CHAPTER 6: THE CONSPIRATORS AND THE THRONE

Four days had passed since Maitimo had spoken with his uncle. He had spent the time dutifully resting and was compliant with the physicians. As the sun rose on the fifth day, Maitimo woke, feeling that his state was greatly improved. He was no longer tired, but he was fiercely hungry and was glad when Loméndur, a familiar physician, entered a few minutes later with breakfast for them both. Maitimo had already risen and was struggling to dress, but Loméndur set down the tray and assisted his frustrated patient with the laces.

"I must have new clothes made, without such laces and ties," Maitimo sighed in resignation. "I will not have anyone wasting their time dressing me each day."

"I have already commissioned the tailoring of new clothes for you, my lord," said Loméndur. "They shall be ready today. I hope you do not mind that I took the liberty."

"Thank you," Maitimo smiled. "You are forever thoughtful."

"You were also in need garments that fit you. You are much thinner than you were," he added, tying the laces of Maitimo's second boot. He tugged the fabric of Maitimo's breeches to prove his point and the waistband slid dangerously on Maitimo's thin hips.

"I see," Maitimo chuckled nervously, returning his pants to their proper place.

"I will bring your clothes after I have examined you."

"And then?" Maitimo chimed, grinning.

Loméndur laughed at Maitimo giddiness. "And then you are free of my care until the next time you find yourself in a regrettable situation."

When Loméndur had finished, he gestured toward the small worktable where he had set the tray of food. "If it pleases you, Lord, we shall begin to amend the immediate problem of your diminished weight."

Loméndur had brought simple fare: there was smoked fish from the lake, a quarter-loaf of warm bread, a few damsons, and a pitcher of well-watered wine for them to share. Loméndur and Maitimo knew each other well by this time and shared pleasant conversation that hour. Loméndur commented often on how well his patient looked, seeming quite pleased with his work. Yet, as their meal drew to a close, Maitimo became more and more distrait. He soon fell silent and grew thoughtful and troubled.

"My lord?" Loméndur inquired.

Maitimo sighed, carefully forming his words. "I will call my brothers together today and speak with them. They should know that I have given the High Kingship to Nolofinwë's house."

Six sons of Feanáro were seated around a long council-table that morning, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their eldest brother, their nerves alone making the warm air buzz. Several weeks had passed since any of them had travelled to the other side Lake Mithrim to visit Maitimo, and he had been in a sorry state then: skeletal and pale, aching from barely healed wounds and unable to walk. It had been too early then to tell how much he had been changed by his horrific ordeal. Any oddness in his behaviour could be dismissed as an effect of the fever, then, and a fever could change a man like any madness. None of them could say yet if their new High King would be able to bear the cold touch of iron...if he would quiver at the sight of fire or tremble in the dark like a like a lonesome child. The Noldor would not tolerate a craven King. Was his body maimed beyond aid? Could a man be King if he could not write or wield a blade? The most unsettling possibility remained unspoken amongst the brothers: Moringotto had made thralls of even the hardiest of the Eldar, and Maitimo had suffered long under the Dark Vala's power. What if the Noldor were to be ruled by the veiled will of Moringotto?

"Do not worry for him, my brothers," said Makalaurë, who had seen Maitimo last. "Our Nelyo is the strongest of us all."

"You saw him not so long ago," said Carnistir. "You said then that he was changed, and would speak no more. Those are not encouraging words."

"I said Maitimo was changed, not damaged."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Ambarto, looking first to his twin and then to the others, said, "I agree that he is far hardier than we thought. We took him for dead when we heard he had been captured. Any of us would have died of his wounds alone. But there is fear and a great sadness about Russandol that I cannot put words to. It frightens me. I believe that he is no longer comparable to us. I fear to speak to him. I fear the worst."

Makalaurë stood to protest, but Tyelkormo only interjected calmly, "He is still our brother, no matter what has become of him. We must love him and care for him under any circumstances."

