My first Silmarillion fic in which the characters are actually named! This just one of the many ways I can imagine Maitimo and Findekano meeting, and seeing as I have horses of my own I like this one the most. For the same reason I might've overdone the horse a little bit. Don't be afraid to tell me that or anything else, I welcome criticism as long as it is constructive. Please review; It helps me to improve!

The Meeting of Maitimo and Findekano

Findekano watched as a tall, lanky boy about twelve or thirteen years older than himself gently squeezed a newly-broken colt into a light trot around the arena. The young horse was beautiful, his iron-grey mane cascading gracefully over his arched neck as he picked his hooves up as high as he could. He was proud and strong willed; as was his master, who rode with a kind of air that betrayed his noble lineage as well as did his fine clothing. And his hair; he'd never seen anyone with such spectacularly coloured hair before. It was a fiery red, as though someone had dipped it in molten copper. It tumbled down his back in a single long braid, with a few strands escaping to fly behind him as he moved around. He had heard that his aunt Nerdanel had hair of that shade, but such was the tension between the houses of Feanaro and Nolofinwe that he had never even met his aunt or his cousins. He had seen Feanaro, but his atar always said he was too young to be involved with grandfather's councils and so he did not see him very often. With a twitch of his hands, which were entwined in the horse's mane, the boy brought the colt back to a standstill and leapt off his back.

"You like him?" Findekano nodded vigerously. "He is a gift from my atar." Findekano felt like asking who his atar was, but in the presence of the older child the capacity to form coherent words seemed to have fled him. Normally this wasn't a problem, as he was very bold, but there was just something about the boy's piercing eyes that made him forget how to speak. The fire-haired one didn't seem to mind. Instead, he gestured for Findekano to come. "You want to try him?" With another swift nod Findekano swung himself over the fence and into the sand-filled arena. "Here. You know how to ride, I assume?" Yet again, a nod was the only answer the boy received. "Good. I wouldn't want to be told off by your parents for allowing you to fall." This statement seemed to light a fire within Findekano. How dare this boy accuse him of not being able to ride? With a quick step he sprang up and vaulted onto the horse's back and wound his fingers into the mane. It flowed like silk between his fingers. Only his atar's horse was as good as this one. He pressed his legs against the horse's flanks and willed it to trot. It was only too happy to obey, and soon they were cantering around like they were built for each other. 'This must be what it is like to fly,' thought Findekano, as the wind lifted his dark braids and made them stream out behind him like a banner.

"His name is Telpenar. His gait is like floating, isn't it? Atar only purchases the best. He is my first horse. Though I love my pony, I am too large to fit on him comfortably anymore. Atar promised me a horse. But this," he flung his arm in the direction of Findekano and the colt, "I did not expect. Do you have a horse of your own?" Miraculously, his voice had found its way back to him.

"No. No, I don't. But if I did, then I'd dream of having one like this. I have a pony," He added hastily, not wanting to look like a total idiot in front of this perfect boy. "Sartandil is his name. I'm not too big for him yet, and atar won't let me have a horse. I'm allowed to exercise my atar's horses whenever I wish, though." The older boy nodded.

"You ride him well."

"You ride him better."

"He's my horse." Findekano opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again as soon as he realised that he didn't want to argue with this boy. He wanted to be friends. He didn't have many friends. Not real ones, anyway. All of them were boys born into noble families who he took lessons with, but most of them were forced into being his friends by their parents. This boy didn't seem too eager to be his friend, but he was nice and even let him ride his horse.

"Hey! Are you okay?" Findekano snapped out of his thoughts and concentrated on getting the horse to work in a neat, rounded outline.

"I'm okay; I was just enjoying riding him. May I ride him again, sometime? Please?" A huge grin spread across the face of the other child.

"Of course you can, any time you want. Just be careful with him, Okay?"

"Sure. I promise." Then Findekano mustered some of his courage. "Do you want to be friends?" At the same time the other boy had asked the same question.

"Alright!" They replied, still in unison, and then burst out laughing.

"Watch this!" The red head shouted, running around the arena beside the horse. Suddenly he took a great leap, and Findekano found that he had vaulted onto the horse behind him.

