Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first day of autumn had arrived!
Maedhros was in his room, sitting at the dressing table. He was trying to brush his hair, as it resembled a mass of rough ginger string. But it was proving difficult, because of his missing hand. Maedhros wanted to hold his hair, so as not to pull as the tangles. But then he couldn’t hold the brush. He gripped the brush in his left hand, trying to gently ease a tangle out. But he caught it and winced as it pulled at his scalp. Scowling, Maedhros threw the brush onto the floor.
How stupid of me, he thought. I was captured by Morgoth and tormented. I was hung on the side of the mountain for thirty years! And now, I’m being a baby because of a little hair tangle?
Maedhros knew that he could ask somebody to help him with his hair; perhaps Maglor or Fingon. But he did not like asking for help. He was as stubborn as his father. I don’t want them to think I cannot care for myself properly, Maedhros thought.
But then he gave a wistful sigh, because he did want to look nice for the autumn celebrations. His brothers and cousins were organising the autumn banquet, to be held in the great hall. They had decorated it with colourful garlands of leaves and berries. Celegorm had tried to sneak a squirrel in, but Turgon had forbidden it. It will cause chaos and make a terrible mess! He had protested.
And Maglor had written three new songs to perform at the banquet. Two had lyrics and Elenwe was going to sing them. She and Fingon has also baked a pumpkin pie; a giant one. Argon had measured it and told anybody who would listen, that the diameter was 24 inches. He had been going to calculate the ratio of the pie’s circumference to its diameter, but Turgon had scolded him, saying everyone would become confused over pies and pi’s. So Fingon had given Argon a pot of violet sugar crystals, and told him to decorate the top of the pie instead.
Everyone is making such an effort. Therefore, I must do so too, Maedhros told himself. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and cringed. His face was covered in scars; reminders of the torments he had suffered in Angband. His body was scarred too, but at least those were hidden under his nightshirt.
And then there was the stump, where his right hand should have been. It had healed over well, but Maedhros couldn’t bear to look at it. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to complain. Fingon had been forced to cut off Maedhros’s hand, to free him from the side of the mountain. He felt horrible about it, and Maedhros did not want to do or say anything that would make Fingon feel worse.
I am just feeling sorry for myself, Maedhros tried to pep himself up. I need some fresh air, then my gloomy mood will fade.
He walked over to the window; stiffly, as his legs were sometimes achy on cold mornings. Maedhros lifted the catch and pushed the window open. Fresh air streamed in, with a sharp nip of cold. The sky was pearly blue, and the trees were colourful blends of gold and crimson.
Maedhros gazed at the courtyard below. Fallen leaves skittered across the cobbles, and a marble fountain spouted sparkling water into the air. And there was Maedhros’s cousin, Turgon; looking very smart in a royal blue jacket and grey trousers. His dark hair was neatly tied back with a blue bow.
And sitting on a chunky wooden bench nearby, was Turgon’s wife, Elenwe. She was wearing a pastel blue dress, decorated with many frills and ribbons. Her golden hair was loose and tumbling over her shoulders. She looked most radiant.
Turgon approached her bowing formally. “Dearest Elenwe,” he said. “Permit me to welcome autumn in with you”.
Elenwe squealed with delight. “Oh yes! Permission granted, my love!”
Maedhros watched the Welcoming, his ears drooping slightly. Turgon took hold of Elenwe’s left hand and kissed it. “Farewell to summer,” he said. Elenwe blushed and giggled.
Then Turgon held Elenwe’s right hand. He kissed that too. “And welcome to autumn,” he continued. “May the trees rest, and the fruits be delicious”. As he spoke, he kissed his way up Elenwe’s arm. Elenwe leaned towards him, gently bumping her forehead against Turgon’s. Turgon raised his eyebrows, then laughed.
“Elenwe! We cannot rush the Welcoming,” he said. “It is an ancient custom…”
Elenwe did not let Turgon finish. She pressed her lips to his and kissed him passionately. Maedhros turned from the window, his heart heavy.
He had always loved the Welcoming Celebration. Maedhros remembered him and Maglor as elflings, peeping around the door; seeing their mother and father performing it. He remembered the twins trying to act it out with Argon, and Argon running off squealing.
And then Maedhros remembered the first time he and Fingon has welcomed in autumn. They had been hiding in Maedhros’s room; blushing and laughing, and terrified that a nosey brother or cousin would burst in and catch them. But such a dreadful thing had not happened, and they had performed the ceremony with quick kisses and red faces.
Maedhros leaned against the wall and sighed. Almost as if he was trying to torment himself, he looked down at his right arm. His nightshirt sleeve was partially covering the stump. Shivering, Maedhros made to pull his sleeve up. But before he could; a knock at the door made him jump backwards, bumping against the wall.
“Who is it?” Maedhros called out; his voice sharper than he meant it to be.
“It’s me, Fingon,” called back a cheery voice. “May I come in?”
“Yes, certainly,” Maedhros replied. The door swung open and Fingon stepped inside. He looked dashing in his deep purple velvet suit. The lamplight caught the golden braids in his hair, making them shimmer and sparkle.
