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FIC: Citius Altius Fortius (11-13/25) NC17; Fingon/Maedhros; Turgon/Elenwe; Aredhel/Celegorm
Title: Citius, Altius, Fortius (10/25)
Author: Zhie
Summary: An autumn tale that follows Fingolfin’s children through small adventures and first loves. Gen, het, and slash all rolled into one.
Rating: Some scenes NC17, mostly PGish
Characters: Fingon/Maedhros; Turgon/Elenwe; Aredhel/Celegorm; Argon; their parent-folk, cousins, and other family members
Archive: http://phoenix.zhie.us
Disclaimer: Tolkien’s characters are property of his estate; I’m just playing with them and will return them when I’m done feeding them cheesecake.
Author Notes: Written for NaNoWriMo 2008. Bunniverse compatible.
-Family Matters- (11)
After breakfast, Feanor called a conference in his father’s library. Few were invited, but sitting in the room when the doors were closed and locked were Finwe’s three eldest sons, each of their eldest, and also Turgon and Maglor, who had chosen neutral locations near the windows to sit. Fingon and Maedhros had taken up residence on the sofa, while Finwe was in his chair to oversee the situation. Felagund stood beside his grandfather, his hands folded behind his back. Finarfin and Fingolfin stood together near the door, while Feanor comfortably took a seat on a footstool near the fireplace.
“I think we all know why we are here,” stated Feanor once everyone was settled.
Felagund’s hand went up.
“There is a reason for you to be here, too,” promised Feanor. Felagund lowered his hand. “I would like for the discussion to open with a suggestion. I have a house located in the west; it is on the edge of the forest and used as a hunting lodge. You have all been there before. It is terribly neglected. A house that nice should be lived in.”
“Do you think that is where Aredhel and Celegorm are?” interrupted Fingolfin. He was a little less huffy than the previous day, but still gave his older brother a number of accusatory looks.
Feanor made a dramatic show of looking around the room. “Do you see either of them here? It is impolite to speak of others behind their backs. This is not about them.”
“It should be – they are the ones missing. They are the immediate issue,” argued Fingolfin.
Finwe held up his hand as a signal to keep Feanor from disputing this further. “Fingolfin, I think we all must agree that they are both adults. Whatever they decide to do is up to them. You both had fifty years to be in control. They will return when they are ready to; they are safe, and can take care of themselves. We are here to talk about Fingon and Maedhros.”
“Actually,” laughed Feanor. “We are here to talk about Fingon and Maglor – I think the topic of Fingon and Maedhros is closed. As you have said, father, we had fifty years to teach them as we saw fit, and to rule over them as we desired. They have made a choice, and we, as their parents, should stand beside them on it.”
Fingolfin gave his brother a withering look. “I did not raise my son like this.”
“No, you did not,” agreed Feanor. “I think he was born that way. Just as you do not get to decide if the Valar give you a boy or a girl, you do not get to decide who they wish to partner with.”
“I meant, that he is with his cousin,” said Fingolfin pointedly. “I have accepted the fact of what he is; I am not sure this is proper.”
Feanor sighed heavily. “It would not be the first time cousins wed. I know for a fact this sort of behavior runs rampant within the Vanyarin families.”
Whether his comment was meant as an additional jab or not, Fingolfin bristled at the implications. Felagund coughed in order to gain the attention of those present. “If there is a point to all of this, other than watching my elders bicker like a pair of elflings, please do tell me.”
Those of the youngest generation in the room stifled laughter as their sires shot looks of displeasure at Felagund. Of all of the grandchildren of Finwe, Felagund was actually the eldest, for Finarfin and Earwen had their first child a year after their marriage and long before the others were thinking of starting families or even married. It meant that the age difference between Felagund and his father was less than the distance between any of the gaps between himself and his siblings. His introduction into the family had been much different, and as chief grandchild, there were times when he could say things that even Maedhros would not have dared say.
“Let us get back to the house on the edge of the forest,” said Finwe. “Feanor, there is a reason you have brought that up, I assume?”
“Yes. I think it would be a suitable residence for Fingon, as my understanding is that he will be joining the Red Fern team in a few weeks and will need a place nearby to stay. Obviously, it would be silly to have him ride from home every day.” Feanor further described the amenities of the house for those who many have forgotten. “My suggestion is for him to move in at his earliest convenience so that he has some time to get used to the house before his duties at the gym begin.”
“I suppose you want your son there, too,” said Fingolfin gruffly.
“I do,” said Feanor. He looked at Maglor. “You have expressed an interest in taking up a short apprenticeship as a minstrel. I have recently spoken to the proprietor of the Victorious Eagle, and he is more than happy to take you on, if you are willing.”
Maglor blinked in surprise. “Me?” He glanced at Maedhros, and back to his father. “I thought... well...”
“There are two bedrooms,” reminded Feanor. He smirked. “You thought I meant for Maedhros to go?” Maglor nodded. “No. He is in the midst of his apprenticeship; he cannot simply relocate at the moment.”
“But... that apprenticeship is with you,” said Finarfin. “You could break the contract if you wanted.”
“It is not my wish to do so,” said Feanor. “I have others apprenticed to me; my system is very precise. If one leaves, it places a gap. I take on a new apprentice every two years and each serves a term of thirty years. If he leaves, then he will fall back twelve years.”
“You could change that,” challenged Fingolfin. “What is to say you will not change your mind once we agree to your arrangement?”
Feanor laughed, a sound meant for himself. It was slightly patronizing. “I think you misunderstand my intentions. What do you think I am trying to do? I have no desire to have them play house together. I want what is best for them – Fingon should be out on his own for a while. Maedhros needs to finish his apprenticeship. I never change my mind once it is set, and my mind is set. Do you doubt me?”
Finarfin and Fingolfin were now whispering to one another in hushed voices. Felagund waited to see if either would respond, and then took the initiative. “I think it is a very generous offer. I also think it may be rushing things a little.”
Feanor shrugged. “There would be no rush, except that Fingon is now to join a gym that is far away from his home.”
“I think we should let the boys decide,” said Fingolfin pointedly.
Feanor smirked. “That is your trouble right there. Neither of them are boys, nor have they been for some time.”
Fingolfin straightened up rigidly. “You know what I mean.”
“Of course.” Feanor rolled his eyes and turned his head to look at Maglor. “What are your thoughts on the idea?”
Maglor shrugged slightly. “Sounds fine to me.”
“If you do not want to move to the house with your cousin, you do not have to,” said Feanor. “Or, if you would like to move there for a while and not apprentice with Rumil, you could just spend some time there for a little while.”
“Sure,” said Maglor.
“Think about it. No need to make a decision tonight.” Feanor turned to Fingon. “What about you, Fingon? It would be close to the Red Fern gymnasium, and it would give you some time to explore your interests away from home. There is no pressure; if you do not want to, you will not hurt my feelings. I know that the gymnasium will provide you with room in their dormitory.”
“It does sound interesting,” admitted Fingon. “I think I would like to try it. If... if it would be alright with you,” he added as he looked to his father.
“You have to let go sometime.” It was Felagund who offered this advice, to the surprise of some in the room. “When I left home, I do not think it was something that everyone was fond of. In fact, Artanis was fairly upset with me. My residence is somewhat temporary, though. I come home as I like. Maybe this would be a good idea to try,” he added. “There is no need to move out completely. Use the house as a home away from home that allows you to facilitate your ability to be at the gym. Then, it is not so permanent.”
Fingon looked to his father again and said, “I would like to try this. I need to find somewhere to live if I am to keep my promise to Coach Ardim.”
Maglor’s answer was less enthusiastic. “I guess I should go, too.”
“You do not need to,” Feanor reminded him.
“No, I will go,” he answered.
Plans were made officially to relocate Fingon and Maglor to the hunting lodge. The celebration was postponed, for Finwe felt unable to celebrate considering the circumstances. The coordination between everyone to help move Fingon and Maglor took up a fair amount of time for the family anyhow. Secretly, someone began a covert search for Celegorm and Aredhel, focusing upon their safe return.
-All Things To Everyone- (12)
It was not Celegorm, nor Aredhel, who planted the idea of running away. It began with a suggestion from Melkor, though they would never say that was how it began. Their intention was to find Argon, and to clear Celegorm of all blame. They were last into the forest, for they took extra caution in checking beneath the tables and chairs set up on the lawn. By the time they did reach the woods, Aredhel was frantic, and Celegorm quite angered.
“I would never do anything to hurt your little brother,” Celegorm assured her as they treaded through the first fallen leaves, crouched down so as to better search for what they sought. “He must be close; I think we are already too far away. We should return to the lawn – did anyone look inside the tent?”
“I looked there twice.” Aredhel wrung her hands in front of her. “This is not good. He is so little. I bet he is scared. Why is he not crying? He should be crying by now.”
Behind them, Melkor walked slowly and carefully, keeping an eye on the path they were taking, and on how close they were to others searching in the woods. “Perhaps someone has already found him and he is safely with them.”
“Someone would shout that they had discovered where he is if that were the case,” argued Celegorm. He looked at Aredhel and said, “Your father is going to have my hide if anything has happened. Even one scratch will be the death of me – and I should not even have been the one watching him!”
