Archive of Our Own

On the hidden island of Aman, behind the pure white shores of Alqualondë and the snow covered tips of the Pelóri, in the Máhanaxar, the ancient Ring of Doom laid out to deliver the council and judgement of the Valar themselves, a congregation had gathered. 

“Many yeni have passed since last some of you have been summoned here.” 

The voice danced through the air like a gust of wind, soft but inescapable. “Your past crimes have been forgiven and by the mercy of Námo your doom has been lifted and yet-” Eyes, fair and distant as the blue sky above, were fixed on the eight figures standing inside the circle. “Yet one is still missing from your midst.”

The announcement was met by a silence, in which not even the air seemed to move, as if the wind had lost its purpose in the absence of words to carry. 

It stretched, nearly unbearable, before it was broken by another voice, another figure clad in twilight, its tone soft but portentous, bleeding into every ear turned to it. 

“Your son, your brother, still toils alone, in a world that has become strange and foreign to what we know. He will not return.”

Unrest broke out in the small group in the middle of the Ring for the first time since they had arrived. 

“He is not more guilty than any of us and less than some!” cried out a strong voice, though even in its fire it rang weak in comparison to the mighty words that had been spoken earlier, echoing as if woven in the essence of creation itself.  “Why should he suffer this punishment?!”

“You misunderstand, Son of Finwë,” replied the voice of shadow. “Him as well we have pardoned long ago, but may it be for penance or mistrust, he has chosen not to return.”

“For penance or mistrust his own decision it may be,” continued another voice, crystalline and sorrowful as a tear. “Yet we fear our message has not reached him. We fear that in grief and long years of solitude and woe his mind has become too clouded to hear our calls. We fear he has lost his way.”

“It is as my sister says,” the twilight spoke again, while the wind nodded his assent on a warm breeze. “Yet since we are no longer allowed to leave the borders of these lands, we offer one of you passage to the East, to bring home Makalaurë Kanafinwë Fëanorion, should you desire to do so.”

“Let me go.” The tallest of the group stepped out towards the high thrones and the looming intangible figures seated on top of them without hesitation.  

“It is I that abandoned him to this lonely fate and so it must be I that delivers him from it.” He bowed his head and his long hair shone like polished bronze under the sun. “With your permission, I will go East to find my brother and finally bring him home.” His fair face was grave when he turned it up towards the Valar, his father’s hand resting heavy on his shoulder. 

“For I cannot bear to think of the torment he must suffer.”

“Hey there my dear followers and/or subscribers welcome to this week’s live stream! I see some of you have already started to post some questions for me, so let’s start with that, shall we? Alrighty so.… pony_girl1994 -great name by the way, I love horses, I had a whole cavalry at one point but I’ll tell you about that another time- so anyway where was I? Ah yes, pony_girl1994  is asking about the new music video I was hinting at last week! Like I said before I’m not gonna go into details, don’t want to spoil it for you, but let’s just say it’s gonna be a blast from the pas-NYAGGGHH-”

With a loud bang, a scream and the disorienting picture of a camera falling, the live stream of semi-famous youtuber, beloved niche musician and aspiring instagram influencer gold_raps cut off, leaving behind his bewildered and slightly worried fans.

“Motherf-” 

The dark haired injured party caught himself mid-curse, as he took in the reason for his painful interruption. A reason that was over 7 feet tall, red haired and currently awkwardly hovering over his fallen form. 

Oh- and also very much not supposed to be here.

“Makalaurë, brother…” The cause of his fall began, unsure how to continue, bracing himself for the onslaught of emotions and the tearful reunion waiting to happen after millennia of separation, waiting for his brother to throw himself around his neck and weep, or whisper his name in disbelief and ask-

“How the actual fuck???”

To be fair, Maedhros thought, that was also a very understandable reaction. 

“Námo has released us all from the Halls but you had not returned. They told us you had not answered the Valars’ summons, that you were still lost and wandering alone. We worried for you and so I pleaded permission to leave Valinor and bring you home.” 

He offered his hand to pull his brother up and perhaps finally into that long awaited embrace, but Maglor just blinked at him from his place on the floor.

“Yeah no,” he finally said. “I figured that. I meant, how did you get in here?” he asked, gesturing wildly between his brother and the still closed door, his many bracelets jingling against each other in a symphony of confusion. 

“Oh,” Maedhros pointed over his shoulder. “Your window was open.”

“This is the 5th floor!”

“It’s not that high. Fingon’s balcony used to be about the same way up. And the drainpipe here is much more conveniently placed.” 

He stopped and looked back again, contemplating. “Perhaps too conveniently. Now that I am thinking about it, you should really keep your window locked, anyone could enter when you least expect it, it is unsafe! Not to mention those metal contraptions blowing out poisonous fumes and purring like angry dragons right under you window! Who knows if they cannot climb!”

“The metal-” Maglor looked up at him as if he’d grown another head. He really hoped that was not the case. Having two hands again was very nice, but two heads would definitely be excessive.  “Are you talking about cars??”

“Is that what they are called?”

Finally, his brother had recovered somewhat from his cataleptic position on the floor and a wide grin was starting to spread on his face- and before Maedhros could prepare himself for what might come next, he was already being jumped by a flurry of silk and dark hair, with a force that made him stumble back a good few steps.

“Nelyo!” his attacker whooped into his ear. “I've missed you so much!”

“You do not seem very surprised to see me.”

Maglor had finally detached himself from his brother and was now sitting in his chair again, spinning in half circles from one side to the other with an unexpected giddy energy, while Maedhros regarded him curiously from where he was leaning on the window sill.

“Bitch I literally fell out of my chair what more do you want?”

“Yes but that was because I appeared behind you without any warning-” he paused and cocked his head, considering. “Now that I’m saying this out loud I do realise that this might not have been the best way to go about it.”

The ‘You think?’ was clear in Maglor’s look.

“But what was I supposed to do?? The door was locked and when I asked that old man if Makalaurë Kanafinwë, called Maglor, Feanorion lived here she shut the door in my face without an answer!”

“Wait,” Maglor had abruptly stopped the chair and held up a hand, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Back up there. What old man?”

Maedhros shrugged. “Well I don’t know, they’re your neighbours. He was white- no, silver-haired and wore a very revealing tunic with beads around his neck and a little bag. Oh and he had dark glasses on top of his head, I remember because I thought it quite strange, how could that help him see…” he trailed of, taking in his brother’s horror wide eyes. 

“Please don’t-” his brother whimpered. “Please don’t tell me you called her an old man.”

“Her- ? Ooh….” His eyes’ widened in understanding and Maglor buried his face in his hands with an overlong groan.

“Oh God,” he mumbled and there was actual despair in his voice. “She’s never gonna forgive you for that. She’s never gonna forgive me for that. And so soon after the hedgehog incident…” he broke off, and Maedhros was left to wonder what evil he had woken with his words.

“Well in my defence, her hair was short and white and she was wearing leggings and a tunic- as men do. It was an honest mistake, and not your fault, I am sure if I explain-”

“You don’t understand, Nelyo,” his brother interrupted him, his gaze agonised. “She is a Karen. She does not forgive or forget and she does not care if something is your fault or not.”

“I do not follow…”

“She is-” Maglor paused and moved his hands through the air in circles, as if trying to fish the right words from it, the right explanation to make his brother understand the gravity of what he had done.

“She is a Thingol, Maedhros.”

Maedhros paled.

“Eru save us.”

They both took a few second to digest this new information before Maedhros broke the silence again.

“You still have not told me why you do not seem to be surprised to see me.”

“Nelyo,” Maglor said in a voice as if speaking to a small child. “My good bro. I am very surprised to see you, but you forget that I’v been actually alive for many, many thousand years. For example, a hundred years ago around this time of year, I was in Gibraltar minding my own business- and it started raining frogs. Frogs, Nelyo! After a while you just kinda learn to….roll with things. Also-” he added on. “Your timing is pretty great. Last year has, as a wise man once said, already been so goddamn weird, this might as well happen.” 

He finger gunned and winked at his brother, but dropped the pose a few seconds later when Maedhros’ face remained politely confused. 

“Never mind, you’ll get it one day. Now come on, we need to celebrate and I know just where to do it!”

When he turned around ready to leave however, he suddenly felt Maedhros freeze behind him, and a milisecond later he was being grabbed by the shoulder and hauled around again, facing his brother’s blazing eyes.

“Who did this to you?”

Maglor blinked twice. 

“…done what now?”

Maedhros’ gaze was still fixed somewhere around Maglor’s shoulders in horror, as he twisted a dark strand of hair in his hand.

“Your hair.”

“What? What is it?” Maglor’s hands flew up to his head. “Is it the frizz again? I thought it’s not even humid out! Oh god it’s not greasy is it? I could have sworn I just washed it yesterday I even started using-”

“It’s been cut!”

