第 10 页

“Men,” agreed Elenwë, eyes twinkling, and Galadriel nodded and buried herself in her notebook again.

“STOP DOING THAT.”

Elenwë turned to Galadriel, ignoring the noises of outrage coming from Caranthir. “I know we’ve been talking hypothetically, or in terms of some generalized eastern city, but what if we make it specific? What if we – ”

“ – make it this city?” finished Galadriel. “I already thought of that. You know, I think this could go from the realm of city-planning to city rejuvenation. Revitalization. Rebuilding.”

“It needs it!” exclaimed Elenwë, enthusiastically. “The community needs it. Particularly after the Alqualondë factory fire – ” she caught herself and broke off, looking up at Maedhros in some embarrassment.

But Maedhros appeared not to have heard, his face smooth and implacable as he began unloading the groceries.

“Um,” said Elenwë, uncomfortably, but Galadriel picked up their conversation, unruffled.

“If these modifications can be framed as shovel-ready projects then that’s a significant increase in job availability. Many of those left unemployed following the incident at Alqualondë could be trained and recruited with minimum overhead, and those construction jobs – ”

“OH,” said Caranthir suddenly. “That’s what else I was going to say. The free market, you communist, is the building block of modern society, and – ”

“Right, the same way a chopping block is foundational to a guillotine, you small-minded fascist – ”

Caranthir went brick red. “FASCIST?”

“ – we should consider expanding city parks as well, perhaps connecting them with a bike trail using the old rail grade – ”

“Definitely, but if we’re talking greening the city, fuck Kentucky bluegrass, xeriscaping's not just for out west – ”

Maedhros leaned forward on the counter, pressing his fingers to his temples.

“Think the committee would go for it?”

“IT’S THE FIRST WEEK OF THE SEMESTER AND I’M ALREADY REGRETTING TAKING THIS CLASS WITH YOU.”

“Back atcha.”

“Can you please,” began Maedhros, looking like he was close to burying his face in the grocery bag.

He was interrupted by the door slamming nearly off its hinges as Celegorm stormed into the house. His furious progress was arrested as he nearly fell headlong over Elenwë’s papers spread out across the floor. Trying to keep from falling, he wheeled, and Haleth dodged quickly out of the way, but not before Caranthir tried to dodge the other way and ended up running straight into his brother.

Celegorm swore so violently that Elenwë clapped her hands to her ears and Galadriel looked mildly impressed. Even Caranthir looked a little alarmed.

“What the FUCK – ”

Maedhros intervened swiftly, placing himself between Celegorm and Caranthir. “Tyelko.”

Celegorm was forced to look up to meet his brother’s eyes, and whatever he saw there made him quiet.

“We’re going to relocate,” said Elenwë. “Thanks for the – uh, real estate, Maitimo. Moryo.” She scooped the charts into her arms and beat a hasty exit out the door. Galadriel slid from her stool and picked up her shoes from the floor, following Elenwë out the door. But before she left she paused, her eyes fixing curiously on Celegorm. He flushed before her gaze, and she held him pinned for a moment before vanishing from the house.

Haleth said nothing, but tugged Caranthir by the elbow into the living room. He went quietly.

Maedhros folded his arms and looked down at Celegorm. “What’s going on, Tyelko?”

Celegorm’s eyes blazed. “Nothing.”

“That’s obviously not true.”

“Oh, fuck off, Nelyo.” Celegorm sneered. “There’s no one around to impress. You don’t have to pretend to be the caring big brother.” He made to push past Maedhros, but Maedhros caught him by the shoulder.

“No. I don’t care what you think my motivation is, but I want to know what the hell has been going on with you, Tyelkormo. Something’s up.”

“I said, nothing is up.”

“Bullshit.”

“Wow, Nelyo, did you just swear?” Celegorm crossed his arms and grinned at his brother. “Is that how you’re going to impress me into taking you seriously?”

“Is it something to do with your old coach?”

Celegorm froze.

“It is, isn’t it.”

Celegorm found his voice. “What – why do you think that?”

“Makalaurë saw you last week. He said you had some kind of interaction with him downtown, some kind of altercation.”

“I wonder if Makalaurë’s arms get tired,” said Celegorm musingly, but his voice was brittle. “Clinging so desperately to your ass like he does.”

“Why were you fighting with your former coach?”

“None of your fucking busin– ”

“Nelyo?”

They both jumped and looked around. Curufin was standing there, looking innocent.

“What is it?” said Maedhros distractedly.

“Have you seen my charger?” Curufin asked, ignoring Celegorm entirely.

“What? I don’t know…probably in the living room...”

