第 15 页

Caranthir sneered.Then, remembering belatedly that he was supposed to be here reconnoitering, forced himself to be civil. He stuck out his hand, awkwardly. “Good to see you.”

Beleg shook Caranthir’s hand with good grace. “How’s Celegorm?”

“Fine,” said Caranthir, and asked quickly. “Hey, that’s a big dog your coach has. What is it, a wolfhound?”

Beleg looked over his shoulder, apparently baffled at this swift change of subject. Oromë had cupped his hands to his mouth and was thundering some order out over the field. The great grey dog lay on the grass by his side and watched everything with keen interest.

“Nahar? Yes, I think he’s a wolfhound…”

“Pretty impressive looking dog,” said Caranthir. “Does…does it have any puppies ever?”

“Well, it’s male,” said Beleg, looking even more confused. “But I think Oromë breeds him occasionally. I’ve heard the puppies are like thousands of dollars each.”

“Hm,” said Caranthir. He stared closely at the dog. It certainly looked tremendously like Huan. But he knew for a fact that Celegorm had $150 in his bank account and certainly couldn’t afford a thousand-dollar plus pedigree dog.

“Any other questions?” asked Beleg politely. One of his teammates was jogging over to the sidelines, probably to tell him to come back to the field.

“Nope,” said Caranthir, and smiled. Beleg looked vaguely unsettled, like many people when confronted with Caranthir’s smile, but his attention was caught by his teammate laying a hand on his shoulder. He looked around, and his face lit up.

“Glorfindel is wondering what you’re doing, Beleg,” said the other boy. He was dark-haired and striking, with intense grey eyes under strong black brows. He wasn’t an imposing figure, and looked to be just 18 or 19, but Caranthir got the impression that everything had just shifted slightly as if falling into orbit around the newcomer. Certainly Beleg was looking at him as if that were true.

“I’ll be back in a second,” he was saying. “My cousin stopped by, and then this – ” he gestured to Caranthir, “ – is Celegorm’s brother. You never met Celegorm, but – ”

“Oh, yeah,” said the dark-haired boy, his gaze falling on Caranthir, who felt suddenly a little uncomfortable. “He’s the one Coach talks about all the time. The one who broke his leg. The one who used to fight with your friend.”

“That’s right,” said Beleg, brightly. “Actually, Caranthir, Mablung and I saw your brother recently.”

“You did?” said Caranthir. “I thought he hated you two – Uh, no offense.”

Beleg flushed a little, but shook his head. “None taken. I mean – we didn’t actually talk to him. We saw him outside Cuiviénen – I think your other brother works there? He was – well, he was yelling at Coach Aldaron, actually…” His voice faded, and he looked suddenly uncomfortable. “I’m not sure – I didn’t know they were still in touch.”

“They got in a fight?” asked the other rugby player, with the first interest he’d shown. “I thought Fëanorion was a favorite of his. What were they fighting about?”

“I don’t know,” said Beleg, looking even more uncomfortable, and like he wished he hadn’t mentioned it. “We weren’t – ”

“Cúthalion!” The bellow rang out so loudly, that all of them jumped, and both players looked quickly over their shoulders. “Turambar! Time enough for chitchat after practice. Get back to your drills! Start with core and work your way to sprints. Everyone else is already one circuit ahead.”

“Coming, Coach,” said Beleg, with a certain amount of relief, and turned smartly.

The dark-haired boy gave Caranthir one more piercing look, then followed Beleg back onto the pitch.

-

“I’ve never seen one of them before,” he said quietly to Beleg, as they dropped to the ground and started doing pushups.

“One of what?”

“One of that family.” Túrin nodded his head towards the lanky dark figure on the edge of the pitch. “Are they all like that? He looked like he was about to snap at any moment.”

“I think that’s just his face,” said Beleg fairly, ducking his head to wipe sweat from his brow. “Celegorm wasn’t like that. Well, he didn’t look like that. I mean, he was belligerent, but – ”

“He sounded like a bit of a psycho.”

“Yes, but he wasn’t angry.” Beleg lowered himself to the ground and caught his breath. “He used to laugh before he punched you in the face.”

“Sounds like quite a guy,” muttered Túrin. “Is it true about their father?”

“What part?” asked Beleg warily, rolling over to start his sit-ups.

