Author's Note:

Disclaimer: Do not own.

Rating: T because of canon.

This is NOT romance. Kindly respect this viewpoint.

Don't ask, this just happened.

Enjoy!

~S~

The first thing I remember noticing about Maitimo was his height.

He was slightly taller than his father, keeping up with the almost legendary height of his maternal grandfather, Mahtan the Smith. Added to his slender build, he seemed impossibly tall and I held back a smirk as he bent slightly at the waist when greeting my father. The look of surprise and bemusement on my father's face to see someone so young be so tall was amusing, since nothing truly fazed my father overmuch. Maitimo's hair was dark red, like a fire seen from a shadow, almost burgundy, you could say. It went past his hips in waves, the ends curling slightly, leaving me to guess that the Elf had trouble in keeping it tame. He was dressed in ivory clothing, his wide sleeves cut to the elbows and trimmed in thick golden embroidery. He wore a golden belt about his waist and his neckline was wide, the golden tassels swaying from the laces binding his shirt as he moved. His father stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back as he talked, dressed in dark blue and black garments, his silver belt bound about his waist. His black hair was also wavy, almost just as unruly as Maitimo's, though maybe a bit tame as it was bound by a silver clip.

I am barely listening to the conversation between the two Princes. They exchanged mostly pleasantries whenever they met, prolonging it under an illusion that they had some form of familiarity for the sake of King Finwë, who wished his family to remain united and one. But I personally believe the coolness and the slight mockery (and if I am honest and unbiased, then I would say on both sides) was much louder than any polite, idle chatter they can conjure.

I suddenly jolted out of my musings, realizing all three of them were staring at me. My father looked displeased, and I felt a warm flush arise in my cheeks as I stepped forward and bowed lightly at the waist.

"His head is usually in the clouds." My father said dryly. "I do not know what to do with him sometimes." In spite of my father's words, I noticed the underlying love and affection. Evidently, Fëanáro had noticed it as well, for he smiled. It was a small smile, and I cannot remember him ever doing so while speaking to my father.

"Children often are, though this son of mine is far too mature for my liking." Fëanáro said, glancing at his firstborn with a raised brow and an amused smile. "A little bit of excitement would do him good. That is why I had him to accompany me here. Mayhap he would grow a youthful heart inside him."

While they chatted I quickly realized that I had not seen much of Maitimo in the palace itself. He probably either spent more time at the university, or at his own home. It was for the first time that he had not only come to the palace but made a proper introduction between myself and this firstborn of Fëanáro.

One would ask how it could be that we never truly met earlier, given that we belonged to the same house and ultimately shared the same blood. However, the House of Finwë was not like any other. It was no secret that Fëanáro was bitter about his father's marriage to our dear grandmother. But only the members of the House of Finwë could truly feel the brunt of that reality. Fëanáro will, for always and always, be Finwë's firstborn and dearest son. That much was obvious, though he showed the love and affection on all his children, and his grandchildren regardless for the parentage. But Finwë loved his first wife dearly, and she left him only one son. It is remarkable how feelings take over and morph them, till they grow because of someattachment we feel for someone or something. I do not know precisely what goes on between my father and his siblings with Fëanáro but I do know that it is futile to even try to fathom it. A part of me wonders if there is even a problem between them.

Over the weeks I learned more and more about Maitimo as he moved about in the palace and aided in matters with grandfather Finwë. Fëanáro, although Crown Prince, did not harbor any genuine interest in running a kingdom and he spent most of his time either tinkering away in his forge, or training his apprentices. So Maitimo took most of these duties. He was mostly quiet, but alert, taking in his surroundings with a silence that one could almost forget his presence, had it not for his height and his hair. He had a love for lore and books, since I often found him perusing books in our library in mornings, where he would sit by a high window and enjoy the wind while he read. He also accompanied his father to the forge, though I noticed he only showed a mild interest in the topic.

In other words, he was so dreadfully boring.

These were the moments that reminded me of our first meeting, where his father had gently reprimanded his ways, though Maitimo seemed unaffected. It was either an issue that arose fairly recently, or it was one that had been going for so long that it no longer bothered him.

