#elemmire

[ela-draws]

Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang collab

=> AMAZING FIC COMING OUT SOON =>

Two Solos - Elemmírë and Maglor playing music in Valinor

One Duet - NSFT artwork on AO3

Elemmírë and Maglor are music/theater "rivals" and they end up having sexy writing/composing sessions. They're artists and they inspire each other. Elemmírë is vanya and she's the one who composed the Aldudénië, a poem lamenting the death of the Two Trees. I headcanon that she was Maglor's partner who stayed behind in Valinor.

@tolkienrsb

[meadowlarkx]

Singer Doomed

Fëanáro, Elemmírë recalled, had a sweet voice. He could have made a passable singer and surely a quick-fingered harper, if he had been inclined to exert himself to music beyond the most rudimentary, toddling lessons. His second son was something else altogether.

“Makalaurë,” the instructor said, “play Mingling Light for our visitor.”

Elemmírë would have picked out the boy from the other students even without this blunt introduction: a small creature with Fëanáro’s bright-dark eyes and curls he tugged quickly into a knot with ink-blotted hands. He settled at a harp that was bigger than he was with precise care and only then looked back to his teacher and to Elemmírë, upon which his big eyes widened.

Elemmírë supposed he had been in attendance at one of her performances. She gave him a smile the way one might extend a nosegay of flowers. Makalaurë blushed darkly and sat a little straighter.

“Shall I begin?”

Maglor & Elemmírë over the years, background unrequited Maedhros/Maglor and other feelings for day 1 of @maedhrosmaglorweek, Treelight! Or, Maglor gains his reputation in Valinor. | Read here on AO3

[cilil]

❅ Prompt: Songs & Carols & workplace rivals (rare pair bingo) | Maglor x Elemmírë ❅ Synopsis: While Elemmírë is waiting for perform at a feast, she watches Maglor ❅ Warnings: / ❅ Drabble ❅ AO3

» AN: I blame @elanna-elrondiel and @merilles for this (lovingly).

A great feast has been ordained, and Elemmírë will sing for her people. 

She prepared and practised for months, proud of her progress and certain of her success. This moment no one will take from her. 

Prince Makalaurë performs as well, and Elemmírë watches and listens. His voice is lovely, his fingers gracefully pluck the strings of his harp. 

When he's done, she claps. 

When it's her turn, she walks past him with a smile. 

Makalaurë's eyes are on her, and Elemmírë relishes in it, though she doesn't look back. 

Not yet. Not before she has proven herself as well. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

[tarninausta]

queer tolkien headcanons 5/? ⁕ tolkien femslash in february 1/?

FINDIS X ELEMMIRE

[ID: four graphics, predominantly in warm gold and reddish shades.

1: The model Medalion Rahimi. She has light brown skin, dark hair, freckles, and dark eyes. Text: “Findis, princess of the Noldor” / 2: A painting of someone flipping pages in a book / 3: A painting of someone holding a lute / 4: A black person with dark skin and black curls, hidden behind a translucent golden veil. Text: “Elemmire, greatst poet of the Vanyar” / End ID]

[arofili]

I want to hire you. My father. He's been murdered... Please. My father...he had many rivals, maybe enemies... Please. I just want to see justice done.

Private investigator Elemmírë has been hired by Lady Findis, the oldest daughter of Lord Finwë Noldoran, to find her father's murderer. As she gets to know the House of Finwë and their associates, the web of lies surrounding each of them seems to stretch further and further. Danger lurks in every corner of Formenos Lodge, not the least of which is the enchanting nature of her client. If she is to prevent further harm to the family—or her own heart—she must solve this case as quickly as she can. Yet with so many suspects and so many motives, where should she even begin?

~

For the @tolkienrsb 2023: a Victorian Murder Mystery AU, starring detective Elemmírë and Lady Findis! Read @lithgaeril's fantastic fic of my art beginning on September 8!

text in the background of the first image reads:

incident occurred at the Noldoran manor in the Formenos countryside. At the scene of the crime [cut off]

The client is one Findis Noldoran, daughter of the victim by his second wife. Suspects include the victim's eldest son, Fëanáro Noldoran, notably obsessive and vindictive to his half-siblings. Fëanáro showed immense grief and instability following his father's death, which could point to a guilt-ridden mind, or a true spiral of grief [cut off]

looking beyond family members, business and political rivals abound as well. Noldoran was popular among his staff but the same cannot be said of Melkor Bauglir, who was last seen on the property on the very day of the murder. This does not preclude his innocence, especially given the rivalry between him and Finwë Noldoran's eldest son, and the [cut off]

(sorry for no image description, i do not have the spoons for that right now)

[glorf1ndel]

The case for each ship:

Finarfin/ Eönwë: My GUYS. They make a great team during the War of Wrath. They're both incredible at staying away from drama, but when the fate of the world is at stake? Finarfin and Eönwë both show up, like superheroes – and they grow to rely on each other.

