第 101 页

“I don’t blame you.” Finrod was quiet for a moment as Curufin pulled his gloves on. “Speaking of telling fathers things,” he said, and Curufin looked up at the hesitancy in his voice. “I was planning on…on telling my parents about us.” He glanced over at Curufin, and Curufin saw he looked unnaturally anxious. “I hope it doesn’t bother you that I didn’t tell them sooner. I am close with my parents, or close enough, but somehow we don’t talk much about these sorts of things much. And I am…I am not proud of how I behaved in the months leading up to and following the end of my relationship with Amarië. I admit it has kept me close-lipped about my love life, fearing that questions about certain things might be raised, but I promise it has nothing to do with me wanting to hide you, or that I am somehow embarrassed of you. Of us.”

“I didn’t think that.”

“Good. I think it is about time my family knows who I’m spending all my time thinking about these days.” Finrod touched his own gloved fingertips to Curufin’s wrist. “I want to be able to go on about my – You.” He smiled, skirting around the word he had dutifully promised not to use, and Curufin’s stomach turned over. “I’m lucky to have you, you know? And I find myself having to bite my tongue not to talk about you, because I want to tell everyone just how – ”

“There’s no need for that.” Curufin felt alarmed, imagining Finrod discoursing at length about their relationship to shining ranks of expectant Arafinwions. “Honestly I’d rather you didn’t. Go on about me, that is.”

“I will limit myself, I promise.” The wind was rising again, tossing Finrod’s hair into his eyes. “But it is about time my parents knew who the important person in my life is right now. Don’t you think?”

“That’s fine,” said Curufin, who didn’t know what else to say. He shivered, and Finrod, whose cheeks were slightly pink, looked over at his bare throat, exposed over the collar of his sweater and pea coat.

“You didn’t bring a scarf.”

“Obviously not.” Curufin fumbled for the last button on his coat, but the collar was not high enough for it to do him much good.

“It’s winter!”

“It’s late fall,” Curufin corrected him.

“Whatever the technical season, it’s twenty degrees out.”

“Thank you, Professor Thermometer.”

“Worst superhero name ever.” Finrod started to unwind his own thick blue and white scarf, and Curufin put out a hand to stop him.

“If you insist on being chivalrous, I’m going to have to leave you.”

“Hush.” Finrod left the scarf half hanging around his neck, but tossed the other half so it draped around Curufin’s. Then he stepped close before Curufin could protest, and wrapped an arm around Curufin’s waist, brushing their foreheads together for a moment as his fingers settled against Curufin’s collar.

Curufin looked down at the scarf around his throat. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Finrod was still gazing down at him, their faces close, his expression so momentarily tender that Curufin forgot about the chill but shivered again anyway.

Then Finrod laughed and turned to face down the sidewalk, his arm still around Curufin as he started to walk again. “Keep walking, or you’ll strangle yourself.”

“Did you not consider the Isadora Duncan implications of this fashion decision? Honestly, Ingoldo, you are beyond ridiculous.” But Curufin kept pace with him and didn’t pull away, even leaning a bit into Finrod’s side.

Finrod hummed and pulled Curufin close as he strode along. “You knew I was ridiculous when you agreed to go on a walk with me.”

Curufin could think of no retort for this, so just kept walking, slipping the end of the scarf into his jacket and tucking his chin into its softness, still warm from Finrod’s body heat.

“Better?” asked Finrod softly, his breath a cloud in the cold air, his body very warm against Curufin’s side.

“I can’t complain,” Curufin said, and kissed Finrod’s cheek, quite surprising them both.

* * *

Thursday, Thanksgiving Day

Eldalótë shivered and tucked her nose into her scarf, her cheeks already rosy in the cold morning air. “Gosh. Do you all do this every Thanksgiving morning?”

“Some of us,” said Galadriel, who was standing in her pale blue coat without scarf or hat, letting the cold wind tangle her hair.

“By which she means that our mother and father have long since told us they’ll happily stay at home and start the turkey roasting if we take cheering duty.” Finrod slipped carefully through the crowd on the sidelines of the racecourse with two steaming cups and handed one to Eldalótë, who took it gratefully. “Are you prepared to see your fiancé under these circumstances?”

Eldalótë sipped her hot cider and wrinkled her forehead in some confusion. “Running a race? I’ve seen him run before, there was a 5k last – ”

“It’s not just the running."

“Alas. Brace yourselves, here they come.”

“I don’t see them,” said Eldalótë, rising up on her toes and craning her neck. “Are they in the crowd with – ”

“The mistake you’re making,” said Galadriel, taking Finrod’s cider and having a sip, “is looking for humanoids.”