“I will talk to father. Surely, he will be happy once Argon is safely found. His bark is much worse than his bite,” she told him.
Celegorm shook his head. “Your father hates me. He will probably ban you and your brothers from talking to me ever again.”
“He hates no one.”
“He hates my father.”
To that, Aredhel had no answer. Melkor’s smile went unseen. “It seems a shame, that your fathers rule your lives. I would wager you are both adults by now, are you not?”
“Of course we are,” snapped Celegorm. “Do we look like children to you?”
“All of your kind look like children to me,” answered Melkor. He crouched down beside Celegorm and said, “I bet sometimes you wish you could be the master of your own destiny.”
Celegorm snorted. “I am the master of my own destiny.”
“I mean, I suppose sometimes you wish your father did not control your life quite so much as he does.”
“The thought has crossed my mind from time to time,” admitted Aredhel. “Father means well, but he seems to think he must keep me on a leash shorter than the one he keeps our hounds on.”
“Mark my words, he is going to deny you from seeing me,” warned Celegorm. “Even though I had nothing to do with Argon disappearing, he is not going to believe that.”
Aredhel shrugged. “You do not know that.”
“It is really too bad that the two of you could not just... run away from it all. It would be nice if you could be free from their rule, do what you want to do. Oh, but you are both still young – that would be much too much for you both.” Melkor fell back again, and straightened himself up.
“We should do that. It would teach our parents a lesson,” said Celegorm confidently. “We should just go for a few days and see just how much they appreciate us when we return.”
Aredhel normally would not have agreed to such a foolhardy idea, but for some reason she felt quite independent at the moment. “We should. It would serve them right.”
Melkor suddenly turned his head and looked at a spot under some trees twice. “My friends, I believe I see something over there.” He hurried over, and Aredhel and Celegorm both cautiously followed him.
Sleeping peacefully, protected by the bushes and trees, they found Argon quite safe and sound. “There he is,” cooed Melkor as he picked up the elfling. “I hope you have not caused too much drama, little one. Your cousin is going to be in a heap of trouble over all of this.”
Celegorm glanced at Aredhel, and then down a path that quickly disappeared amongst the trees. He made a motion with his head, and quietly crept down the path.
Aredhel took one final look at her brother, safe with the Ainu. She bit her lip, and then hurried to catch up to Celegorm.
Melkor smiled to himself as he heard them leave, and when he turned around, swept his free arm toward the ground. Their tracks scattered in the wind, all knowledge of where they had gone lost to all.
---
The pair spent the first few nights traveling through the forest. Another day was spent in the mountains, but the rocky terrain was more difficult and open than they would have liked. It was Aredhel who had suggested the possibility of the sea, to blend into one of the seaports. Celegorm furthered the idea, and planned for them to sneak aboard one of the sailing ships as it departed. Neither had been on a boat larger than a canoe before, and it was an adventure they could not pass up.
They had reached Alqualonde a few days later, and scouted out which ships were leaving, and when, and for how long. Once they chose the ship they wanted, they needed only wait. It was leaving the soonest of those that looked accommodating enough for their needs. They found a spot behind some barrels that would allow them a good look at the ship. It took only an hour before they crew climbed aboard and began to ready for departure.
When the coast was clear, Aredhel motioned for Celegorm to join her. They hurried towards the ships, where the Teleri readied to sail. All of the ropes had been untied on one side of their chosen vessel, and Aredhel easily climbed the side and then helped Celegorm climb up as well.
“This is the best idea!” exclaimed Aredhel in a hushed voice once they were aboard. She was shushed by her partner in crime, and the two of them navigated their way around the deck to the ladder that led below.
Once they saw that the coast was clear, the pair scampered to the ladder and climbed down. They immediately slid around a doorway to keep out of sight as one of the members of the crew passed by. “This way,” whispered Celegorm, and he led Aredhel down to the galley of the ship. It was a small kitchen area, which joined to a room for emergency healing to be done. “No one is going to disturb us here until the ship sets sail, and by then, it will be too late. They follow the currents to fish, and they ship will not set back for the dock for at least three days.”
“This is brilliant,” said Aredhel as she happily as she surveyed their surroundings. “How upset do you think they are going to be when they discover they have stowaways?”
Celegorm shrugged. “Hopefully they will not be too upset,” he said. “In fact, I am hoping that they will be inviting and welcoming and not throw us overboard.”
About an hour later, they were dragged up to the deck by the quartermaster. “Captain, we have a couple of mice in the kitchen,” he announced as he let go of the two stowaways.
“Mice, are they?” The tall elf who was obviously in charge looked down at the pair. “Now what were the two of you doing, hiding on my ship?”
Aredhel took a moment to look back toward the shore. The lights on the ends of the Alqualonde piers glittered far away. “We made it!” she exclaimed. She tugged on Celegorm’s sleeve and pointed toward the docks, and he smiled when he saw the expanse of water between them and land.
“Just what is going on here?” demanded the captain. “What sort of trouble are the two of you in?”
“None, sir,” answered Celegorm craftily. “We just wanted a little excitement on our honeymoon. What could be more exciting than jumping onto a ship heading out for a place you have never been before?”
The captain looked a little skeptical about the explanation. There were rings on their hands, and in the right places, thanks to the ones that Celegorm had been wearing for the celebration. He had found one that would fit Aredhel perfectly while they hatched their cover-up plan in the galley. Both of them were still wearing their finery from the planned event, too. Although less than what one might expect someone in the royal family to wear to a wedding, they were aptly dressed for a commoner celebrating such an occasion. “It seems odd that you would both agree on such an odd location for your wedding night.”
“Oh, we already did that part,” said Aredhel a little too matter-of-factly, and Celegorm hoped she could remedy her acting so that they were believed. “I mean, my… husband and I are very adventurous, and we wanted to be sure we could enjoy our time on your lovely ship without interruption.”
“I do not know what sort of enjoyment you hope to get out of being here,” admitted the captain. “We are a simple fishing boat in search of tuna. This vessel will likely stink of fish by the end of the day. Are you sure you would not be better transferred to a ship returning for the harbor when we pass one?”
“We really want to be here,” insisted Celegorm. “It is all my wife has been talking about all night.”
“Well… if you really know what you are getting into…” said the captain uncertainly.
Aredhel giggled. “That is precisely the point! We have no idea what we are getting into – but it sure seems like fun.”
The majority of the crew laughed at this, and the captain nodded. “Alright, then. If you are going to be on my ship, it shall be as a part of my crew. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they both replied.
“Good.” The captain stepped in front of Aredhel. “Our cook happened to be called back ashore just before we set off. What sort of delicacies can you make, darling?”
“Umm… well…” Aredhel fidgeted with the ring on her finger. It was a little loose, and she hoped it would not accidentally slip off. “I know how to roast venison. I can boil eggs, too.” She pointed to Celegorm. “He knows how to make a lot of things.”
“Really?” The captain looked at Celegorm with interest.
“He knows how to make dinner, and breakfast. He has made breakfast for me a number of times,” added Aredhel, and this was true. Some of the hunts that went on for days required meals to be made in the forest. Unlike his brothers, who would have sustained themselves upon salted meat and dried fruit, Celegorm had learned a few culinary arts that could be utilized even in the middle of nowhere. “He can dress a deer and make a stew of it, or from rabbit, or even chipmunk. The chipmunk was surprisingly delicious.”
Celegorm shrugged at the compliments his cousin gave him. “It was nothing. Just need the right spices.”
“Spice we have in ample supply,” promised the quartermaster. “There are some vegetables in the galley, and a little fruit. Most of what we have for meat we catch while we sail. How are you with cooking fish?”
“If I can cook deer, I can make fish,” answered Celegorm. “I was cooking fish when I was a child. I used to catch them in the river with my bare hands and smoke them on shore.”
The captain chuckled. “Did you hear that, boys?” he asked the rest of the crew. “Maybe we should just toss him over the side and let him grab the fish for us!”
The crew had a good laugh over the comment, while Celegorm looked away and snorted. “Be nice, or I will add hot peppers to everything I cook,” he warned.
“You will be cooking, but not with hot peppers. There are none aboard.” The captain laughed at the look on Celegorm’s face. “Now, what shall we have you do, darling? Or, should a pretty thing like you just be here for your pretty looks?”
Celegorm dutifully glared at the captain and pulled Aredhel close to him, his arm around her waist. “Get your own lady; this one is taken,” he warned. The crew members laughed again.
Aredhel blushed at the reaction that Celegorm had, and wondered if maybe some of what he was doing was not acting. “I have very few skills which would be of use on your ship, sir. I do know how to climb a tree, though, and I noticed that you do have a position for a lookout up at the top of the mast.”
“That we do,” confirmed the captain. “I would not wish to take you so far from your newly wedded husband, and it is very high up. Are you sure you would want to be up there for hours at a time?”
“What would I have to do up there?” she asked.
“If there is fog, you would need to see over it to be sure we do not crash into another ship. You can also see down into the water from above and determine where the fish are schooling so we can catch them,” the captain explained.
“Can I go up and try?” she asked.