Turgon/ Finrod: Do you like the opposites attract trope? How about grumpy/ sunshine? What about "I've loved you all along, since before the darkening of the Two Trees, and now the light in my eyes shines only for you?" Do I have a ship for you.

Lúthien/ Thuringwethil: Listen. They're both slightly eldritch and not afraid to throw down. A match made in Valinor? Why NOT. Plus, Lúthien canonically uses Thuringwethil's cloak to sneak into Angband. What's that cloak made of? Girlfriend material.

Maglor/ Elemmírë: We don't know much about Maglor's spouse; why not assume they also shared a love for the arts? Elemmírë composed the poem lamenting the death of the Two Trees. Together, they could make beautiful music. *cue Careless Whisper*

Nienna/ Nerdanel: They are two women intimately acquainted with grief, but also with the beauty of life. In particular, Nienna knows that there is a fine line between sadness and joy. Perhaps she could help Nerdanel embrace both.

[lanthanum12]

Whenever I see a Tolkien character that doesn't have a confirmed gender, my genderqueer self gets to scheming! No one is safe from my headcanons!

I'm looking at you Kuruki, Elemmire, Anguirel, and so many unnamed spouses!

Anyways now Kuruki is genderfluid, Elemmire is xenogender, and Anguirel is agender and no one will ever stop me! And my oc for Nolondil's spouse that he most likely has, Vairedur, is genderqueer like me! <3

[erotetica]

also: abandoned WIP-style Vanyarin earcanons, ft Elemmírë

[imakemywings]

In the interest of making ship content easier to find, I’m rounding up some F/F ship names. Here’s what I’ve seen so far:

Anaire/Earwen = Anarwen Elemmire/Findis = Findimmire Finduilas/Nienor = Ninduilas Galadriel/Melian = Meladriel Indis/Miriel = Mindis Luthien/Thuringwethil = Luthuri

If you use or know of others, please share!

[adaines-furious-feast]

Do you want an inconsequential headcanon that I think is fun?

Stardiamond is actually a Common translation of an Elven surname which Jace prefers not to use because boy does he hate his father.

And I don't pretend to be too deeply versed in Tolkein lore (look, I am trying to read the Silmarillion but it's hard) but wouldn't you know:

Elemmírë noun *"Star-jewel" (elen + míre, notice assimilation nm > mm), name of a star/planet (possibly Mercury, MR:435, where the spelling used is Elemmirë); also name of an Elf.

I also find the association with Mercury has plenty of interesting thematic interpretations, being so close to the sun, outshone by it, hidden by it, made completely inhospitable by it, but who wouldn't want to be the sun's favourite?

[fjorests-of-wildemount]

It's early morning in Rexxentrum and Essek Thelyss is already at work. He drifts through the Tower's study, gathering important pages to fold into his Wristpocket for his meeting later today with Beauregard. It's been several days since he's been able to truly stop and rest, but his heart is lighter now that he's finally home.

Caleb’s footsteps shuffle behind him announcing his presence before arms wrap around his middle. Essek sighs, leaning into Caleb’s embrace. Caleb noses into Essek's hair behind his ear, planting a kiss to its bare tip. Essek shivers pleasantly, heat stirring in his stomach.

“It's getting too long,” Essek says softly as Caleb nudges the wavy length aside to drop kisses on Essek's bare shoulder.

“Mmm, I like it,” Caleb rumbles, voice still rough from sleep.

“Perhaps I'll keep it then,” Essek replies with a smile. Well-trod ground, this little argument of theirs.

A crackle at Caleb’s waist interrupts the peace, then. A missive from Keyleth on her Sending Stone; a mission to Aeor. Ludinus's trail. Essek sighs as Caleb extracts himself from their embrace to reply.

“Ja, I will be sending a contact to you shortly,” Caleb says with an apologetic look in Essek's direction. Essek tries to quell his disappointment; this is their arrangement, the mission. He should gather what he can and go.

He sighs. He was very much looking forward to a bath.

