silwritersguild | Once Upon A Winter's Gift

Well, I did it, I wrote something. Not a massive achievement in and of itself, but given my lack of nerve/ability to write recently, it is for me.

This is a simple tale based on my reading a couple of people's advent challenges whereby ficlets are posted each day up to Christmas. I thought it was a lovely idea and an excellent opportunity to write something, a little at a time, without getting overwhelmed by it. Can't guarantee it'll be every day, but the plan is to write this in small chapters up to Christmas and have it finished by then. This is one story rather than a series of ficlets, just in itty bitty installments. I'm just letting it take its course, although I have an ending in mind. Muses being what they are, however, it might not be the ending that eventually gets written!

It features, of course, my beloved Maedhros and Fingon and also Maglor, as well as sundry others, possibly. Dunno, am just seeing where this takes me and having fun with it. Call it my gift to all those who I can't afford a pressie for this year.

It was also inspired by the December challenge:

"How did a character first discover his talent for music? Learn to play the harp? What important events in her life--weddings, festivals, first meetings, et cetera--were accompanied by music?"

and is cross-posted in my LJ.

Title:

Once Upon A Winter's Gift

Author: Mirien
Summary: Maedhros and Fingon at last are reborn and planning to marry (marry, I like marry), but Maedhros feels the absence of the brother he lost so very long ago.
Rating: Will vary, this chapter, G.
Warnings: Slash. Two male Elves in love. Also possibly mushiness and some angst.
Author's note: Advent story, sort of, to be posted in installments up to Christmas. Oh AND, I can't get the little accents on the Elvish names on this computer, hence Fingon's and Maglor's names lack their proper little doofreys over the a's.
Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately. I tried to play nice.

One more thing. Been a while since I posted anything, so while constructive criticism is fine, please be gentle!

"Nelyo, what are you doing?" Fingon's voice was soft, but it carried clearly across the dimly lit room to where his lover sat by the hearth, bent over something on his lap.

Maedhros didn't look up, his fingers busy with the strings of the harp on his lap, those of the right still finding their dexterity once more, so long missing and so newly returned they were still unfamiliar. But Maedhros never mentioned the slight difficulty in using the hand and Fingon knew he would abhor sympathy and so he affected not to notice it, knowing his lover's pride and that Maedhros would overcome it as he overcame anything he saw as a weakness. "I should think that was obvious, Findekano, I am tuning this harp."

Fingon ignored the sarcasm, as uniquely Maedhros as his voice or his body and as beloved and crossed the room to sit cross-legged on the rug next to his lover. The fire in the great hearth provided the only illumination in the room, the flickering flames throwing half of Maedhros' face into shadow, partially hiding his expression. Fingon reached out to touch the living flame of his hair, needing neither voice nor expression to sense his pain.

"Maedhros." Fingon rarely used the Sindarin version of the name and it made Maedhros look up in mild surprise though otherwise he did not respond. Fingon let his hand slip to the broad shoulder and lower, across fingers which trembled ever so slightly and then softly, across the harpstrings. A soft arpeggio sounded over the quiet crackle of the flames and Maedhros stared at the instrument as if entranced, eyes dark with memory. Fingon sighed, still touching the instrument reverently. "This is one of Kano's harps, I would know it anywhere, so I think my question is not what so much as why?"

Maedhros didn't answer, his fingers reaching to follow Fingon's on the strings so that successive swells of notes chased each other in the evening quiet, seeming content with the distraction. Eventually, he murmured, "Because I want his music."

It was enough. Fingon's heart twisted and he swallowed his own sudden surge of anguish. Nodding, he shifted closer, moving so that he knelt behind Maedhros, pressed to his back, arms around him, chin on his shoulder. "I know you do. But you can take comfort that he knows, somehow he knows what we intend and his love will find you there."

Maedhros shook his head, hair brushing Fingon's cheek. "It is not enough. I want him there. We have waited so long, been through banishment and death and now, when we will achieve what we have so long desired, I want my brother there to see it." He lifted his head, stared into the flames as if they could give him the answers his heart cried out for. "I want his voice." He was quiet a while longer and when he spoke again, the steady voice held a tremor it almost broke Fingon to hear. "Why, Findekano? Why after so long has he not come home? We are forgiven, even if we are not the subject of polite conversation. The Ambarussa and I have been re-embodied. Kano could sail, he would be welcomed." He paused and Fingon saw the tightening of his lover's jaw, felt the tension in his body as he held back emotion behind his teeth. "Why?"

It was not a question Maedhros expected to receive an answer to, nor did Fingon have one to give. He rubbed his cheek against Maedhros' and kissed the warm skin of his throat. "Come with me," he murmured. "It does no good to dwell on this when we have much joy to look forward to." He drew Maedhros to his feet and stood with him, hands framing the expressionless face, lifting it to meet his gaze. He traced the shifting shadows across a cheekbone with a finger, his lips following with a ghost touch, then led him out onto the balcony.

The night was still, their breath pluming in front of them as they looked up at the stars, the tiny, flickering points of light made all the clearer for the sharp cold. Maedhros stood within the circle of Fingon's arms, silent. Fingon too was quiet, both filled with their own thoughts and memories, Fingon's gaze drawn to the restless waves close to their home, the sea iron grey under the winter night, Maedhros' turned inward, listening to the sound of a voice unmatched in Valinor since its beginning.

At length, Fingon stirred, loath to broach the subject, knowing it must be done. "Nelyo, there are any fine musicians, we can ask D..." But Maedhros cut him off.

"No." The deep voice was implacable. "If my brother is not here to play, there will be no music." He turned his head and Fingon saw the familiar fire in his eyes. "I have wished to wed you since we were too young to know what love really was and to have that wish granted here, where we never thought to walk again, is more than I have dared dream. But if his voice is not here to sing our joy to the stars, it will be silent."

Above them, it had started to snow and the hush the falling white brought seemed to cause even the waves to fall silent. Maedhros' hair caught tiny flakes in its intricately braided length, catching the moonlight, making it seem to Fingon as though he were crowned with stars. Reluctantly, he nodded and took Maedhros' hand. "I would wed you though all the world were silent," he softly said, the words causing Maedhros' eyes to warm a little.

"Then let us go inside, warm some spiced wine and tend to what we must. There is still much to do." He tugged his lover's hand and together, they passed inside the house, the snow eddying behind them in a sea of glittering silver.