"Wow! That's a really good trick! Will you teach me?" Before the other could answer a deep voice bellowed out his name.

"Findekano!"

He'd know that voice anywhere, and yet it was so foreign; filled with fury and something he'd never thought to hear directed at him: hurt. Tugging lightly on the horse's main they skidded to a halt and slid off the animal's back. At that very moment another voice rang out above the hustle of the crowd around the arena.

"Maitimo!"

The red head flinched beside him.

"Come here!" The two voices bellowed in unison, and their owners scowled at each other immediately. Findekano and Maitimo ran in opposite directions to their parents. Findekano leapt the fence, heart racing, blood pumping. Maitimo was Feanaro's eldest son. He had made friends with his cousin. He had met his cousin. That would not please his atto, or his uncle.

"What have I told you about talking to strangers? Never to do it!" Risking a glance behind his back, Findekano saw that Maitimo was receiving the same scolding. "And yet you went one step further: You rode that stranger's horse! Who knows what could've happened to you?" He decided not to mention that Maitimo was his cousin, and therefore not entirely a stranger. "Well, never mind now. What's done is done." He looked back up and found his atar gazing down at him, his eyes seething with different emotions. His amille was gazing at him sadly.

"Did you have a nice time, yonya? He looks a fine creature. I hope you enjoyed riding him, and said thank you afterwards?" No, he hadn't thanked his cousin. He had been too surprised at the anger evident in his atar's voice.

"Yes amme." Was all he said in return. His atar sighed, and returned with a quiet groan to his full height.
"Great." He mumbled. Findekano turned to look in the same direction as him. Feanaro was bringing Maitimo over; along with a copper-haired woman who he knew immediately was Nerdanel. He quailed under the piercing gaze of his uncle. His eyes were steel grey, yet light seemed to dance across them, and though their colour seemed cold and icy the flame within burned still, the light serving only to reflect the flames of fury he so obviously felt. He walked with a stride that suggested he was superior to Findekano's atar; though Nolofinwe himself was of equal height and broader across the shoulders, and doubtless stronger too.

"It seems that your son is every bit as irritating as his sire, Nolofinwe. Do rein him in. He would do better to learn not to ride the steeds of others without permission. Surely every child knows that? Then again, where you are concerned, perhaps not." Maitimo flashed Findekano a tiny grin as the latter felt strong arms hold him close to his atar. "I do not care how you bring the boy up, but in the future keep your brat away from my son!" With that, Feanaro spun on his heel and returned to the arena, Maitimo in toe. Findekano heard a low growl and realised that his atar had made the animalistic noise under his breath. His amille's hand was the only thing preventing his atar from having a full-on confrontation with his uncle.

"No one insults my son, Anaire. No one calls my boy a brat."
"Leave him. He's not worth it, not here. Let's just go home, hmm?" With that his amille steered his atar towards home. Maitimo was watching from Telpenar's back. His parents were stood beside the horse. It looked as though they were arguing under their breaths. His parents never argued; at least never in front of him. Maitimo looked both bored and angry. Every muscle in his flawless face was tensed, clenched up as though executing an unconscious reaction to pain. Findekano noticed the change in his eyes. Tears threatened to spill and cover Telpenar's coat in miniscule rivers of salty water. Surely his atar had not told him off that bad? Without thinking too much about the consequences of his actions, Findekano decided that whatever dispute had their atars' at each other's throats would not prevent him from making a new friend. Raising his arm, he waved to his cousin. And was rewarded with a huge toothy grin. Maitimo waved back.

"Bye," He mouthed. Findekano smiled weakly.

"Bye."

With that he turned on his heel and sprinted after his parents, racing through the mingling of the lights, weaving through the crowded market streets of fair Tirion.

Well, what do you think? It took me ages to write this and I'm still not satisfied. To me it seems extraordinarily serious for a story about the meeting of two children, but maybe that's just me. I also think that it drags on and on, which makes it boring towards the end. Oh, and feel free to correct any of my poor Quenya!

Atar-father

Atto-Dad, daddy

Amille-Mother

Yonya-Son

Telpenar-Silver Flame

Sartandil-Loyal Friend