“Not the usual one. I need the one with the extender. It’s the only one that reaches the projector, you know. I’ve been asked to give a presentation to the fellowship board tomorrow, and father will be there. He called and told me he’d like to see you, by the way. I think he’s curious about your law school application. What were your LSATs again? He had some notion they were sub-average, but I told him that couldn’t possibly be true, not with all the time you put in. Six months, was it? I think he’s concerned you’re too old to be applying – you’ve got kind of a late start, when most of your competitors will be twenty three and twenty four, but with age, wisdom, right?”

Maedhros’ fingers curled unconsciously. “I – What exactly did you need from me, Curvo?”

“Oh.” Curufin smiled, a beautiful, open smile. “I wanted to know if you’ve seen my charger.”

“No.”

“That’s all, then.”

Shaking his head, Maedhros turned back to Celegorm.

Who was gone.

“Oh dear,” said Curufin softly. “Were you two in the middle of something? What a shame. I’m sure you can pick up the conversation later.” And smiling slightly to himself, he left the room.

-

As Curufin made his way back to his room, a hand closed around his upper arm as he passed Celegorm’s door.

“Why did you do that?” Celegorm tugged him into his doorway.

Curufin shrugged. “You know how I hate it when Nelyo gets so nosey and interfering. It was none of his business.”

Celegorm released Curufin’s arm. “It’s none of your business either, Curvo.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Curufin. “If you actually want to keep your secrets to yourself, you need my help. You’re hopeless at dissembling.”

“What am I supposed to be taking apart?”

Curufin sighed. “Idiot. Lying, Tyelko. You’re a terrible deceiver.”

Celegorm chewed on this a moment. “What’s in it for you?”

“You seem to find it hard to believe that I have your happiness at heart,” said Curufin tartly. “Why do you struggle so much with that concept?”

Celegorm laughed. “Because I know you. It’s never that simple for you. And because if you cared about my happiness, Curvo, you never would have interfered. I was happy with him before I knew.”

“You were deluded.”

“So what? I was happy, not knowing.”

“Never throw away further knowledge when it’s offered you. Ignorance isn’t bliss, Tyelko, it’s waste,” said Curufin, and Celegorm shuddered.

“I hate it when you quote dad like that. But fine. Thanks for the…help. I owe you one.”

Curufin looked over his shoulder. “Yes. But I think I hear Nelyo coming up the stairs, so make yourself scarce if you want to avoid his self-important I do this because I care act.” He made to leave and Celegorm’s hand landed briefly on his arm again.

“I – I’m glad you – Thanks. Really.”

“You said that already,” said Curufin, but some color came to his cheeks. “We can talk later.” And he slipped swiftly down the hall.

-

On the landing, where they’d paused at the sound of voices, Caranthir and Haleth exchanged glances.

“Well,” said Haleth, quietly. “That sounded intriguing.”

“Yes.” Caranthir was unusually thoughtful.

“What was it about?” Haleth looked up at him, and when he failed to answer, she bumped him with her shoulder. “Caranthir.”

“I dunno,” he said, finally. “But it’s interesting. What are they up to?”

Chapter End Notes

0. I wrote this over the course of a week at a conference, so that's why it's full of nerds, and it's also my excuse for any weak writing. Usually I can write a chapter this length in a couple hours; taking several days to do it probably only makes my process less fluid. Whining and excuses! It's what's for dinner.

Cup of Kings

Chapter Summary

In which I return to the fundamentals and everyone gets drunk.

Chapter Notes

0. Crude language, sexual references, and a shit-ton of drinking.

Maedhros was uncorking a bottle of wine when Maglor wandered into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, took out a jar of pickles, examined it, and wandered away, pickles in hand.

“Close the refrigerator door,” said Maedhros, exasperated, setting the wine on the counter.

“What? Oh.” Maglor looked up, as if startled to see his brother. “Right.” He closed the door and took in the scene. “Isn’t it early for wine?”

Maedhros freed the cork. “It’s 8pm.”

“Oh.” Maglor looked surprised. “Is it?”

Maedhros gazed heavenward. “Yes.”

“Who’s the wine for?”

Maedhros gestured towards the living room. “The Nolofinwions have had a long week.”

Maglor peered into the room, interested.

Fingon was collapsed on the couch, boneless and exhausted, while Aredhel slumped on the floor before him, leaning against his legs.

Fingon was in the midst of a rant. “…and the paperwork. Haven’t they heard we have a deforestation problem? Christ. Just to file a simple petition! Have I mentioned I hate bureaucrats?”

Aredhel snorted. “Whiner. You know what my workday included? Picking a tick out of a camper’s bellybutton. You shut your damn mouth.”

“Picking ticks is kind of a metaphor for the bureaucracy, is it not?” said Maglor, propping his elbows on the back of the couch. “I mean, if you assume that the bellybutton in question belongs to society – ”

Fingon and Aredhel both groaned loudly until Maglor stopped talking, looking vaguely offended.