Caleb tucks the Sending Stone away and moves back toward Essek. He reaches up to gently cup the sides of Essek’s face and kiss him deeply.

“I have missed you, mein Freund,” Caleb whispers. “It seems I must miss you a little longer.”

Essek swallows hard and nods, lifting his chin proudly. “If it means cutting Ludinus off at the knees, then it is worth it.”

Caleb kisses him again, long and deliberate. “Take them to Zadash. Beauregard has a lead on Astrid. I think it's time we coax her out of hiding.”

Essek sneers a bit. Caleb’s trust there is a sore spot. “If she is working with Da'leth–”

“All the more reason to find her and . . . Have a discussion, ja?” Essek glares, but nods. “Be careful, Schatz.”

“I am always careful,” Essek says. Caleb’s smile is worth it.

“I will see you soon, elemmire.”

Another Teleport, another continent, another day closer to stopping Ludinus once and for all.

[thiswindyplace]

photo via Elemmire on Twitter

I? I walk alone.

Sylvia Plath

[valacirya]

More headcanons about Vanyarin culture

The Vanyar split into numerous clans once they settle in Valinor. The clans are mostly autonomous. Ingwe, as "chief of chieftains", mediates any conflict between them and has absolute authority, but rarely uses it. He focuses on official relations with the Valar, Noldor, and Teleri, and on managing his own clan, which consists of the royal family plus whoever they choose to bring in.

The Maiar are pretty much like cousins/best friends to the Vanyar. Aiwendil will randomly show up to Elemmire's place to dance to her newest composition. Ingwion has called Eonwe his brother multiple times.

There are quite a few half-Maiar half-Vanyar elves running around Valinor. Luthien gets to meet some of them.

The Vanyar love creating art, but as a philosophical/spiritual practice, they will often destroy their most beloved work after a time. The Noldor are appalled by this, as are Aule and Yavanna. The latter two however come to recognize the value of this tradition after the Darkening, although they still don't approve of it.

The Vanyar keep Cuivienen in their collective memory. They practice many of the old rituals and tell the Valinor-born generations everything about Middle Earth, the good and the bad. This prevents them from idealizing/romanticizing Cuivienen like the Noldor do. This is also why Fingolfin and Finarfin aren't impressed by Feanor's speech in Tirion.

[cilil]

❅ Prompt: Old traditions & flowers (rare pair bingo) | Findis x Elemmírë ❅ Synopsis: When Findis goes to live with the Vanyar, Elemmírë awaits her with some special gifts. ❅ Warnings: References to Finwë's death ❅ Drabble ❅ AO3

Heavy with grief and sorrow was the heart of Findis when she went to dwell with her mother's kin after her father's death. 

Yet when she entered her new home, she found a bouquet of snowdrops and a beautiful veil waiting for her. 

"Welcoming gifts are an old tradition here," she heard a voice behind her and turned to see Elemmírë smiling at her. "And you, my favourite princess, have been dearly missed." 

"I missed you too," Findis breathed, remembering many joyful hours they had shared whenever her family had visited Taniquetil. "Despite everything, it's good to see you again."

Thanks for reading! ♡

[tarninausta]

Is it too indulgent if I make Elemmire valinor's iconic lesbian poet.

[amethysttribble]

And Our Sun’s Just Rising

@feanorianweek Entry 1: Maedhros (+ Celegorm) -  Adjusting/Coping

The House of Feanor is summering in Formenos. Two brothers are more upset about this than the others.

I’m doing ANOTHER theme, this year’s being ‘That Summer in Formenos That They Never Forgot’, but does that mean I have any idea where this is going? No! Did I know where this was going when I wrote this entry? No! Do I know if it’s coherent? No!

But you know what it is? Choke full of headcanons. Maedhros and Celegorm bond over having lives beyond their family and having to leave their lives behind for family.

Maitimo was whistling as he exited out of the servant’s door from the kitchen to the gardens, because he was an adult and he wasn’t sneaking out. He wasn’t, and he didn’t need to be quiet. Anyone could hear him!

These reassurances didn’t make him feel any less awkward as he closed the creaking door to his father’s palace in Formenos behind him.

Oh, Sweet Vana, he felt like he was only sixty years old, an age that was thankfully long, long past him. But being here in the far north with his family took Maitimo back to a time when only his grandfather called him Russandol. To the time when Mother and Father would take them all to Formenos and settle for a couple years, teaching students and rearing children and pretending they didn’t notice their two oldest sneaking out.