If I speak for myself, I could not sit still in a place for too long. I revere books, and I know their worth, but I am not the kind to sit and read for hours on end. Nay, I am restless when surrounded by four walls and idle hands. I need to be kept busy or find something to amuse myself or I could more than easily wreak havoc in a few ways if I do not.

Finally a day came when I had had enough of Maitimo's constant routine that never faltered. I knew exactly where to find him and exactly which hour and he would be there, every single time. We were not close but we were more than simple acquaintances, spending time together and chatting cordially every time. I would not call him a close friend or even give him the title of a friend. He was in the list of a few people whom I did not know whether they were friends or acquaintances, or even whether I wanted to name them my friends or not.

Finally I had had enough. How could someone live such a dreary life and be so young? Granted, he was the son of Fëanáro, the son of the Spirit of Fire, but that does not make him entitled to live the same youth as he had done. So one day, (and I still do not know why I cared!), I dressed into riding garbs and headed to the library where I knew Maitimo spent his mornings.

"Come with me." I invited him after our initial greetings. He frowned in confusion.

"Come with you? And go where?"

I shrugged. I had no destination in mind. It was my first time going out with him on a ride, after all. It was not that either of us had never ridden before. We simply had never ridden in each other's company alone before. "We can go down to the city or ride into the forest. The day is splendid, and the morning is still young."

But Maitimo was shaking his head.

"I have paperwork to do."

"And when is this work due?" I pressed. I could not help myself. After all, his father hoped he would grow a younger heart.

"Tomorrow."

"Then you can do it later."

"I will be busy later."

"Busy how?" My father would often cuff my ears for my pestering. Maitimo was far too well-mannered for that. He simply frowned.

"It is none of your concern."

"You are constantly submerged in one form of duty or another. You never truly give much time to yourself, your free time going to books and these four walls!"

"I do what I am expected to do." Maitimo's words were stiff, as if he did not wish to speak more on the matter.

"And what of what you would like to do?" I pressed, studying his reaction. Maitimo did not speak. But he flipped the cover of his book, making it fall shut with a resounding thud. He stared at me and I stared back, fighting not to recoil at the look in his eyes. He had pale grey eyes, and I had seen them calm and cool. But now they burned brightly, making his eyes seem even paler. He seemed more powerful, more dangerous. Then he looked away and reopened his book and did not say another word. I let out a breath I was holding.

Son of the Spirit of Fire, indeed.

I quickly learned that day that he was stubborn. He knew I was right but he stuck to his logic for the sake of pride. The next time I asked him though, he readily accepted. It was a strange, uncomfortable ride, but a few more rides later, we found ourselves completely at ease and that was how our friendship began.

The years passed us by and we met now and then. We usually came across each other in one party or another, where our families were invited together. Sometimes we would go out riding or hunting, and other times we simply sat in gardens and chatted. We rarely ever brought up our fathers, wanting to avoid that particular part of tension in our lives when we could.

It was one feast that particularly comes to mind and that was the one where I had seen,actually seen, all of his brothers together. Maitimo would often school his face to a mask of polite indifference in events as great as spring festivals and such, meeting everyone while keeping a polite smile and an even tone, something I never truly mastered. He was capable of hiding his feelings, so much so that I think if anyone would practically do something ridiculous in front of him, he would still smile and nod and thank the person.

This time though, Maitimo was coming to the festival with his four brothers. The youngest was running about with his parents and the other one, Tyelkormo, was a handsome youth, with an easy grace but a mischief that could only be related to his age. We took drinks from a stall with thanks and stood together as we observed the merrymaking. Makalaurë wasted no time and married soon after reaching his majority. Newlywed, he was often the subject of constant ribbing and jests, something he took in stride rather well.

"He is far too in love with his wife." Maitimo told me, making sure Makalaurë could hear him. "Father claimed he needed to give them chambers as far away as he could for-uh- obvious reasons."

"I have feeling that you are only jealous, big brother." Makalaurë said primly, taking a sip from his glass.

Maitimo raised a brow in what I could only call playfulness. He raised his glass to his lips, and drank, making slurping noises as he did so. Makalaurë choked on his drink, giving into a coughing fit. Across the hall, Makalaurë's family by marriage put on disapproving faces.

