Chapter 1: The Board is Set

Eagerly the ripples ran out from the center of the room, each wave of noise lapping up against the ears of the onlookers. Tensely they shifted, a sea of rich tones and glimmering jewels.

"My lords, what a welcome you give me." A voice, rich and sonorous rippled through the chamber, reverberating on the marble columns so that the speaker might have spoken a hundred words rather than only a handful. Greyed lips quirked upwards to frame a haughty smirk. "I am honored."

"It is we who are honored, honored to host such an important and powerful guest." The King's robes rustled as he descended the steps, the silver embroidered hem dragging heavily behind him like a train. Red-Gold glinted upon wrists and brow as if fire had been captured in the swirling patterns of metal. Tall and stately stood Finwë and yet his head reached barely to the chin of the stranger, standing unbent and proud. "My lord Melkor we are in your service."

In after years Maitimo might have sworn he had seen the malignant gleam in that smile, but when it broke there for the first time in the court of the High King it was as if a precious gift had been imparted on them, each and every one. Warmth flowered in his chest. On the steps beside him the Ambarussa leaned forward in anticipation and Makalaure stood as if transfixed. Only Tyelkcormo who had hunted in the presence of Lord Orome and knew well the power of the Valar seemed mostly unaffected.

Eyes darted around the chamber. Two pits of coal they seemed, crackling with an inner power. Almost urgently the Valar raked the crowd as if searching for a missing piece.

"My lord, let me present to you my sons, princes of the Noldor." The intensity passed and the Valar directed his attention back to the king, the expression on his face bemused.

Three elves came forth from the crowd. Pride surged in the heart of Maitimo and was written clearly upon the faces of his brothers. For though their father was dressed in a simple fashion it was the light of the trees and the stars he wore upon his brow. The silmarilli gleamed and in that moment all eyes were drawn to the face Feanaro. Beside him his half-brothers could only be dwarfed in grandeur.

"Feanaro Curufinwe my heir. First in my heart as he is my first son, and after these are Nolofinwe and Arafinwe sons of my fair bride Indis."

The Valar's eyes gleamed, as if molten gold had been poured about the irises. "I deeply honored." His and Feanaro's eyes met and it seemed for a moment as if the air crackled with power. "One does not meet an artist of such renown every day."

The silmarilli upon Feanaro's brow shone harshly as he dipped into the slightest of slight bows.

.0.

Flute and harp's bubbled up in golden music, competing for attention amid the swirl and babble of the courtier's conversations.

"Remind me brother, why we do not attend these more often?" Tyelkormo grinned and took a sip of honeyed wine from his silver goblet.

Maitimo only shrugged, his eyes following the swirling footsteps of the dancers who spun across the marble floor. Of course they could not attend all the festivities hosted by Finwë. The craft of both their parents determined that such things came second in importance to the forges and workshops. Even if they were to determine such things of more importance, they would have been forbidden to attend any celebration presided over by Indis by the strict command of their father. In this instance only the importance of a visitation from a Valar had deigned to make Feanaro sit beside his mother in law.

Beside him Makalaure rolled his eyes.

On the dance floor their cousin Artanis danced exuberantly with her brother Findarato. Lovely as ever the gold of her gown melded with the gold of her hair. Nearby Curvo was dancing with a slender silver haired nis. And in the shadows Caranthir leaned against one of the pillars, arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together in annoyance.

Further down the table Irissë chatted loudly to Arakano and Findekano. Beside them Turukano fed Elenwë bites off his own plate, drawing wrinkled noses and gagging sounds from his siblings.

Maitimo caught his cousin's gaze. Findekano grinned, the gold in his braids flashing brightly. He winked and his cousins face went scarlet as he overturned the goblet with a careless motion. Maitimo looked away quickly but Irissë's shrieks could still be heard as she flung herself away from the spreading pool in a desperate attempt to save the white of her garments. He stifled a chuckle.

Makalaure was staring at him accusatorily.

"What?"

His brother shook his head. "Nothing." His fingers rolled against the table, tapping out the music.

"Did you compose this one Malalaure?" Maitimo innocently. Tyelko had now risen to help Irissë and Findekano mop up the mess with his handkerchief.

"Nay. It is Ilindë's, though I helped her with some of the harmonies." He nodded at the small roped off section where the musicians sat and to the nis who plucked at the strings of a silver harp.

"I am sorry father would not let you perform tonight."

Makalaure brushed a strand of hair away from his face. "It is all right. After all it would not be seemly for the son of a prince to be seen acting as a common entertainer, at least not in front of our lordly guest."

They both glanced sidelong at the Vala, to where he sat beside the king. Resplendent he seemed, clothed in black cloth that seemed to gleam as though it were woven oil. The trimmings gleamed white-gold. The Lord Melkor neither ate nor drank, but his head was inclined towards Finwë and Fëanaro as they spoke. The king's face remained impassive, but Feanaro's lips curved downward and when he gestured his movements were sharp and hurried. Beside them Uncle Nolofinwë listened but if he had any opinions he gave no motions of sharing them.

Even as they looked the Vala rose to his feet, casting the table in long shadows. The dancers continued to move, the music carried on, but at their table all voices ceased.

