Chapter Text
The roads out of Tirion were well-paved, encrusted with jewels and polished stones long after the highest tower faded from view. Someone had taken care that the jewels were not haphazardly placed, but twined through the stonework like rivers shining multiple colors as they caught the Treelight. Findekáno followed their winding path until they disappeared into the earth. He was then the furthest he’d been from Tirion on his own.
He paused where the last jewel lay, shining white with a light of its own. It was one of those Feanorian jewels everyone loved, not the least because they were so useful for exploring dark places. “Surely they did not bury you as a waypoint,” said Findekáno. “But does this mean I am close?”
The jewel sang back, I light your path. I guide your way. Follow this road to the halls of Aule World-smith.
“So I am close!” said Findekáno, thanked the jewel, and spurred his horse forward down the path to the mansions of Aule. His half-uncle Fëanáro had, famously, married into the families of the Aulendi long before Findekáno’s birth. Even if he was not there now and was wandering again (as he also famously did), surely someone there would guide Findekáno to him. Asking the Ainur outright was a futile exercise. Fëanáro did not wish to see his family, and so no one was told where he was to go fetch him no matter how often Finwe asked Orome for aid. Or Manwe. Or Aule himself, to whose domain all correspondence for Fëanáro was sent.
Blasphemous though it was, Findekáno wasn’t going to let a little issue like the Valar’s clear favor towards his half-uncle waylay him. He was on a quest of utmost importance. A quest of reconciliation of family! Findekáno did not tell anyone of his purpose nor did he seek advice before he left. Manwe, he hoped, would surely approve, since he had reconciled with his own estranged brother not long ago.
Surely reconciling Nolofinwe and Fëanáro was easier than that!
Just in case the Ainur disapproved, he kept quiet about his goals. He only had a few months to make this work. Wherever Fëanáro was, Findekáno would find him and bring him back.
The closer he got to Aule’s domain, the more aware the rocks became. A majority of stone lay in a fairly slumbering state, save for when it was disturbed, or new, or had witnessed a particularly notable event. With the earth humming in the background, Findekáno sang riding songs of fleet-footed galloping, and his mind raced ahead of him.
What, exactly, was he going to say to Fëanáro when he met him?
Hello, Uncle, well met! I am the son of the brother whom you left with your title. Now he shall be king and the title mine. Dare I ask why it made you run away?
No.
Uncle, you have probably heard, but Finwe our king, your father, is retiring. He wants to spend more time with you, actually. You and your children. Do you care at all, since you left and never returned? Did you even read the letter he sent, telling you about it?
Not quite.
My father has never once stopped trying to be your equal and better. He is to be king now! If you truly meant it when you abdicated, then please just come to the coronation. Do you realize how much Tirion loves you? Do you realize how awful it will be, if you do not come? It will fuel the fire of all the dissenters arguing that you should be king instead.
That would necessitate a long explanation of Tirion politics. Findekáno despised Tirion politics, which was perhaps not the best attitude for an imminent crown prince to have. They were just so circular. And they seemed to grow worse as Finwe’s retirement and the passing of the crown approached.
In a beautiful, simple world, Findekáno would find Fëanáro and Fëanáro would make a great declaration of fealty towards Nolofinwe, and all would be well. Findekáno entertained this fantasy with such longing his horse nearly sped past Aule’s mansion and had to hastily gallop back to the entrance.
Aule’s mansion rose from the earth like a great jutting volcanic peak, if volcanic peaks were intricately decorated with delicate carvings from base to tip. Smoke rose from the top and curled into the distant air. Even outside, Findekáno felt the echo of fire-songs and earth-songs as powerful Maia and Elves worked. Their magical webs pulled at him without even trying.
The doorway had no door. It was just a strong arch, made of solid red stone. Findekáno was unimpeded as he entered Aule’s domain, and no one greeted him as he dismounted his horse.