"You will pay for that." His younger brother told him. Maitimo only smiled smugly. Makalaurë narrowed his eyes in concentration and softly sang a few shamelessly bawdy lyrics for only our ears. A blush flamed on Maitimo's cheeks, making Makalaurë chuckle. I raised my glass up to my lips, not intending to drink but merely to hide the highly inappropriate wide grin forming on my face. I had never seen this side of Maitimo, and I realized that I did not know everything about him.

"You are just too easy, brother." Makalaurë said, chuckling.

"You are just as great a pain in the neck as you were when you were a babe." Maitimo retorted, and the pair shared a quick, brotherly grin.

That night, when the feast had finished and everyone wandered back to their rooms, I slipped into mine and changed out of my ceremonial clothes. Tugging on a light shirt over my breeches, I headed over to the balcony and surveyed the other balconies decorating the palace wall. Maitimo's was a level lower than mine on my right side. The vines that grew were old and strong, and the ground was undoubtedly far from my balcony, meaning a few broken bones if there is a miscalculated move. Still, I had done wilder things. Grabbing onto a firm vine in between my fingers of a hand I swung over the fence and made my way downwards.

Maitimo was reclining on a couch, seemingly deep in thought. However, when I fell on ground with less grace than I originally planned, he was started out of his reverie from the light thudand from the disturbance of the light.

"How did you-are you mad?" He scolded me, hastily getting up and rushing to me. He ran his eyes over my frame quickly, looking for injuries before shaking his head. "One day you will find yourself nothing but a pile of bones sticking out the wrong ends if you continue this norm." I smirked.

"Better than to live a life in these walls," I told him. "Father is forcing me to spend more and more time with him in councils and it is absolutely grating on my nerves." Maitimo laughed and ushered me inside, offering me a seat as he returned to recline on his couch. Familiarity had settled between us enough that we did not mind any breach of courtly protocol.

We only chatted and laughed, basically discussing the doings and the events of the feast, and exchanging idle gossip. More than once we fell into a comfortable silence, merely enjoying each other's company, with the cold wind breezing through the open balcony windows as we immersed into our own thoughts.

"I want a sister." I said suddenly, startling him. He shifted in his couch to look at me. He lay on his side, a hand pressed between his cheek and the cushion, eyes staring at me quizzically.

"You already have one." He returned in surprise.

"I meant a sister from a friend I consider a brother." I elaborated, before smirking and raising a brow at him suggestively. "A certain friend, if you do not mind."

Maitimo gave me an exasperated look.

"Why me?" He demanded.

"I do not think I have any other friend who is so close that I may call him a brother." I said dryly.

"Am I?"

"What?"

"So close to you that you may consider me a brother?"

"For someone who takes great love for books full of logic and intellect, you are far too slow." I rebuked him, shaking my head. "What did you think?"

"I do not know." Maitimo said after a pause. "I never really gave it much thought." He admitted.

A timid knock interrupted our quiet, lazy conversation and Maitimo first glanced at the door then whirled his head towards me in alarm.

"Get up!" he ordered. I could barely comprehend his words that he started tugging both my hands in an effort to leave my chair.

"Who is it?"

"One of my brothers," Maitimo answered. "He likes to sleep in my room now and then. It is a childhood trait. Now shoo!"

"So why should I go?" I could not help but drawl. It was amusing to watch Maitimo become flustered, breaking out of his calm and quiet.

"If our fathers get wind of this, we will both be in trouble!" Maitimo said to me, nearly shoving me towards the balcony. "Our fathers will have our heads for going on like this. You have your council meetings and I have cataloging to do tomorrow."

"I wish we were not royalty." I complained, just as he forced me to the balcony fence.

"It cannot be helped. Now go! The last thing I want is one of my dratted brothers coming into the room and then confiding my parents!"

"What a thing to call your brothers!" I grabbed the vine and swung over, my feet finding holds over the palace wall.

"It was a compliment!"

I laughed and started to climb just as Maitimo returned to his room and answer the door.

The years passed by once again and Fëanáro had seven sons. My father often jested with his siblings on the matter, claiming that Fëanáro had left all his half-brothers well behind.

"And how else could I compete?" he said laughing, digging into his plate with relish one night when the uncles came visiting to our table. "It takes two in this game." He winked at his wife and mother only rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"The children are with us." She chided him lightly. My father frowned and then turned to look at us, eyes widening in pretended surprise. "Ah, you are right, my dear. They are indeed with us. Look away, look away! You did not hear a thing!" Father playfully grabbed the back of my neck, me being the nearest, and did just that, making us all laugh.