"King Finwë you must forgive me forgetting until now, but I came here bearing gifts for you."

The air shimmered around the Vala's hands, solidify into gleaming gold. A necklace he held, adorned with many intricate and twisting patterns. The front of the collar was adorned by a great eye, the iris of which had been set with rubies that seemed to burn in their settings.

Graciously the King allowed the gift to be laid about his neck.

"And for your sons. The Vala produced three rings, each set with a stone in a different color. Two were of silver, shaped delicately like and identical in every way except for the stones of sapphire and topaz which graced them. These went to Nolofinwe and Arafinwe who exclaimed their gratitude and slipped them onto tapered fingers. The third was gold, sturdier and more intricate than the others. Its stone was an onyx that seemed to devour all light about it, two chips of ruby flanked it on either side. This went to their father, who examined it carefully, assessing the craftsmanship with a practiced eye.

The King rose as well, and inclined his head. "I am deeply honored that one such as yourself would bestow such blessings upon us. It shames me to say we have nothing equal to these to give in return."

Lord Melkor spread his hands. "I am sure in time you shall find some way of repaying me." Dark eyes flitted to Feanaro, who the gaze defiantly. The silmarilli upon his brow blazed. "Yet for now let us be merry and toast to our friendship."

As one they raised their glasses.

When they had drank Maitimo turned back to Makalaure. Tyelkcormo slipped back into his seat a dripped red scrap of cloth in his hands.

"I did not know the dark one was a smith."

"Nor I." Makalaure glanced at their grandfather and the collar with its great flickering eye. "Perhaps he had a smith forge these gifts for him."

"Perhaps." He mused. At the King's side Feanaro had yet to put on his ring, slipping it instead into a pouch at his waist.

"Maitimo! Makalaure! Tyelcormo!" A shadow had fallen across the table in front of them. Nerdanel looked down at him, arms crossed. Behind her the twins trailed in their matching green tunics.

"Mother." They inclined their heads to her.

"Why are you all sitting here? Maitimo? I have yet to see you dance with anyone this evening." She shook her head exasperatedly, hair falling about her shoulders in a spray of copper. "Perhaps you should ask your cousin, she has been sitting all night as well." She tipped her head in the direction of the Nolofinweions. Maitimo inhaled sharply, then realized she was pointing to Irissë who had recovered quite well from the wine incident.

He ignored Tyelko's stony face and rose to his feet. "Very well."

Both Irissë and Findekano looked up as he drew near to them, cutting off whatever conversation they had been engaged in. Two sets of silver grey eyes looked up curiously. Maitimo met Findekano's gaze, extending his hand.

"Irissë, I wondered if you might take this dance with me."

She glanced between them then rose with a swish of fabric. The diamond net in her dark curls flashed. "Of course cousin." Gently she laid her hand in his and he bent to kiss it—a long way down since the top of her head came only to his chin. Findekano was smirking and Maitimo fought hard to keep his own composure as he swept Irissë towards the dance floor.

"You look stunning as ever." He noted as first notes of a new song began to drift through the air—light and airy.

She smiled, twin dimples appearing on either cheek. A family trait. "Thank you, I think white rather suits me don't you?"

In the growing darkness the cloth of her garments was radiant. "It does."

"I hope you are enjoying the feast." It was bland pleasantries, but expected all the same.

"Of course, though you know full well I'd rather be hunting." She traced her steps in a broad circle and Maitimo had to look down to avoid tripping over her train.

"Doesn't your mother or father mind you gallivanting through the countryside with my brothers?"

"Oh, Mother might mind but Father's never cared. And anyways why shouldn't I? I am as good a hunter as any ner." She looked up eyebrows arched like two challenges.

Maitimo merely shrugged. Tyelko had told him as much: that there were days when Irissë outshot even the twins. The dance was a complicated one with many steps. They both lapsed into silence, intent on performing the correct moves.

The song ended with a series of complicated chords—surely Makalaure's idea—and Maitimo bent once more to kiss his cousins hand.

A shadow appeared at Maitimo's shoulder.

"I wondered if I might have the next dance brother."

"Ai Tyelko!" Irissë grinned broadly.

"Of course." He deposited her hand into his brothers almost as if performing a marriage. A new song started and Maitimo was forced to sidestep to avoid being trampled by the dancers. He watched Irissë and Tyelko spin for a moment then turned away, back toward the head table.

A familiar face waylaid him before he could make it a handful of steps, a hand catching his wrist in a vicelike grip. Grey-blue eyes—so like his sister's—twinkled with mischief.

"Finno what are you doing?!"

Findekano's tugged him forward into the shadow of the spiraling pillar, where the candlelight faded and they were all but invisible.

"Nelyo, finally." Findekano's braids gleamed dimly in the half-light, the ribbons of gold twining like ivy through his dark hair. Upon the chest of his robes the sigil of his father was stitched brazenly in pearls and flecks of sapphire. "It was killing me to see you dancing with Irissë."

With a toss of his head Maitimo's hair fell like a river of fire. "She is your sister, you know I do not think of her in that way."