Maglor’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“Oh that. It’s chic isn’t it? Oscar used to say it brought out my cheekbones, I cannot believe I've waited until the 19th century to try this style! I mean I was really tempted to cut it before, mostly out of necessity though, I mean you know how hard it is to take care of long hair on the road. Especially before dry shampoo was a thing! And all that braiding and styling-!” He ran a hand through his dark locks, and then flipped them to the side with a clearly practiced turn of his head. “You should try it, Nelyo. It’s liberating!”

Maedhros jumped away until his back hit the wall, one hand protectively placed on his scalp. “I would never-!” He exclaimed, with all the righteous incredulity of a self-respecting elf, whose grandfather’s hair had been so great it had changed the meaning of the word finwe forever.

“You mean,” he started again, eyes not leaving the short-haired elf before him, clearly trying to comprehend the situation. “You mean you voluntarily leave your house like this?!”

Maglor rolled his eyes at him. 

“Sheesh, way to build my confidence. It’s not even that short! Eru, I forgot how touchy you can get about your precious looks.” He quickly checked his reflection in the mirror next to the door and took his keys from the hook next to it. “I’ll ask you again once the wonders of the modern world have eroded your sense of Valinorian purism. Now let’s get a drink to celebrate!” He took his brothers arm and the next second they were both out of the flat and in the white painted stairwell.  “You’re gonna love boba!”

“Káno, why are there marbles in my tea?” 

“Not marbles. Boba. Soft and chewy and delicious. Smile!”

Maedhros didn’t quite manage to tear his gaze away from the strangely light cup in his hand, filled with a milky liquid and small dark balls reminding him of- “So, like fish eggs?”

His brother nearly dropped the flat shiny item he had been pointing at them both. “They’re not-! They’re made of jelly they’re nothing like fish-” He looked at him and then at the drink in his hand, his features slowly falling, “-eggs.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Maglor could have sworn he saw Maedhros’ mouth twitch. “You did that on purpose!”

His brother’s face was the picture of pure innocence. “What?” 

He narrowed his eyes, in the same way he had done ever since he had been a small child trying to decipher if he was taken for a fool again. Damn that pokerface, he thought and muttered “I forgot how infuriating you could be,” under his breath, loud enough for his brother to hear. 

This time Maedhros was definitely smirking, as he threw a long arm around his shoulders.

“It’s too easy to put an image into your head, Káno. Remember when I told you that turnips were the shrivelled up toes of giant chicken? I think you refused to eat any kind of root vegetable for nearly 30 years.”

Maglor manhandled him away from the cashier’s raised eyebrows, towards a table on the shop’s terrace.

“Yes, thank you for reminding me Nelyafinwë, I do recall. Now can you please stop killing my vibe? You’ve literally been here less than an hour.”

Maedhros grin refused to budge- proud, infuriating, but also bringing a sudden rush of fondness at being treated as a younger sibling again with it- before he ruffled his brother’s dark hair. 

“What are you doing?” he gestured to Maglor’s phone.

“Letting my followers now I’m skipping the live stream this week.”

That simple sentence was enough to finally wipe the smile of Maedhros’ face as he straightened in his seat, his green eyes burning with newfound fire.

“Followers?” he exclaimed a bit too loudly. “We still have followers on this shore? We have been told all have returned! Let us both speak to them and tell them their doom has long been lived and they shall be welcomed back with open arms.”

Maglor froze with his phone in his hand, eyes flickering between the small bright screen, his brother’s even brighter eyes, and the clearly unsettled teenage girl sitting behind them.

“Yeah…. not really that kind of followers.” He quickly shoved the display into his brother’s face. “But look at how cute we look in that pic though!” 

It took his brother a few moments to adjust to what he was seeing, but then his eyes widened. “A coloured ítaemma!” he exclaimed.

“That’s not what-“ Maglor began, before his eyes widened in realisation. “You know what a photograph is?”

“Of course. Father invented them not long ago. Námo made him channel his energy into less destructive sciences, preferably art. It was part of the conditions for his release from the Halls. Scared the living tree light out of me when he flashed us for the first time!”

“While I am very happy the Valar seem to have discovered the concept of therapy, please do not use flashing in that context ever again, I am literally begging you.”

Maedhros waved him off and continued.“Moryo has really taken to it, as well. But we haven’t quite been able to figure out how to add colour yet” He turned over the phone in his hand. “Or how to store the image on a device as tiny as this.”

“So many centuries and all you have to show for is black and white photography.” Locks of Maglor’s shoulder length black hair swayed in front of his face as he shook his head disapprovingly, but his grey eyes were twinkling. “I’m almost disappointed.”

His brother was not impressed. “It’s fairly hard to invent new things without a corporal body, I’ll have you know. But-” Maedhros leaned forward, his eyes serious now and took his brother’s hands in his. “You still have not told me. Why have you refused the Valar’s summons?”

“Ah.” Maglor patted his hand once, before sitting back in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. He smoothed his hair carefully back over his ears, but kept twisting a strand around his finger, as if embarrassed.  “Well to be honest with you,” he began. “I didn’t hear them?”

“They said they have tried to contacted you.”

“How though?” He flicked his hair away defensively. “Did they send me an e-mail? A text? A conveniently placed ad interrupting my youtube video?”

Maedhros' face was blank.

“Well, I guess technological innovation hasn’t gone that far in good old Valinor Valley.”

“They…would have spoken to you,” Maedhros tried again. “Have you not heard their voices?”

At this Maglor made a grimace as comprehension dawned on him. “Ah yes, I see why that might have been a problem.” He sucked the air in between his perfect teeth. “Thing is, Osanwe doesn’t really seem to work all that well nowadays? Probably all the wave interference, if you ask me. Never been quite the same since the invention of the radio.”  Slowly he slurped some of his ice cold tea, all the while eyeing the boba critically, trying very hard not to think of a certain resemblance.  “Wifi made everything even more muddled.”

Maedhros nodded seriously, contemplating this and trying his best not let on he had not understand a single word his brother had uttered just now. “Is that why I could not sense your mind? I feared it must have been because you had lost yourself.”

Maglor waved him off, now carefully chewing. “Nah it’s just the 5G. You’ll get used to it.” 

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, only interrupted by the sound of increasingly enthusiastic slurping, before Maedhros spoke again, clearly bringing up something that had been on his mind for a while.

“Are there others still out there?”

To his surprise Maglor nodded enthusiastically, only slowing down to avoid the danger of choking on some boba he was trying to swallow.

“Oh yeah, a few I think! Daeron drops by for karaoke night sometimes. It gets intense.”

The sound of violent sputtering followed from across the table.

“Daeron?” Maedhros choked out, while Maglor jumped up to pat him on the back. “Daeron…of Doriath?”

“One and only.”  Maglor sympathetically gave him one last pat, before deeming his brother save enough from another trip to Námo to return to his seat. Boba induced or not, he was somehow sure Tyelko and/or Curvo would find a way to make it the Doriathrims’ fault anyway and well- been there, done that, really didn’t need a sequel.

“Turns out he’s actually a pretty cool guy once you get to know him- and we really bonded at those throat singing lessons in Mongolia a few centuries ago! He’s hanging around Windhoek at the moment, hitting up some clubs, attempting to bring folktronic back apparently. Don’t know why he’s still trying, that scene’s been dead for over for twenty years and contrary to others here present- it ain’t coming back. Oh yeah and then there’s Círdan of course. Haven’t talked to him in a while, but he’s still surfing up and down the coast of Australia. Wait I can show you his Insta!”

He grabbed his phone and scrolled through the feed for a bit, before turning it towards his brother. Maedhros had to blink a few times, tears still in eyes, before his sight cleared enough to take in the picture of a tanned, seemingly 30-something year old man with a neatly trimmed white beard, posing next to a giant board with a colourful drink in the other hand. He also observed that there was a small blue umbrella floating in the drink. What purpose could this serve? It was too small to protect the glass from rain or curious flies- but whatever the purpose, he had to admit it was aesthetically quite pleasing.

Maglor moved his finger over the screen and the photo changed to the same man, now only a small figure in the distance, standing on the board and seemingly flying over the top of a massive wave.

“He seems…well,” Maedhros croaked out, throat still sore from his earlier coughing fit.

“Yeah, he’s really taken to surfing. Might have invented it actually, now that I think about it. I’ve tried it a few times but it’s not really my thing. Gets my hair all messed up, and to be honest, beaches get old after a couple of centuries- not to mention that all that salt and moisture and sand is terrible for instruments! Need to move on, ya know? Go with the flow and all that.” 

Maglor scrutinised his brother for a few seconds, looking from the golden circlet in his hair down to the gold embroidered tunic, and the long flowing cloak shining proudly in bold Feanorian red. He tsked.

“Talking about moving on- we really need to buy you some new clothes.” 

“What is wrong with my clothes?”

“They’re not exactly…this season are they?”

Maedhros bristled. “It’s the newest fashion in Valinor!”

“Oh Toto, but we’re not in Valinor anymore. I can’t tell everyone I’m shooting a music video every day now, can I?”

“We’re going to shoot something?” 

There was almost something akin to hope in Maedhros’ voice- shooting was something he knew how to do, and he was sure a good hunt would clear his head from all this wave interference and 5G or whatever Maglor had called it.