A few weeks passed by and we heard a few whispers here and there that all was not well between Fëanáro and my father. If it was true, father gave no indication of it, and whenever I spotted my mother asking, he would give no reply.

It came one night at a feast, when all the nobles were invited to join us. I spotted my grandfather laughing and chatting with his advisor, my grandmother clutching his elbow and smiling as she listened. Maitimo was standing with his brother Makalaurë. It soon became clear that the two brothers were close, and with the difference in personalities, one was the completion of the other in their family, taking on duties as was expected of them. I looked around, trying to spot my father until I saw him enter through a side door, face drawn tight and slightly pale but otherwise as well as he could be. He was followed by Fëanáro, whose hand rested on the hilt of a sword that many had admired throughout the evening. I furrowed my brow at his appearance, knowing the pair must have had another sort of confrontation but I thought nothing of it. I knew full well my father would not admit it if I asked, so I turned away.

I heard the sound of metal against leather. My senses pricked, and I turned with some ill-boding in my heart. A collective gasp echoed through the hall, and I saw my father, back and palms of his hands pressed against the wall behind him. His head was tilted up slightly, exposing his neck to the tip of the blade lightly touching it, and my father's face was frozen in shock. The elf threatening my father moved slightly and I caught a glimpse of his face, and it was none other than Fëanáro.

I spotted Maitimo with his brothers, all of whom were looking stunned. Makalaurë was holding Maitimo's shoulder, as if keeping him from advancing, though the latter seemed to have no intention of doing so. He was simply too stunned to move.

I turned to glance over where the ladies were standing. I spotted the Lady Nerdanel, her dark red hair done in an intricate hairstyle of braids and decorated with white gems to accent her hair color and bring out the deep blue-black colors of her gown. Even under her ruddy complexion, she was pale, her eyes frozen in shock and silent disbelief, her hands clutching the cloth of her gowns in fists on either side. Her lips were taut and I realized she, too, did not know anything of this.

I turned my head abruptly when I saw movement in the corner of my eye. Turukáno stepped forward, leaving behind his new bride, eyes blazing in anger. Afraid of what he might do and what it may seem to others I stepped forward as well, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him.

"Control your temper!" I hissed in his ear when he struggled. He was wed, and he had no place of meddling in an affair that only concerned our father and his siblings. The last thing I knew father would want is to have one of his sons unwittingly pulled into this mess. Whatever Fëanáro was saying was lost to me while I tried to bring my brother under control. But the collective gasp of shock and the seriousness on my grandfather's face did not escape me.

"Come, my son!" Fëanáro's words were harsh as he barked them. Maitimo stood stunned, and I could understand why. The Prince always had a loving voice when he spoke to any member of his family, wife or son. But then Maitimo glanced at me in silent apology and obeyed.

There was chaos in my own family after the feast had ended so abruptly. My mother sat with my father, clutching his hands in hers, both of them pale in the face and eerily silent. Turukáno was furious and wanting to go after Fëanáro and his family.

"You will do no such thing," my father said firmly. Turukáno was younger than I and very hot-headed. But my father's words were not to be disobeyed. We never went against him, so we did not know what his reaction would be, but the sternness in his facial features was more than enough to cow us. Turukáno opened his mouth to speak but our mother passed him a warning look and he said nothing but stomped out of the room.

"Why do you care?" I asked my father. My mother gave a sigh and said, "Findekáno-"

But I was far too curious.

"He threatened you in public. In front of everyone! And you are telling us he threatened you before alone. Why would you care about us not going after him?"

"I know how people perceive my half-brother." My father said, his voice grave. "And although his actions need to be addressed, I would not step forward on my part to address them."

"But why?" I pressed further. I needed to know. It was just too confusing, seeing my father simply step away from so grave an insult.

"When there are two strong forces, you have two choices. Either both of them go head to head and fight, in which case everything will fall to destruction or either one of them can bow in submission. The one who submits is no less strong; he is only careful and intelligent. And whatever Fëanáro may think," he pulled his hands out his wife's grasp and rubbed his face, suddenly looking weary. "I do not wish any bad blood between us."