The captain moved aside and allowed her to pass by. Aredhel gave Celegorm’s hand a squeeze and then moved across the deck to the mast of the swan ship. As she took hold of the grips on the mast and began to climb, Celegorm ran over and whispered something to her. She blushed and he turned and said, “Please, allow a little decency. I ask you all to look away for a moment.”
“Spoilsport,” mumbled one of the fishers, but all of them, including the captain, turned their backs to the mast so that Aredhel could climb without fear that the wind would lift her dress higher than was seemly.
“I am at the top!” she announced when she was safely in the crow’s nest. She became breathless as she looked out over the expanse of the ocean, and back around to the land behind them. When she looked down toward the water, she was unable to hold back her joyful outburst. “This is wonderful! I can see to the coral on the bottom! There are schools of every kind of fish you can imagine!”
“When you see the tuna, young lady, let the rest of the crew know.” The captain turned to Celegorm now, who had been watching Aredhel with caution, concerned she might fall. “We have a task for you, too, lad, and I have no doubt you already know it.”
“How many am I cooking for?” he asked as he looked around the deck and counted the crew.
“Twelve, plus your wife, and yourself. Three meals a day, and there is no need to feed that tabby cat,” added the captain as he pointed out a cat who was sleeping on top of a tackle box. “There are more than enough mice for him to catch.”
“Yes, sir,” said Celegorm, though he knew he would fall victim to the cat’s begging anyhow.
They spent the day apart, which was not exactly what Celegorm had had in mind, but it beat having to fight to keep his horse beside her while they were hunting with their brothers, or getting dark glares from her father each and every time he came to the house. Meals were eaten on the deck due to lack of a large space elsewhere, and at dinner the crew convinced Aredhel to sing for them. She did so willingly, and Celegorm delighted in the impromptu concert, even if he had to share the sound with a dozen strangers.
“I suppose we need to find you a suitable honeymoon suite,” said the captain as the rest of the crew began to drift either to their beds or their evening posts. “It would be crude to have you share the cook’s bed in the middle of the sleeping berth for everyone to watch.” The captain gave them a wink as he led the way down the ladder into the lower part of the ship.
“What about the rope room?” suggested the quartermaster. “We have ample room there to string up a hammock for them.”
“A hammock for two – there is an adventurous way to spend a honeymoon!” shouted one of the crewmembers. The others laughed as well. Someone brought out a hammock from a storage chest, and the room was quickly readied by the other sailors. Someone even found a few extra candles to place on a ledge, and some dried herbs were placed into a mug and turned into a makeshift vase.
“This is so cute,” decided Aredhel as she looked into the room once it was vacated. “Thank you all so much.”
In the few hours that they had been aboard, Aredhel had managed to charm all of the fishers, from the cabin boy to the captain. Celegorm, though known to keep more to himself, had been able to win their appreciation through his cooking. “Thank you,” he said, echoing Aredhel’s sentiment. His eyes focused on the single hammock in the room, and he smiled in spite of himself to know that he and Aredhel would have to cuddle up together on the swaying bed.
“Off you go, then,” shooed the captain. “I am sure you want time to rest before we rise tomorrow.”
Before Celegorm could get Aredhel into the room and get the door closed, one of the crewmembers said, “Give her a kiss for us, then!”
“Hush, there, that is no way to go about it. Allow them their privacy,” scolded the captain.
The quartermaster sided with the crew. “Come now, the boys just want a little romance on the ship. Anyway, I am sure these newlyweds can hardly keep their hands from one another.”
Not wishing to ruin the guise, Celegorm slid his arm around Aredhel’s waist. “If you insist,” he said, and without warning roughly pulled Aredhel close and kissed her hard before she knew just what was happening. The crew hooted and hollered, and seemed generally appeased when Celegorm let Aredhel up for air. “Good night!” he announced as he pushed Aredhel into the room and quickly closed the door behind them.
Aredhel wandered to the hammock in a daze, blush coloring her cheeks. When it sounded like the captain had chased the last of the crewmembers away from the door, she said, “I think you convinced everyone that we are married. You nearly could have fooled me!”
“Is that such a bad thing?” asked Celegorm.
“What do you mean?”
Celegorm settled onto the hammock next to her. “Never mind. I think you should sleep on the side closer to the wall.”
Aredhel looked around at their meager accommodations. “Why?”
“I want to make sure that no one comes in and does anything. If I am on the outside, I can protect you,” he explained. “There is no lock on the door. I do not trust those sailors. Get comfortable, and I will join you in a moment.”
There were no chairs to sit on, and mostly the piles of rope were too low to the ground to be sat upon, so Aredhel sat on the hammock and removed her shoes while Celegorm swept through the room. “What are you doing?”
“I want to be sure that there are no bugs or mice or anything.” Amid the ropes, he found a crumpled note detailing a fishing route and a set of slightly rusted fishing hooks. “Looks clean enough,” he decided. He blew out all but one of the candles, plunging the room into near darkness, and then carefully joined Aredhel on the hammock.
-Viva La Vida- (13)
Very few knew what it was that Turgon did. Some thought he did not do anything. The reality was that he had one job that was very stressful and important, and one job that was very easy and enjoyable. Most people would guess that the easy job was the stressful one and vice versa, but that was not the case.
On his face was a very disciplined look. His eyes scanned those milling around close by for anyone who might be an issue. As people walked past him, he greeted them politely and made sure that the faces were familiar ones. He knew every single competitor who was to be admitted past him. Even if he was not aware of all of them, it was easy enough to tell who should not be let in.
“Turgon!”
Despite the unexpected exclamation, Turgon remained calm and refused to look in the direction of it. Instead, he became even more guarded of the entrance. When the two most renowned young rogues, Ehtele and Thranduil, sauntered over, he moved to the middle of the entryway. “Aye?”
“Turgon, there has been an accident. Someone has spilled something at the east entrance into the arena. Two people have slipped already, and more may still,” said Ehtele.
“And you thought I looked as if I had a rag and bucket with me?” questioned Turgon. “You shall need to find someone better equipped than I to deal with such a thing.”
Thranduil shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. The lad was tall already, despite being a little over five years from his majority. “We looked all over, and found no one. Maybe you should clean it up – it is your job to ensure safety, is it not?” Thranduil did not make eye-contact, instead looking past in an attempt to gaze down the passageway.
The passage led to the chambers used by the female gymnasts to ready themselves. In order to keep any spirited young ellyn from wandering into the area to accidentally see any ellyth in various states of undress, there was a group of safety patrollers who kept watch. The majority of them were ellyth who stayed in the actual passage and made sure everything was well. One was male, and he stood outside to deter any would-be peeking.
At this particular arena, the job was held by Turgon, who took the position extremely seriously. He had even commissioned a tailor to make him a number of sashes for those at this arena to wear. The fringe on the embroidered ‘Decency Squad’ sash swayed warningly as he stepped up to Thranduil. “My job is to ensure the safety of the young competitors behind me, not to worry about clumsy guests and their inability to step around a puddle. However, since you are so concerned about it, I will call for someone to escort you back to the area.” Turgon pulled a whistle from his pocket and lifted it to his lips.
Ehtele quickly placed his hand upon Turgon’s arm to lower it. “There is no need for that, really. As you said, people should be more careful and watch where they are going.”
“There is no spill, is there?” inquired Turgon. “This was just a lame attempt to try to make me move from my post, was it not?”
Thranduil was already backing up. “We really should be going. I think I heard the bell for the first event.”
“Impossible,” said Turgon quickly. “None of the competitors for the first event have left the ready rooms. This is despicable,” continued Turgon as he took another step toward Thranduil, who again stepped further back. “It is quite perverse for someone so young to make overt attempts to endanger the chastity of the young ellyth within. And you,” he added, his sights set on Ehtele now. “You encourage him with your lascivious behavior. I should call for the master of the guard now. Perhaps it best you not be in attendance at these games at all.”
Again, before Turgon could blow the whistle, Ehtele intervened. “My friend,” he said in a low voice, for Turgon had been quite vocal in letting anyone nearby know just what was going on, “there is no need to carry this on further. Thranduil and I concede; but then, you should understand our desire to have a chance to enter such forbidden territory, having been young once yourself.”
“I was young once,” agreed Turgon. “However, I was not a pervert.”
A much older ellon, wearing one of the official sashes Turgon had instituted, walked up to the entryway. “Is there any trouble here?” he asked sternly.
Turgon gave both of the would-be sneaks a good glare before he looked to his superior. “No, sir. These gentlefolk were just a little lost and looking for their section. I was just informing them that I am not at leisure to assist them.”
“Let me take you to one of the ushers,” offered the master of the guard. “I am sure we can get you to the correct section before the start of the games.”
“Thank you,” said Ehtele as he held the tickets out to the guard for inspection. Turgon tilted his head slightly, and continued to stand in Thranduil’s way so as to block his view down the tunnel.
The guard made a motion with his hand. “This way, please.”
Turgon resumed his position just to the side of the entrance once the incident had passed. The sound of someone giggling behind him did not turn his head, but he did ask, “Might I assist in some way?”
“It was amusing how you chased away those two boys. They were practically harmless, and yet you treated them as if they were common criminals.”