Of course, the pitying look on Maglor’s face destroyed this hope immediately. 

“…oh honey, his is going to take a while.” His brother pulled him up and linked their arms, dragging him out of the door with an excited spring in his step. 

“But fear not, I know just the place. Let’s go pop some tags.”

Needless to say, Maedhros did fear. 

Never in his long life had Maedhros seen so many different clothes in one place. Not at the dressmaker’s in Tirion, not in Maglor’s extensive performance wardrobe, not even when he had helped Findaráto chose robes for his visit to Valmar, to spend a fortnight with Amarië’s family for the first time. His cousin had insisted he “borrow” the finest clothes he could sneak from his brother’s wardrobes, which really had meant Káno’s and Curvo’s wardrobe, since the twins were too small, Moryo had a ‘depressingly dark’ fashion taste and Tyelko- well Tyelko apparently had none. 

And so, together with Fingon, who had raided his own siblings’ closets, they had spent the night puting together the most fabulously eclectic clothing ensembles Valinor had ever seen. 

Maglor had never found out where his favourite silken sash had disappeared to, and Finrod had refused to tell even Maedhros, turning slightly pink around the nose whenever the topic came up. He had stopped asking eventually, admitting that- knowing his cousin- it was better to remain in the dark about some things.

They passed a section with what could only be described as short, brightly coloured, sleeveless tunics, with bold letters covering their front. He leaned in to take closer look.

“We Hustle for the Musc-”

Maglor's hand came around his arm in a vice grip, steering him away. 

“This is the Tyelko section, Nelyo,” he hissed. “We do not go there. Now-” he stopped in front of a row of small cabins, separated from each other by thin walls and drapes. “Wait here for a moment and I will be back with an assortment of the finest garments of the last decades. We’ll make a trendsetter out of you yet.” 

“You forget I was Tirion’s ‘trendsetter’ when you were still in diapers, Káno.”

“Exactly, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t updated your wardrobe since then. Which means that right now you’re not just wearing someone’s granddad’s clothes but someone’s grand-grand-grand-grand-grand-grand-grand-grand-”

“Yes, thank you, you’ve made your point. I will let myself trustingly be dressed by your capable hands, just like the dolls Moryo never admits he enjoyed playing with.”

“Good.” Maglor tried to fix him with the patented Fëanorian-glare™ but was betrayed by the corners of his mouth twitching at the memory. “And don’t you forget it.”

Maedhros had not lied when he had claimed to have been Tirion’s trendsetter a long time ago. He had enjoyed living up to his mother name as a young man, and sometimes he had enjoyed the attention it had brought him. But he liked to think he had always been reasonable in his wardrobe choices. Maglor, on the other hand, had from the beginning lived by a motto that could only be described as ‘More is More’. 

He did not know why he had expected this to have changed after his years away from Valinor, but he was still surprised when after a short while, a walking tower of fabric he assumed must be his brother, returned to where he had been examining a tight white dress reminding him of Aredhel. 

(He did not notice the black letter on the backside saying ‘unBUTTon me’ - though if he had, it probably would have only reminded him of her even more.)

Furthermore he soon discovered that the amount of material needed for one piece of clothing had drastically shrunk during the last couple of millennia, and that to his horror, the now dangerously leaning tower of fabric, consisted of even more questionable items than previously expected.

Fortunately, the life of the Eldar was long. Unfortunately, so were Maglor’s shopping trips.

“Will it not cause problems for me to be dressed like this? This shade of blue looks very close to Nolofinwe’s colours after all.”

Maglor smacked his lips in what Maedhros would soon learn was his best Miranda Priestly impression. 

“First of all. That’s not blue, it’s cerulean. Second of all, I didn’t know Nolofinwë owned the colour.” 

“Of course he does not it is just- I would rather be dressed in the colours of our own house.”

“Listen, Nelyo, I know you like wearing red and all that but- let’s be real- it clashes terribly with your hair. And that cloak is honestly a hazard, you’re gonna get stuck in an escalator and then who’s gonna come to save your perfect ass this time, huh?”

“Again with the red, Nelyo?”

“It’s not even red it’s-” he searched for a fitting word, “ -blood orange.”

“Omg shut up it’s fucking red,” a voice immediately retorted from the cabin next to them, making Maedhros blink in confusion at the stranger’s interference, while Maglor’s face was slowly taking on the aforementioned shade. 

“They have not even seen the piece?” Maedhros asked, and his brother looked like he was trying his best not to combust with held back laughter, fanning himself wildly. “We need to get you on the internet asap,” he wheezed and Maedhros threw a shirt into his face.

“Finally a comfortable tunic.”

“Actually that’s a dress and I’m not sure how it got in here, but you know what? With the right leggings you could totally pull it off, now turn around for - ah.”

“What?”

“Say, Nelyo, would you describe yourself as ‘bootylicious’?”

In general Maedhros believed that the Eldar, save for some known exceptions, where a patient people, blessed with near endless time and endurance - but in that moment he had to admit, that even an infinite amount of patience could be drained in an instant by smug little brothers with an outrageous taste in clothing.

“I feel…exposed.”

“What are you talking about, you look fab!”

“You can see my - my hind! I cannot go out like this, children could see me!”

“They’re just jeans, Nelyo. Your precious butt is fully covered.”

“But the shape-!”

Maglor sighed and threw his hands in the air. 

“I want you to have a hot girl summer and you are not helping!”

It looked like it cost him great strength when he finally gave in to his brother’s critical expression. “Fine, I’m gonna get you something with a less tight fit to try. But you’re really bereaving this world of a thing of beauty.” He took away an armful of clothing. “And me of some insta clout.”

When he came back, a pair of emerald coloured bell bottoms over his arm, Maedhros was still in the changing room, eyeing the offending part of his body critically from every angle. 

“I mean…it is indeed- shapely. For certain occasions…”

“Oh no. Oh no. Uh uh.” Maglor waved a finger in front of his brother’s face, trying to get back his attention. “I can see were your mind is going, but I’m buying you clothes to make you stand out less in public, not for you to show off your butt to Findekáno when you get home.”

Maedhros nodded with a demure expression Maglor didn’t buy for one second. “Of course,” he agreed.

“Though…as your brother and your best friend,” Maglor whispered conspiratorially after a moment of contemplation. “It is my duty to inform you, that they also come as shorts.”

Whatever Maedhros might have argued later, Maglor knew in that moment that the blush on his face did not come from the terrible lighting.

“Man, I miss bell bottoms. The way they just swoosh around your legs? Unparalleled. Skinny jeans could never.”

Maedhros squirmed under his brother’s appraising eye and took a look around the slowly emptying shop, which was easily possible since the improvised dressing rooms where barely made for tall men, not to mention tall elves, and if he stood up straight, half of his head was peaking out over the curtain.

“Káno, you keep telling me that these things are what people wear nowadays, but I can’t help but notice that nobody here is actually dressed that way.”

His brother took a dismissive look around and waved him off.

“Only because they don’t know what’s good for them. And also because they don’t have the experience of knowing all the perfect fits of the last decades. Here try this on-” he handed Maedhros a piece of something that looked like it had once covered several unfortunately luminous fishes, before his brother’s famous raised ‘I know you are lying’- eyebrow finally made him cave. Damn that expressive eyebrow.  

“Okay, okay I was perhaps going too much for the retro vibe, but can you blame me? Every major fashion change I wondered how one of you would pull it off, and now finally I have the opportunity to see it with my own eyes! Plus I took some great pics that are totally going on my insta. Gotta get that clout you know.” He winked at his brother and waved his phone through the air victoriously as if to underline his point.

“But if you insiiist-” he turned around to another stack of fabric, positioned on a dark orange armchair that had definitely seen better days.  “I’ve also brought you some boring clothes, I know how you love the elegant understated look for some reason. They might be a bit short in the arms and legs, but we can work with that.” He sighed again, looking with deep regret at his brother and the fish-scaley monstrosity in his arms. “That one would have been so much more fun, though.”

The next morning Maedhros awoke to a low buzzing noise, and the sudden collision of something round and hard with his head. He shot up from the thin air mattress he had fallen asleep on last night, when he had realised that there was no way he could comfortably fit on Maglor’s plush vintage two-seater. The journey here must have left him more exhausted than he had realised and he needed a moment to orientate himself in the unfamiliar surrounding. 

Really, the Halls and then Valinor must have made him slow. Back in Beleriand he would never have had the luxury of taking a minute to come to his senses like this, back then he had always been prepared for the imminent attack of another one of Morgoth creatures like- like whatever the whirring little disk that kept bumping against his mattress was?

It was shining black and on top of it near the front (Where the head would be?) sat a blinking blue light (An eye?) just behind a small opening. (Could it possibly be a mouth? Did it eat? What creature was this?) Maedhros watched it for a while, as it repeatedly smacked into the mattress and then- after turning slightly to the side- his leg, that was stretched out on the ground. It made an irritated beeping noise before launching itself forward again with similar success. (Did it want something? Food?)

