CHAPTER 5: OF KINGS AND HEIRS

Maitimo healed with amazing speed, gaining strength with each day. Even as his brothers told him it would be best to sleep he remained as active as he could be, trying to gather news of what had passed in absence. Eating was a chore after so many months of starvation; his stomach could hold very little, but after the first few meals he finally kept down the food and things began to go smoothly. His right arm soon became strong enough to move, though he could only do so with considerable pain. He wore it close to his body in a sling, making no notice of it. Late one night, Findekáno had come to visit him and found him awake, pen and slate in his remaining hand, struggling pitifully to write his name amidst the other failed scrawls filling the page. It would have been a sad sight, were it not for Maitimo's unmasked determination; he had not slept until he had written the word to his satisfaction.

A week passed, and finally the medics deemed him well enough to rise for a few hours, provided that he promise not to exert himself and that he use a crutch to take weight off of his healing leg. Findekáno helped him to bind the waist-ties on his pants, and lent a shoulder while he dressed, but otherwise Maitimo insisted upon taking pains for independence, as was his way. Findekáno smiled as he watched Maitimo step out into the sunlight, seeing for the first time since his capture the glorious beauty of Hithlum at noontide, when summer's radiance coloured the mists with warm hues. Maitimo's eyes imparted such complete and simple happiness in that moment that Findekáno forgot that the beauty of Arda was ever marred, and recalled a certain giddiness he'd felt as a young child, before the trials of adulthood had beset him...before he knew of betrayal.

Seeing that Maitimo was up and about, Makalaurë rushed over and gently embraced his brother, raising himself onto his toes like a dancer to kiss his brow. "You look well!" he exclaimed smilingly, avoiding the marred limb.

Maitimo curved one side of his mouth in a most handsome smile, yet Findekáno saw the sadness in it. It spoke irony. "Better, little brother," he corrected. "I look better."

"Better than most," Makalaurë replied adoringly, but Maitimo's eyes no longer shone down on his younger brother. They had drifted away, and now fell upon Nolofinwë, who stood but a few steps away.

With a glance to Findekáno and his brother, Maitimo limped slowly over to where his uncle stood and straightened his posture, heedless of Nolofinwë's pitiless gaze. "Might I beg a word with you, Lord?"

Nolofinwë nodded emotionlessly and bid Maitimo follow him to his tent. He walked slowly for his nephew's sake, but offered no arm to lean on. He pulled back the tent flap and let Maitimo enter. They seated themselves at a small table, and Maitimo gathered careful words.

"Did Makalaurë take the kingship in my absence?" he asked.

"He did," Nolofinwë answered, pouring a little wine into a cup and passing it to Maitimo. "And now that you are fit to rule again, it shall pass to you once more."

"For a time," Maitimo replied, stroking the rim of the cup with one long finger. "But now that your host has arrived here - through unpardonable grief - it seems good to me that I should give the rule of the Noldor to you and your house."

Nolofinwë showed neither a sign of surprise nor of gratitude, but rather only nodded again. "Your father would have never condoned such a thing."

"I have always done things he did not condone," Maitimo scoffed. "Curufinwë was always the favoured son, not I."

"You no longer care to please him?" asked Nolofinwë, raising an eyebrow as he scrutinized his nephew.

"He is dead. Why is it your concern?"

Nolofinwë sighed heavily, obviously weary though the day was young. "Makalaurë told me that you opposed the burning of the ships at Losgar. He said you expected that Fëanáro would ferry my host to the coast, and when he refused to send rowers back, you stood aside. Unless I misread your intent, Nelyafinwë, that was a noble deed and I owe you a measure of gratitude."

Maitimo laughed a little, looking pensively into the dark wine in his cup. "You have misread, Lord. I have no friend amongst your host but Findekáno your son. It was a selfish whim."

"Does Findekáno know that you asked that he be ferried to the shore?"

"He needs not know."

"Hm," said Nolofinwë into his drink. "It would comfort him. He is in love with you. I suppose he has said so."

Maitimo blanched visibly and he became wary. "He has. And what is your say on the matter?"

"Oh," Nolofinwë said nonchalantly, "I will not hinder you. He has heard my terms and accepted them."

"What were they?"