“Madame, my concern is for the safety of you and all of your comrades. The intentions of those two scoundrels was quite impure, I assure you of that!” He adjusted his sash as the elleth came out of the tunnel and circled around in front of him.
She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head. “You cannot tell me that you have never looked.”
“Down the passage?”
The elleth nodded.
“Never,” declared Turgon without hesitation.
“You must have.”
Turgon tilted his chin forward, quite put off by the accusation. “Certainly not, madame!”
“What about when you come to deliver messages?” asked the gymnast. “I have seen you on numerous occasions walking through the rooms without averting your eyes.”
“First of all, that is part of my duty,” Turgon reminded her. “Secondly, I respectfully decline to look when I am doing that duty.”
“I am sure you see what is going on,” prodded the elleth.
“Indeed, I may see, but I do not look.” Turgon stepped aside to allow one of the teams to enter the passage. “There is quite a difference.”
The elleth did not look convinced. “You see, but do not look? Are they not one in the same?”
“Seeing is an innocuous act; looking is purposeful.”
Before the argument could continue, the elleth was tapped on the shoulder by a teammate. “Come, Elenwe, we are going to be late.”
“We will continue this later,” vowed Elenwe as she and her teammates bounded towards the arena.
“We will continue this later only if I say we shall do so,” mumbled Turgon, though for once, he actually looked at one of the gymnasts leaving the guarded passageway.
The rest of the teams exited soon after, and following a sweep of the rooms, Turgon headed for the arena himself. The rooms for the ladies were located above ground, but near to the arena. It was a short walk to the stairs that would take him to the guard’s platform. As he reached the steps, he was flagged down by another guard who stood beside a well-dressed Noldo.
“Turgon, this ellon is interested in speaking to you. I told him you would be free for a little while during the competition. I hope that was alright.”
“Of course,” said Turgon. He motioned that they proceed to the upper level, but the ellon shook his head.
“If you do not mind, I would like to speak to you out here for a moment. I find the distraction indoors too much of a temptation while talking business.”
“Ah, I see.” Turgon thanked his coworker and then began to walk to an area with tables and benches used to picnic at before and after the tournaments. “Is this in regards to the Airenen?”
“How did you guess?” wondered the ellon as he sat down across from Turgon.
“From your looks, you are in trade or business or your own – I noted the bulge in your pocket as well,” added Turgon. The ellon rose one brow slightly. “It appears to be some sort of journal; more likely a ledger. You are either a poet or a proprietor; I hardly have poets coming to call upon me.”
“I am both,” admitted the elf as he brought out his book, and showed that one side had writings while the other displayed figures in black and red. “My name is Rumil; I own a small establishment on the outskirts. We cater to the creative types.”
“I see,” said Turgon, leaning back slightly with a look of interest. “Just what sort of establishment is it?”
“A... drinking establishment, I suppose you might say. It is a pub. Just a small one,” he added. “I suppose you might think that I would not provide much business, but I have very loyal patrons. They are always interested in new and unique beverages. When I heard a mention of Airenen, I thought it might be a very likely candidate.”
“Very good,” remarked Turgon. “You must forgive my asking, but specifically what sort of activities go on in your place of business?”
“I do not think I follow you,” apologized Rumil.
Turgon frowned. “Is there any lewd behavior that occurs?”
“Someone occasionally gets drunk, if that is what you mean,” said Rumil. “We have a couple of cots in the back for them to sleep it off, though.”
“A very good idea,” commended Turgon. “I think you might not understand my meaning, though. Are there any... girls there?”
“Girls?” Rumil frowned.
Turgon made sure no one was around that could hear their conversation and then said, “Are there any girls there? In your bar. You know, dancing girls, the ones that show a little leg and such.”
“What? Absolutely not! My wife would have a fit!” exclaimed Rumil. “Besides, that seems highly uncivilized to me.”
“That is just the sort of answer I was hoping for. You will have to excuse my manner of questioning; I am given a very solemn task, and I must be sure that the Airenen is only given to those who exhibit the highest degree of seemliness.”
“Of course. I fully understand,” replied Rumil. “So, shall we speak of prices?”
Turgon chuckled. “My friend, it is much too early to speak of that. I must come and see your establishment first, and determine the correct quantities and the right years for you. We have various flavors as well; you must understand, I have to be careful what goes where. I am entrusted with a very important task.”
Rumil looked as if he was almost about to argue that it should not matter what the purpose was of something that was being sold to a paying customer, but thought better of it. “I understand, my friend, I understand. When would you like to come and see the pub? I will be there this evening.”
“This evening would be splendid. I will have time to come over as soon as my watch is complete.”
Directions were given to Turgon on how to reach The Victorious Eagle, and he used his break during the competition to visit a nearby storehouse that only he had the key to. Two tall brown glass bottles were placed in a specially designed carrying bag, and Turgon brought these back with him to the arena. After he completed the second part of his shift, he followed the directions he had been given in order to find Rumil’s pub.
The Victorious Eagle was an establishment frequented by poets, especially a small group that was dedicated to writing epics for Manwe. In fact, the tavern was named for that fact. The original name was long forgotten, and painted over with a stylistic swooping eagle. Turgon took a few minutes to circle the building and inspect the foundation; Rumil stepped outside upon seeing him. “Welcome!”
Turgon looked up from where he was crouched down next to the building. “Normally, I am a very big proponent of trees, but your birch is threatening your foundation.”
Rumil walked over and looked at what Turgon was inspecting. “I never noticed that before.” He frowned. “I would hate to cut it down.”
“You could have it relocated,” suggested Turgon. He walked from the building and pointed to an open spot nearby. “Right here would be perfect.”
“That land is owned by my neighbors,” explained Rumil.
Turgon strolled around to the other side of the building. “What about here?”
“My other neighbor,” Rumil remarked.
“I see.” Turgon spotted the path to a public garden across the road. “What about over there?”
“What about it? I think they like to have things planned out fairly well in those.”
“They could use another birch tree,” decided Turgon as he crossed the road and began to survey the area. “Right there. See that bench? It would be so much better if there was a birch tree to shade it.”
Rumil waited for Turgon to return to the front door of his pub before he spoke again. “I will look into it,” he promised. “Would you like to see the interior?”
“Of course I do,” said Turgon as the door was opened for him. He stepped inside and took his first look at the bar. “This is nice. Very cozy. The drapes really bring out the color of the wine bottles.”
“Uh, thank you. My wife made them.” Rumil patiently opened doors and cabinets as asked, and explained everything that was pointed to or given an odd look.
At the end of the very complete tour, Turgon set the pack he had brought with him onto one of the tables. “You know what I have with me?” he asked as he set each bottle on the table carefully.
“I would suspect it is the Airenen,” said Rumil.
“It is,” confirmed Turgon. “However, one bottle is for you, and one bottle is for your establishment. One, a gift; the other, for your business.”
“That is very generous,” said Rumil.
Turgon pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. “It may not be so easy as that. Do you have cordial glasses?”
Rumil hurried behind the bar and retrieved a pair of them, and then scooped up a few more just in case he would need extras. These were all set on the table when he returned. Turgon took two and removed the cork from the first bottle. “There are different ways that the Airenen can be enjoyed. You can drink it straight, but it can be bitter that way. There is also a way to prepare it by pouring it slowly over a cube of sugar. I prefer the latter, though I do not have any cubes of sugar with me. You may wish to purchase some. It can also be cut with water, but it diminishes the taste and effect. Some like to mix it with a fruit juice, again, to alleviate the bitterness.”
One of the glasses slid across the table toward Rumil. He picked it up, but did not drink yet. Turgon held his as well. He sniffed it, and when Turgon leaned forward and clinked his glass against the one that Rumil held, Rumil took the sign to try the liquor.
Like most strong liquors, it burned a little. Unlike others, it had a smooth feeling that masked the fire of it. The taste was very earthy, and though bitter, there was a natural sweetness to it. “This is the one you will serve at your pub. I brought the two I thought would be the best matches; this one is our Laiquairenen. It is still of Airenen derivation, but it can be produced faster than the normal Airenen, and is most pleasing to a large audience.”
“It is very good,” commended Rumil.
“I know.” Turgon handed the other bottle to Rumil. “This is for you. Pure Airenen – the original recipe. We do not produce much of it anymore, but I thought from your description that this might be the place for it. Instead, I think that you should have it.”
Rumil’s eyes were wide as he accepted the bottle. “This is very generous of you,” said Rumil. “Thank you.”
Turgon smiled. “We like to establish a friendly relationship with all of our customers from the onset. You also seem like the sort who will appreciate a fine liquor such as this. Just be careful of the potency – I would suggest being home near your bed before you try it.” Turgon poured another small portion of the Laiquarienen into each of their glasses and lifted his. “To a successful partnership, and the success of your business,” said Turgon as he lifted his glass.
Rumil lifted his own and tapped it against Turgon’s. “I shall drink to that!”
Author: Zhie
Summary: An autumn tale that follows Fingolfin’s children through small adventures and first loves. Gen, het, and slash all rolled into one.