On a wall just past the entrance, someone had carved a greeting to visitors in Tengwar and Sarati. Visitors were welcomed, advised to not disturb the forges, and warned to call out immediately if they fell into a canal and needed rescue. Beneath it was a basket of papers that, upon inspection, were slightly dusty maps.
Bemused, Findekáno unfolded one. It was crude, but legible. There were stables down the south passway from the entrance, and the Elvish quarters were further inside from there.
Most Maia were usually happy to help wayward elves. Findekáno shouldn't be surprised the Aulendi had instead created guides for their visitors so as to not be disturbed. It was very Noldo of them.
He led his horse down to the stables, where an elf was tending to a few stray creatures. Most of the stables were empty, but in use. They must have gone outside to the plains and forests. The elf took one look at him, up and down, and asked, "Message from Tirion?" He was already reaching for Findekáno's horse with an admiring coo.
Findekáno blinked at being utterly ignored in favor of his transport. "I'm looking for Fëanáro son of Finwe. It's urgent."
"Urgent?"
Findekáno nodded. "Urgent."
"Well!" said the elf. "He's usually in his workshop." Another beat passed. The elf reluctantly turned from the horse to Findekáno. "Shall I… guide you there?"
"Please," said Findekáno, smiling winning.
The elf instructed the horses to remain there until he returned. He led Findekáno on a fast-paced walk through Aule’s halls. Wide canals of deep water separated areas and workshops. Archways and paths and dozens of stairs in every direction lined the halls for as far as Findekáno could see, and then they left the main central chamber through a dizzying series of pathways. Metal webs with reflective glass caught the light and refracted it all around, painting the black stone with color. The air grew subtly colder as they went deeper into the mountain.
He was more than lost by the time the elf stopped at a particular doorway. Like all other interior doorways, intricately woven wool tapestries hung besides them. These were a masterwork above masterwork, and Findekáno was so entranced by them he almost didn't hear the elf peak into the doorway. "Father, there's a messenger from Tirion here! He says it's urgent."
Father?
Findekáno did an unsubtle double take. He and the elf looked nothing alike. Findekáno was dark all around; the elf was fair of skin, and his hair was so pale it looked white, even in the strange colored light of Aule’s hall.
"Let him in, Turkamírë," said a voice Findekáno had never actually heard. Somehow, it was unmistakably that of his half-uncle.
The workshop was filled with elves. Not all of them could be cousins, unless Fëanáro had ten more children he never told anyone about. His Uncle was also unmistakable, for he stood by a table where a metal web was directing light onto a gemstone. This light bounced back from a reflective sheet behind the gemstone, and was projected onto a white wall.
Fëanáro was the elf standing by the table. He had been, Findekáno realized, teaching.
But now he was looking at Findekáno. His eyes burned as bright as stars, and his glare made his noble features severe and unwelcoming.
Unlike his son, he looked startlingly like Findekáno, though their skins were a completely different shade. Findekáno looked a lot like his father, who looked like Finwe before him.
So this was Finwe’s firstborn, the lost prince of the Noldor, Miriel Therinde's only child.
As if watching from outside himself, he noticed the silence stretch as he and Fëanáro stared at each other. Fëanáro’s dismissive impatience turned to sharp regard, and then, a frown. “Who are you?”
“I’m your nephew,” Findekáno blurted out. He was instantly besieged by every eye in the room. At least one of these elves was obviously a cousin: he looked almost exactly like Fëanáro. But he lacked his father’s presence, especially in the presence of his father. Fëanáro filled the room all by himself. All breaths waited for Fëanáro to speak.
“Which one?” asked Fëanáro.
“...Findekáno. Nolofinwe’s eldest,” he added, because just his name did not bring any recognition to Fëanáro’s face. For the first time, Findekáno wondered if Fëanáro even knew the names of his nephews and nieces. Surely he did? Findekáno knew the names of his half-cousins. How could he not? Finwe spoke of them long after he returned from brief visits. “Well-met, Uncle,” said Findekáno, too late.