Ambarto stood suddenly and sending his chair clattering away from the table, his face painted with angry tears. "What right have you to say that?" he cried. "Findekáno was the only one who had the courage to go and save him, and we left him! It's our fault that he's like this – "

"Be still, Ambarto."

It was a vibrant and resonant tenor that spoke the command, quiet, yet without any hint of weakness and sharp as a clarion. Indeed, Ambarto did fall silent and stare in astonishment, as did the others. Maitimo stood still and allowed his siblings a few moments to appraise him. His long, red tresses were bound back by a single neat braid. His clothes were simple and fit him well, though this also exposed that he was not as healthily built as he once had been. His soft leather boots did not lace, but instead bore three metal clasps. All his clothing was fashioned as such, and could easily be manoeuvred with a single hand. Though the neck of his tunic was high, one could still catch a glimpse of an angry whip weal that crept past the hem.

"I will hear no more debate over this matter," said Maitimo firmly. "Yes, you left me to the tortures of Angamando, but I would not have tolerated anything else of you and you know it well. You did not bow to Moringotto's threats, and I am proud. Understand that what Findekáno did was rash. Had he been captured, he might well have betrayed every word that the Noldor guard." His face grew suddenly hard and he cast his gaze on each of his brothers in turn. "May the Valar help me; I would have yielded up all that I knew to lessen the pain they gave me if I could have ceased my screaming to speak.

"I owe Findekáno my gratitude, though, and so I dare not reprimand him. That work I have left to his father," he smiled, and his brothers, each quietly chuckling, relaxed slightly. Having spoken thus, Maitimo took his seat at the head of the table. "I feel that I must be forthcoming with what I must now impart to you. I have called you all together today to discuss a matter that concerns both our father and our people. It is my belief that our strife with the House of Nolofinwë will be ended only with the full concession of the House of Feanáro." He paused, gauging the reaction of his brothers. Tyelkormo, Carnistir, and Kurufinwë exchanged hurried glances, silently communicating. Saying nothing of this, Maitimo continued. "This began as a feud between brothers. It has become a feud between peoples. I will not suffer the Finwëans to be divided any longer. Moringotto will not hesitate to turn factions against factions and let us reap the corruption he instilled in us. He wants nothing more than to watch the Noldor fall to such jealousy and selfishness. We must put an end to his foul work."

"This is how you plan to defeat our Enemy?" Carnistir laughed after a long silence. "This is how you aspire to regain the Silmarils? By stripping the house of Feanáro of its power? Brother, you are not yourself. I should think Moringotto put these thoughts in your head that we might fall faster!"

"Those who speak thusly will prove to be his greatest tools, Carnistir." Maitimo was careful to keep his voice gentle, knowing how fragile his brother's temperament could be, at times.

"It is not practical," said Kurufinwë, masking his contempt better than his brother had. "We came to this land for our own battles. Why must we put our war in the hands of Nolofinwë's House? Our father did not wish them to fight this war. He would have had them stay in Valinor, where­­­­­­ they might have—"

"Feanáro had no such courtesy in mind," Maitimo stated. "He left his brother's host to suffer a shameful return to Tirion or to die in Araman. Our father was not evil, but he was not in his right mind when these things came to pass. Furthermore, the issue at hand is not what might have been, but what shall be. Nolofinwë and his House followed us here and crossed the Helcaraxë to do so. We may sometimes forget that Moringotto slaughtered Lord Nolofinwë's father just as he slaughtered ours. This is his war as much as it mine."

"Tell me, brother," said Carnistir, looking intently at the cup of wine in his hand, "is this what has kept you in such close conference with our cousin Findekáno this past week? Rumour has it he has not let you leave his sight."

"Findekáno endured much to save me," Maitimo countered. "He had nothing but my thanks for continuing to help me in my recovery."

Disinterested in his brother's argument, Carnistir took a sip of wine, and then articulated, "Did you plan this with him?"