Rating: Some scenes NC17, mostly PGish
Characters: Fingon/Maedhros; Turgon/Elenwe; Aredhel/Celegorm; Argon; their parent-folk, cousins, and other family members
Archive: http://phoenix.zhie.us
Disclaimer: Tolkien’s characters are property of his estate; I’m just playing with them and will return them when I’m done feeding them cheesecake.
Author Notes: Written for NaNoWriMo 2008. Bunniverse compatible.
-Family Matters- (11)
After breakfast, Feanor called a conference in his father’s library. Few were invited, but sitting in the room when the doors were closed and locked were Finwe’s three eldest sons, each of their eldest, and also Turgon and Maglor, who had chosen neutral locations near the windows to sit. Fingon and Maedhros had taken up residence on the sofa, while Finwe was in his chair to oversee the situation. Felagund stood beside his grandfather, his hands folded behind his back. Finarfin and Fingolfin stood together near the door, while Feanor comfortably took a seat on a footstool near the fireplace.
“I think we all know why we are here,” stated Feanor once everyone was settled.
Felagund’s hand went up.
“There is a reason for you to be here, too,” promised Feanor. Felagund lowered his hand. “I would like for the discussion to open with a suggestion. I have a house located in the west; it is on the edge of the forest and used as a hunting lodge. You have all been there before. It is terribly neglected. A house that nice should be lived in.”
“Do you think that is where Aredhel and Celegorm are?” interrupted Fingolfin. He was a little less huffy than the previous day, but still gave his older brother a number of accusatory looks.
Feanor made a dramatic show of looking around the room. “Do you see either of them here? It is impolite to speak of others behind their backs. This is not about them.”
“It should be – they are the ones missing. They are the immediate issue,” argued Fingolfin.
Finwe held up his hand as a signal to keep Feanor from disputing this further. “Fingolfin, I think we all must agree that they are both adults. Whatever they decide to do is up to them. You both had fifty years to be in control. They will return when they are ready to; they are safe, and can take care of themselves. We are here to talk about Fingon and Maedhros.”
“Actually,” laughed Feanor. “We are here to talk about Fingon and Maglor – I think the topic of Fingon and Maedhros is closed. As you have said, father, we had fifty years to teach them as we saw fit, and to rule over them as we desired. They have made a choice, and we, as their parents, should stand beside them on it.”
Fingolfin gave his brother a withering look. “I did not raise my son like this.”
“No, you did not,” agreed Feanor. “I think he was born that way. Just as you do not get to decide if the Valar give you a boy or a girl, you do not get to decide who they wish to partner with.”
“I meant, that he is with his cousin,” said Fingolfin pointedly. “I have accepted the fact of what he is; I am not sure this is proper.”
Feanor sighed heavily. “It would not be the first time cousins wed. I know for a fact this sort of behavior runs rampant within the Vanyarin families.”
Whether his comment was meant as an additional jab or not, Fingolfin bristled at the implications. Felagund coughed in order to gain the attention of those present. “If there is a point to all of this, other than watching my elders bicker like a pair of elflings, please do tell me.”
Those of the youngest generation in the room stifled laughter as their sires shot looks of displeasure at Felagund. Of all of the grandchildren of Finwe, Felagund was actually the eldest, for Finarfin and Earwen had their first child a year after their marriage and long before the others were thinking of starting families or even married. It meant that the age difference between Felagund and his father was less than the distance between any of the gaps between himself and his siblings. His introduction into the family had been much different, and as chief grandchild, there were times when he could say things that even Maedhros would not have dared say.
“Let us get back to the house on the edge of the forest,” said Finwe. “Feanor, there is a reason you have brought that up, I assume?”
“Yes. I think it would be a suitable residence for Fingon, as my understanding is that he will be joining the Red Fern team in a few weeks and will need a place nearby to stay. Obviously, it would be silly to have him ride from home every day.” Feanor further described the amenities of the house for those who many have forgotten. “My suggestion is for him to move in at his earliest convenience so that he has some time to get used to the house before his duties at the gym begin.”
“I suppose you want your son there, too,” said Fingolfin gruffly.
“I do,” said Feanor. He looked at Maglor. “You have expressed an interest in taking up a short apprenticeship as a minstrel. I have recently spoken to the proprietor of the Victorious Eagle, and he is more than happy to take you on, if you are willing.”
Maglor blinked in surprise. “Me?” He glanced at Maedhros, and back to his father. “I thought... well...”
“There are two bedrooms,” reminded Feanor. He smirked. “You thought I meant for Maedhros to go?” Maglor nodded. “No. He is in the midst of his apprenticeship; he cannot simply relocate at the moment.”
“But... that apprenticeship is with you,” said Finarfin. “You could break the contract if you wanted.”
“It is not my wish to do so,” said Feanor. “I have others apprenticed to me; my system is very precise. If one leaves, it places a gap. I take on a new apprentice every two years and each serves a term of thirty years. If he leaves, then he will fall back twelve years.”
“You could change that,” challenged Fingolfin. “What is to say you will not change your mind once we agree to your arrangement?”
Feanor laughed, a sound meant for himself. It was slightly patronizing. “I think you misunderstand my intentions. What do you think I am trying to do? I have no desire to have them play house together. I want what is best for them – Fingon should be out on his own for a while. Maedhros needs to finish his apprenticeship. I never change my mind once it is set, and my mind is set. Do you doubt me?”
Finarfin and Fingolfin were now whispering to one another in hushed voices. Felagund waited to see if either would respond, and then took the initiative. “I think it is a very generous offer. I also think it may be rushing things a little.”
Feanor shrugged. “There would be no rush, except that Fingon is now to join a gym that is far away from his home.”
“I think we should let the boys decide,” said Fingolfin pointedly.
Feanor smirked. “That is your trouble right there. Neither of them are boys, nor have they been for some time.”
Fingolfin straightened up rigidly. “You know what I mean.”
“Of course.” Feanor rolled his eyes and turned his head to look at Maglor. “What are your thoughts on the idea?”
Maglor shrugged slightly. “Sounds fine to me.”
“If you do not want to move to the house with your cousin, you do not have to,” said Feanor. “Or, if you would like to move there for a while and not apprentice with Rumil, you could just spend some time there for a little while.”
“Sure,” said Maglor.
“Think about it. No need to make a decision tonight.” Feanor turned to Fingon. “What about you, Fingon? It would be close to the Red Fern gymnasium, and it would give you some time to explore your interests away from home. There is no pressure; if you do not want to, you will not hurt my feelings. I know that the gymnasium will provide you with room in their dormitory.”
“It does sound interesting,” admitted Fingon. “I think I would like to try it. If... if it would be alright with you,” he added as he looked to his father.
“You have to let go sometime.” It was Felagund who offered this advice, to the surprise of some in the room. “When I left home, I do not think it was something that everyone was fond of. In fact, Artanis was fairly upset with me. My residence is somewhat temporary, though. I come home as I like. Maybe this would be a good idea to try,” he added. “There is no need to move out completely. Use the house as a home away from home that allows you to facilitate your ability to be at the gym. Then, it is not so permanent.”
Fingon looked to his father again and said, “I would like to try this. I need to find somewhere to live if I am to keep my promise to Coach Ardim.”
Maglor’s answer was less enthusiastic. “I guess I should go, too.”
“You do not need to,” Feanor reminded him.
“No, I will go,” he answered.
Plans were made officially to relocate Fingon and Maglor to the hunting lodge. The celebration was postponed, for Finwe felt unable to celebrate considering the circumstances. The coordination between everyone to help move Fingon and Maglor took up a fair amount of time for the family anyhow. Secretly, someone began a covert search for Celegorm and Aredhel, focusing upon their safe return.
-All Things To Everyone- (12)
It was not Celegorm, nor Aredhel, who planted the idea of running away. It began with a suggestion from Melkor, though they would never say that was how it began. Their intention was to find Argon, and to clear Celegorm of all blame. They were last into the forest, for they took extra caution in checking beneath the tables and chairs set up on the lawn. By the time they did reach the woods, Aredhel was frantic, and Celegorm quite angered.
“I would never do anything to hurt your little brother,” Celegorm assured her as they treaded through the first fallen leaves, crouched down so as to better search for what they sought. “He must be close; I think we are already too far away. We should return to the lawn – did anyone look inside the tent?”
“I looked there twice.” Aredhel wrung her hands in front of her. “This is not good. He is so little. I bet he is scared. Why is he not crying? He should be crying by now.”
Behind them, Melkor walked slowly and carefully, keeping an eye on the path they were taking, and on how close they were to others searching in the woods. “Perhaps someone has already found him and he is safely with them.”
“Someone would shout that they had discovered where he is if that were the case,” argued Celegorm. He looked at Aredhel and said, “Your father is going to have my hide if anything has happened. Even one scratch will be the death of me – and I should not even have been the one watching him!”
“I will talk to father. Surely, he will be happy once Argon is safely found. His bark is much worse than his bite,” she told him.
Celegorm shook his head. “Your father hates me. He will probably ban you and your brothers from talking to me ever again.”
“He hates no one.”
“He hates my father.”
To that, Aredhel had no answer. Melkor’s smile went unseen. “It seems a shame, that your fathers rule your lives. I would wager you are both adults by now, are you not?”