Carefully Maedhros reached out- slowly, still unsure what kind of animal this was- and turned the small round shell around, the eye now facing away from him towards the open space of the living room.

“Careful little one,” he muttered. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” The creature gave no answer, and only scurried away with its tell-tale buzz. It looked happier, Maedhros decided. “There you go.”

“Did you say something?” Maglor stumbled in from the kitchen, already dressed in another flowing silk robe and a cup of something that smelled like coffee in his hand.

“Is was merely talking to your strange pet over there. I think it might be confused. It ran into me a couple of times.”

“My- but I don’t have a-” A dull thud came from the other side of the room where the round creature had made contact with yet another wall, drawing Maglor’s attention. 

“That useless little-” he sighed before something seemed to click in his head. “Wait. Are you talking about the roomba?”

Maedhros shrugged his shoulders, also looking over to where the unfortunate creation was unsuccessfully trying to escape from a corner.  “Whatever its name is, I do not think it is quite well.”

“Yeah that’s because it’s a cheap piece of trash I got as a promo gift three years ago.”

He was taken aback by Maedhros’ sudden glare. “You should not speak about another living being like this, Káno. It is only trying its best, I am sure.”

Maglor’s mouth fell open.

“What?? No- I’m not- I mean it’s not a- it’s for cleaning! For the dust!”

“So it feeds on dust? I was wondering.”

“It’s a machine, Nelyo!” Maglor was pointing emphatically in the direction of the pathetic whirring noises, hissing as he narrowly avoided spilling the still steaming coffee over his moving hands. “And not a very good machine, given that it’s supposed to detect obstacles and you know- avoid them.”

“Oh,” his brother only answered, thoughtful gaze still fixed on the little robot on the floor. “Are you sure it’s not just lonely?”

“Am I-?” This time Maglor stopped himself at the last second, before performing another grand gesture of disbelief that would inevitably douse him in his hot beverage and stepped to the side to put down his mug onto the couch table. He crouched down into Maedhros’ line of sight.

“Did you hear the part where I said it was a machine??”

“It looks sad!”

“It’s not even alive!”

“Perhaps it needs a friend?”

“I-” Whatever answer Maglor had prepared was interrupted by another muted thud, followed by something that sounded like a pitiful squeak and then a purr, as it adjusted its course again.

Both of them stared at the pathetic sight it for a little while longer before locking eyes again.

“No. Absolutely not. I am not buying my roomba a friend.”

“Nelyo!”

Maedhros cursed at the earsplitting call and nearly dropped the improvised cat toy he had been dangling in front of matasto, roomba #2 and their little household’s newest additions. 

“Makalaurë for the love of Eru, gold cleaver you may be called but would it be too much not to cleave my head every time you want my attention?”

Maglor careened into the room, with his- as Maedhros had learned it to be called- laptop dangerously balanced in one hand and a surely nauseatingly sweet coffee drink in the other. 

“And here I thought after a few millennia you would have learned to carry expensive objects in both hands. Do I really need to remind you what happened to my miniature glass chess -”

“You really do not need to remind me, since you never let me forget it in the first place. I was 15! And it’s been literally over ten thousand years!”

“Well I liked that chess set! How would you feel if someone broke one of your harps?”

“First of all, I’m pretty sure Tyelko has broken at least two of them and Huan buried another one in the garden at some point. Second of all, that chess set was absolutely useless! What’s the point of having a travel sized chess set if you can’t actually take it on your travels, because you’re too afraid it might break!”

“It looked nice!”

“It looked ridiculous. You’re already freakishly tall without using miniature version of normal sized objects.”

“I really came all the way to find you just to be attacked like that, didn’t I?”

Maglor’s grin could only be described as shit-eating - a term Maedhros had learned two days ago, when his brother had introduced him to something he had called memes. If he was being honest he did not understand most of them quite yet, but he could see the appeal. And some of them were quite amusing. He especially liked the funny dog with his little tea mug sitting in a burning room- it was a feeling he himself remembered quite well.

Apparently his brother had more surprises for him from this place called the internet, because he had managed to sit down on the couch without dropping his laptop and Maedhros could see the- well not exactly familiar, but also not quite unfamiliar- picture page he had been introduced to a few days prior. 

“You will not believe the response I got on our shopping pics! I’ve gained like 300 followers just from your flawless face.” He sighed happily and leaned further back into the couch. “I’m so glad you’re all hot again.”

“I’m glad my healing is of use for you,” Maedhros deadpanned, but he could not help leaning closer to read some of the comments for himself - his eyebrows steadily rising higher with each one of them until they nearly disappeared into his hairline. 

“Are they … objectifying me?” 

Maglor patted his head somewhat patronisingly.

“It’s the internet, of course they are. You’ll get used to it.” He took a sip from his drink, and from his contented smile Maedhros could wager that the amount of sugar in that concoction would be enough to kill a small rodent. A good thing elven teeth did not rot- or at least he hoped they did not.

“Just be glad good old Giacomo isn’t around anymore,” his brother continued, blissfully unaware of the health hazard he was infusing himself with. “The things that were coming out of that man’s mouth…Findaráto would have loved him for sure, but my face was so red all the time I’m pretty sure half of Venice thought I had a skin condition. My ears burned for days! Really made me feel for Moryo actually.” His gaze was taking on a somewhat dreamy quality and Maedhros knew exactly what would come out of his mouth next. “I mean, at least he knew how to make good on his promises, I’ve never met a man whohmmpff-”

Whatever Giacomo had been so adept at doing would hopefully forever remain a mystery to Maedhros’ ears, as he quickly clamped a hand over his brother’s mouth.

“No,” he hissed. “I don’t care what you get up in your spare time, but I do not need or want to hear about it!”

“Hmmmhmp,” came Maglor’s indignant answer and then-

“Did you just lick my hand??”

His brother cleared his throat and pretended to spit out next to the couch. “I shall not be silenced!” he declared pompously.

“You licked my hand! What are you, five?”

Maglor rolled his eyes. “Get over it, it’s not like it was enjoyable for me either!”

Maedhros made a move as if to wipe his hand on is brother’s morning robe- turquoise today, how many did he have?- and Maglor scrambled back with a shriek, throwing a tissue box at him. For a moment the scene felt so deeply familiar that Maedhros half-expected Tyelko to launch himself at them out of nowhere in a ‘surprise attack’, followed by an excited Huan and a decidedly less excited Moryo complaining about the noise and their ‘level of maturity’.

He could see in the way that Maglor’s excessively disgusted face changed into a grin that he was having similar thoughts. “If we’re thinking about Valinor, may I remind you that you are not exactly a blushing virgin yourself?”

“At least I kept any such activities discreet and definitely did not subject my brothers to the details.”

“I am discreet!”

Maedhros once again lifted that damned eyebrow to look at him. Really, Maglor thought, how could a single eyebrow contain so much judgement?

“Fine!” he admitted. “But it’s not my fault us artists are prone to immortalising our passions.”

“As if you needed immortalising.”

“I’ll have you know my beauty has become part of world literature.”

Maedhros groaned. “Oh Eru, how has your head not exploded yet?”

“Really, the poems weren’t half-bad. Could have been better of course. I keep saying we never should have left the dactylic hexameter, now that was at least fun to write! No wonder epic poems fell out of fashion, who would want 27 000 verses of iambic pentameter, no thank you. And summer’s day really is a bit on the nose, and while there might be gold in my name- not that Will could have known that- I would not really call my complexion that. Though of course if one was to take golden as just another expression of precious or beautiful, as one would use bright in the manner of intelligence and not actual shine it might-“

Maedhros growned again, louder this time. “Please, are you done complementing yourself yet? I’m getting a headache.”

Maglor smiled sweetly. “Oh I’m sorry Mr. well-formed hot ginger. Maybe you might enjoy some paintings instead of poetry? I have been told I make an exceptional muse for them as well.”

“I assume you speak of the overly large oil painting in your entrance hall that immediately assaults everyone who enters the flat? A bit desperate to have your own portrait placed like this, is it not?”

“I will have you know it is a great conversation starter.”

“Oh? And what do you usually tell your guests about it?”

“The truth of course. That it was a gift from my Italian friend Sandro and that, no, unfortunately he does not take commissions. Anymore.”

“And when they ask why you lie scantily clad in the woods surrounded by half-naked men, women and little winged babies?”

“That I know how to have a good time?” The corner of Maglor’s mouth were starting to twitch dangerously but still he added: “I think he secretly believed I was some kind of god. Didn’t bother to correct him.”

His brother eyed him almost approvingly. “Immorality and blasphemy. I am impressed.”

“Are you? I thought it was just another family trait.”

Finally Maedhros, who had been trying hard to keep a straight face throughout the entire conversation, broke his act with a very unattractive - or well, less attractive than usual- snort, which lead Maglor to break out into giggles as well, holding tight onto the couch cushions, to prevent himself from falling down the armrest he was still perched on after his earlier flight. 

“Oh Nelyo,” he sighed, once both of them had calmed down a bit and he had slid back down onto the seats next to his brother. “You should have come to see me a few hundred years earlier. The renaissance would have loved you.”