I pondered for a long while afterwards on my father's words before retreating into the palace gardens. There is a certain oak tree, its trunk wide with age and its leaves so thick on the branches that one could easily hide in it. That was where I went, for no sleep would come to me. It was curious indeed to hear my father's words. Usually he kept his thoughts to himself whenever the subject of the Crown Prince rose, even to the point of smiling and falling silent when some nosy noble would prod the subject in hopes of getting some form of gossip. It was also enlightening and confusing at the same time. After giving it much thought, though, I realized that perhaps not all forms of strength arose from a physical one.

I started when a pebble struck me on my thigh. Looking down, I saw Maitimo standing with his hands on his hips, glaring up at me. He was dressed in black garments, with crimson embroidery, undoubtedly to meld into the shadows better and thus avoid speaking to as many people as possible.

"What a fine place to meet!" He hissed at me. I had earlier sent a servant I knew could keep secrets to Maitimo, asking him to meet me here. My others thoughts were distracted by his hair, which was free, throwing a mischievous, slightly childish, thought in my head to twirl a twig into it. Maitimo would have trouble freeing his hair from knots for a long while after. But I sobered, remembering what had happened and how it was not the time.

"Well, considering that your father just threatened my father, I thought it would be unwise if we met in a place where too many eyes would see and too many tongues would wag!" Maitimo's face darkened just after I uttered the word 'threatened' and followed it with 'my father', making me regret using such poor choice of words. But Maitimo loved lore and hated flowery phrases often used in court, and I had instinctively become more and more blunt and straightforward in his presence. I sighed and extended my hand for him to take. "Forgive me," I said to him, my voice becoming more gentle and quiet because of my guilt. "I spoke out of hand."

"You did not." His reply was immediate and I inwardly shook my head. Always quick to forgive, always quicker to defend. "Your reaction was completely natural." He took my hand and only could grimace inwardly at the feel of hard calluses scraping against my skin. He had handled more than just a quill, I realized. Was he also using swords like his father? I wondered if I should ask him but I held my tongue, knowing I would probably not enjoy the answer.

Once he sat on a branch slightly higher than mine, we stared at one another awkwardly. Never had I ever felt this uncomfortable in each other's presence, not even when we first met properly. At last, not knowing what else to say, I spoke.

"So what do we do now?"

"I suppose we will just have to go with the plans of our sires." Maitimo said, his voice annoyingly logic. I did not know what I expected him to say, maybe I wanted him to provide some words of comfort but the way he reasoned was so irritating that I wanted to strangle him. For his years with me, he still hasn't lost that base of his personality (of which my father made fun of to my failure, in private of course). "I think we are bound by duty to our families and in the end we will just have to obey, given we are both firstborns. Strange is it not? Your father is the first son of grandfather's second wife, and my father is the first and only son of his first wife. Both of them are having trouble befriending one another and we are here friends."

"I would almost call it poetic."

"And ironic," Maitimo said wryly, his lips quirking upwards. He dropped the shredded leaf fragments through the branches and reached to pluck another leaf.

"You know you could have just said something to console me."

"You are as soft as a lady' cloth for embroidery."

"And you are as soft as steel." I muttered the retort at him, making him quirk his lips upwards.

"Findekáno," his soft words made me look up at him. Maitimo was not looking at me, focusing his pale grey eyes on the leaf he was slowly tearing into strips. "What my father did- I had nothing to do with it. None of my family, brothers or mother had anything to do with it. We were just as stunned as the rest."

"I know."

"I would never have approved it had I known."

I sighed. "I know."

We fell into a silence, and the world was silent around us, except for the rustle of leaves in the wind and the occasional noises of the grasshoppers and crickets.

"They say friendship can last through time."

"Only when it is strong enough." I answered.

"Is ours strong enough?" Maitimo wondered, dropping the leaf fragments before reaching for another leaf. I finally had enough. Mesmerizing as it was, I did not think the tree was too keen on sacrificing its leaves for the sake of providing us secrecy.

"Stop that." I ordered him. "At the rate you are going, this tree will go bald and we will have no cover to hide in!" Surprisingly, he ignored me and plucked the leaf, proceeding to mutilate it.