“Of course we are,” snapped Celegorm. “Do we look like children to you?”
“All of your kind look like children to me,” answered Melkor. He crouched down beside Celegorm and said, “I bet sometimes you wish you could be the master of your own destiny.”
Celegorm snorted. “I am the master of my own destiny.”
“I mean, I suppose sometimes you wish your father did not control your life quite so much as he does.”
“The thought has crossed my mind from time to time,” admitted Aredhel. “Father means well, but he seems to think he must keep me on a leash shorter than the one he keeps our hounds on.”
“Mark my words, he is going to deny you from seeing me,” warned Celegorm. “Even though I had nothing to do with Argon disappearing, he is not going to believe that.”
Aredhel shrugged. “You do not know that.”
“It is really too bad that the two of you could not just... run away from it all. It would be nice if you could be free from their rule, do what you want to do. Oh, but you are both still young – that would be much too much for you both.” Melkor fell back again, and straightened himself up.
“We should do that. It would teach our parents a lesson,” said Celegorm confidently. “We should just go for a few days and see just how much they appreciate us when we return.”
Aredhel normally would not have agreed to such a foolhardy idea, but for some reason she felt quite independent at the moment. “We should. It would serve them right.”
Melkor suddenly turned his head and looked at a spot under some trees twice. “My friends, I believe I see something over there.” He hurried over, and Aredhel and Celegorm both cautiously followed him.
Sleeping peacefully, protected by the bushes and trees, they found Argon quite safe and sound. “There he is,” cooed Melkor as he picked up the elfling. “I hope you have not caused too much drama, little one. Your cousin is going to be in a heap of trouble over all of this.”
Celegorm glanced at Aredhel, and then down a path that quickly disappeared amongst the trees. He made a motion with his head, and quietly crept down the path.
Aredhel took one final look at her brother, safe with the Ainu. She bit her lip, and then hurried to catch up to Celegorm.
Melkor smiled to himself as he heard them leave, and when he turned around, swept his free arm toward the ground. Their tracks scattered in the wind, all knowledge of where they had gone lost to all.
---
The pair spent the first few nights traveling through the forest. Another day was spent in the mountains, but the rocky terrain was more difficult and open than they would have liked. It was Aredhel who had suggested the possibility of the sea, to blend into one of the seaports. Celegorm furthered the idea, and planned for them to sneak aboard one of the sailing ships as it departed. Neither had been on a boat larger than a canoe before, and it was an adventure they could not pass up.
They had reached Alqualonde a few days later, and scouted out which ships were leaving, and when, and for how long. Once they chose the ship they wanted, they needed only wait. It was leaving the soonest of those that looked accommodating enough for their needs. They found a spot behind some barrels that would allow them a good look at the ship. It took only an hour before they crew climbed aboard and began to ready for departure.
When the coast was clear, Aredhel motioned for Celegorm to join her. They hurried towards the ships, where the Teleri readied to sail. All of the ropes had been untied on one side of their chosen vessel, and Aredhel easily climbed the side and then helped Celegorm climb up as well.
“This is the best idea!” exclaimed Aredhel in a hushed voice once they were aboard. She was shushed by her partner in crime, and the two of them navigated their way around the deck to the ladder that led below.
Once they saw that the coast was clear, the pair scampered to the ladder and climbed down. They immediately slid around a doorway to keep out of sight as one of the members of the crew passed by. “This way,” whispered Celegorm, and he led Aredhel down to the galley of the ship. It was a small kitchen area, which joined to a room for emergency healing to be done. “No one is going to disturb us here until the ship sets sail, and by then, it will be too late. They follow the currents to fish, and they ship will not set back for the dock for at least three days.”
“This is brilliant,” said Aredhel as she happily as she surveyed their surroundings. “How upset do you think they are going to be when they discover they have stowaways?”
Celegorm shrugged. “Hopefully they will not be too upset,” he said. “In fact, I am hoping that they will be inviting and welcoming and not throw us overboard.”
About an hour later, they were dragged up to the deck by the quartermaster. “Captain, we have a couple of mice in the kitchen,” he announced as he let go of the two stowaways.
“Mice, are they?” The tall elf who was obviously in charge looked down at the pair. “Now what were the two of you doing, hiding on my ship?”
Aredhel took a moment to look back toward the shore. The lights on the ends of the Alqualonde piers glittered far away. “We made it!” she exclaimed. She tugged on Celegorm’s sleeve and pointed toward the docks, and he smiled when he saw the expanse of water between them and land.
“Just what is going on here?” demanded the captain. “What sort of trouble are the two of you in?”
“None, sir,” answered Celegorm craftily. “We just wanted a little excitement on our honeymoon. What could be more exciting than jumping onto a ship heading out for a place you have never been before?”
The captain looked a little skeptical about the explanation. There were rings on their hands, and in the right places, thanks to the ones that Celegorm had been wearing for the celebration. He had found one that would fit Aredhel perfectly while they hatched their cover-up plan in the galley. Both of them were still wearing their finery from the planned event, too. Although less than what one might expect someone in the royal family to wear to a wedding, they were aptly dressed for a commoner celebrating such an occasion. “It seems odd that you would both agree on such an odd location for your wedding night.”
“Oh, we already did that part,” said Aredhel a little too matter-of-factly, and Celegorm hoped she could remedy her acting so that they were believed. “I mean, my… husband and I are very adventurous, and we wanted to be sure we could enjoy our time on your lovely ship without interruption.”
“I do not know what sort of enjoyment you hope to get out of being here,” admitted the captain. “We are a simple fishing boat in search of tuna. This vessel will likely stink of fish by the end of the day. Are you sure you would not be better transferred to a ship returning for the harbor when we pass one?”
“We really want to be here,” insisted Celegorm. “It is all my wife has been talking about all night.”
“Well… if you really know what you are getting into…” said the captain uncertainly.
Aredhel giggled. “That is precisely the point! We have no idea what we are getting into – but it sure seems like fun.”
The majority of the crew laughed at this, and the captain nodded. “Alright, then. If you are going to be on my ship, it shall be as a part of my crew. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they both replied.
“Good.” The captain stepped in front of Aredhel. “Our cook happened to be called back ashore just before we set off. What sort of delicacies can you make, darling?”
“Umm… well…” Aredhel fidgeted with the ring on her finger. It was a little loose, and she hoped it would not accidentally slip off. “I know how to roast venison. I can boil eggs, too.” She pointed to Celegorm. “He knows how to make a lot of things.”
“Really?” The captain looked at Celegorm with interest.
“He knows how to make dinner, and breakfast. He has made breakfast for me a number of times,” added Aredhel, and this was true. Some of the hunts that went on for days required meals to be made in the forest. Unlike his brothers, who would have sustained themselves upon salted meat and dried fruit, Celegorm had learned a few culinary arts that could be utilized even in the middle of nowhere. “He can dress a deer and make a stew of it, or from rabbit, or even chipmunk. The chipmunk was surprisingly delicious.”
Celegorm shrugged at the compliments his cousin gave him. “It was nothing. Just need the right spices.”
“Spice we have in ample supply,” promised the quartermaster. “There are some vegetables in the galley, and a little fruit. Most of what we have for meat we catch while we sail. How are you with cooking fish?”
“If I can cook deer, I can make fish,” answered Celegorm. “I was cooking fish when I was a child. I used to catch them in the river with my bare hands and smoke them on shore.”
The captain chuckled. “Did you hear that, boys?” he asked the rest of the crew. “Maybe we should just toss him over the side and let him grab the fish for us!”
The crew had a good laugh over the comment, while Celegorm looked away and snorted. “Be nice, or I will add hot peppers to everything I cook,” he warned.
“You will be cooking, but not with hot peppers. There are none aboard.” The captain laughed at the look on Celegorm’s face. “Now, what shall we have you do, darling? Or, should a pretty thing like you just be here for your pretty looks?”
Celegorm dutifully glared at the captain and pulled Aredhel close to him, his arm around her waist. “Get your own lady; this one is taken,” he warned. The crew members laughed again.
Aredhel blushed at the reaction that Celegorm had, and wondered if maybe some of what he was doing was not acting. “I have very few skills which would be of use on your ship, sir. I do know how to climb a tree, though, and I noticed that you do have a position for a lookout up at the top of the mast.”
“That we do,” confirmed the captain. “I would not wish to take you so far from your newly wedded husband, and it is very high up. Are you sure you would want to be up there for hours at a time?”
“What would I have to do up there?” she asked.
“If there is fog, you would need to see over it to be sure we do not crash into another ship. You can also see down into the water from above and determine where the fish are schooling so we can catch them,” the captain explained.
“Can I go up and try?” she asked.
The captain moved aside and allowed her to pass by. Aredhel gave Celegorm’s hand a squeeze and then moved across the deck to the mast of the swan ship. As she took hold of the grips on the mast and began to climb, Celegorm ran over and whispered something to her. She blushed and he turned and said, “Please, allow a little decency. I ask you all to look away for a moment.”
“Spoilsport,” mumbled one of the fishers, but all of them, including the captain, turned their backs to the mast so that Aredhel could climb without fear that the wind would lift her dress higher than was seemly.