As Maitimo meandered through the rows of the estate’s vegetable garden- entirely separate from the fruit grove and the flower pasture, by Yavanna, he always forgot how sprawling nature was out here- he wondered if maybe he should have dragged Macalaure from his chamber to reminisce. But no. His brother had been taken by ‘inspiration’ on the journey north, the ‘stark beauty striking him like lightning’, and he’d been holed up and snappish at interruption since.

Most of Maitimo’s family was settling into Formenos happily for the summer. Little Curufinwe and the Ambarussa were in bed, as befitted still growing elflings, but Mother and Father were up. They were drinking wine in the courtyard garden, and he knew he was welcome to join them. Carnistir, as well, was up and busy, whiling away the darkest hours in the library. He was glad for the solitude, he said.

Like Macalaure, the sparse beauty of Formenos allowed him time and space to work.

But Maitimo was not working. Maitimo was wandering, and the good kind of wandering that widened and deepened the soul. No, rather since arriving in Formenos, he had found himself unable to sleep, or revel, or work, or do any of things that one might occupy the night or even the day with. 

He was bored.

Bored, bored, so terribly bored, and letters from his friends in Tirion- the first batch to arrive- and carefully penning his replies had not relieved him for long. Instead, hearing about what was happening in the city had made him more melancholy. Lord Aicanga had taken a new proposition to the council chamber apparently and Maitimo wanted to sink his teeth into it. Ontame said that the Ivory Hill Literary Society was reading one of Elemmire’s classics- The Boy Who Crossed Cuivienen- and she knew he had thoughts, she was sorry he was missing it, they missed him dearly already. Worst of all, Findekano had just returned to Tirion after a long stay in Tulkas’s abode, and they’d barely been able to spend a month in each other’s company when-

Think of your family, Maitimo tried to scold himself, but that did nothing to chase off the melancholy. He loved him family, and the littlest ones were getting bigger, faster- he’d missed almost all of Carnistir’s youth while setting himself up at court already- but he just… 

Maitimo’s wandering feet drew to a stop and he let out a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. He’d made all the way across the field of tall grass to stand at the base of the ancient oak tree that their mother had built a swing on for them. Lonely and idle and restless, he took a seat on that swing, which was built for children and low to the ground, and it made his press comically high up towards his chest.

“This is stupid,” Maitimo muttered to himself. “I’m stupid.”

“You said it, not me.”

Maitimo shrieked as a head swung down from the leaves above to rest almost nose to nose with him. He flailed backwards out of the swing, and Tyelkormo’s raucous laughed hit the gentle night’s air. His long, silver tresses spilled almost to the ground.

“Turko!” Maitimo snapped from the ground, ass smarting. “What are you doing?”

“Same thing as you, I guess,” Tyelkormo said, torso swaying in the air, hands playing with the swing’s rope, as his knees held him securely to the branch above. “Feeling sorry for myself, making that the tree’s problem.”

Maitimo drew in a deep breath, let his aggravation out on a sigh, and stood up.

“I thought you were setting rabbit traps,” he said, brushing himself off with as much dignity as he could muster.

“I was,” Tyelkormo said, upside down and crossing his arms. “I felt like shit while doing it, so I stopped. Climbed up this tree and still felt like shit, but it seemed a better place to be miserable.”

“Are you miserable?” Maitimo asked, knee-jerk concern welling in his chest.

Tyelkormo very obviously rolled his eyes at him and then swung himself back into the tree, upright. “Just a bit of the nighttime sorries,” he said, and Maitimo could no longer see him, but he could hear the rustling of leaves and wood as Tyelkormo climbed higher. “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure you’ve got more important things on your mind.”

Maitimo really, really didn’t, so he reached up and pulled himself into the oak tree, as well.

Far more carefully than his strong, agile brother, he followed into the bowels of the tree, taking time as he went to run his hands over the bark and thank it. To say sorry for indelicate feet. To ask if there was anything this tree needed? A little bit of pruning, apparently, would be appreciated, and also for the elfings to come play tomorrow. That, Maitimo could arrange.

Whatever was vexing Tyelkormo would be harder to fix, but it was the most interesting problem presented to Maitimo in weeks, and so he was resolved. Unfortunately, whatever this issue was apparently wasn’t too bad, because Tyelkormo did not throw a knife at his head when he reached the highest branch and sat next to him. Instead, it was peaceful as their heads poked out through the leaves to observe the mountains and the valleys, the stars and the river, the distant city and the smattering of houses. 