“What urgent business brings you hence, son of Nolofinwe?” Fëanáro’s tone was perfectly neutral. It lay at odds with the scorching intensity of his attention.
Findekáno took a deep breath. Every eye was on him. He was not unfamiliar with this. He was to be crown prince. Someday, he’d be king. “My father is being crowned during the next Turn of the Trees festival.” No reaction. “I’m here to invite you personally.”
“I see,” said Fëanáro, with a little scoffing noise. “No.” Then, in clear dismissal, he turned back to his work.
It had to be said. Findekáno expected this reaction! He really did! He knew it would not be easy. He would not have made a whole Quest about it if it were.
He just really expected more than to be dismissed after a single no. His cousin (the one that looked like his uncle) whispered to another maybe-cousin, and they snickered.
“Please reconsider,” he said earnestly, ignoring them. Fëanáro ignored him, even when Findekáno walked up to his work-desk. “It’s a momentous occasion for all our people, and it would mean so much to my father to have you there. All our family will be pleased!”
“I sincerely doubt that,” said Fëanáro, examining a small, glowing emerald through a magnification glass. “They will survive without me, as they always have.” Then, before Findekáno could do more than open his mouth, “Move. You are blocking my light.”
More snickers. Findekáno’s mouth snapped shut. He was being rude, interrupting a craftsman at work. “Will you speak with me later, Uncle?”
“My answer will not change,” said Fëanáro. “You may leave.”
“Until later,” said Findekáno with a polite bow, and left.
His certainly-cousin did not follow him out, nor did any of the maybe-cousins. The cousin that had guided him watched him with sharp eyes, then disappeared down the hallways and out of sight. A maia led him to Aule. Belatedly, Findekáno realized he should have announced himself to the lord of these halls before attempting to commandeer one of his faithful.
"You haven't visited me before," said Aule. He was in a very small garb today, bearded and bulky. "How do you like the halls?"
"They are lovely," said Findekáno.
"It's an interesting quest you are on," said Aule. His beard twitched. "Fëanáro has never once wished to return to Tirion since he left. We will not force him to."
"I am not here to force him," said Findekáno. This would take some delicacy. "I only wish for him and my father to reconcile."
He contemplated saying more. There was unrest in Tirion. More and more voices had started debating whether Nolofinwe was fit to rule. People wished for Fëanáro — amazing, intelligent, crafty and charismatic Fëanáro — to return. Findekáno had heard whispers of whispers that claimed no child of Indis was fit to rule. That they were marred.
It was nonsense, but it stung nonetheless. And to bring it to Aule’s attention was to imply the Noldor could not deal with their own problems. Surely the Valar knew already, what with the amount of time Melkor spent amongst the Noldor.
Doubtful and hesitant, Findekáno asked, "Am I still permitted to stay here? I know Fëanáro may not want to see me, but…"
Aule laughed. "I do not forbid entrance to my halls merely due to family disputes! I wouldn't have any Quendi left with me if I did. But don't bother craftsmen at work," said Aule sterly. "Those who seek the halls of my siblings and I are so dedicated to their crafts they eschew the company of their people"
Findekáno said, with as much patience as he could muster, "I know that."
Someone cleared their throat from behind them.
Aule said, with evident pleasure, “Maitimo! Perfect timing. Your cousin here has asked to stay with us. Would you find him a room in your family’s quarters, please?”
There was a noticeable pause. Findekáno looked over his shoulder to see another elf he did not significantly resemble. This one had red hair instead of fair hair. It fell like copper wire down his back from a high, wide tail he had pulled it back into. A copper circlet lined his brow, so as to complete the copper on copper look.
His silver eyes met Findekáno’s. He didn’t seem half as pleased as Aule was. “If my lord requests it.”
“I hope you will get along,” said Aule. “It is not often one gets the chance to reconnect with family!” He sighed, just a bit wistful. “I am mostly sure Melkor cannot stand me at all, even now. Do better than us!”