“And it’s humid,” said Aredhel, leaning her head back on Fingon’s knees. “So my hair exploded.”

“I’ll braid it,” said Fingon, gathering a fistful of her messy curls and examining it with interest.

“You don’t know shit about braiding hair, don’t be stupid.”

“I can do anything I put my mind to, Ireth, so shut up and appreciate my skill.” Fingon divided Aredhel’s hair into three approximate clumps and began weaving them haphazardly together.

Maedhros came in with the wine and some glasses, but Aredhel plucked the bottle from his hands and brought it immediately to her lips. “Thanks, Maitimo, but you should have brought enough for the whole group.”

“Greedy,” said Fingon, tugging her hair in retribution, so that she sputtered into the wine bottle. Maedhros just sighed and went back into the kitchen.

“Hey,” Fingon called. “Text your brothers to bring home beer. I may have told a bunch of people we were having a party here tonight.”

“Excuse me?” Maedhros looked up. “Doesn’t anyone else have a house for parties?”

“Nope. And I should have told you, huh?” Fingon smiled apologetically. “I’ll make it up to you. With sexual favors.”

“I get sexual favors for free,” mumbled Maedhros, but he pulled out his phone. “I’ll get Moryo to pick up a thirty rack. You’d better cough up some money, though.”

“Of course, beloved,” said Fingon, beaming. “You’re the light of my life, the beat of my heart, the – ”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Maedhros, typing busily. “Save it for later.”

“For the bedroom,” said Aredhel, and flinched as Fingon pulled her hair. “Ow! See, this is why I drink.”

“As if you need an excuse,” said Fingon. “Now. Want a French braid or a…lumpy thing, with bunches?”

Maglor ate his pickles, and watched.

* * *

“Did it occur to you I could have Lyme disease? And in addition to that, you’ve burdened me with,” Aredhel gestured wildly to her head, “this mess?”

Fingon wrinkled his nose at her. “It’s stylistic.”

“It looks like a small badger,” observed Caranthir, casually stretching an arm out along the back of the couch behind Haleth.

“You’re not helping, Moryo,” said Fingon.

“I’m not trying to help.”

“I’m a badger head,” said Aredhel sadly. “With Lyme disease. Probably.”

“Shut up and drink your wine.”

“Yes,” said Aredhel. “My wine. I am not a drunk. I am classy. I am like a – European type thing. I am drinking wine, nerds, not your plerbian – plebiran – peasant-ass beer. I am a fuckin’ class-act.” She raised the wine bottle to her lips. “So there.”

Haleth reached over to examine the lumpy mass of Aredhel’s hair. “I could fix this for you.”

“Would you?” Aredhel gazed up at Haleth like she’d never seen anything so beautiful. “I’d be eternally grateford. Appreciatful? You’re pretty.”

“Hands off, Irissë,” said Caranthir. “You have a girlfriend.”

Haleth shot him an annoyed look, but Aredhel just nodded, settling back against Fingon’s legs. Fingon winced as her shoulder blades ground into his shins.

“I do have a girlfriend. And she is most beautiful. But she’s in Connecticut this weekend. Also, did you know, Moryo?” Aredhel raised her wine bottle and waved it. “She orgasms in Spanish. How hot is that?”

Haleth’s eyes widened and Caranthir grinned. Fingon dug his toes into Aredhel’s low back. “Ireth. I’m pretty sure Elenwë wouldn’t appreciate you, um, sharing that information.”

“Whatever.” Aredhel took another long swig. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a bilingual girlfriend.”

“So true,” said Fingon. “I often wish my girlfriend spoke more languages.”

“What did you call me?” Maedhros perched on the arm of the couch and leaned on Fingon’s shoulder.

Fingon patted his leg. “Don’t worry, babe, I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about my girlfriend on the side.” He ducked as Maedhros swatted at him. “Joking! Also, Ireth, for your information, Maitimo speaks German.”

Aredhel looked alarmed. “I don’t know if I’d want to hear an orgasm in German.”

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t orgasm in German, he – ”

Maedhros clapped a hand over Fingon’s mouth. “That’s quite enough of that. Let’s talk about something else, hm?”

Fingon’s eyes sparkled above Maedhros’ hand, but he nodded meekly, and Maedhros pulled his hand away. “Was that the door?”

“Yo, weasels!”

“Aikanáro!” Fingon leapt up from the couch, spilling Aredhel to the floor.

“Help,” she said, but Fingon ignored her.

“You punk-ass bastard, I haven’t seen you in months!”

Tall and lanky, with spikey hair and knockoff Ray-Bans pushed up on his forehead, Aegnor grinned and embraced Fingon. “Ay, Finno. Where the fuck have you been? You haven’t been to any games in like six months.”