Maedhros reached over to ruffle his brother’s hair affectionately, ignoring his protest. “I wouldn’t have wanted to steal your thunder, I know how much you enjoy being the centre of attention. And if I should ever feel the need to be part of a compromising party in the woods, I’ll just ask cousin Findaráto. Or someone of the new Avari arrivals. They seem to be enjoying these kinds of festivities.”

Maglor’s voice was innocent but his smile sharp as a knife. “You mean the Avari that the Ambarussa like to spend so much time around?”

Maedhros paled and to Maglor’s delight it became clear that he had never quite made this connection. Oh how wonderfully innocent Nelyo was when it came to his little brothers.

He savoured the stunned silence for a little while longer, before deciding to have mercy on his brother, who still sat like a ginger deer caught in the headlights, undoubtedly trying to force some unbidden images from his mind.

“So, Nelyo.”

“Yes,” the answer was immediate and full of relief for the change in topic. Maglor’s mouth twitched again.

“We should totally do another collab.”

“Why?”

“For the clout, Nelyo. For the clout. Is there ever any other reason? Do you even realise the amount of sponsoring your ridiculously perfect face could bring us? I’ve posted less than ten pictures with you in them and I have already two modelling agencies asking you to sign up with them.”

There was something akin to smugness in his brother’s face. “Really?” he asked, in a tone that was far from surprised.

“Yes, but don’t get too excited we’re not gonna accept yet, I’m waiting for the big fishes. We’ll build your social media presence first by having you model for some of my product placements and then - bam. Which brings me to my main point. Your Instagram account.”

“My- Last time I checked I had no such thing.”

“Exactly. But next time you check, you will.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“Not really. Call it a learning tool for online literacy.”

Maedhros did not bother to protest. He had learned long ago to pick his battles, and he could not deny that a part of him was quite eager to try this out, especially after Maglor had given him one of his old phones to try out taking pictures for himself. He enjoyed these much more more than the explosive black and white versions he had come to know.

“Alright. How does it work?” he asked, leaning further towards the laptop.

“You take pictures of whatever you like and then people see them and you see their pictures. Easy. Here you should chose a name- wait I have a great idea.” Maglor’s fingers flew over the keyboard in a short symphony of rhythmical key clacking and Maedhros squinted at the screen, only to pull away unimpressed.  

“I’m not calling myself hot ginger.”

“Why not? You’ve done it before.” He was typing again. “And it’s not like you’re wrong. Good thing you’re not interested in dating websites. You’d have so many matches you’d probably break tinder- damn hot-ginger is already taken. ”

“Matches and tinder…” Maedhros repeated slowly. Really, every time he thought he finally understood his brother’s strange expressions, he threw a new one into his face. “Are we- trying to start a fire?”

Maglor looked up from his typing for a moment, regarding him quizzically- but then his eyes suddenly lit up with that familiar glow, that signalled he had either been struck with an idea for a new music piece, or an opportunity to make a fool out of his brothers. Or, in the worst case scenario, both.

“You know,” he said. “I think I just had a great idea for my next music video. ”

(“Aren’t some of these lyrics dangerously close to revealing your history?”

“First rule of remaining inconspicuous, Nelyo: Don’t look like you’re trying to. If it’s too crazy to believe people just won’t, even if the evidence slaps them right in the face. A good friend of mine told me that once.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Nah, though I should introduce you! Keanu’s a great guy, we go waaay back.”

“Why do I feel like you just want to show off on the internet.”

“Because you just know me so well, dear bro. But come one, I haven’t been storing all that equipment for the past millennia for nothing! And it’s a history song anyway I just included some … lesser-known facts. Worst case scenario we’ll confuse some historians and please some mythological conspiracy theory nerds.”

“…”

“You get to ride around on a horse while waving a sword again?”

“I thought that used to be your favourite activity.”

“Pretty please? It’s the perfect moment to call in that favour Gerry from downstairs owes me for saving his ass at his wedding! You know, they had this hyper specific musical number planned- his wife is this crazy intense musical archaeologist- involving a ton of historical instruments and styles, but then the band got food poisoning the night before and had to cancel. Poor guy was nearly crying in the stairwell when I found him and heroically saved the day. The performance even went viral! Gave me the whole idea of starting my own youtube channel and Gerry was so grateful! You should have seen his face, I really think he would have promised me his firstborn in that moment- I didn’t ask, don’t look at me like that! Anyway, he’s a cameraman and has access to all kinds of film equipment, the quality of this is gonna be through the roof and the amount of-”

“Fine! Dear Eru, fine! Just would you please stop talking for one minute?)”

It was another Tuesday- or ‘Taco Tuesday the second holiest day of the week just after Waffle Wednesday’  as Maglor liked to call it- and the kitchen was a war zone. Though perhaps that was not an entirely apt description, since of course not all war zones looked the same- he would know, he had seen a lot of them- and some of those he had seen, had looked decidedly tidier than this.

“Káno?” Maedhros carefully called into the chaos. “Are you alright in there?”

A crash came from somewhere further back in the kitchen, and finally his dishevelled brother appeared from behind the globe sat on the table. There was still a knife stuck in it from the time Maglor had tried to convince him the earth was supposed to be round now. Round? Ha! Ridiculous, he himself had sailed here from its edge, could he have done that on a globe? Of course not. But back to the original situation.

“Peachy,” his brother replied and disappeared from his view again.

Maedhros decided not to ask and instead find a corner currently not covered in sticky green substance to put down his shopping bags.

“So…you have started cooking?” he asked, praying for an explanation that would not involve his brother’s experimental inclination in the kitchen. He might not be the biggest Taco aficionado himself- granted, they looked nice and seemed practical at first glance, but there was just no way to eat them in a dignified way and unlike some of his brothers, Maedhros preferred not to eat like an animal, thank you very much - they also did not contain a big potential for fire and destruction. Usually.

“Does it look like it?”

“I mean..” Maedhros looked around again. “To be quite honest Káno, with you I can never tell.”

Maglor’s head appeared once more to fix him with a glare and Maedhros lifted his hands in the universally accepted gesture of surrender. 

“For your information,” Maglor stated imperiously, while trying hard to regain his footing and dignity on the slippery floor, “I was trying to make a smoothie before this treacherous machine of Morgoth exploded in my face. ”

Maedhros winced. Yes, that would do it.

“Well I’m glad you decided to try out some of the healthy recipes I found for you?” he tried to console his brother. “If you want I could pop down to the shop again to get you some more fruit? Vegetables? Kale?”

“Kale?”

“Is that not what is usually included in green smoothies?”

“Life is too short to eat- not to mention drink- kale, Nelyo.”

“You do realise that saying does not quite work for you.”

“Fine,” Maglor huffed. “My eternal life is too long for me to be consuming kale for the rest of it.” He wiped at the soiled floor and sniffed loudly. “You do not realise the extent of this tragedy, Nelyo! This smoothie contained the last of my special imported macha that I’ve been craving for the whole day! Even if I ordered new one right now it would take 6 - 28 business days to arrive depending whether or not I’d pay extra for aircraft delivery from Japan!” 

He collapsed onto the green floor while chanting “When will my suffering end?” in a mournful melody, that made the pelargoniums on the window sill hang their red heads in despair.

Even Maedhros, while not a pelargonium, and further steeled by centuries of his brother mourning everything from an imperfect concert to his favourite shoes not matching his favourite robe, was suddenly unsure whether it was possible he had severely overestimated his brother’s emotional stability and whether this was finally the breaking point.

“I- I brought the taco ingredients?” he offered, and Maglor’s disheveled head appeared again promptly in the sudden silence, eyes shining with excitement.

“Well why didn’t you say so in the first place??”

Yeah no, Maedhros thought. He’s fine.

“So, you’ll be glad to hear there’s a new conspiracy theory about me on reddit! Well, about us really.”

They were seated at the living room table, the kitchen still uninhabitable, and were quickly filling up their taco shells with various degrees of excitement.

“What!”  Maedhros’ face was alarmed. “I told you so, Káno! I told you that video was a terrible idea!”

“Oh, chillax Nelyo, it’s not even about the video.” Maglor seemed entirely unbothered, putting a ridiculous amount of cheese into his taco and happily ignoring his brother’s concern with an ease come from centuries of practice. “And it was about time, really. The last good one was over a century ago, when Oscar- you know my friend Oscar, the one who inspired me to try out a new haircut?-  decided that the reason I didn’t seem to be ageing was because I must have trapped my soul into one of my portraits and made it age instead of me. He wrote a whole book about it, thought he was very funny.” 

Maglor smirked and placed a decorative dollop of sour cream on top of the cheese. “At least until I replaced that painting with another one portraying my horribly decayed face. You should have seen his expression!”

He shook the cheese bag over his plate another time, frowning when he realised it was already empty, before shrugging off the disappointment and taking a large bite out of the overflowing taco shell in his hands.

“Well, what do they say this time?” Maedhros asked carefully, trying to take a bite as well, without breaking the whole damn thing in two and losing all of the filling. Eru, why couldn’t they have gotten sushi instead?