Dubiously, Findekáno stood, and bowed as one did to a peer. “Findekáno Astaldo, son of Nolofinwe and Anaire.”
His cousin bowed to match him. “Táramírë Maitimo, son of Fëanáro and Nerdanel.”
This was Finwe’s eldest grandchild. The only one who was older than Findekáno. Haughty jewel, well-formed one. His parents certainly had an amusing naming sense! “You are tall enough for the name, I suppose.”
Maitimo smiled slightly. “And your presence here implies you also fit yours.”
“Hah,” said Findekáno. “If I succeed, maybe.”
“Oh, no,” said Maitimo, smiling just a bit wider. “Not many have the nerves to interrupt my father. Or request he return to Tirion, for that matter!”
Maitimo was not one of the elves who had been in the room. Findekáno closed his eyes. “Does everyone know?”
“Rumors fly faster than birds,” said Maitimo. He excused them both from Aule, who watched them go with a pleased twinkle in his eyes. “You truly intend to stay here until the coronation?”
“I hope to succeed before then!”
Maitimo said, without any attempt to sound polite, “You will fail. Not even my mother has convinced him to return there. Though, admittedly, I’m not sure she ever tried. Anyway, it’s impossible to divert my father from his course once he has set it. He is uncarvable stone.”
“We will see,” said Findekáno.
“You are valiant!” said Maitimo, laughing. It was not a compliment.
They exited Aule’s workshop to the wide, central area Turkamírë had crossed to get to Fëanáro’s workshop. Findekáno tilted his head back and counted a dozen elevated bridges and crossways before the light grew too faint to see. The ones he could see had metal railings, sturdy and beautiful, and the light refracted off of them to add to the confusion. It was beautiful, and dizzying, and it gave Findekáno a strange sort of vertigo even though he was on the ground floor. “How far does this go?”
“Up to the terrace, but I don’t recommend going there without some protection from the smoke,” said Maitimo. Belatedly, he seemed to realize, “You will get lost frequently. Ask the stones for guidance, if you do. There's indicators,” he gestured to a delicate blue tile on the floor that Findekáno hadn't noticed, "But the Maia set those long ago. They're honestly not worth learning unless you stay here long."
“Let's hope it doesn't come to that," said Findekáno blankly. Used as he was to the carefully laid out cities built by Noldo, the idea of a Maia navigation system was… quite exciting, actually! "I'll pray for aid if I get truly lost."
“Pray for aid?” Maitimo’s voice was filled with doubt. Belatedly, Findekáno had to wonder if a Maia deep in their magic would even hear an aid prayer. Findekáno had not seen a single Maia in all these halls. He felt them, the way their presence added reverberation to the background Song of the world, but he had not seen them. “Aule will come and herd you back, I suppose.”
“Aule himself will - No, I will stick with you for now, I think. I do not need to wander far.“
That said, Findekáno wanted to wander. He was almost certainly going to wander. Valarin domains were all dizzying, and overwhelming, and sometimes felt like they lay entirely outside reality, but Findekáno had only been to Manwe and Varda’s Mansions, and Yavanna’s pastures, and, once, to Lorien’s garden. This was new and thus it was most exciting.
“You will wander and get lost,” said Maitimo, with certainty.
“I will wander and not get lost,” said Findekáno, just to be contrary.
“Shall we bet?”
“Let’s,” said Findekáno, though he would almost certainly lose. “What are your terms?”
“You will get lost within the hour,” said Maitimo.
“I can easily spend an hour in whatever room you show me to,” said Findekáno.
“If I lose I will guide you around,” said Maitimo.
“Do you want to lose?” asked Findekáno. “It is much too easy. Very well, if I lose you ought to also guide me around.”
“I don’t think that’s how bets work,” said Maitimo. “If you lose, I leave you to the mercy of my brothers’ mischief.”