"No, I did not. I informed him of my decision, just as I am informing you now."

"You had no right to—"

"As High King, I had every right. Justly or not, I was the High King of the Noldor, and I was entitled to name an heir and relinquish my post as I saw fit. Remember, brothers. I was twenty years old when Mother birthed the eldest of you. I had a part in raising each of you. I know more of your hearts than you may think, and, with scarce few exceptions, you could not have led this people to anything but ruin. It is a failing most common in our family. I would have done it. Father would have done it, and so I have turned to Lord Nolofinwë. There is less blood on his hands than stains ours."

"You know, big brother," Carnistir smiled sarcastically, "I'll never forget the time Father caught you kissing your dear cousin at Finwë's banquet. The mark of his hand stained you pretty face for a week. Are you certain that your…personal affections have not made this choice for you?"

"I will not lie to you," Maitimo said bluntly. "I hold an inappropriate affection for him, and he returns it wholly. I love him, I would give my life for him, and I have given him both my heart and body. These things are mine to give. But know now that, like you, I do not allow love to affect my judgement."

"That is blasphemy, Maitimo," Carnistir declared, turning his hard gaze upon him. "How can you do this? You bring shame upon your kin, upon you brothers!"

"My brothers helped to burn the ships at Losgar that could have saved Nolofinwë's people! They bring shame upon themselves." Maitimo returned Carnistir's look with an intensity the younger could not match. Carnistir narrowed his eyes angrily, but cast them down nonetheless. "Let us not be burdened with the crimes of others, nor blame them for our crimes. We are no longer children of Valinor. I do not think we shall ever see our home again. Let us each own the sins we have committed, and be at peace."

Carnistir was fuming. He looked as if he would surely strike his brother, but then Curufinwë reached up from his seat and took a gentle hold on his sibling's wrist. Surprised, Carnistir looked down questioningly.

"Let Maitimo go his own way," Curufinwë said. "These are hard times. If he has found a love that may ease his hardship, then he should not be denied."

Both Maitimo and Carnistir were silent, neither wholly trusting this uncharacteristic display. Finally, Maitimo nodded his thanks and took his seat again. As he passed his brother, Carnistir sneered caustically, "I am sorry to hear we have lost our voice of reason."

"Curufinwë was right," Makalaurë confirmed quietly. "No matter what we believe, Maitimo knows what he does. We should trust him to be the judge of his own actions, for he is the eldest and wisest of us. Let us be glad for his fortune. We certainly know how much Findekáno cares for him." Makalaurë turned and looked directly at Maitimo. "I speak for all my brothers when I say that whatever comfort and healing you may find in another, you deserve wholly. We are lucky that you are with us today, after so many trials. You have my blessings, Maitimo."

"And ours," said Ambarto, speaking for Ambarusso as well, who smiled encouragingly.

"You have my blessings, brother," Curufinwë added. "I do not understand your choice, and I am against your choice regarding the kingship, but I know your need, and I will not stand in your way."

"Nor will I," said Tyelkormo.

Carnistir studied the table intently. He could not bring himself to meet Maitimo's eyes. "You will keep this a secret?"

"Yes," Maitimo replied. "Our uncle forbade otherwise."

"Then he is wiser than I give him credit for," Carnistir sighed. His eyes were cold. "What you do, Maitimo, is a mistake. It will destroy you one day. I have no doubt of that. But I shall tolerate your choices. You are my brother, and I cannot deprive you of my love."

"You have my thanks, brothers," said Maitimo, and then, slowly, a smile crept across his face. "I have missed you all."

Makalaurë reached out to his brother and laid his hand on his shoulder. "We are glad to have you back, Nelyo."

Maitimo dined with his brothers that night, and their talk was light and merry. A smile looked out of place on Maitimo's indurated face, but he bore it nonetheless. His skin was browner and freckled after so long exposed to the harsh Sun, and his hair was still course and uneven. A few pink scars marred his face. His bones were visible though his garments. And of course, his truncated right arm still hung close to his body in a sling. Yet somehow, his happiness was so plentiful that night that he seemed uncommonly beautiful.

