Written for Maedhros Appreciation Day on tumblr. There's a post going around about awkward teenage Maedhros, and I wanted to touch on that. :)
Maitimi, Russandol- Maedhros
Carnistir-Caranthir
Macalaure- Maglor
Tyelko- Celegorm
A good day for a walk, thought Maitimo as he strolled down the gardens, tapping a book against his thigh. An all around good day, he mused, not just for a walk. Light streamed from Laurelin as he walked, jumping at one of his mother's life-like statues of Macalaurë.
His mood evaporated quickly, however, when he heard muffled crying coming from behind a bush. He knew that bush quite well- there was a bench hidden behind it, and it was a convenient and oft-used place for tiny Fëanorian children to hide when they were upset. Maitimo had comforted two of his brother there, and had a feeling he was about to comfort the fourth. He'd been there himself, once upon a time, although he'd had no brothers to turn to.
He peeked behind the bush to find Carnistir with his back against a tree, knees pulled up to his chest as he sobbed into his shirt. He was so focused on his crying that he didn't notice Maitimo sit, but he jolted backwards when Maitimo reached out and grasped his hands.
"Are you okay?" said Maitimo quietly.
Carnistir's face, already a flushed color, deepened to bright red. "No."
"What's wrong?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Carnistir let out a small hiccup of unhappiness and refused to meet Maitimo's eyes. He was so sad, small hands fidgeting in Maitimo's huge palm. So sad, and so angry.
"You can talk about anything with me," pressed Maitimo. "I'm your brother."
He was taken aback by the angry glare he got in response as Carnistir wrenched his hands away. "No, I can't, not with you."
Maitimo didn't say anything, eyes widening with pain. He tried to gain his composure quickly, curling his hand into a loose fist and dropping it by his side.
"That's not what I meant," muttered Carnistir, noticing Maitimo's hurt. "Not what I meant, okay?"
"What did you mean?"
His brother was so small. Macalaurë had been that small once, and so had Tyelko. He didn't think they'd ever been this angry, though. Carnistir's dark eyes glinted with hurt, hurt Maitimo didn't understand but wanted desperately to smooth away. So much anger in such a tiny body.
"You...you just wouldn't understand," said Carnister finally. picking up Maitimo's book from where he'd laid it and thumbing through the pages. "You wouldn't get it. Not you."
Maitimo didn't say anything. Sometimes it was better just to wait and see.
It was the right choice. The birds chirped and a deer passed in front of them, hardly glancing their way. Maitimo didn't drift off, per say, but expanded his mind to other things while he kept an eye on his brother.
"You're pretty," said Carnister, his voice so soft Maitimo had to strain to catch it. "You're handsome, everyone says so, even your name does. You're tall and nice-looking and smart and nice and I'm none of those things, especially the nice-looking part. I'll never be pretty like you, and it's not fair."
"That's not true," said Maitimo immediately. "That's not true, I do understand, I-"
"How?" said Carnister sharply, glaring up at him through thick eyelashes.
Maitimo took a deep breath. None of his brothers had been born during this time, during his adolescence, and he got embarrassed at the mere reminder of it. His father was kind enough never to mention it, but Nerdanel still occasionally teased him in private (until he threatened not to help her do the heavy lifting on her next project).
"I was..." began Maitimo, feeling his face heating up. "I was not, um, a very attractive adolescent."
Carnister just stared at him.
Maitimo bit his lips. "When I was your age, I was two feet taller than you are now."
Was that right? He felt like two feet was right- Carnister was, what, four feet now, and he'd been a little over six foot...so yes, that was right.
"So?" said Carnistir.
"When I was a little older than you, well, my body began to go through the changes...the changes all Elves get, but you'll learn more about that later...and I shot up another foot and a half in less than half a year. And my voice, ah, cracked."
"Was it broken?"
Maitimo couldn't help a dry chuckle. "Basically. It was very embarrassing to talk, because whenever I did, I squeaked or croaked or yelped. My limbs felt far too long for my body, so I tripped everywhere. My clothes wouldn't fit me anymore, and I couldn't ride a horse, I was so tall and ungainly...and I still kept growing, even after that. It was...terrible."
"But you're not ugly now," said Carnistir. "You're tall, but not in a bad way, although I can hardly ever see your face. And your hair is so nice. I'm...my hair is greasy, and my face is all red, and my nose is wide...I'll never look like you."
"You don't need to look like me," replied Maitimo promptly. "And you shouldn't want to. Besides, you already look like mother. Would you call mother ugly?"
Carnistir looked stricken by the thought. "Never!"
"So, if you look like her, then you must look good, right?"
Carnistir thought about this. "I suppose you're right."
"Let tell you another secret," said Maitimo. "You know why everyone calls me Russandol?"
Carnistir shook his head.
"They thought Maitimo was too mean," confided Maitimo, feeling even the back of his neck redden now. "That name was too pretty for a strange frog creature like me, so they started calling me Russandol. Red hair is always there, no matter what the face beneath it looks like."
Carnistir giggled. "You're making this all up!"
"You want proof?" asked Maitimo, sounding scandalized. "You don't believe me?"
"No!"
"Then I'll have to show you," said Maitimo, gathering his brother in his arms and standing up, Carnistir grabbing Maitimo's book as he was lifted into the air. "I had one portrait hidden under my bed...I wouldn't let mother do any others. Just you wait, Carnistir, once you see that picture, you'll never think anyone is ugly ever again!"
He hadn't heard Carnistir laugh so hard in a long time, and it felt good knowing he was the one who'd caused it.