Maglor made some happy crunching noises. “That our family is part of a religious cult, that we escaped from. Big part of that is actually thanks to you, because you showed up unexpectedly in weird clothing, having no clue how technology works and believing the world is flat! ”

“I still maintain that-“

“Yes, I know Nelyo, but NASA isn’t lying. Anyway, it’s a surprisingly solid theory, really! It explains why I always mention a large family I haven’t seen in a very long time, apparently use ‘outdated pop culture references’- their words not mine, I think they have no idea what they’re talking about, my references are always on fleek- and have a strange skill set and also why I was ‘home schooled’, which I might have mentioned in a video befo- What is it now?”

Maedhros was staring at him with a strange look on his face, his mouth twitching dangerously. 

“Nothing I just-” something like a wheeze escaped him. “I’m just thinking about father reacting to being described as a religious fanatic.”

They locked eyes for a moment, for two- before both exploding into bouts of laughter.

“I met your neighbour again today.”  

The cheerful mood that had accompanied their dinner, disappeared immediately at the announcement.

“Really?” Maglor groaned. “Now? In front of my salad?”

“It’s not a -”

“It contains salad. Nevermind, what did she want?”

“To tell you that the next time you play the devil’s music at an ungodly time she’ll have you evicted.”

“The devil’s-” Maglor’s mouth hung open, the half-filled taco in his hand dangerously tilted downwards. “It was ABBA! And it wasn’t even 10pm!”

His brother shrugged.  “She seemed very upset about it. Said you have been terrorising her since you moved in.” He narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t been terrorising an old lady, Káno, have you?”

“What? No!” Maglor’s mouth dropped open in indignation, and before he knew it, his brother’s stern gaze had him scrambling for an explanation like an elfling trying to explain why the broken chess set beside him was definitely not his fault. 

“Okay, so I may have once blocked her parking spot with my scooter when I moved in, and then there was the hedgehog incident - but that was an accident! And how was I supposed to know she was afraid of hedgehogs! Hedgehogs! I even wrote her an apology song but she threatened to call the police for disturbing the peace when I tried to sing it to her! The police, Nelyo! For my singing! Who doesn’t enjoy my singing?!” 

Maedhros decided this was probably not the right time to bring up all the occasions on which his brother’s newest compositions had forced him awake in the middle of the night.

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad,” he acquiesced. “I’m sure she cannot have you evicted for that.”

“Maybe not,”muttered Maglor, his face dark and the taco in his hand close to being crushed. “But I know she’s brunching with my landlord’s wife every Saturday and I know she can get him to not prolong my rental agreement. Which runs out this year.” 

A piece of tomato dropped out onto his plate unnoticed.  

“Oh God Nelyo, I’ll have to move. Again! Do you know how hard it is to find a nice apartment in this city? I like this place! I like this city! You can wear a bathrobe as a coat and nobody will so much as blink, as long as you don’t try to speak to them. It’s liberating!” 

Some lettuce followed the downwards path of the tomato, but it was quite obvious that Maglor’s gaze was turned somewhere far away to the horrors of the real estate market. 

“What if I have to live in the suburbs. I’d have to commute! I cannot commute, Nelyo! That lifeless silence of the underground kills my creative energy! You might as well take me to the Halls straight away, this is Noldor discrimination all over again!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Káno, alright? Just - just play your music quietly in the evening.”

“My music? If I remember correctly it was you who insisted on following up on Mamma Mia with Mamma Mia 2. You were having the time of your life as well, don’t pin this on me!”

That was- admittedly- true, but also not the point Maedhros was trying to make.

“Just avoid her, alright? It’ll be fine. Now, do you want me to take a look at that mixer of yours or not?”

If Maedhros was completely honest, he was somewhat glad the mixer had exploded. It meant there was another opportunity for him to take apart some of this world’s many fascinating appliances, a task he welcomed more and more. 

The truth was, that he had spent a few months at his brother’s flat already, and had at this point taken 8 GB worth of aesthetically pleasing pictures of his surroundings, beaten and somehow still befriended all the old men in the park at chess, memorised seven different vine compilations and taken part in a salsa dancing class- which he had to cancel halfway through after a conversation with his teacher, since he was apparently ‘distracting the other students’. He had politely declined the offer for private lessons after that, much to his teacher’s regret. 

He had also featured in Maglor’s videos a few times, much to the delight of his viewers, and also Maglor himself, who was excited about his rising follower count in a way he had not been since the First Age. 

It had admittedly lead to some interesting challenges and even some welcome exercises in diplomacy, especially when the video turned out to be a Q&A featuring mostly questions about their family and background, and therefore a perfect opportunity to sharpen his skills of answering questions without saying anything at all- and still keeping his audience entertained enough to not question him further. 

There was a reason he had been the peacekeeper of his family. Or how Maglor had put it afterwards, quoting the woman from that funny little show they had been watching: ‘You were born for politics, Nelyo. You have great hair and you love lying.’ 

Though he hadn’t actually been lying. ‘Our mother is a sculptor, and our father likes to stir up trouble,’ really just was the most truthful response to ‘What do your parents do?’ after all.

But even though the entertainment options seemed endless, Maedhros had started to long for something more. Something that had a purpose. And so- in true Noldorin fashion- he had started to take apart and fix whatever broken thing he could find in his brother’s apartment.

Though broken, of course, was a very subjective concept. Sometimes it could be just about improving something to its true potential. 

The roombas for example- matasto and yulasto as he had named them- had just needed a couple of small tweaks to go much faster than originally intended. Him and Maglor had staged a good few races with the two of them, before their increased speed coupled with their questionable ability of detecting obstacles had lead to their early demise.

They had wrapped them in black plastic bags and buried them at the local hazardous waste facility, him drizzling a handful of dust onto their mangled bodies, while Maglor had sung a newly composed funeral dirge, accompanying himself on bass ukulele. It had been quite moving.

The mixer therefore was no challenge for him and was back to functional before the night was over- though Maglor still regarded it with intense distrust, and Maedhros would not have been surprised if he was to invest in a protective suit before using it the next time.

That success was partly why he did not hesitate, when two days later Maglor off-handedly told him while vlogging, that the toaster did not seem to be working correctly, and also why he definitely did not expect the flames, suddenly surging up dangerously close to his face.

The fire alarm blared, his brother shrieked and Maedhros reacted more on instinct than any reasonable notion- and promptly threw the burning toaster out of the window.

There was the sound of glass shattering, and then the loud crash of a toaster violently colliding with the pavement.

For a moment they just looked at each other- the alarm still blaring over their heads- before Maglor started laughing hysterically and Maedhros jumped up to try and turn off the alarm.

“What was that, Nelyo, what was - that was the funniest shit I’ve seen in my entire life!” There were tears running down his face and he was barely holding on to the back of his chair, half of his body sliding towards the floor already.

“I don’t know!” Maedhros snapped, fumbling with the buttons on the alarm while his cheeks burned like the doomed toaster just a few seconds ago. “I panicked!”

“You just-” Maglor was trying to compose himself enough to speak, but one look at his red-faced, red-haired brother and another one at the broken window pane had him shrieking in laughter again. “You just yeeted that whole thing out of the window I can’t breathe-”

Finally the alarm quietened, leaving behind only the sound of Maglor’s howling and his brother’s mortified contemplation of whether or not jumping out after the toaster would be an appropriate reaction to the situation. 

Or at least that was until- “MR. SMITH! MR. SMITH THIS IS THE LAST STRAW! I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS VANDALISM IN OUR PEACEFUL NEIGHBOURHOOD! MARK MY WORDS THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES !!!”

Maglor promptly choked on his laughter and Maedhros lost all remaining colour in his cheeks.

They looked at each other again, this time in abject horror.

“Oh no,” Maedhros whispered.

“The suburbs,” Maglor wailed.

It was needless to say that, after that incident, meddling with electric devices had been banned from their household for good.

Which was probably why, upon returning home from his boba run, Maglor found his brother lying upside down on the couch, constructing something that looked suspiciously like the Minecraft version of Tirion on Maglor’s laptop.

He sat up, gratefully accepting the guitar themed bamboo cup Maglor insisted on using for takeaway drinks, and turning the screen for his brother to see better.

“Look Káno! I even added the new neighbourhoods, so you won’t get lost when you come home.”

Maglor did not react to that. “You,” he pointed a finger at his brother instead, “need a job. But guess what.” He waved his phone through the air in front of Maedhros' face, clearly attempting to show him something- but the movement made the words hard to read without one developing sea-sickness. The screaming red icon in the upper right corner, however remained as visible as ever. Much to Maedhros' annoyance.

“For Eru’s sake Káno. Charge your phone, how are you not bothered by this?”

“It still has 7% it’s fine.”

His brother's grimace showed Maglor exactly how very much not fine he found that to be.

“Okay you weirdo, I’ll charge my phone before you get a stress aneurysm, now stop trying to avoid the news. Dior wants you.”

Maedhros promptly choked on his drink, needing a good minute and some enthusiastic claps on the back to regain his bearing.