“Beautiful,” Maitimo breathed out.

Tyelkormo hummed in agreement, drawing one of his knees up to his chest in a move that would make Maitimo very nervous to see, say, Carnistir or Curufinwe do. But this was Tyelkormo. This was his domain.

“I thought you would be nothing but pleased while here,” he said, smiling gently at his little brother. “Why, I remember the last time we summered here, you had some very choice words about me and Macalaure not having as much fun as you deemed we should be. Among other complaints.”

Tyelkormo snorted and said, “I was a brat. I’m surprised you didn’t abandon me in the woods.”

“I thought about it, but you would have been home in a matter of hours and I would have paid for it.”

Tyelkormo didn’t laugh as much as expected. Maitimo frowned, and considered him. He almost seemed to blend together in the light of Telperion, hair and skin and eyes a wash of silver. And yet, despite looking like a beacon in the night, Tyelkormo had snuck out more successfully than any of them. Rarely to drunken parties, though, unlike his brothers. Tyelkormo just wanted to sing with the night animals.

That, unlike the parties, used to drive their parents insane. They all remembered the tales of how little Ezellar Namindion- son of a local Formenos lord- had an accident and had been healing in the Halls of Mandos since. And Tyelkormo bore more than a passing resemblance to Miriel Therinde; Father worried about him a lot.

Which was part of why Tyelkormo had always loved desolate Formenos the most- with its lack of prying eyes- and had been fighting and straining for any slack on the parental leash for years. After he dropped out of the college of biology in Tirion… Maitimo had scarcely seen him at family functions in the decade since. 

Honestly, he’d suspected that this sudden trip to Tyelkormo’s favorite place on Arda had been an attempt to draw him back into the family fold, and he’d thought it had been working- Tyelkormo had been all smiles and laughters and newly acquired tricks of the hunt and the beasts- but perhaps…

“What’s wrong?” Maitimo asked seriously. 

Tyelkormo gave him a sideways look, gnawing on his lip. Then he pointed east.

“The Hunt of Orome is two-hundred and twenty seven miles that way,” he said. “If I took my gear, hopped on a horse, and left right now, I could be there in two, three weeks? Depends on how much I want my ass to hurt and how much I want the horse to hate me. But I could do it. I could go.”

Ah, Maitimo thought, feeling almost embarrassed. 

For a while, he picked at the leaves around him, smoothing his fingers over them. He considered his words. Maitimo’s first instinct was to soothe. To promise Tyelkormo that he would be back Orome and his hunt soon enough, that it was alright to miss them, but they would have fun as a family. But Tyelkormo was a grown and it felt silly and condescending to treat him as a child.

Treating him as an adult, his second instinct was to tell him to just get over it. The Hunt? He was growing melancholy over not being in the wilderness with Orome as opposed to being in the wilderness with his family? It was basically the same thing. Try being cut off from an ever changing court-life to wile away a few years in the sticks. The seasons changed, and animals repopulated the same way every year; buck up.

But that was cruel, and while Tyelkormo was the brother who could draw annoyance and cruelty out to Maitimo like no over- they were just so, so very different, and unlike Macalaure and Carnistir, Turko never backed down from a fight- this wasn’t the time or place. Maitimo had more control over his own emotions than to let how miserable he was influence how he treated his brother. 

His third instinct was to go, “It’s Findekano’s begetting day party tonight.”

He felt silly for saying such a thing as soon as it was out of his mouth, the plaintive whine obvious and obnoxious in his voice. Maitimo felt like he was sneaking out in some way, in his heart, because he was just so angry at being denied something he wanted by his parents, even though he’d agreed to this summer. But he wanted his life back suddenly.

“I’m sorry?” Tyelkormo said eventually, and it was obvious from his voice that he was as naturally unsympathetic to Maitimo’s plight as he was to his. But he was trying. 

“I helped plan it, and I’m not even there,” Maitimo complained. “All my friends are. Talking about what they’re going to be doing this week, this month, this year, and I’m here. And I like it here, I love our family, I just-”

He broke off with a ragged sigh, leaning his head back to look at the belt of stars above. They weren’t even the same stars that Tirion was seeing.

“I’m sorry,” Tyelkormo said again, this time his words sounded more real. “I- I just don’t want to be here, right now. It’s boar season, and I’m best with a spear so Lord Orome promised that I could lead the juniors. Not only that, I can’t even go through my prayers and rituals here without feeling Father’s eyes on me, even when Mother and I do them together. And I could feel, right before I left, how close I was to a breakthrough in reaching the divine Song. I’m going to lose months of progress being here and unable to meditate.”