“You guiding me around protects me from that?” Findekáno looked at Maitimo, who looked back at him with a dry expression that meant obviously, why would I offer if not? “I can take care of myself.”
“Of course,” said Maitimo.
“I don’t need a guide,” went on Findekáno, now lying.
“I have no doubt,” said Maitimo.
“You think I am very charming,” said Findekáno.
“Yes - “ Maitimo closed his mouth too late. Findekáno laughed. After a moment, Maitimo laughed with him. “Maybe there is hope for you!”
“I hope so!” Ruefully, Findeknao said, “I just wish your father was more amenable to me.”
“Oh, he doesn’t care about you at all,” said Maitimo, still in that pleasant voice. Findekáno's next step faltered, his feet stopping altogether. “I don’t mean it as an insult,” added Maitimo hastily, as he also stopped walking. “He just doesn't have an opinion on you. Negative or positive.” A pause. “Well, maybe now that he has met you he does.”
Findekáno swallowed. “Well, it is easy enough to have no opinion on someone when you just leave and never return at the first inconvenience.”
Maitimo blinked. His blank expression muddled through incomprehension and then grew outright confused. “What are you implying?”
“Nothing,” said Findekáno, stomping ahead of Maitimo. “This is the first time I meet him, so I don’t have any opinion on him at all.”
He paused at the end of the corridor. Maitimo was still in the middle of it, his brows furrowed, like he wasn’t sure whether to be insulted on Fëanáro’s behalf or not. “Our bet hasn’t started yet, yeah?”
Maitimo stared at him.
“It starts when we reach my room,” said Findekáno, gesturing at the maze of walkways and paths ahead. “After you, please.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence.
Findekáno’s room had a door. A proper door, with a handle, no lock. It was located at the end of a branching hallway, each door decoration suggesting the character of the owner. Maitimo’s own door was easy enough to spot. All the decorations were made in copper.
“This is usually where my cousins stay when they visit,” said Maitimo of Findekáno’s room. “My other cousins.”
Findekáno understood. He also had other cousins.
“It’s just a guest-room,” said Maitimo. “Be welcome. If you need anything I’m right there.” He pointed at the copper-decorated door. “My father’s door is the one with all the jewels.” A description that could have indicated no less than three doors, but only one of them had jewels that glowed with their own light, and that was the one Maitimo indicated. “Don’t… don’t disturb him anymore than you’re already going to. If you need anything, come to me.”
“I’m not here to kidnap him!” Findekáno nearly threw his hands up. “I honestly just want him to come to the coronation! It would be good if he and my father said anything nice to each other.” Or anything at all, really! “But honestly, all he needs to do is just show up.”
Maitimo shook his head. “Why are you doing this? Surely my father isn’t needed when he’d already renounced his title.”
“For the first time in the history of our people the crown is being passed on!” said Findekáno. “Why would I not?”
“My father doesn’t care about politics. He left Tirion years ago because of it.”
“And you know what? That’s still a political move.”
Maitimo stared at him. “I was always curious about Tirion,” he said, after a long moment. “Do you always tie yourself up in absurd political trappings, or is it just due to the coronation?”
Findekáno slumped. His fists clenched and unclenched. “Both, I think.”
“He did not want the crown, so he rejected it,” said Maitimo. “It’s that simple.”
“Aren’t you bothered by it?”
“Why would I?”
“Me.”
For the first time since they’d met, Maitimo looked entirely taken aback. “What?” He outright laughed at Fingon. “If I was bothered by you you’d know it.”
“Not that,” said Findekáno. He worried at his lip for a long moment. “It wasn’t just himself your father took out of the line of succession, but all of you as well.”
Maitimo blinked. “Oh, that.”
Findekáno had known all his life that he was not the eldest grandchild of Finwe. He was not even the eldest grandson, which might have made things different - Aunt Findis, like Feanor, did not want the crown, and just from birth order they were close to setting a precedent of male inheritance.