“Oh, Maedhros,” Fingon reproached his cousin gently. “It’s nearly time for the autumn banquet, and you’re not even dressed!”
Maedhros glanced down at his nightshirt. He plucked at a button, feeling self conscious.
“Would you like some help?” Fingon went over to Maedhros, leaning next to him.
“I...well, I’m not sure I wish to attend,” Maedhros sighed.
Fingon’s forehead wrinkled in concern. Then he smiled.
“Oh, I know,” he said softly. “Is it because we have not yet welcomed in autumn?”
Maedhros shook his head; panic washing over him. “But we can’t! Not anymore”.
“Of course we can!” Fingon insisted. Still smiling, he clasped Maedhros’s left hand in his own and raised it to his lips. He kissed the palm.
“Farewell to summer,” Fingon said.
Maedhros blinked, confused, but he did not pull away. Then Fingon reached for his right arm. Maedhros watched, wide-eyed as Fingon kissed the end of the stump.
“And welcome to autumn,” Fingon said, his eyes gleaming.
“Fingon…” Maedhros said weakly. “You didn’t…” Fingon hushed him with a stern look. He shook his head and Maedhros had to smile.
“...may the trees rest, and the fruits be delicious,” Maedhros said.
“Better!” Fingon said with a grin. He kissed Maedhros on the cheek, making him blush. “Now will you attend the party with me?”
“I will,” Maedhros said, his face lighting up with happiness. “I’d be delighted to!”

_______________________________________

It did not take Maedhros long to get ready, with Fingon helping him. Fingon brushed his hair, gently easing out all the tangles until it looked beautiful, like a waterfall at sunset. Then Maedhros chose out a red velvet bow and Fingon fastened his hair back with it.
“Now you look very handsome,” Fingon said; holding up a hand mirror so Maedhros could admire the bow.
“I hope so,” Maedhros said, shyly. “Mother always gave me red bows; she said they went well with my hair”
Fingon laughed, then he helped Maedhros dress. Maedhros wore a burgundy tunic and cream trousers. Fingon advised against a cloak, as the great hall was warm, and the twins were liable to try and place objects on the bottom of it. Finally, Fingon decorated Maedhros’s ears with cuffs and rings of silver and white gold.
“There! How is that?” Fingon asked, waving a hand towards a floor length mirror.
“Oh!” Maedhros said softly, admiring his reflection. He looked most debonair. And more importantly, he felt good about himself. He felt like a proper elf again, instead of a poor broken thing.
“Dear Maedhros,” Fingon said, bowing in a humorous imitation of Turgon’s style. “I would be most honoured if you would polish all my silverware! Failing that, would you care to attend the autumn banquet with me?”
“You silly fellow!” Maedhros burst out laughing. He hugged Fingon, then kissed his cheek. “Come on, let’s go!”
They left their bedroom and went down the grand staircase, heading for the great hall. Maedhros walked slowly, but Fingon did not rush him. As they reached the hall, they could hear the sounds of music and laughter coming from within.
Fingon pushed open the double doors, and he and Maedhros stepped inside. A comfortable warmth, and the scent of delicious food swept over them. Maedhros’s gaze immediately went over to the large stone fireplace. There was an especially grand fire burning there. Maedhros smiled, as he knew this meant his father was watching over him.
And there were his brothers and cousins; some sitting at the table, while others lounged on soft cushions. Maglor was settled on a magnificent blue velvet cushion, with golden tassels. He was playing a pastoral song on his harp, while Elenwe and the twins accompanied him with their singing. But while Elenwe’s lyrics were graceful and lovely, the twins were making up their own, bawdy version of the song!
And the table was laid with splendid food and drink: mulled wine, honey mead, pumpkin soup and fruit pies with cream. Elenwe and Fingon’s giant pumpkin pie took center stage. Looking at the spread, Maedhros realised that, for the first time in ages, he felt really hungry. His stomach rumbled and Fingon grinned at him.
“You’re going to have to be quick,” he said. And Maedhros understood exactly what he meant. Aredhel was on her third tankard of mead, judging by the two empty ones in front of her. While Celegorm was drowning a dozen baked plums in cream. Once they were completely submerged, he then filled up the cat’s bowl on the floor. Then he straightened up, looked at Aredhel and grinned.
“Aredhel!” Celegorm nudged his cousin, causing her to slosh mead onto the table. “How about you welcome autumn in with me?”
“How about I welcome my tankard over your head?” Aredhel retorted. Celegorm blushed. Curufin, Caranthir and the twins roared with laughter.
“Looks like you’re winning, brother!” Curufin quipped. “So, when’s the wedding?” Then he leapt out of his seat as Aredhel grabbed a chocolate crème pie, ready to squish in his face. Turgon squealed and dived into Elenwe’s arms, so she could protect him from any messiness that might occur.
Fingon and Maedhros looked at each other. Fingon’s lips twitched. Maedhros raised whet little remained of his eyebrows. And then they both laughed!
“Come on, my dear,” Fingon said, linking his arm through Maedhros’s. “Let’s make this a party to remember!”