“I’m sorry but Dior wants what?”

Maglor paused for a second. “Oh yeah, I guess I see how that one came across. Not that Dior.”

“I will not be working for Dior.”

“Once again, not that Dior.” He raised an eyebrow, though for all his effort it contained in no means the level of judgement Maedhros himself could convey with the gesture.   “It’s just a shoot. Also shouldn’t you all be like chummy now after Námo’s therapy sessions?”

Maedhros mumbled something incomprehensible that sounded like it involved the words ‘shooting’ and ‘Dior’ in a slightly different context, but then just shrugged his shoulders.

“We have stopped actively trying to kill each other, let’s take it one step after the other,” he retorted, though the sarcasm in his voice was somewhat diminished by the fact that he was still having trouble breathing correctly.

“Whatever. But don’t get your panties twisted, dear brother of mine. This Dior has what our Dior wanted but never achieved. A high-end fashion brand. And because it is a high-end fashion brand full of people with a lot of money and influence, who apparently have been watching my channel long enough to notice you, I want to know for the sake of my reputation if you can pass as a normal 21st century human man.”

“Like you?”

“Uh!” Maglor raised his arm. “The hand does not appreciate your sarcasm, Nelyo. So, first question: What’s your name?”

“I guess neither Maitimo Nelyafinwë nor Maedhros will be acceptable?”

“You’ve guessed correctly, Mae Smith. Now- next question. What have you been doing before this modelling job.”

“Your mum.”

“Nelyo!” It was a testament to his musical abilities that Maglor’s voice managed to jump about six octaves at the exclamation. “You can’t say that, that is so many kinds of wrong, Jesus Christ!”

Maedhros cocked his head.

“Oh yeah, forgot you don’t know about him. Good guy. Ahead of his time. Not particularly lucky though. A shame, really. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is: Do not say that!”

“I have been watching my surroundings carefully. This seemed the way to communicate.”

“That sounded incredibly ominous. Please never speak like that again. You are supposed to sound like a human being, not the stoned left over from a frat party gone wrong.”

“I’m not sure what a frat party is, but I sure know you have forgotten to respect your elders.”

“Technically being in the Halls doesn’t count as being alive and therefore I am technically older than you. Older than father as well now that I think about it.”

“So you are saying this is not a way of greeting?”

“NO. You have been here for months, how could you- wait” He narrowed his eyes, taking in his brother’s innocent expression. “Your messing with me. You’re actually- ! You’re infuriating! I’m giving my all for your career and this is how you repay me! For shame, Nelyo! For shame!”

Maedhros watched his brother’s antics with an amused smile. He had never quite realised how much he had missed Maglor’s dramatics until he had been forced to endure them on an everyday basis again.

But there had been a quiet realisation on his mind for a while now, one that had definitely not started with something as mundane as city building on Minecraft. He waited until his brother had finished his laments, before he spoke.

“You know I appreciate your wholly unselfish reasons to get my face plastered all over the city but I think - I think it’s time to go home, Káno.” 

It had been wonderful to explore this new world with his brother. He had tried an equal amount of terrific and terrifying things, like a disco karaoke night or that vegetable juice cleanse Maglor had insisted had been the newest hype. He had even gained some new followers- though of course only on instagram this time - and that even though Maglor claimed he was running a lame boomer account. (Ridiculous, there was nothing wrong with celebrating the beauty of the natural world and besides, who didn’t like a good motivational quote?)

But he could feel his heart turning towards the sea again, to Valinor and the rest of his family, with which he would soon see his last missing brother reunited. 

Oh, he could not wait to see their reactions to the charming insanity the world of the Edain had become!

It was the perfect plan. Except for one small problem.

“What do you mean you aren’t coming?”

“I have a channel to run, Nelyo. People depend on me for entertainment. How am I supposed to be internet famous without internet? Or electricity for that matter! Electricity! How has that not been invented that yet? All those years in paradise and what do you have to show for yourselves? Black and white photography?”

“As I have told you before, part of us were busy building new settlements to house those arriving from the East, another part was busy figuring out how to keep certain people from killing each other again, and the rest of us were busy-you know- being dead.”

It was quite clear from his face that Maglor did not consider either of these options a valid excuse.

“Where am I gonna charge my iPod, Nelyo?” he asked, waving the small green device in his face. “Tell father to invent electricity and maybe then I’ll think about it. Or better yet, tweet at me so I’ll know when you finally have wifi.”

Maedhros pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath.

“And what am I supposed to say if Námo asks why you haven’t followed their call, or Manwë himself for that matter?”

“How about ‘Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?’. Always worked for me.”  

After some more half-hearted arguments that he knew from the very beginning had no hope of success, Maedhros gave up. Well, he thought, at least now they would know the reason for Maglor’s refusal to come home. They would just have to make sure to bring Valinor up to his brother’s updated standards. Knowing his father and Curvo that should not be too hard to achieve, once they would hear about all the innovations they had missed out on they would surely- whether out of curiosity or spite- find a way to top them.

Though he was a bit afraid what the likes of twitter would do to their home’s newly found peace.

He went to hug his brother, and upon releasing him took a strand of his dark hair between his fingers, contemplating it. “You know what?” he asked.

“What?”

Madhros grinned. “That shoulder length is really starting to grow on me.”

Maglor’s long, pained groan did not disappoint.

“Dear Eru, Nelyo, I know you are the oldest of seven but Dad jokes? Really?”  But the feigned exasperation quickly dissolved into a fond smile and another hug. “You know you’re my favourite big bro, right?”

“I’m your only older brother.”

“Still my favourite.”

He reluctantly let go of Maedhros.

“But you can’t leave right away, I still need to get some presents for everyone back home! Seriously, this would all be so much easier if the Valar would just get on board with globalisation and let us visit. Isolationism is so last century.”

That was how, two weeks later, Maedhros found himself next to a bag full of bow-adorned gifts, feeling like he was about to play the red-clothed fat man, that had started to pop up in the chocolate section of their local supermarket.

Maglor pulled out a heavy square package, wrapped in silver and green.

“This is for Tyelko- I initially wanted to get him a paint ball set, but then I thought maybe introducing him to the idea of a gun wouldn’t be the best idea. So I got him this instead.”

“A book?” Maedhros gaze was critical.

“Yes, I know he’s the Noldor equivalent of Jared, 19, who never fucking learned how to read, but this isn’t just any book! It’s an animal encyclopaedia, containing a ton of animals I’m pretty sure Valinor has never seen before. For some reason the fauna there is as eurocentric as an old British man’s backyard, don’t you think? So, I thought since Tyelko seems to be best buds with Oromë again, maybe he can give him some ideas for cool new animals! - Is creation a thing that’s allowed nowadays? Whatever screw the rules. - Oh, and in case he does find it overwhelming, it has a lot of pictures,” he added as an afterthought. 

“Just maybe keep him away from the crocodiles. Instead I, for one, am a big fan of capybaras. Their judging little eyes always remind of Moryo- speaking of whom-”

Before Maedhros could react to anything that had just been said, his brother had pulled out another box.

“It’s Monopoly- the perfect mix of capitalism and destruction of any kind of family harmony. In case things get too chummy for him in technologically stunted paradise.”

Maedhros now looked like he desperately wanted to pronounce some doubt on whether it was really a good idea to send a game like this to still healing Valinor.

“I also wanted to send him a MCR CD but since you don’t have CD players yet…” Maglor’s gaze conveyed exactly what he thought about that.  “Well maybe I’ll play it for him some day.”

Another reach into the bag produced a small box with a red bow.

“Curvo gets a rubix cube, so he can either enjoy the puzzle or- if he solves it in under two minutes, which he probably will the creepy little genius- enjoy laughing about what the Edain consider difficult. I know how he loves to feel superior.”

“And this?” Maedhros reached for the small bag in Maglor’s hands.

“Nononono.” His brother snatched the item away. “You can’t see that.”

“What? Why not!” 

“It’s a surprise! And it’s for the Ambarussa.”

“So why can’t I see it then?- Oh. ” He took in the logo printed on the bag. “Káno, why?  You’re going to be a terrible influence on them and not even be present!”

“I’m just a caring older brother who thinks of both their enjoyment, and their future success at the same time. Once you’re all online I expect them to fill the market niche of actually funny and not obnoxious prank youtubers or equivalent- and for that their creativity needs to be nurtured. They rely too much on the ‘I’m not me I’m him’ joke and it’s getting old.” He put the joke shop bag back with the other presents. “These are merely some more exotic suggestions.”

“While you are safe an ocean away, how awfully convenient…”

“Now for mum,” Maglor ignored him, lifting out a medium sized, heavy looking wooden box and Maedhros could already feel his back complaining.

“You better take good care of this! I know some museum directors who would kill to get their hands on it- not that they’d stand a chance against you, they’re museum directors after all- but I wouldn’t want it to get lost, I’ve been collecting them for quite a while!” 

He opened the lid and revealed a collection of small carvings and sculptures, ranging in style from animals and voluptuous figures made out of stone, over buff or gaunt naked people in marble and bronze, to abstract pieces made from all kinds of materials.