As the evening drew on, they moved from the table to sit on the ground around the fire, their cloaks spread beneath them. They had dismissed all the servants and pages, and the twins had insisted that they be allowed to fetch a barrel of the wine that Curufinwë had brewed in Valinor. Soon, the brothers were jovially reminiscing on past times, telling stories of an increasingly inappropriate nature as the hours passed. Their laughter flowed as freely as their drink, and all the brothers could see that it healed Maitimo better than any physician's care.

Laughing as the twins bickered over the details of an anecdote, Makalaurë lay back on the spread cloaks and rested his head on Maitimo's outstretched thighs. "We ought to call Findekáno here. It would make him glad to see you well enough to be drunk."

Maitimo laughed. There may have been a blush about the tips of his ears, but he held his drink far better than his younger brothers did. He held it well enough to retain his better judgement. "I do not think that would set well with—"

The twins abruptly ceased their good-natured argument as Ambarusso rose and interrupted his brother. "I'll fetch him," he called back as he stumbled out of the warm tent into the cold night air. With a few directions from guards, he found his cousin's tent and entered unannounced, chuckling absently as he tripped on one of Findekáno's garments which lay on the floor. Maitimo had thought it an awful idea to summon Findekáno at all. He had thought little more of sending his most intoxicated brother to wake him, but he had not considered the folly in sending one of the two who most resembled himself.

Ambarusso sat down on the edge of Findekáno's cot and shook him rudely. Upon waking and seeing the long tresses of red hair that fell against his face, he misunderstood the other Elf's intentions and, unfortunately, his identity. Responding to the eagerness he perceived, he took hold of Ambarusso and pulled him close, their lips meeting fiercely. Ambarusso opened his mouth compliantly and returned the intensity of the kiss. When Findekáno at last broke away for a breath, Ambarusso rose and wiped his mouth on his sleeve contentedly. "Maitimo wants to see you," he said, apparently unsurprised at Findekáno's sudden urge to make love to him.

A pitifully confused sound escaped Findekáno's lips. He sat up, unconsciously searching for his tunic. After a few more failed attempts to question his assailant, he sighed, "Which one are you? It's dark."

"I am Ambarusso. You thought I was Maitimo," he laughed.

"He told you?" Findekáno exclaimed.

"He told all of us. Come along," said Ambarusso as he exited the tent.

Findekáno followed his cousin to the tent where Maitimo and his brother's sat. Ambarto was spinning an incriminating tale about his twin. Findekáno caught Carnistir's gaze as the Elf glanced upward with barely masked disdain. Maitimo sat nearby with Makalaurë's head in his lap and an apologetic expression that Findekáno felt was much deserved. Curufinwë rose and poured a cup of wine for his young cousin. "Much happiness, to you both," he smiled, clasping his younger cousin's hand briefly before reclaiming his seat.

Smiling politely, Findekáno accepted the drink and went to sit beside Maitimo. He leaned close to his lover's ear and said quietly, "Not an hour ago, my father told me that no one was to know of us."

"It is in their interest to say nothing of it," Maitimo whispered back. "My brothers will keep our secret.

"You know my father will not approve," Findekáno intoned, and then started as Makalaurë reached up and patted his arm.

"Then we shall say nothing to your father. You are safe with us, cousin."

"Though I do not feel so safe with you!" Ambarusso laughed, making Findekáno blush.

"What did he do?" asked Maitimo.

"Forced himself on me!" Ambarusso explained, and then proceeded to relate the mishap to the others. As he did, Maitimo turned to Findekáno with a bemused expression.

"I wish now that I had fetched you myself. We would not have returned so soon."

"I did not think you were ready yet. I thought it might—"

"You thought I would be frightened?" Maitimo finished, and then brought his lips closer to the reddened tip of Findekáno's ear. "You don't frighten me."