There was Maitimo before him. There had always been Maitimo before him. It had just never mattered, because Fëanáro had renounced his inheritance by way of Finwe before either of their begettings.
“Forget I asked,” said Findekáno. They had picked up his pack from the horse on the way here. Findekáno placed it on the floor by the desk. The room wasn’t very spacious by princely judgment, but it had a comfortable looking bed with many cushions, and sculptures and tapestries decorating the walls, and a desk with a random assortment of tools left behind by dozens of bored craftsmen at idle work. No windows. The air tasted stale with a smokey undertone that made his nose itch.
Distantly, he noticed Maitimo follow him inside, stopping just inside the doorway. “I don’t resent you, if that’s what you fear.”
Findekáno’s head jerked towards him.
Maitimo wasn’t looking at him, but at one of the sculptures on the walls, shapeless and abstract. “A king is a hereditary position now because the children of the king receive training in leadership, and they are used to being led by Finwe. They hope that a child of Finwe will be the same as Finwe himself.” Now Maitimo turned his gaze on Findekáno, who was struck, abruptly, by how much Maitimo resembled his father. It wasn’t anything physical, not more so than the resemblance Findekáno and Fëanáro shared. It was his eyes, and the intensity of his gaze. “A king is he who can lead his people. Crown or no crown, they will follow him. Inheritance has nothing to do with it. If I wanted to lead my people, I would not need a crown to do so.”
The certainty in his voice resonated with the world. Findekáno blinked and saw a vision of Maitimo, larger and armored, somehow older despite looking the same, at the head of armies. The image faded within an instant, and the details were fuzzy and indistinct. Shaken, he could only conclude it was no true vision, but the suggestion of one. An echo of a might be, instead of a will be. Prophecy was more the Arafinwian’s thing than his own.
“Do you wish to lead?” he asked. “You have no training in it.”
“Don’t I?” Maitimo held his gaze. “I am still my father’s son.”
That was, perhaps, not the ringing endorsement Maitimo believed it to be. Nonetheless, after a moment of holding that gaze, Findekáno grinned. “I think I like you very much, Táramírë Maitimo. You are not at all what I was expecting.”
The intensity dissipated into the air like the smoke of Aule’s workshops. “What were you expecting?”
“Someone less interesting,” said Findekáno. Someone more prone to running away at the slightest inconvenience, but then again, Fëanáro had done that and was still the most powerful presence Findekáno had ever felt in an elf. And he lived in a palace with some of the most powerful elves in Tirion!
“I am the simple son of craftsmen,” Maitimo demurred, “Hardly anything a prince would find intriguing.”
“That is what they said about your mother, I think,” said Findekáno. “I doubt anyone who said that has met her.”
“Have you?”
“No,” said Findekáno. “But I have met her husband and at least some of her children, and I’m frankly a bit scared to know what the woman who matched Fëanáro and created you all is like.”
Maitimo burst out laughing.
“After me is my brother Makalaure, who is a singer. He is somewhere in Valimar right now, rehearsing with the orchestra. He would have been at your Celebration of the Trees regardless of you coming here,” said Maitimo. He had sketched out a quick lineage tree with the desk supplies. “My brother Tyelkormo is the one who guided you in. Normally he’d be the one absent. He’s a Hunter of Orome. If you see a particularly large wolfhound, that is Huan.” A thoughtful pause. “Huan is the most reasonable and level-headed member of my family.”
“A dog?”
“Yes.”
“Now I must meet him.”
“You will. He and Tylekormo are never far from one another. His door is the one with all the antlers and bones and other spoils of the hunt.” Maitimo pointed at the next name. “Carnistir is the one with textiles and rubies. He always looks like he’s in a bad mood, but do not take it to heart. That’s just his face.”
“Ah, like my brother Turukano,” said Findekáno, which was mostly a lie. Turukano was very pleasant except for when Findekáno wheedled at him, which was often. He’d probably have to do it less now to uphold his Crown Princely Aura or something. A real tragedy, that.
