a portmanteau out of elements from his mother-name and his nickname.  

Feanor normally hated it when people ‘mispronounced’ or ‘butchered’ or ‘abused’ what he regarded as ‘proper’ Quenya. But Feanor was proud of Maitimo’s status as a Master of Linguistics. Perhaps Maitimo and Feanaro had come up with variations on Quenya that they both liked. That sounded like something Maitimo might have been willing to do, in order to gain a name he liked better.

In any case, it was not completely surprising to Findekano that a master healer might call Maitimo by a new name. If anything, Findekano found it more surprising that Master Healer Isyatur had addressed Maitimo by the title “Councillor.” After all, a prince couldn't be elected to a seat on Tirion's General Council. Maitimo had always said that, if he wasn't a prince, then he probably would have run for elected office. But he was a prince.

Just then, Elrond distracted Findekano from his ruminations by politely clearing his throat.

To be continued in Chapter 2.

Chapter 2 Summary:

Maitimo gives Findekano what Fingon will later commend, upon getting his memory back, as a ‘surprisingly concise and coherent orientation to the four and a half Ages I’d forgotten.’ 

Elrond tells Fingon about his own experience with partial temporal amnesia. In the course of relaying that story, Elrond tells Fingon about his exacting foster-father, whose harsh lessons enabled Elrond to save his own life and the lives of his companions even when he was missing thousands of years of memories. Elrond explains that this is only one of the reasons why he will always love and support his foster-father, even though he did some terrible things when he was under the impression that doing so was the best of all the bad choices before him.

Then, after hearing of Elrond’s experiences, Fingon realizes that he has some new skills with mind-magic that he can't remember learning but can still use. In the process of testing out those new skills, it begins to sink in for Findekano that he really is much older than Maitimo now. Although Findekano thinks that it might do his bossy best friend some good to be the younger cousin for once, he also resolves to do as good a job of looking out for Maitimo as Maitimo always did of looking out for Findekano and their other cousins. Findekano even finds himself feeling rather protective of Maitimo, especially given that Maitimo seems to expect Findekano to reject him, for some reason.

Chapter End Notes

I’d love to hear from you if you enjoyed this first chapter! The more people I hear from you, the more encouraged I will be to prioritize editing and posting the other chapters. 

End Note 1: If you are interested in what happened in between Maedhros being Reborn and the beginning of this story, you can read the other stories in my ‘Maedhros and Fingon’ sub-series on Ao3, starting with “Auld Acquaintance,” which is my take on a reunion story (also posted here on SWG). Or you can check out my ‘Fanon Background for the Desperate Hours AU’ story.  It includes a number of chapters about Maedhros and/or Fingon, including an essay on what Maedhros and his father and brothers were up to while they were dead (for purposes of my stories). Chapter 1 of my ‘Fanon Background’ story is the index and table of contents. It is available here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46353520/chapters/198386206

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