"You have spent far too much time with me." I told him wryly. Never had Maitimo disregarded an order so casually.

"It is a good thing too; otherwise think how I would have to deal with people with your power of command." I only shook my head at him and rested the back of my head against the trunk, feeling the strands of my hair catching on to the rough surface of bark.

Maitimo and I sat on our branches, silent as we brooded. We did not talk much whenever we were in each other's company but that night in particular our thoughts were heavy and the silence between us, although companionable, held a strange type of tension in it. Finally he sighed.

"Come," he sat, tapping my knee as he readied himself to get off his branch and jump down. "If I know your father as well as I know mine, I would guess both of them would be looking for us at random times during the night. No doubt we would be missed then, if we are not missed already. Sitting here with each other for company will only make things worse. And things are already too delicate without our meddling." When we parted, our realized I never answered his question on our friendship. But I dwelled on it now, when I pulled back the covers over me in my bed and thought as I stared aimlessly at the wall of my room.

When the morning light streamed in, coloring my room golden, I still lay in my bed and stared blankly up at the ceiling. The conversation from last night echoed in my head and I briefly wondered what this all was coming to. I wondered if I had been in my father's position and Maitimo in his father's, what would have happened then. Would I have forgiven his actions as father had done? Would I have followed my father's logic or would have answered in kind? I quickly realized that such musings were futile, since it will never come to pass, but one thing I do know. I shared my father's tendency on smoothening over the tide. I would not go against anyone without a solid reason. The thought cheered me enough for me to leave my bed and face the new day. Whatever the months may bring, I was sure our friendship will survive.

~S~

Author's Note:

First and last time I am ever attempting this. If this is good, then it is fine, but if it is bad… please excuse me while I grab my blanket and hide in a corner. I might continue this, or I might not. For the time being, it stays single and complete.

Self-promotion here, if anyone is interested in Dagor Dagorath (Battle of Battles), then head over to Tempest in my stories. :D

Good? Bad? Please leave me a review!

Confrontation (canonic):

Fëanáro had confronted Fingolfin once in private, threatening him with his sword. Fingolfin accepted it and quietly left but Fëanáro followed and confronted him again in public. And that is what Fingon witnessed.

Concept:

Fëanáro- This is the Quenya form of the name Fëanor. I considered him to be a loving husband and father. Also, I think because of his father's wish to keep his family one, he would meet his half-siblings from time to time, just for the sake of keeping peace with Finwë. I think, towards the end, when he became obsessive of his Silmarils, he changed.

Maitimo- Sindarin form of it is Maedhros. I considered him, being a firstborn, to take up most of the duties of the family alongside his father, considering his father was the Crown Prince. Thus, he would be following the protocol of the court, and doing what is expected of him. So I considered him quiet, minding his tongue considering the court, whereas his father would be more outspoken, and doing everything a nobleman would do from taking part in hunts, leading festivities and engaging in chatter between nobles as well as participate in taking up duties for running a kingdom.

Findekáno- Sindarin form of it is Fingon. For some reason I always considered him to be the outdoors kind of noble, respecting lore but not truly enjoying it. I felt he was more …

Turukáno-Younger than his brother, I felt he was more easily angered, a 'Celegorm' in the family of Fingolfin, you could say, but with an older brother who could restrain him and knock some sense into him.

Makalaurë-Contributing to his love for the twins Elrond and Elros, I consider him to be the 'glue' of his family, capable of taking up the responsibilities of a family by looking after his younger brothers, helping his mother in domestic matters. Of course, there is the side of a nobleman which I did not explore here, considering it was a story of Maitimo and Findekáno. I think, aside from the classics he would write, he had a bit of a mischievous streak in him in an attempt to lighten up his older brother.

Relationship:

Considering the fact that both Maitimo and Findekáno are sons of Princes and they too are royalty and Noldor (high elves), I could not give their relationship anything rowdy, since it will break through not only their position but also the tale Tolkien had set for them.

One of the most curious things I found about Maedhros and Fingon is that it was somewhat strange that they became friends, particularly since they are both first sons of their fathers, who, incidentally, are first sons from their mothers to their father. It does not really give them a common ground, since their fathers would either be on cool terms, or having a hard, clipped relationship (of which the latter has been explored far too much in fanfiction).