My Home is Where You Are: A Maedhros/OC Fanfiction

Chapter 11: Sincerely, Nelyafinwë Maitimo

Rain had been the only sound within the hushed house, waking me from sleep. The silver drops dripped down my window, as if the glass itself wept. I listened to the water's soft lullaby, but my conscious mind was unwilling to drift back into dreams. Even as I focused on my pillow and sheets, I could not return to slumber.

My eyes flicked to the desk in the corner of my room, covered with letters and poems. Some of the poems I had written were unfinished, while others were complete. A month had passed since I promised Lilótëa I'd write to her. Throughout that entire month, I hadn't the time to even put a quill to paper and write her name. The time is now, Maitimo, the voice in the back of my mind urged.

I tossed the sheets aside and began to examine the blank pieces of parchment lying in silver rays that shone from the window. Tears or wrinkles marring the paper were unacceptable for a letter addressed to Lilótëa. After choosing a piece of parchment with the smoothest surface, I took a feather quill and ink. Rather than writing with the accompaniment of cold rain, I preferred to feel warm light provided by gentle flames glowing from the hearth.

I discreetly left my room and walked down the halls, taking care not to rouse my family's sharp senses, in particular my parents.

I entered the parlour, where the grey hearth awaited to be brightened by a blazing flame. I struck a match against the stone surface that framed the fireplace. (A/N: I'm not sure if the word 'match' really belongs in Middle Earth lol) I tossed the match underneath the logs, their dry surfaces eventually receiving kisses from the flame. Satisfied with the glow lighting up the room, I settled down on the chair nearest the fire. Once I moved the small, circular wood table in front of me to use as a hard surface, I began to write.

Dear Lilótëa,

I hope you will forgive me for taking longer than expected to write to you. I did not foresee how much time my studies would take up. Advancing in metallurgy from my father's teachings, as well as guiding my brothers' studies, unfortunately gave me limited spare time.

Ah, no matter. I am sure you don't care to hear of my troubles— at least not within a letter where every word is precious to the ink and parchment.

I winced at the first draft and almost wanted to feed it to the flames. If Lilótëa read my work, it needed to be my best. I knew the writing style of informal letters should not be such a concern, as I had never fretted too much about structure and word choice on letters to my cousins and uncles. However, I continued.

As you may know, my step-grandmother Indis' begetting day will be celebrated on the twelfth day of Urimë*. In accordance with past tradition, she has invited the Vanyar to join the Noldor as a representation of union between her own race and Finwë's. I thought it suitable that our next encounter should be at this celebration, if your family is interested to attend.

I could write more trivial nonsense for hours as if I were talking to you in person, but that would do me no good; my supply of ink and paper would surely run out. If you plan to see me at the celebration, my heart could not be happier.

The sound of footsteps caused me to abruptly look up from my letter. They came from the direction opposite the bedchambers. When I realized it was Indon who appeared, I let out a breath.

"Nelyo? What are you doing awake?" he asked, then observed the quill poised in my hand. "Ah, sudden writing inspiration?"

"Yes," I simply stated. "And what of you?"

"I just finished an early morning walk."

I smirked in amusement. "Very early, I see."

"Like my mother, it is a habit of mine to walk in the light touches of rain during the night." He ran a hand through his wet, unbound hair, eyes still remaining on the letter. "From my experience, the best works are produced around this time. What is on your mind?"

At first I hesitated, even though I could not imagine my kind friend exposing my secret to Atar or anyone else. But then, an idea occurred to me that I should have thought of earlier.

"Indon, I trust you can keep a secret?"

"Of course, Nelyo." He approached me and knelt down so his eyes were level with mine.

I took a deep breath. "My interests lie in a maiden of the Vanyar, and I intend to keep talking with her. This is my first letter to her."

His lips curled into a smile. "Is that what the so-called 'lone trip' was about? Sneaking off while your father and brothers left for their hunting trip?"

"Indeed. This I admit to you and Káno only. Would you be willing to journey through the Forests of Oromë's main trail to give her the letter?"

"I am your servant; you give me no choice."

"Dear friend, do you still believe you must carry out my every request? Although... I would be disappointed if you refused me," I said with a chuckle.

"Being the romantic I am, I'm curious to read what you've written."

"Oh, I must say it's written quite poorly. But since you are my loyal messenger, I will permit you to read it."

I handed the letter to Indon, and he read it by the fire's light. "Nelyo, I see no major problems with this," he said once finished. "I have limited experience with writing letters to maidens, but I do understand that one's expectations can be strict when in love. She may be a Vanya who is most likely fond of poetry as much as you are, but there will be time to impress her with your best words. No need to follow my advice, but I believe that letters should be sent as they were written in the moment."

I nodded in agreement, allowing myself to fully surrender. "You do speak the truth."

"I will do everything in my power to give this to her." He placed it back on the table. "As long as you are content with the letter, I should be ready to set off tomorrow."

"Thank you, Indon. I can always rely on you."

"Glad to be of help. See you in the light of morning, Nelyo." After he left, I finished the final words of my letter.

Similar to the Celebration of the Two Trees, it will be a challenge to keep ourselves hidden from Atar's gaze, yet that can only mean we will spend our time amongst the protective forest trees we so love.

Sincerely,

Nelyafinwë Maitimo

* * *

Urimë= August