First of all, this story is not in any way related to any of my other stories. It was just a concept I wanted to try and play with.

Too much to ask

It was the first time Findekano came to his cousins' camp since the eagle dropped them by the lake. He had to leave then, his father was waiting for him. Later, whenever he expressed his wish to visit his friend, he was advised against it. 'Let Maitimo heal first,' they would say and Findekano felt there was more behind it. Still, he complied, thinking that his cousin might not wish to deal with anyone until he got better, though it hurt to think he was excluded from the closest ones. But as official envoys started to come to his father with letters bearing the seal of the eldest son of Fëanáro, Findekano couldn't wait. He had never been too patient and his last impulsive act had paid off well. This time, however, he left his father a note informing him about his plans; Nolofinwe had not yet forgiven him his last escapade.

The guards by the gate let him pass and one of them joined Findekano to show him the way. He expected to meet one of the younger brothers, but the guard just told him to wait on the corridor and went straight to the eldest.

"You may enter," said the Noldo when he returned a moment later and pointed at the doors.

Findekano went in, wondering what was the cause of the grave tone. He hoped to learn something - anything - before meeting Nelyafinwe, but it was too late for that now.

The room was a study, fashioned in a simple and practical manner, but elegant nonetheless. Maitimo stood by the window behind the large desk, watching the elves on the yard. The dark robes he wore made him look even thinner and taller than Findekano remembered. Old, pale scars disfiguring his body were almost invisible, but the fresh ones, barely healed and still pink, cut brightly on the skin. A long mark running down his neck and disappearing under the collar twitched as the eldest son of Fëanáro tensed and turned towards his guest.

Findekano swallowed hard as the gaze of his friend pierced him. The last time he saw him, Maitimo had been barely lucid and he had passed out long before Findekano had managed to cut him off the cliff. His eyes had been dull and half-mad from pain, but now... The flame burning in Nelyafinwe's eyes was like nothing Findekano had ever seen in the eyes of an elf. A Maia spirit, when they bothered to pick an Eldar-like form, yes. But no elf burned like that; not even uncle Fëanáro, of whom they spoke that his spirit had burned his body. Though what put Findekano off the most was the hatred he saw.

"Findekano. What brings you here?"

He had crossed the Grinding Ice, but Nelyafinwe's voice was even colder. He didn't expect gratitude nor did he need it, but this... This was not what he would have ever expected, especially of his gentle cousin, the one who had always tried to ease the feud between his father and uncle.

"No urgent matter, except that I wanted to see how you're doing."

"And what do you see?" Nelyafinwe's words were sharp as steel. "Tell me."

There was a trap in that demand and Findekano knew not how to understand it. His cousin was a puzzle, greeting him with what looked like a challenge. "I see a friend long lost, recovering from his wounds," he answered finally, looking him right in the eye.

The sound Maedhros let out was half a laughter, half something of a growl. "What do you see, Findekano?!" With a swift movement he opened the clever clasps holding his robe together and the fabric slipped from his bony shoulders, revealing the scarred torso. Now in his trousers only, Nelyafinwe walked around the desk and stood right before his cousin. "What. Do. You. See? Tell me!"

None of the answers that crossed Findekano's mind would please Nelyafinwe and none of those he expected would pass through Findekano's throat.

"I see you, Maitimo."

"Maitimo is gone," snapped Nelyafinwe. He waited a moment, but as Findekano would not say more, he continued. "Look at me. Really look. Is that not enough? Wasn't it enough? Did you have to come to mock me? By all means, go ahead." He spread his shoulders, or at least intended to; his right arm was hanging limply by his side. "Or can you not bear it?" He mocked as Findekano kept looking stubbornly into his flaming eyes. "If I am here, what I am here is because of you. Valiant you are called, then live up to your name and look."

"Why are you saying this?" Findekano stared at his cousin wide-eyed.

The energy seemed to leave Nelyafinwe. His shoulders curled slightly and for the first time he looked away, as if unable to face his cousin. His lips moved but no sound escaped them. For a brief moment he looked so vulnerable and breakable that Findekano came closer. Suddenly the flaming eyes were on him again. Nelyafinwe had always been tall, but he had never seemed taller than when he straightened, towering over Findekano.

"One thing. I asked you one thing only and even that you did not grant me." His whisper might have as well been a scream. "But I will not beg again. Whatever you wanted to achieve, you probably succeeded. Your father must be proud, that was a truly masterful move." Nelyafinwe inclined his head in a mock of respect, exposing the scars on his neck. "Ideal to have the House of Fëanáro bow their heads. Is that what you wanted to confirm? Then this is what you may pass to Nolofinwe. He will have the crown, for the sake of all our people."

Whatever Findekano would say now, Nelyafinwe would most probably twist his words into more insults, so he just nodded and took a step back, too perplexed to think straight. "If that is what you wish," he said, but something screamed within him, flaring his own temper. "Just tell me one thing. If it had been one of your brothers and you in my place, would you have done what you asked of me?" He challenged his cousin intending to shock him or make him reconsider his accusations. He gained nothing.

"To spare him this? Without hesitation." The look Nelyafinwe gave him was of one bone-tired. He stepped back and leaned to pick his clothes. Turning towards the window again, he tossed the robe over his shoulders. "Leave, Findekano."

It was a final dismissal of a stranger. Findekano left, for the first time fully realising that he had been right to mourn. He had indeed lost his friend.

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