The first wave of runners thundered past, and as Eldalótë looked baffled, a whoop came from the crowd.

“Gobble gobble, bitches!” yelled a familiar voice, and Eldalótë jumped, spilling some of her cider as two leggy runners in full-body turkey costumes sprinted past. One of them shook his tail feathers provocatively as he passed and Finrod and Galadriel each linked their arms through Eldalótë’s as she watched, speechless.

“Are you sure you still want to marry him?” Finrod murmured, as Galadriel handed the cup back and patted Eldalótë’s elbow comfortingly.

“At least any children you’d have would only have a fifty percent chance of being deranged.”

Eldalótë was laughing though, even as she shivered when a cold wind came up. “They look like they’re having fun! Oh my gosh, it is so cold here.”

“Aren’t you from the Rockies? Aren’t you used to cold winters?”

“Colorado does not feel this cold. Well, up in the mountains, maybe, but I live on the plains.” Eldalótë clutched at her cup for warmth. “New England November feels colder than any November I’ve ever experienced.” She craned her neck as another group of runners went past. “And are those people naked?”

“Oh, it’s probably just the thong brigade from Doriath.” Finrod and Galadriel didn’t bother to look. “At some point you’ll meet the rest of our cousins and things like nudity in twenty degree weather will stop feeling like a novelty.”

“But hold onto your innocence while you can,” said Galadriel and patted Eldalótë’s elbow again.

-

They came back into the big house by the lake on Túna, the five of them laughing and wind-chilled, to a wash of good smells and soft music from the stereo. Eärwen, with her bright hair and her quick smile, came into the foyer in greet them, rising up on her tiptoes to embrace her children, all of whom were close to a foot taller than her.

“Who won the Turkey Trot year?”

“We did,” said Galadriel, shrugging out of her coat. “Honestly, anyone there not in a turkey costume running four miles was a winner today.”

“Artanis is just jealous of our athletic prowess.” Aegnor pulled off his hat and shook his head, his hair standing straight up.

“Like I couldn’t beat you in a footrace any day of the week.”

“Whatever you say, Nerwon’t.”

Angrod just smiled his slow, laconic smile, and said nothing, resting his hand on Eldalótë’s low back.

Eärwen, who looked as neat and well-put together in her plaid skirt and red sweater as she ever did in her lab coat, nodded at her children. “You should think about getting cleaned up and dressed for dinner.”

Eldalótë glanced nervously at Galadriel. “Of course! Um, is there a dress code?”

“Dress code?” Finarfin wandered in from the kitchen. He was nearly six and half feet tall, as blond and blue-eyed as his children, and one of the most handsome men Eldalótë had ever met. At this moment, in addition to his beautifully pressed slacks, he was wearing a hunter green sweater with an obese and jolly turkey on the front, over the words GOBBLE ‘TIL YOU WOBBLE. His children looked at him with fond resignation as he smiled, and Eldalótë blushed furiously. “You should wear absolutely anything you’re comfortable in.”

Eärwen leaned forward. “But if you need something slightly more concrete,” she whispered. “A dress or skirt with a nice blouse will be totally fine. Do you need to borrow a cardigan?”

-

A couple hours later, Eldalótë found herself seated around the table with six impeccably dressed Arafinwions. Galadriel was managing to make a sea foam green twinset and pearls look devastatingly fashionable and of the moment, and Finrod was wearing a dark red sweater that looked particularly striking with his coloring, despite being just slightly too short in the sleeves. Aegnor and Angrod, meanwhile, had earned their father’s pleased exclamations by coming down in matching turkey sweaters.

“Gobble gobble, bitches,” said Aegnor, offering his father a fist bump.

“Language, Aikanáro.” Finarfin tweaked his ear reproachfully, then took him up on the fist bump.

They all settled around the beautifully appointed dining room table, and Finarfin led them in a toast, raising his crystal wine glass. “To family, ever-expanding!”

“To new members, ever welcome,” added Eärwen, and clinked her glass against Eldalótë’s.

As the serving dishes began to make the rounds, Eärwen smiled at Eldalótë again and then turned her attention to Finrod, who was helping himself to cranberry sauce. “So Anairë tells me that Turukáno is dating Amarië. I was very surprised to hear it.”

“Less than a minute to mom getting down to business,” said Aegnor, passing the sweet potatoes. “Didn’t you miss it, Ango?”

Angrod grunted, grinning, and Eärwen ignored them both, her attention still fixed on Finrod. “Your good friend, and your former girlfriend. Isn’t that a little strange for you?”

“It took a bit of getting used to,” said Finrod lightly,” but I am happy for them.”

“Such a shame,” said Eärwen, looking sad. “You were very sweet together, and I half hoped…”

“Turukáno and I are still very sweet together, mother,” said Finrod, taking a bite of mashed potatoes.