“Curufinwe,” Maitimo began, and paused. “Curufinwe probably is in a bad mood if he looks like he is in a bad mood. He is the one that looks like my mother chiseled a statue of my father to life and gave him curlier hair. The doorway with the random assortment of gemstones is his, but don't take it as a show of his craft. He’s an overachiever, but his true love is for metalwork and forges, not gem cutting.”
“And then there’s the twins,” said Findekáno.
“They’re also not here,” said Maitimo. “They’re surveying a marble quarry with our mother.”
“Do they really look exactly alike?”
“They style their hair differently,” said Maitimo.
Findekáno whistled.
“You’re lucky they aren’t here, they would make your life hell,” Maitimo said in that same casual tone he said almost everything in, as though every other word out of his mouth wasn’t absolutely terrifying. “But unlucky Mother isn’t here. She’d have intervened with Father to listen to you. She keeps correspondence with Queen Indis, did you know?”
“I didn’t,” said Findekáno. “Truly?”
Maitimo nodded.
“Your father will barely reply to Grandfather’s letters,” said Findekáno.
“He reads them all,” said Maitimo. “He’ll spend hours drafting replies and then discarding them.” He shut his mouth a bit too quickly, like that was more than he’d meant to reveal.
“What’s so hard about answering a letter?” Findekáno asked, exasperated. “Grandfather comes and visits you all anyway, so nothing truly important gets sent in them. They don’t really matter at all.”
“Father invented Tengwar,” said Maitimo. “Of course it matters.”
Then there were the halls of Aule, which Findekáno cajoled Maitimo to briefly explain the structure of. “The Aulendi - Quendi Aulendi - live mostly in the southern side of the mountain,” said Maitimo. “My Grandfather Mahtan actually lives on the northern end, but that’s because he spends too much time working closely with Maiar and their projects. If he had a proper household, it would be where my parents live. He visits every other day when he is not consumed by projects. One time I went a whole year without seeing him.”
Again, that casual voice, as though a revered craftsman disappearing for a year was -
Actually, Findekáno was a Noldo. Being horrified by this was a Vanyarin sensibility and had no business being here.
“The base level is mostly Elven residences, but the area farthest from the entrance connects to the quarries and is just full of raw stone. Then the next level above that is private workshops — you went there just earlier — then there are communal workshops, forges, magic imbuement rooms, rooms with specialty acoustics for tricky songs, the tool repositories, the high pressure chambers, the store rooms for less common materials, the dangerous store rooms - "
"The what," said Findekáno.
"They store radioactive substances," Maitimo explained. "One time they melted a solid metal plate in five minutes! I was very impressed. Anyway, do not go there unless you wish to explain to Namo about your stupid death at the hands of a rock."
"Noted," said Findekáno. He could not resist adding, "That sounds like it came from experience."
"It happened to a cousin of mine," said Maitimo, still pleasantly cheerful. A brief pause, "One of my other cousins."
"How dreadful!"
"You really don't have much reason to leave the first two levels, so don't worry." Maitimo stood and stretched, pulling his hands far above his head. He was so tall he nearly touched the ceiling. When he was done he quirked a smile. "Anything else you'd like to know?"
"I am starting to get hungry." Findekáno had been leaning over the desk with one hip against the wood. He pushed off it and stepped to the doorway. "So if you aren't too busy, how about showing me to the kitchens or meal halls?" He grinned, just a bit cheeky, more than a little smug.
Maitimo opened his mouth, closed it, then turned to the clock adorning one of the walls. It had just passed an hour since Findekáno walked in. "You are sneaky." Maitimo smiled broadly.
"I don't know what you mean," said Findekáno. "And anyway you make it easy for me, since it's clear you wanted to lose."
"Now I don't know what you mean," said Maitimo. "Food it is, my prince." He bowed and gestured grandly out the doorway. Grinning, Findekáno led them out into Aule's halls.