"They are not much. I ask only that no one should know of it, for it will be used against you. I am not without sympathy, Nelyafinwë. For years I have been parted from my beloved Anairë and stranded amongst soldiers, and I am no stranger to a man's touch and neither am I a stranger to the want of it." Observing Maitimo's barely concealed astonishment, he said, "I know not if Valar name such love to be a wrongful lust, but keep in mind that I never laid with a cousin of my own. You and Findekáno are sinfully close in kinship."

As Maitimo gathered words for a rebuttal, he noticed the wonderment on his uncle's face. "And yet," Nolofinwë continued. "The Valar have blessed you both. I believe they must prefer the Noldor to bed their kin rather than slaughter them, but….Findekáno told me what Manwë's messenger spoke to him, and I cannot deny that relations have improved between our houses for his care of you. I fear that I hinder the Valar's purpose, but…" Nolofinwë faltered uncharacteristically. When he spoke again there was a tremor of emotion in his strong voice. "When I arrived here and spoke to your brother, I shed not a tear for your plight or Fëanáro's death, but when my son left with no word to me of his intentions…by Ilúvatar, I thought he was lost to me! And now, I find that I worry for you both."

A long silence followed Nolofinwë's admission, until at last Maitimo asked, "Do you accept my offer, then?"

"I do," said Nolofinwë. "But I must impress that you are a fine and capable king to the Noldor. Now, truly my host is now as willing to follow you as Fëanáro's people are. Why do you pass that inheritance onto me so readily?"

"It is rightfully yours," said Maitimo, making quick answer to the inquiry.

"There is something else troubling you," said Nolofinwë, leaning forward across the table. His voice became gentle. "You need not worry to tell me, but I will listen, if you wish, and not speak a word to any other."

Maitimo ran his hand through his bright hair, pulling slightly to fend off a threatening headache. He knew that Nolofinwë saw his anxiety, but he conceded nonetheless. "In Angband, I came to endure whips and lashes of all makes with barely a cry or bated breath. I was kept in darkness, starved, beaten, bound, raped by every foul creature and every iron machine that Moringotto ever made. I was deprived for weeks of sleep and given drugs to hinder my thoughts…but I grew accustomed to it all and I learned to bear it. There were tortures I never learned to bear, also; I could not abide to watch another's pain. Moringotto forced me to bear witness to children tormented. Children, Nolofinwë! They would be left with me to die in my arms, and I would lie to them and say I was the mother they sobbed for; and they would believe me as they bled to death." Maitimo paused, watching Nolofinwë carefully. His uncle held his hard gaze staunchly, though his lips were lessened to a grim line. "Moringotto is merciless in his tortures," he continued. "He will spare nothing. Thus, it is not his way to leave any part of a form unmarred. I think it was his will that I should never beget an heir, but whether he willed it or no it was accomplished. Even if a woman would dare to look upon this twisted body I am left with, she would suffer no burden from me; I fear I am scarred beyond repair and maimed to impotence. Further, I quail from every touch beyond a kiss. I am marked as brave by these hosts who follow us, and yet I could not cease my trembling when your own son tried to lay his gentle hands against my skin! Everything is too near to the pain, and I do not know if this fear shall ever leave me."

Nolofinwë sat long in thought. "You have suffered more than I had dared to think, but you do not seem to ask pity of anyone, and so I do not give it. I think that you suffer still, though, and I see now why you wish not to take the kingship upon you. Yes, a King needs an heir that you could not produce, but I see that there is something beyond that. You could take the rule of the Noldor and declare that it would pass in time to Makalaurë and his heirs, or else to Tyelkormo. Now, I must be truthful with you, for I saw this in your eyes from the first sight I had of you: though your body heals, your spirit is faltering under the weight of your memories. You fear you will die."

Maitimo made no answer. Slowly, he stood and limped toward the doorway, and Nolofinwë followed close behind, ready to offer any assistance he could. "No," Maitimo said at last. "I do not think that I will die. On Thangorodrim, I begged your son to kill me, and yet he would not. I see now how selfish I was to beg him to despair with me after he had risked his very life only to find me, after I had betrayed him and all his kin to cross the Helcaraxë. I do not take his love so lightly that I would leave him now."

Nolofinwë smiled warmly and clasped Maitimo's shoulder. "I am coming to enjoy your company as I once did, before your family was sent into exile. You have grown; you are much like your mother. Let it be her example you take, Nelyafinwë, not Fëanáro's. She is a fair Lady."