“I meant you and Amarië,” said Eärwen patiently, “I did not mean that I hoped you would be dating your cousin.”

Across the table, Aegnor coughed, very much like he was covering a laugh.

“Your grandfather will be disappointed – he has always liked Amarië’s family – but I suppose I am glad Turno has moved on and found someone, at least. Don’t you feel you’ve been single long enough yourself, Ingoldo?”

Aegnor’s cough was echoed by Angrod.

“Don’t harass the boy,” said Finarfin, laying his hand over Eärwen’s and smiling at Finrod. “If he wishes to focus more of school than on romance right now, I have no complaints, especially if it means we can watch him get that PhD all the sooner.”

“I don’t know about the ‘Ph’,” Aegnor muttered to Angrod, “But he is getting a ‘D’ of another kind…”

Angrod choked, and Galadriel kicked him under the table. Eärwen narrowed her eyes at them. “What on earth is going on over there?”

“Angaráto has made his mashed potatoes into a phallus,” said Galadriel blandly. “It is, perhaps, Freudian.”

Eldalótë, who’d been watching and listening in fascination, brought her napkin to her mouth to muffle a giggle.

“Well,” said Finarfin loudly. “Who would like a drumstick?”

-

After dinner, Galadriel proposed a card game. Angrod and Aegnor immediately leapt to their feet, assuming defensive positions on either side of Eldalótë.

“Say no,” said Aegnor at once, grabbing Eldalótë’s hand.

“It’s a trap,” said Angrod, grabbing the other.

“Don’t trust Ingo, either.”

Galadriel contrived to look offended while Finrod poked his finger absently into the melting wax from one of the tall tapers on the table. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re not capable of non-cutthroat gameplay,” said Aegnor, and Angrod put in, “Eldalótë’s not used to games of multiple solitaire that end in drawn blood.”

“Yeah, so tell Ingo to sheath his claws.”

“I’m not afraid,” said Eldalótë. “What did you say we were going to play? Multiple solitaire?”

They played Hearts instead and the game ended rather early, with Finrod losing gracefully and Galadriel looking like she was physically restraining herself from savage competition. Finrod drifted out of the room, and the rest settled down in front of the fire in the living room. Shuffling the card deck as they debated whether to play another hand, Galadriel bent over Eldalótë’s engagement ring. “It’s spectacular,” she said. “Well done, Ango.”

“Tell me true, Ango,” said Aegnor, who was lounging on the floor before the expansive fireplace, still too full to move much. “Did you sell your body on the streets of Telluride to buy that thing?”

Angrod, who was sitting next to Eldalótë on the loveseat with his arm around her, made a face at his brother. “I didn’t need to. It’s Grandmother’s.”

“What?” said Aegnor and Galadriel together.

“She said she wanted her first grandchild to get married to have it,” said Angrod casually, “and that was me.”

Aegnor’s eyebrows traveled dramatically towards his hairline. “Hang on. This means she would have had to know, beforehand, that you were going to propose.”

“And if Grandmother knew,” said Galadriel slowly, “Mother and Father must have known as well.”

“Boy, the kid detectives solve another case.” Angrod reached for his wine glass. “Yeah, I told them beforehand and they helped get me the ring.”

“Betrayal,” said Aegnor, slumping back on the hearthrug and dropping an arm over his eyes.

“Everyone knew but us?” Galadriel let out a huff. “And kept it a secret, at that.”

“Aiko,” said Eärwen, coming in and putting an end to the conversation. “Why don’t you play some music for us?”

“Sure, you want some Deadmau5 or – ”

“On the piano,” said Eärwen pointedly.

Aegnor groaned. “Oh, come on, Ingo is the pianist, not me.”

“You took lessons for as long as he did.” Eärwen sat on the couch. “And anyway, Ingo is helping your father with the first round of dishes.”

-

As a rather loud take on Chopin came from the living room, Finarfin hummed to himself as he scoured a pan, while at his side, Finrod dutifully plied a dishtowel on the stack of clean dishes in the drying rack.

“So wonderful to meet Eldalótë,” said Finarfin warmly as he looked down into the suds. “So wonderful to see Ango that happy.”

“It is,” Finrod agreed. “They suit each other well, don’t they?”

“They seem to.” Finarfin handed the pan to Finrod to rinse and then dry. “It is such a treat to have all of you around, and then some! A real holiday gift, though so short… Maybe we can convince those two to stay an extra week; the first night of Hanukkah is the 6th, and – ”

Finrod was only half listening, concentrating on the dish in his hands, as he tried to work up his nerve to say what he’d been practicing in his head for the last several days.