Findekáno looked as shocked at Maitimo's tone as only the most innocent virgin might. Shifting uncomfortably, he downed to cup of wine Curufinwë had given him and sorely wished he had another. Maitimo nudged Makalaurë's shoulder. "Excuse us brothers. I must retire," he said, rising and stretching tiredly.

"Must you take our cousin too?" Ambarto asked. "He arrived only moments ago."

"I'm sure he's tired as well," said Ambarusso. "I did drag him from his bed. Come brother, we should take to our own beds. The hour is late."

"Indeed it is," said Makalaurë standing on less than steady feet. "And I have had enough wine, I think. Shall I put out the torches, or will the three of you stay a while longer?"

Curufinwë tipped the wine barrel slightly, testing its weight. "I believe we shall. There is a bit of wine left, and we are not so drunken as to let it go stale," he smiled, and watched the others leave. When they had all gone, he took their three cups and filled them, then handed one to each of his brothers. Carnistir made no move to accept it.

"Your wine tastes no better than piss, brother," he sneered. "What madness has taken you? Will you let him degrade our name?"

"Be silent, little brother," Tyelkormo reprimanded gently, accepting his cup from his brother. "I think our Curufinwë has a plan."

"I need no plan," Curufinwë corrected. "Maitimo has ensured that the Kingship will pass to us in due time."

Hearing this, Carnistir turned, scrutinising Curufinwë, and then took his cup in concession. He sat and listened.

"We three know that our eldest brother is a romantic. He is of fair form even now. Ladies of Valinor always threw themselves at his feet, and, as I recall, he returned home with plans to marry a new one each month. Considering how hard he was searching, it was only a matter of time before he found true love. If he had taken a wife, children would not have been long in coming. Only in the event of one's death would the kingship pass to any of us. Of course, they would sire children soon enough, and all hope would be lost. I doubt we could survive this war long enough to see his line fail. But we are safe from that future, brothers. As long as he loves Findekáno, his line is ended."

"His line no longer matters!" Carnistir said unthinkingly.

"No," Curufinwë smiled. "But the line of Nolofinwë's eldest son matters greatly."

"You plan is still flawed," Curufinwë scowled. "The crown will pass to Turukáno."

"Turukáno is young," Curufinwë chuckled. "Give me an hour with him, and I will overthrow him."

"What of Makalaurë?"

"Makalaurë did not want the Kingship when he had it," Curufinwë shrugged. "He is no obstacle." Hearing no protest from his brothers, he concluded, "Have patience, brothers. We have my cunning and Tyelkormo's leadership. Carnistir, all we need for the completion of our plan is your absent conscience."

Carnistir considered this a moment. "Our greed is wrong," he said at last, thinking on Maitimo's words.

"We do not do this for greed," said Curufinwë. "We do it because we have not forgotten our father."

Carnistir nodded. "Then you have my help."

Maitimo and Findekáno had walked quickly back to Findekáno's tent, not wishing to grow cold. They spoke not a word between them as they entered. Findekáno stoked the fire in the braziers, and then helped Maitimo remove his sling, doublet, and tunic. Seeing Maitimo's chest exposed to the golden firelight made him eager, and he hurriedly disrobed as Maitimo followed suit.

Naked, Maitimo laid back onto the cot and let Findekáno straddle his hips. "I love you," he gasped, and then fell silent.

Many hours passed. Findekáno and Maitimo made love to one another until all the stars were gone from the sky, fleeing from dawn. Kissing him once more, Findekáno rolled off Maitimo and gathered him into his arms. Findekáno smiled, watching Maitimo appreciatively trace a finger over the contours of his bicep. Burying his face in his lover's red hair, Findekáno began to drift to sleep. "I am sorry I doubted your brothers."

Maitimo pressed back against Findekáno's warm body, sighing contentedly. "So am I."