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Early Winter at Himring Hill
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Early Winter at Himring Hill

Many thanks, as always, to Dawn Felagund for her kindness in Beta-reading this story. Should arguably be rated "teens" only because it contains implied slash.


The cold air burned Fingon's lungs, pleasantly reminding him it was good to be alive. His horse whinnied and danced in place, confused when Fingon pulled him to a stop at a crest in the road. Fingon had claimed that it was too early to expect snow. Everyone else had insisted it was too late to ignore the possibility. His full-out laugh at the sight of the grim fortress, albeit softened somewhat by the frosting of snow on its turrets and roofs, gained Fingon a long-suffering shake of the head from his lieutenant.

The whitened downward grade immediately curved back up leading to the main entrance of the citadel at the top of Himring Hill. Fingon looked back and raised his hand in a signal to his company, which slowly moved up the incline to join him. Letting loose with a whoop reminiscent of his cousin Celegorm at the pinnacle of his wastrel youth, Fingon gave his eager horse his head and thundered down the slope and up the last approach.

Still strung out behind Fingon but moving forward again in an earnest effort to narrow the gap, his standard bearers struggled to unloose their banner and flags of blue and silver. Fingon grinned to himself at the thought of their anxiety. Can they truly believe that Maitimo will not recognize our party?

They had been spotted. The heavy wooden doors to the fortress were dragged open, catching for a moment on the newly fallen snow. Fingon, first through the gate, leapt from his horse and handed him off to a stable boy. Maedhros, his scarlet hair whipped back and forth by the stiff wind, not wearing even a cloak, strode toward Fingon across the snow-covered enclosure crowded with elves and horses.

Maedhros's smile quite literally melted the snow that landed on his face, while Fingon's jaws ached from the width of his own irrepressible grin.

"Káno," Maedhros said, pulling him into a fierce embrace. "What are you doing here so late in the season? You will be stuck here until spring."

"Do you truly think so?" Fingon asked, eyes wide in a parody of innocence.

"You can be sure of it, you rascal."

"What a shame," Fingon said laughing. "Then we will just have to make do, won't we?"


Maitimo - Maedhros
Káno - Fingon (nickname for Findekáno)

Written for Dawn Felagund's 2007 birthday, in response to a request for something about Fingon and Maedhros later in their lives than the period I have been covering in my Maitimo and Findekáno story cycle.


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