Valinor...
They stared at their failed invention. The waterwheel did not work as they thought it would, and so they ended up being wet from poorly designed containers.
"What went wrong?" Fingon asked.
"Half of it was wrong." Maedhros swatted his arms.
Fingon made a face. "I was not the one who designed the waterway!"
"And I was not the one who was supposed to carve the wood!"
"Alright, I will find better wood. But may I remind you, I cannot make anything worth my life except music." Fingon sighed.
"If you need help, I am the only one who can tolerate our cousin's presence while possessing the same skill father has, Nelyo." Said a voice from the trees.
Fingon and Maedhros turned and looked up. Curufin regarded them lazily and with an evil looking smile.
"How long have you been up there?" The first son of Fëanor asked.
"Long enough to know you both are pathetic when it comes to making things." Came the taunting answer.
Fingon clenched a fist behind his back while keeping a calm and collected expression.
Maedhros looked disapproving and he reached into his tunic for something…
Curufin's eyes widened. "Oh STARS no! I am sorry, I didn't mean it!" And the adolescent elf ran away.
Fingon glanced at the thing Maedhros held in his hand. "How is the repellent coming along?"
"It works, perhaps too well for my own liking." Maedhros exhaled. "I am still trying to remove some of the adverse effects…" He blinked when he heard no reply. "Findë?"
Fingon's pupils were dilated and he stared at the powder, mesmerized with a dorky smile on his face.
Maedhros face palmed. "I do not even have to toss it at anyone and it works."
"When did you get lord Irmo's moths to follow you, Maitimo? Where do you house them?" Fingon asked dazedly. "They are very nice. And big."
"It might be because the powder I am using is from master Irmo." Maedhros answered distractedly, going along with the sleep-walking dream hallucination…thing, that always happened. He grabbed Fingon's arm and pulled his cousin along. "Get you somewhere quiet until this wears off…then find Makalaurë to adjust the proportions." He murmured to himself.
"Oh, harpies! Maitimo, the griffons have escaped Oromë's forest!"
'Go to sleep.' Maedhros wished desperately.
"You need more siblings. You do not have enough." Fingon commented absently.
"I think they are planning on having more." The older of the two answered tersely.
"You know what we need? Bells. That might make the wheel work. They fix everything."
Maedhros sighed. "I am sure they do."
In a moment of clarity Fingon furrowed his brows. "This is not what is supposed to happen, is it?"
Maedhros looked over his shoulder. "No, it is not to put you in a dream-state."
"It does not torment them enough, that is why." Fingon waved his free hand. "Or maybe it does, which is why Curufinwë ran like he did."
Maedhros smirked. "As long as it gets a message across."
"Did you put rocks in my shoes? I cannot feel my feet anymore."
Maedhros pulled his cousin's arm around his neck to keep Fingon upright. "Here is the desired effect. If only it were instantaneous."
"You will get there." Fingon slurred.
"One day."