“I’m sorry,” Maitimo said, and he meant it, even if he didn’t understand most of what Tyelkormo was saying about prayers and the song. He’d never understood the divine types, especially not his willful little brother, but-

Tyelkormo groaned and smashed his head against Maitimo’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to be here!” he cried.

“Neither do I,” Maitimo said. Then, louder, “Neither do I! We’re adults! I don’t want to be here so that we can pretend to be a happy little family.”

“We’re going to be at each other’s throats in two days!” Tyelkormo howled, throwing his head back.

“Father will be bored of us in one!”

“Curvo doesn’t even want to hang out with anyone but Father!”

“The Ambarussa are barely old enough to walk, they’ll be fine!”

“Everyone our age has either left Formenos or gotten married, it’s boring!” “The local council is always in agreement on everything, it’s mind-numbing!”

“I don’t want to be here!”

“Neither do I! A sharp wolf-whistled pierced the air. 

Maitimo and Tyelkormo were distracted from their complaining long enough to look down and see there Mother standing in the grass, a bottle in one hand, two empty glasses in the other.

“Are you two done?” she asked, and not even her scolding tone could disguise the laughter in her voice. “Do you want to keep whining and wake up the children or come drink wine with your father and I?”

Maitimo and Tyelkormo traded a look, and then started to scramble down the tree.

“Mama, I don’t want to be here, I was so close to advancing,” Tyelkormo whined as his feet hit the ground long before Maitimo’s.

He was still climbing down the tree as Mother handed him a glass of wine and said, “I know, baby, but these times together are important. I know this summer is an interruption. I know things will be missed. But your life will be there when you get back, and you’re going to remember these days fondly.”

“Promise?” Maitimo asked with a slight smile as he accepted an already filled glass form his mother.

She gave him a bright smile back.

“I promise, baby.”

Maitimo drank, then threw his arm around her shoulders. She still always looked so big from afar. 

“Very well,” he said. “But am I allowed to complain?”

“I don’t know,” Mother said cheekily, hooking her arm through Tyelkormo’s- who had left the other glass to Mother and was drinking from the bottle- “Am I allowed to complain about letting the series of sea Maia I was working on last summer gather dust until now? Can I complain about Ambarussa going so stir crazy in the city they broke into Arafinwe’s house? Can I complain about how your father has talked about his latest pet project at court so much my ears are about to fall off?”

“You’ve made your point,” Maitmo chuckled, but Tyelkormo said- far more loudly- “You’re allowed to complain, but Dad isn’t. I can’t take it, Mama, I can’t if he says one more word about Lord Orome, Valinor, and the intent of Eru-”

“Father’s two bottles of white in,” Mother said, “he’s as jolly as he’s been in months and liable to only be pleasant. He’s already cried once about how clever you’ve become and how much he’s missed seeing you grow.”

“Really?” Tyelkormo whispered, eyes massive.

Mother pointed towards the courtyard where their father lounged in the distance. Tyelkormo took his cue and bounded forward.

Maitimo laughed and took another sip of his wine. If Father was that drunk, he really would have to catch up.

Mother poked him in the side.

“You could have told us,” she said, reaching up to pluck a leaf from his hair, “if there was something important going on in Tirion. We would have understood if you came later.”

“It’s not that,” he told her softly. After all, if he played that game, he would have never come to Formenos. “It’s that… It’s strange, when family is politics and politics is family to come here and have us act completely divested from it. Our position is unique and important, and it feels like we just… ignore that, when we’re in Formenos. It’s disconcerting.”

“Disconcerting, or a gift?” Mother muttered, but she shook her head. “But I suppose you love both too much. I meant what I said. I know adjusting is hard after being knee deep in that bog that is Tirion, but give it some time. Family in and of itself is important, too. Breathing is important. Remembering why we don’t let the politics divide us.” Maitimo hummed in consideration and looked up at his brother and father. Tyelkormo was practically on top of him, as desperate for approval as ever.

“This is about them, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Mother laughed, and wrapped her arm around his waist.

“Oh Maitimo, my sweet Maitimo. Always seeing everyone clearly but yourself. Think about it. And drink more. There are some benefits to vacationing with your parents as adults.”

Maitimo drank deeply of his parent’s prized wine and he had to agree with that.