“Every time I befriended a talented sculptor I asked them to recreate a miniature of their favourite work. Mum never left Aman, so I thought she might like to see what the rest of the sculpting world has been up to. Though, let’s be honest-” he eyed the contents of the box critically. “There’s no real competition there - Oh and I also got her this!” 

He produced a much smaller, orange plastic box. 

“Is that-?”

“Oh yeah it’s play-doh. But! It’s infused with essential oils, so every time you work with it, it starts to smell really nice and calming. It’s supposed to be good for your nerves. Thought she might need it sometime.”

Now that was finally an idea Maedhros could get behind.

“And of course- perhaps the most important of all-” Maglor pulled out another box, this time wrapped in a gigantic red and golden bow and ‘Braniac Inventor’s Electronic Master Kit’ spelled out in blue and grey letters on the front. The l was replaced by a little lightening bolt. Cute.

“I included some batteries as well, so dad can get a head start on working with electricity.” Maglor declared proudly. “Oh, and not to forget-” he pulled out a small, squishy looking yellow ball. 

“It’s an anti-stress ball. You keep it in your pocket and every time you get angry and feel like hitting someone in the face, or pointing a sword at them or whatever, you squeeze the ball instead.” He glanced at the little angry face painted on it, before throwing it to his brother with a shrug. 

“It reminded me of him.”

“Now for all of you-” he pulled out a twine-wrapped bundle and handed it to Maedhros to see. 

It was a stack of photographs, from stern black and white portraits, over polaroids of Maglor dressed in flowery garb and a headband surrounded by a crowd of people, to the quick colourful snaps he had gotten accustomed to during his stay. 

“I labeled each one of them. So they’ll know how fab my life is right now and understand why I have to stay here for a little while longer.” 

He made a peace sign to an invisible camera that quickly turned into finger guns pointing at his brother.

“And! I have something just for you as well. Or maybe not just for you.” He winked and disappeared into the hallway. 

“I thought I was gonna give it to you as a birthday present, but I guess now is the right opportunity,” his voice came from the bed room, followed by the sound of various objects being overturned and something heavy falling to the floor, before Maglor returned with a small paper bag carrying the name of the second hand shop they had gone to together the day he’d arrived.

“I know what happened to my favourite silken sash, so do not let Finrod steal those,” he emphasised, pressing the bag into Maedhros’ hands, who opened it to reveal a pair of denim- oh.

“Are those-?” 

Maglor’s smile was entirely too innocent to be genuine.

“You betcha they are. As I told you on your first day: They also come as shorts. And I think it’s some time to shake up Valinorian fashion, don’t you?”

In an interesting reversal of features, Maedhros face turned even redder than his hair.

“I have some presents for you as well,” he said, once his skin colour had finally returned to its usual pale shade.

Maglor clapped his hands excitedly. “Ooooh thank god, I didn’t wanna ask but I really hoped you would! Is it that cute Otamatone we saw in that video last week?”

“The- wait you actually wanted that?”

“…no?”

Maedhros’ looked like he could not decide whether to be appalled or amused, before he shook his head.

“No, it's not- that. But I did fix things with your neighbour.”

“You don’t mean-?” Maglor breathed, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Oh yes. Good news is that you won’t be kicked out of your apartment. Bad news is you might have to sing at the neighbourhood charity talent show.”

His brother still stared at him with his mouth open, not even reacting to the second part of the news.

“But…how?”

“I- well, I saw her looking through a magazine for inspiration on how to braid her granddaughter’s hair and offered some first hand advice, and then we proceeded to have a friendly conversation.”

Maglor narrowed his eyes suspicioulsy. “And I’m sure she loved to hear how you braided all of your brothers’ long hair, in a super manly, gender conforming way.” 

“I-” Maedhros rubbed his neck, looking almost sheepish. “I might have told her that it is my fiancé who has the most lovely braids?”

His brother blinked twice, three times, before repeating “Your fiancé,” somewhat dumbly, and Maedhros just had time to add “It was the most neutral term I could think of!” before Maglor finally broke down laughing, squatting next to the wall and wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

“Nelyo you diplomatic genius,” he choked out. “I cannot believe you straight baited Karen Thingol into liking you.”

“I mean, I also had brunch with your landlord’s wife and donated a generous sum to her chihuahua beauty salon. Just to be safe. ”

“But how-”

“What can I say.” Maedhros shrugged, his face caught somewhere between proud and smug. “You were right. Dior does pay well.”

To his delight, his brother did not seem able to form a coherent sentence for a good long minute. A true achievement for someone, who usually took silence as a personal offence.

“But- but when? And how did you even contact-?”

“Oh, just this week when you were getting all your presents. I think you’re forgetting you’re not the only one with an Instagram account, Káno. I messaged them. Easy.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! How was it?!”

Maedhros waved his hand noncommittally, but his smile was pleased. “It was fine, entertaining really. The lady said I had the most symmetrical face she had ever seen.”

“Ah yes, the joys of being symmetrical again,” Maglor coughed.

“But there are some more things I brought for you," he continued, serious again. "From home. I probably should have given them to you earlier but, well- now is also a good moment, I believe.”

He reached behind his back and held an item out to Maglor, who gasped loudly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding!” 

He immediately snatched the black and white photograph out of his brother’s hands and held it in front of his face. “I’ll be honest, I almost  didn’t believe you when you said father had invented photography but oooooh my gooood.” Examining the familiar faces, he stopped at a particularly grumpy expression in the sea of smiles. “Lmao, I see Moryo’s happy face hasn’t changed.”

“He prefers to be on the other side of the camera,” Maedhros admitted with a sigh. “There’s another picture as well. Findaráto’s idea. He said it was because he wanted to comfort you with as many familiar faces as possible, but honestly, I think he just likes being photographed.”

Maglor snorted, as his brother pulled out the second picture. 

In the centre of it, surrounded by all his other cousins, he could easily distinguish the tall dark figure of Turgon, who looked like he would have preferred to be anywhere else in that moment and there- draped on his shoulder with an infuriatingly perfect smile- Finrod, clealry posing. 

“He’s gonna be so jealous when you come back.”

“Probably,” Maedhros agreed. “Prepare to have an unexpected visitor showing up on your doorstep. I don’t think even the Valar will be able to stop him from trying to become an influencer himself.”

Maglor was still examining the photos with a lot of commentary- “Is Artanis smiling? She really did get soft in her old age, didn’t she?”, “You know I nearly forgot how creepily similar Dad and Curvo are, are we sure he didn’t just somehow clone himself?” and- pointing to Angrod’s shoes- “Wait, what are those??”, when Maedhros handed him another packet, a stack of letters this time. He quietened. 

“We all wrote you one, even the Ambarussa insisted on writing separately.”

Maglor smiled at that, much softer than just moments ago, turning the letters around in his hand with a gentleness usually reserved for handling the most precious of his instruments.

“Good. Glad to hear they’re finally dealing with their codependency.” He quipped, but Maedhros could tell he was touched. Then he wrinkled his nose. “Though I can’t believe Amrod’s handwriting is still atrocious like this. Who would have thought Tyelko’s scribbling could be surpassed.”

“He still calls it his greatest accomplishment.”

“Of course he does.”

They exchanged a look of fond exasperation, before Maedhros cleared his throat. “One last thing.”

He reached into his bag and revealed a small bundle of soft red velvet. Maglor reached for it, almost hesitantly, and when he pulled away the fabric, a golden item roughly the size of his palm, fell into his hand.

He gasped. Then he jumped up victoriously.

“YES! Nelyo thank you! You have no idea how hard it was to live without my favourite accessory all those years- I tried to make my own after I lost it, but it was just never the same, I’m so gonna bring this back into fashion!”

He pinned the brooch to his scarf and regarded himself in the mirror for a long minute, making sure the eight pointed star was fully visible from each side. Then he turned back around, a huge grin slowly spreading on his face.

“Oh, I cannot wait for next karaoke night,” he said. “Daeron is going to hate this.”

Maedhros returned to the shores of Aman some days later, welcomed by its white beaches and tall mountains, and his family waiting at the docks.

Oh- and also Eonwë, who did not look particularly thrilled to be there. Poor guy, Maedhros thought, did he even get days off to have a private life, or was playing messenger boy a 24/7 job?

Said messenger of the Valar stepped into his way, as Maedhros disembarked- without Maglor but with a heavy sack of presents hanging over his shoulder.

“Your brother has not returned,” he stated, his unnervingly resonant voice making even this really quite obvious statement sound important. “Why is that? Has he lost himself already?”

Don’t say it, don’t say it. You’re the responsible one, you can’t call him a weather boy, as much as you’d like to.

“Nah, he’s good,” Maedhros replied. “Really good, actually. Now excuse me, I urgently have to speak to father about something.” 

And with that, he left Manwë’s herald behind and went forward towards his family.

Positive mind, positive vibes, positive life. And what a lovely flower that was, he really should take a- Oh. 

He sighed. Eru, he already missed his Insta.