“I love you. For a thousand years I will love you.”
“Forever, and forever I will love you.”
“Beyond forever I will love you, and bear your hurt and pain, and revel in your joy.”
“And we will never part.”
Their first kiss is under the boughs of a great tree in the gardens of Tirion, gentle lips and quiet mouths probing tentatively.
“I can feel our bond,” Findekáno whispered, in awestruck wonder. “I can feel you.”
Maitimo sighed, his face sharp in the Darkness. “He has called us. I must go.”
Findekáno throws his thoughts across the plains, searching, searching.
He cannot break the walls that surround his connection to Maitimo. Someone far stronger than he has sundered them (their Oath shall drive them).
Angamando glowers at him (ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously), and, in that moment, Findekáno decides.
He leaves tomorrow.
“Oh King to whom all birds are dear!” Findekáno cries. “Recall some pity for the Noldor in their need”
And the arrow flies, and the Eagle flies, and Findekáno flies.
Maitimo falls (slain ye shall be, by weapon and by torment and by grief).
“You should have killed me,” Maedhros snapped.
“Please, kill me.”
“I cannot.” Findekáno sighed and leant against Maitimo. “Please, I cannot.” (find little pity, though all ye have slain should entreat for you).
“I do not—” Káno shook his head. “I cannot. I do not…” He paused, took a deep breath. “I need a heir, I must beget a heir, but I cannot…”
“I am bonded to you, Maitimo!” (to evil shall all things turn that they begin well).
“That bond is void.” Maedhros snapped.
“I am bound to you until the end of Arda!” Findekáno cried. A single tear glittered on his cheek.
“Marry her,” Maedhros said. No, Maitimo wept, no (upon all that will follow them it will be laid also).
He should not be able to see Káno, across the battlefield. But he can. The bright blue banner flutters in the breeze, tattered and torn, but still whole, and he fights with a fierce intensity (for blood ye shall render blood), and Maitimo’s heart sings with Káno’s, even as Maedhros fends off his foes.
Then the Balrog appears.
And they fight.
And Káno’s sword flies past the creature’s guard.
And another whip flies out from behind, and wraps around Káno.
Káno’s body screams, nerves drowning in a river of flame.
But he still fights.
This is your fault, Maedhros spits (by treason of kin unto kin) and Maitimo cannot reply, running as though he can reach Káno, as though the space that stretches between them (has always stretched between them) is nonexistent (not even the echo of you lamentation shall pass over the mountains).
Then there is a white flame, one blinding flash of pain, and it is over.
Maitimo falls to his knees (the Dispossessed they shall be for ever).
Maitimo stares at the bright stone (on the House of Fëanor) in his hand. Maedhros stares at the stone, and cries aloud in glee.
Maedhros breathes. The Oath is fulfilled(the wrath of the Valar lieth).
The stone starts to burn, scorching his hand (from the West).
Maitimo jumps (unto the uttermost East).