"I should hope not." Findekano grinned in a flash of white even the darkness could not disguise. "What a scandal it would be: courting a nis and all the while sneaking up to her brother's room to—"

With a violent lunge Maitimo pressed his hand to his cousin's lips. "Finno! Hush!" The music was loud, but not so loud that one intending to hear would not find what they were looking for. Releasing him, Maitimo pressed his back to the cold of the pillar, arms folded against his chest. "You know full well that if my father were to hear you like that you would be banished from our house. Already he thinks you are a spy to his brother."

"Then he is mad."

Maitimo's eyebrows drew together into a sharp v, and his voice was cold. "You should not say that."

"Please even you can see that he paranoid, every word of my father and Arafinwe's he takes as conspiracy against him." Findekano spread his hands, as in an attempt to reason, but his words fell upon deaf ears.

"If you seek to slight Feanaro then speak to your own father of it and not to me." Maitimo's eyes were like two chips of ice, voice deadly quiet. "He is my father and my loyalty must always lie first with him."

Finno frowned, grey eyes fixed on something not quite substantial. "I do not wish to fight with you Nelyo."

"Then do not try to make me question my loyalties." Maitimo's expression softened, "Come let us speak of other things."

They made conversation out of nothing: the coming as goings, who was courting who, and watched the couples spinning on the dance floor. Tyelko had taken over as Irrissë's partner and Curvo was dancing with the silver haired nis he had invited to the event. As usual Moryo was nowhere to be seen and the twins were still fidgeting under the watchful eye of their mother.

Feanaro sat between Nolofinwe and his father at the high table. On the other side of the king their Valar guest lounged. All four inclined their heads as if in urgent conversation.

"Why do you think the Dark One has come to visit grandfather?"

Findekano shrugged. "I do not know, but my father says we should call him Lord Melkor and treat him with the highest respect."

"If we do not I'm sure he is perfectly capable of blasting us all to nothing." Maitimo flicked his head in the direction of the Valar who glanced over almost as if he perceived their conversation. He continued on in a distinctly lower voice. "Father says we should not trust him, he says this Lord Melkor is a master of tricks and that we cannot forget that in our dealings."

Findekano sighed but said nothing.

"Speaking of my father he will be expecting me back," Maitimo drew himself up, brushing the wrinkles from the front of his robes. The silver star emblazoned upon his chest flashed. "I should go."

Findekano laughed also, the gold in his hair glimmering. "You the worst tease I know Russandol!"

"How so?" There was mock outrage in his voice.

"You spend the evening dancing about so composed, flashing me that little smile from across the room. Then you leave me with nothing, not even a kiss."

"Well if it is a kiss you so desire sweet cousin…" He had to bend low to reach Findekano's lips, drawing him up onto his tip toes. Finno's hands tangled in Maitimo's copper curls.

"Nelyo?!"

They broke apart and Maitimo let out something akin to a yelp. Makalaure was standing with his arms crossed, a rather bemused expression on his face.

Findekano just smiled cheerily. "How are you faring Makalaure?"

"Fair enough. Though not as well as the two of you it would seem." He turned to his brother, "I just came to tell you it's time to go. Father and Uncle Nolofinwe had a spat and mother thinks now would be a good time to say our farewells." Sure enough, Feanor was no longer sitting at the top table. It was rather hard to miss the wine stain on the front of their Unlce's light blue robes.

"I should go find Irissë and Arakano, I'm sure my mother will want us to leave as well." He headed back towards the feast, calling out over his shoulder. "See you later cousin." With a wave he disappeared back into the crowd.

"Father's sure to be in a rage to—"Makalaure glanced at his brother. "—what? Don't look at me like that!"

"We were having a private moment."

"In the middle of a feast?" Makalaure snorted, "Here I thought Tyelko was the oblivious one."

Maitimo frowned, a wave of nausea coursing through his body. They had been so careless, anyone could have seen. "Please don't tell anyone."

"Don't worry, I've kept your secret so far." He grinned, "Besides I still owe you for that one time when Ilindë and I—well we shan't get into the technicalities."

Maitimo grinned, remembering the occasion all too well. Together they started back out toward the opposite end of the room where Nerdanel was waiting with the twins. As they went they managed to drag Tyelko—with more than a few protests and curses—away from the Irissë with whom he had still been dancing. Curvo followed behind, a little shadow of their father.

From the now nearly empty head table Lord Melkor watched them go with his inscrutable golden gaze. Maitimo turned away, prickles running down his spine.

"Why were Father and Uncle Nolofinwe fighting?"

"Who knows?" Makalaure shook his head gracefully. "But I'm sure Grandfather will make them talk and the rift will be mended. These things always blow over with time."

As they left the room Maitimo though he caught a final glimpse of Findekano's gold braided hair.

Yes, these things always blow over.

Notes: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of The Pieces, They Fall and that there were not too many errors. I always feel very unqualified to write about the Silmarillion.
Also you may have noticed I gave Maglor a wife, since canonically he was supposed to have one but she was never named. Ilinde is an OC of my own invention, and will remain very much a background character in this work.
In any case, until next time everyone! For now I will be updating as I finish chapters (since I am on a summer schedule).