"And my father was a noble Lord." Maitimo paused, conceding at last. "I will take his will with me, but I shall leave his feyness to burn with him." Maitimo bowed as well as he was able and left the tent. As he neared the medic's tent where he had been housed, Findekáno espied him and, approaching swiftly offered his arm. Though his pride spoke against it, Maitimo took the proffered support thankfully, for he was weary. He cast mournful eyes on the medic's tent, and Findekáno watched him bemusedly. "Come, cousin. We may find respite in my tent."

Maitimo nodded and suffered in silence through the remaining journey. Findekáno was gladdened, for the care of his friend was in his hands at last. He saw how the clinical surveillance of the army's healers disquieted Maitimo. There touches never seemed gentle enough to him. He ushered Maitimo into his small tent. Upon entering, Maitimo found himself greatly comforted. Findekáno's living quarters were messy and his things were arranged in no particular order and an impressive pile of blankets graced the bed.

Noticing his friend's bemused expression, Findekáno explained as he pinned his own cloak over the entryway to keep out the draft. "Many of my host grew hot-blooded on the march. They are so used to the cold that night's here at Hithlum irk them, even when there is a chill wind off Mithrim to cool them. I find myself generously gifted with tattered old cloaks and blankets of late. For my part, I find them welcoming." He helped Maitimo to seat himself on the edge of the cot, then kicked off his own boots and stretched languidly and bent down to help Maitimo remove his. "Lie back and rest. I'll brew some tea for us."

"Thank you, cousin," said Maitimo, and carefully laid back, finding that the warm pile of blankets and cloaks was indeed welcoming. "It was a great relief to be out of bed," he smiled, "but more taxing than I like to admit," he added with a grimace. "This is a pleasant contrast to the medic's tent. It was too sterile there – cold and empty it seemed."

"Here, it is never cold and forever cluttered," Findekáno laughed as he took a kettle from its place upon a basin of iron coals. "If you wish to sleep here for a time, I will go or stay as you like."

"That is overly generous of you," Maitimo reprimanded. "I wish only for your company. I hope that if I should impose, you would request that I leave. Rather, let us not think on it for now. There are other matters on my mind."

Findekáno sat down beside his cousin on the cot and handed him a steaming cup of tea. "Speak, then, and I shall keep you company."

Maitimo accepted the drink gratefully. "Firstly, I think I must tell you that I have renounced the office of the High King."

"In Makalaurë's favour?" exclaimed Findekáno.

"In your father's favour."

Findekáno's mouth had fallen slightly agape. "My - my father? Maitimo, you were a fine and capable King to these people."

"Perhaps I would have been, but I will also be the end of my line. In Valinor we may have all been thought deathless, but here death awaits us on battlefields and in dungeons, and a King must have an heir. You have seen the worst of my wounds, Findekáno. You can see easily enough that I will never beget a son."

"I had not wished to think on it," Findekáno replied. "I will conceal nothing: the open wound turned my stomach."

Maitimo laughed ruefully. "The searing and stitches turned mine." He stifled a smile as Findekáno blanched at the very mention of such a thing. He settled back into the blankets and wrapped his long, thin fingers around the warm earthenware cup. A pleasant weight settled on his eyelids as he rested there. Soft daylight filtered through the top of the tent, where the cool shadows of leaves quivered in an unfelt wind. Faint and distant, there was music of birdsong in the trees. Maitimo sighed gently and turned his serene gaze toward his friend, who smiled in return. "Why did you kiss me?" he asked suddenly.

The smile faded from Findekáno's face. "That was weeks ago, and your fever was still so high. I did not expect that you would ever remember it."

"That is a terrible reason to kiss someone."

Findekáno grinned at Maitimo's teasing, and then said, "I have always felt that when I bore you down from Thangorodrim, we became intimate. We became closer in love than friends may be, or even husband and wife. We forged a bond then that surpassed the Noldor's laws, our father's feuds, the Oath, the Curse…everything. It will endure until the utmost End of All Things. Even such a kiss as we shared was too distant and cold to impart it."

"I understand," said Maitimo, and Findekáno kissed his brow, and then reached out and clasped his hand, and held it tenderly until he was asleep.