“I am at the top!” she announced when she was safely in the crow’s nest. She became breathless as she looked out over the expanse of the ocean, and back around to the land behind them. When she looked down toward the water, she was unable to hold back her joyful outburst. “This is wonderful! I can see to the coral on the bottom! There are schools of every kind of fish you can imagine!”
“When you see the tuna, young lady, let the rest of the crew know.” The captain turned to Celegorm now, who had been watching Aredhel with caution, concerned she might fall. “We have a task for you, too, lad, and I have no doubt you already know it.”
“How many am I cooking for?” he asked as he looked around the deck and counted the crew.
“Twelve, plus your wife, and yourself. Three meals a day, and there is no need to feed that tabby cat,” added the captain as he pointed out a cat who was sleeping on top of a tackle box. “There are more than enough mice for him to catch.”
“Yes, sir,” said Celegorm, though he knew he would fall victim to the cat’s begging anyhow.
They spent the day apart, which was not exactly what Celegorm had had in mind, but it beat having to fight to keep his horse beside her while they were hunting with their brothers, or getting dark glares from her father each and every time he came to the house. Meals were eaten on the deck due to lack of a large space elsewhere, and at dinner the crew convinced Aredhel to sing for them. She did so willingly, and Celegorm delighted in the impromptu concert, even if he had to share the sound with a dozen strangers.
“I suppose we need to find you a suitable honeymoon suite,” said the captain as the rest of the crew began to drift either to their beds or their evening posts. “It would be crude to have you share the cook’s bed in the middle of the sleeping berth for everyone to watch.” The captain gave them a wink as he led the way down the ladder into the lower part of the ship.
“What about the rope room?” suggested the quartermaster. “We have ample room there to string up a hammock for them.”
“A hammock for two – there is an adventurous way to spend a honeymoon!” shouted one of the crewmembers. The others laughed as well. Someone brought out a hammock from a storage chest, and the room was quickly readied by the other sailors. Someone even found a few extra candles to place on a ledge, and some dried herbs were placed into a mug and turned into a makeshift vase.
“This is so cute,” decided Aredhel as she looked into the room once it was vacated. “Thank you all so much.”
In the few hours that they had been aboard, Aredhel had managed to charm all of the fishers, from the cabin boy to the captain. Celegorm, though known to keep more to himself, had been able to win their appreciation through his cooking. “Thank you,” he said, echoing Aredhel’s sentiment. His eyes focused on the single hammock in the room, and he smiled in spite of himself to know that he and Aredhel would have to cuddle up together on the swaying bed.
“Off you go, then,” shooed the captain. “I am sure you want time to rest before we rise tomorrow.”
Before Celegorm could get Aredhel into the room and get the door closed, one of the crewmembers said, “Give her a kiss for us, then!”
“Hush, there, that is no way to go about it. Allow them their privacy,” scolded the captain.
The quartermaster sided with the crew. “Come now, the boys just want a little romance on the ship. Anyway, I am sure these newlyweds can hardly keep their hands from one another.”
Not wishing to ruin the guise, Celegorm slid his arm around Aredhel’s waist. “If you insist,” he said, and without warning roughly pulled Aredhel close and kissed her hard before she knew just what was happening. The crew hooted and hollered, and seemed generally appeased when Celegorm let Aredhel up for air. “Good night!” he announced as he pushed Aredhel into the room and quickly closed the door behind them.
Aredhel wandered to the hammock in a daze, blush coloring her cheeks. When it sounded like the captain had chased the last of the crewmembers away from the door, she said, “I think you convinced everyone that we are married. You nearly could have fooled me!”
“Is that such a bad thing?” asked Celegorm.
“What do you mean?”
Celegorm settled onto the hammock next to her. “Never mind. I think you should sleep on the side closer to the wall.”
Aredhel looked around at their meager accommodations. “Why?”
“I want to make sure that no one comes in and does anything. If I am on the outside, I can protect you,” he explained. “There is no lock on the door. I do not trust those sailors. Get comfortable, and I will join you in a moment.”
There were no chairs to sit on, and mostly the piles of rope were too low to the ground to be sat upon, so Aredhel sat on the hammock and removed her shoes while Celegorm swept through the room. “What are you doing?”
“I want to be sure that there are no bugs or mice or anything.” Amid the ropes, he found a crumpled note detailing a fishing route and a set of slightly rusted fishing hooks. “Looks clean enough,” he decided. He blew out all but one of the candles, plunging the room into near darkness, and then carefully joined Aredhel on the hammock.
-Viva La Vida- (13)
Very few knew what it was that Turgon did. Some thought he did not do anything. The reality was that he had one job that was very stressful and important, and one job that was very easy and enjoyable. Most people would guess that the easy job was the stressful one and vice versa, but that was not the case.
On his face was a very disciplined look. His eyes scanned those milling around close by for anyone who might be an issue. As people walked past him, he greeted them politely and made sure that the faces were familiar ones. He knew every single competitor who was to be admitted past him. Even if he was not aware of all of them, it was easy enough to tell who should not be let in.
“Turgon!”
Despite the unexpected exclamation, Turgon remained calm and refused to look in the direction of it. Instead, he became even more guarded of the entrance. When the two most renowned young rogues, Ehtele and Thranduil, sauntered over, he moved to the middle of the entryway. “Aye?”
“Turgon, there has been an accident. Someone has spilled something at the east entrance into the arena. Two people have slipped already, and more may still,” said Ehtele.
“And you thought I looked as if I had a rag and bucket with me?” questioned Turgon. “You shall need to find someone better equipped than I to deal with such a thing.”
Thranduil shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. The lad was tall already, despite being a little over five years from his majority. “We looked all over, and found no one. Maybe you should clean it up – it is your job to ensure safety, is it not?” Thranduil did not make eye-contact, instead looking past in an attempt to gaze down the passageway.
The passage led to the chambers used by the female gymnasts to ready themselves. In order to keep any spirited young ellyn from wandering into the area to accidentally see any ellyth in various states of undress, there was a group of safety patrollers who kept watch. The majority of them were ellyth who stayed in the actual passage and made sure everything was well. One was male, and he stood outside to deter any would-be peeking.
At this particular arena, the job was held by Turgon, who took the position extremely seriously. He had even commissioned a tailor to make him a number of sashes for those at this arena to wear. The fringe on the embroidered ‘Decency Squad’ sash swayed warningly as he stepped up to Thranduil. “My job is to ensure the safety of the young competitors behind me, not to worry about clumsy guests and their inability to step around a puddle. However, since you are so concerned about it, I will call for someone to escort you back to the area.” Turgon pulled a whistle from his pocket and lifted it to his lips.
Ehtele quickly placed his hand upon Turgon’s arm to lower it. “There is no need for that, really. As you said, people should be more careful and watch where they are going.”
“There is no spill, is there?” inquired Turgon. “This was just a lame attempt to try to make me move from my post, was it not?”
Thranduil was already backing up. “We really should be going. I think I heard the bell for the first event.”
“Impossible,” said Turgon quickly. “None of the competitors for the first event have left the ready rooms. This is despicable,” continued Turgon as he took another step toward Thranduil, who again stepped further back. “It is quite perverse for someone so young to make overt attempts to endanger the chastity of the young ellyth within. And you,” he added, his sights set on Ehtele now. “You encourage him with your lascivious behavior. I should call for the master of the guard now. Perhaps it best you not be in attendance at these games at all.”
Again, before Turgon could blow the whistle, Ehtele intervened. “My friend,” he said in a low voice, for Turgon had been quite vocal in letting anyone nearby know just what was going on, “there is no need to carry this on further. Thranduil and I concede; but then, you should understand our desire to have a chance to enter such forbidden territory, having been young once yourself.”
“I was young once,” agreed Turgon. “However, I was not a pervert.”
A much older ellon, wearing one of the official sashes Turgon had instituted, walked up to the entryway. “Is there any trouble here?” he asked sternly.
Turgon gave both of the would-be sneaks a good glare before he looked to his superior. “No, sir. These gentlefolk were just a little lost and looking for their section. I was just informing them that I am not at leisure to assist them.”
“Let me take you to one of the ushers,” offered the master of the guard. “I am sure we can get you to the correct section before the start of the games.”
“Thank you,” said Ehtele as he held the tickets out to the guard for inspection. Turgon tilted his head slightly, and continued to stand in Thranduil’s way so as to block his view down the tunnel.
The guard made a motion with his hand. “This way, please.”
Turgon resumed his position just to the side of the entrance once the incident had passed. The sound of someone giggling behind him did not turn his head, but he did ask, “Might I assist in some way?”
“It was amusing how you chased away those two boys. They were practically harmless, and yet you treated them as if they were common criminals.”
“Madame, my concern is for the safety of you and all of your comrades. The intentions of those two scoundrels was quite impure, I assure you of that!” He adjusted his sash as the elleth came out of the tunnel and circled around in front of him.
She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head. “You cannot tell me that you have never looked.”
“Down the passage?”
The elleth nodded.
“Never,” declared Turgon without hesitation.
“You must have.”
Turgon tilted his chin forward, quite put off by the accusation. “Certainly not, madame!”
