Title: These games we play
Summery: When a horrible accident renders little Makalaure mute, he is barely able to cope with the aftermath. Feanor discovers there is more to life and Maitimo learns there is more to his brother then he knew.
"Unbelievable, the child's a nuisance!"
"Surely he couldn't be that bad, Maitimo?" asked the pretty elleth as she leaned against Maitimo's broad chest. She idly twirled a lock of her lovers copper hair and hid a grin; the thought of tiny Makalaure causing havoc was almost unthinkable and entirely laughable.
"He is. Do you know what he did to me this morning?" Maitimo fairly whined, crossing his arms over his chest and shoving Lokte [Blossom] off his lap, the irate Feanorion could feel the amusement radiating from her.
Lokte pouted. "No I do not", she said before trying once more to placate him. "It can't have been that bad".
Maitimo gave up any semblance of calmness. "He tied each strand of my hair to the bed post while I was asleep! Amme had to cut it out!"
Lokte had thought Maitimo's hair was shorter, but she hadn't thought to comment in case she had been wrong. Now she was glad that she had refrained from mentioning the sheared locks.
"You look very handsome", Lokte offered tentatively, hoping her lover saw the olive branch she was offering.
He didn't, and instead completely exploded. "I look awful!" he yelled, "I think Amme used shears!"
A muffled giggle cut through Maitimo's tirade and the elf shot up from his seat, scanning the gardens for the source of the sound. Lokte wished the elfling would run and hide until Maitimo had calmed down; she was quite fond of Makalaure, the only son of Feanor to think smithing dull.
Despite himself Maitimo felt the beginnings of a smile tug the corners of his mouth. Despite finding his brother an annoying parasite, Maitimo was quite fond of his baby brother, and very protective of the child.
"Oh little songbird", Maitimo called in a falsetto voice, "Come out, come out wherever you are".
Another giggle, one that Maitimo tracked to the canopy above him. With a wicked grin he sprang into the tree, pulling himself towards his brother's form…only to gasp in surprise as he was doused with icy water. He caught sight of the twelve year old elfling's windswept, tangled dark hair and black eyes before he lost his hold on the branch. Maitimo barely managed to halt his fall by gripping onto the branch below, but by the time he regained his balance Makalaure was already out of the tree and half way across the green.
Maitimo barely halted to sketch a bow that courtesy demanded to Lokte, ignoring how she giggled at his bedraggled appearance, before he was chasing after his brother.
Despite the child's head start Maitimo had the advantage of long legs and was swiftly gaining on his small brother. By the way Makalaure swerved sharply, he knew it to. But no matter what the elfling did, Maitimo eventually drew close enough to wrap an arm around the child's waist and swing him up into the air.
Makalaure screeched happily as he was twirled around and settled on his brother's hip.
Maitimo could not help it, his anger rapidly vanishing at the sight of his brother's delighted countenance.
"What am I to do with you Makalaure?" he sighed when his brother buried his small face in the crook of his neck.
"Love me and play with me", came the predictable, if slightly muffled, answer.
Maitimo pressed a kiss to the downy hair. "Always", he breathed.
A moment or two passed blissfully in the sunshine as Maitimo revelled at holding his brother's fragile body, a moment that would be brought up and recalled with a bitter sweet nostalgia in the turmoil that would come, but they knew nothing of that, and so the moment passed.
"Come bratling", Maitimo said and set down his brother, holding his hand out to Makalaure who obediently slipped his small one inside. "Let us see if lunch is ready".