“What about when you come to deliver messages?” asked the gymnast. “I have seen you on numerous occasions walking through the rooms without averting your eyes.”
“First of all, that is part of my duty,” Turgon reminded her. “Secondly, I respectfully decline to look when I am doing that duty.”
“I am sure you see what is going on,” prodded the elleth.
“Indeed, I may see, but I do not look.” Turgon stepped aside to allow one of the teams to enter the passage. “There is quite a difference.”
The elleth did not look convinced. “You see, but do not look? Are they not one in the same?”
“Seeing is an innocuous act; looking is purposeful.”
Before the argument could continue, the elleth was tapped on the shoulder by a teammate. “Come, Elenwe, we are going to be late.”
“We will continue this later,” vowed Elenwe as she and her teammates bounded towards the arena.
“We will continue this later only if I say we shall do so,” mumbled Turgon, though for once, he actually looked at one of the gymnasts leaving the guarded passageway.
The rest of the teams exited soon after, and following a sweep of the rooms, Turgon headed for the arena himself. The rooms for the ladies were located above ground, but near to the arena. It was a short walk to the stairs that would take him to the guard’s platform. As he reached the steps, he was flagged down by another guard who stood beside a well-dressed Noldo.
“Turgon, this ellon is interested in speaking to you. I told him you would be free for a little while during the competition. I hope that was alright.”
“Of course,” said Turgon. He motioned that they proceed to the upper level, but the ellon shook his head.
“If you do not mind, I would like to speak to you out here for a moment. I find the distraction indoors too much of a temptation while talking business.”
“Ah, I see.” Turgon thanked his coworker and then began to walk to an area with tables and benches used to picnic at before and after the tournaments. “Is this in regards to the Airenen?”
“How did you guess?” wondered the ellon as he sat down across from Turgon.
“From your looks, you are in trade or business or your own – I noted the bulge in your pocket as well,” added Turgon. The ellon rose one brow slightly. “It appears to be some sort of journal; more likely a ledger. You are either a poet or a proprietor; I hardly have poets coming to call upon me.”
“I am both,” admitted the elf as he brought out his book, and showed that one side had writings while the other displayed figures in black and red. “My name is Rumil; I own a small establishment on the outskirts. We cater to the creative types.”
“I see,” said Turgon, leaning back slightly with a look of interest. “Just what sort of establishment is it?”
“A... drinking establishment, I suppose you might say. It is a pub. Just a small one,” he added. “I suppose you might think that I would not provide much business, but I have very loyal patrons. They are always interested in new and unique beverages. When I heard a mention of Airenen, I thought it might be a very likely candidate.”
“Very good,” remarked Turgon. “You must forgive my asking, but specifically what sort of activities go on in your place of business?”
“I do not think I follow you,” apologized Rumil.
Turgon frowned. “Is there any lewd behavior that occurs?”
“Someone occasionally gets drunk, if that is what you mean,” said Rumil. “We have a couple of cots in the back for them to sleep it off, though.”
“A very good idea,” commended Turgon. “I think you might not understand my meaning, though. Are there any... girls there?”
“Girls?” Rumil frowned.
Turgon made sure no one was around that could hear their conversation and then said, “Are there any girls there? In your bar. You know, dancing girls, the ones that show a little leg and such.”
“What? Absolutely not! My wife would have a fit!” exclaimed Rumil. “Besides, that seems highly uncivilized to me.”
“That is just the sort of answer I was hoping for. You will have to excuse my manner of questioning; I am given a very solemn task, and I must be sure that the Airenen is only given to those who exhibit the highest degree of seemliness.”
“Of course. I fully understand,” replied Rumil. “So, shall we speak of prices?”
Turgon chuckled. “My friend, it is much too early to speak of that. I must come and see your establishment first, and determine the correct quantities and the right years for you. We have various flavors as well; you must understand, I have to be careful what goes where. I am entrusted with a very important task.”
Rumil looked as if he was almost about to argue that it should not matter what the purpose was of something that was being sold to a paying customer, but thought better of it. “I understand, my friend, I understand. When would you like to come and see the pub? I will be there this evening.”
“This evening would be splendid. I will have time to come over as soon as my watch is complete.”
Directions were given to Turgon on how to reach The Victorious Eagle, and he used his break during the competition to visit a nearby storehouse that only he had the key to. Two tall brown glass bottles were placed in a specially designed carrying bag, and Turgon brought these back with him to the arena. After he completed the second part of his shift, he followed the directions he had been given in order to find Rumil’s pub.
The Victorious Eagle was an establishment frequented by poets, especially a small group that was dedicated to writing epics for Manwe. In fact, the tavern was named for that fact. The original name was long forgotten, and painted over with a stylistic swooping eagle. Turgon took a few minutes to circle the building and inspect the foundation; Rumil stepped outside upon seeing him. “Welcome!”
Turgon looked up from where he was crouched down next to the building. “Normally, I am a very big proponent of trees, but your birch is threatening your foundation.”
Rumil walked over and looked at what Turgon was inspecting. “I never noticed that before.” He frowned. “I would hate to cut it down.”
“You could have it relocated,” suggested Turgon. He walked from the building and pointed to an open spot nearby. “Right here would be perfect.”
“That land is owned by my neighbors,” explained Rumil.
Turgon strolled around to the other side of the building. “What about here?”
“My other neighbor,” Rumil remarked.
“I see.” Turgon spotted the path to a public garden across the road. “What about over there?”
“What about it? I think they like to have things planned out fairly well in those.”
“They could use another birch tree,” decided Turgon as he crossed the road and began to survey the area. “Right there. See that bench? It would be so much better if there was a birch tree to shade it.”
Rumil waited for Turgon to return to the front door of his pub before he spoke again. “I will look into it,” he promised. “Would you like to see the interior?”
“Of course I do,” said Turgon as the door was opened for him. He stepped inside and took his first look at the bar. “This is nice. Very cozy. The drapes really bring out the color of the wine bottles.”
“Uh, thank you. My wife made them.” Rumil patiently opened doors and cabinets as asked, and explained everything that was pointed to or given an odd look.
At the end of the very complete tour, Turgon set the pack he had brought with him onto one of the tables. “You know what I have with me?” he asked as he set each bottle on the table carefully.
“I would suspect it is the Airenen,” said Rumil.
“It is,” confirmed Turgon. “However, one bottle is for you, and one bottle is for your establishment. One, a gift; the other, for your business.”
“That is very generous,” said Rumil.
Turgon pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. “It may not be so easy as that. Do you have cordial glasses?”
Rumil hurried behind the bar and retrieved a pair of them, and then scooped up a few more just in case he would need extras. These were all set on the table when he returned. Turgon took two and removed the cork from the first bottle. “There are different ways that the Airenen can be enjoyed. You can drink it straight, but it can be bitter that way. There is also a way to prepare it by pouring it slowly over a cube of sugar. I prefer the latter, though I do not have any cubes of sugar with me. You may wish to purchase some. It can also be cut with water, but it diminishes the taste and effect. Some like to mix it with a fruit juice, again, to alleviate the bitterness.”
One of the glasses slid across the table toward Rumil. He picked it up, but did not drink yet. Turgon held his as well. He sniffed it, and when Turgon leaned forward and clinked his glass against the one that Rumil held, Rumil took the sign to try the liquor.
Like most strong liquors, it burned a little. Unlike others, it had a smooth feeling that masked the fire of it. The taste was very earthy, and though bitter, there was a natural sweetness to it. “This is the one you will serve at your pub. I brought the two I thought would be the best matches; this one is our Laiquairenen. It is still of Airenen derivation, but it can be produced faster than the normal Airenen, and is most pleasing to a large audience.”
“It is very good,” commended Rumil.
“I know.” Turgon handed the other bottle to Rumil. “This is for you. Pure Airenen – the original recipe. We do not produce much of it anymore, but I thought from your description that this might be the place for it. Instead, I think that you should have it.”
Rumil’s eyes were wide as he accepted the bottle. “This is very generous of you,” said Rumil. “Thank you.”
Turgon smiled. “We like to establish a friendly relationship with all of our customers from the onset. You also seem like the sort who will appreciate a fine liquor such as this. Just be careful of the potency – I would suggest being home near your bed before you try it.” Turgon poured another small portion of the Laiquarienen into each of their glasses and lifted his. “To a successful partnership, and the success of your business,” said Turgon as he lifted his glass.
Rumil lifted his own and tapped it against Turgon’s. “I shall drink to that!”
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I'll be interested to see what happens with Maglor, as he seemed less like he wanted to move into that house and more like he was just appeasing his father.
Melkor is deliciously groin-kickable. Such a nice job here with making the reader see reason to hate him while the characters, on the whole, don't see the wickedness. And it reads smooth, too. I'm yet to have a moment where I think 'oh, come on, you buy that?' about an interaction.
Celegorm and Aredhel are cute together, too. I look forward to seeing more from them, and what happens.
Turgon makes me giggle. Both in guarding the tunnel (makes me wonder how he ends up with Ecthelion as the captain of Gondolin, heh) and in questioning Rumil. I don't know how Rumil kept a straight face through all of that. Or the "I noted a bulge in your pocket" - *snort*.
About time we saw more of this. ;)