“I dunno. Did he really hire a goon to off his stepbrother?”

“They never proved he was connected,” said Beleg. “But I know a lot of people aren’t convinced.”

“Huh.” Túrin rolled over and began doing sit-ups alongside Beleg. “So you know that girl you’re seeing?”

“What?” Beleg paused, looking caught off guard by the sudden change in topic.

“Nellas. You’re dating her, right?”

“No!” Beleg shook his head rapidly, his hair falling into his face. “We’re not…We’re just friends. Housemates. I’m actually – ”

“Oh. I thought you were together. Anyway, she’s friends with Finduilas, right?”

“I think so,” said Beleg. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m going out with her Friday night. I thought maybe you could get the low-down on her from Nellas, but if you’re not with her,” Túrin shrugged. “No worries.”

“Oh,” said Beleg blankly.

“I guess I'd been thinking, if things went well with Finduilas, maybe we could double-date.” Túrin reddened a little, but grinned. “Chicks like that kind of thing, yeah? And we always have fun, right, so I thought it’d make the whole dating thing a little easier. But if she’s not your girlfriend… Maybe I can set you up with someone?”

“Right,” said Beleg. He wasn’t looking at Túrin anymore.

Túrin frowned at him. “You’re falling behind, Beleg.”

Beleg blinked, then slowly sank back to the ground. “So I am.” He resumed his sit-ups, and they continued on in silence.

-

Oromë came over to the sidelines, studying the onlookers appraisingly.

“Can I help you folks?” He folded his arms and looked down at them, his voice mild enough, but with a timbre that made them all unconsciously sit up a little straighter.

“We’re friends of Beleg's,” said Galadriel, as Celeborn brushed grass from his cut off jeans. “We were just waiting for him to finish. We didn’t mean to interrupt, Coach Aldaron.”

“I’m not,” said Caranthir. “A friend of Beleg's, I mean.”

Oromë’s amber eyes lit on him, and widened in sudden recognition.

“I’m Tyel – Celegorm’s brother,” said Caranthir. “I wanted to talk to you, actually.”

“I’m in the middle of leading a practice right now,” said Oromë, and Caranthir felt certain that there was an uneasiness in Oromë’s expression. “Can we talk once I’m done?”

“I’ll be quick,” said Caranthir, stolidly. “Did you give my brother a dog?”

Oromë blinked. “Did he tell you I did?”

“No, he just showed up with it. It looks an awful lot like that one, though,” said Caranthir, gesturing to the silent grey shadow at Oromë’s side.

Oromë’s glance flickered briefly to the dog, and then back to Caranthir. “Yes. I am occasionally given one of the puppies from the litter, and when I do, I try to pair them with good homes – People I know, generally. Tyelkormo helped me out in taking Huan from me. I am sure he will give the pup a good home.”

“Right,” said Caranthir. He almost asked another question, but changed his mind. He studied Oromë closely. “So, you see my brother often?”

“Not infrequently,” said Oromë, as the dog paced a little restlessly at his feet. “Look, I am very sorry to be so brusque, ah – You know, you never actually told me your name – ”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Caranthir.

“ – but I really need to get back to my team. Perhaps your brother can answer any other questions you might have.” Oromë smiled, pleasantly enough, before turning and walking back to his players.

Caranthir watched him go. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe he can.”

“You’re sleuthing,” said Galadriel, looking at him with sudden intensity and Caranthir jumped, having momentarily forgotten she was there. “Aren’t you?”

Caranthir shrugged. “Maybe.”

“If I help you, will you tell me more?”

“No.”

Galadriel sighed. “Fine. I’ll help you anyway.”

“What makes you think you can?”

Celeborn laughed softly, and tucked a dandelion behind Galadriel’s ear. “If Artanis says she can help you, you should believe her.”

“Fine.” Caranthir scowled. “Actually, you might…Do you know Haleth?”

“Hm,” said Galadriel pensively, and tilted her head back. Her long hair brushed the grass as she swung her head, considering. “No, but my brothers know her friend Andreth. Well, Findaráto knows Andreth, and Aikanáro…knew Andreth. Why, what do you need to know?”

“I – ” Caranthir could feel himself flushing. “Uh. I know she’s not seeing anyone right now, but it would be good to know…I’d be interested if Andreth had heard her mention any hook-ups lately.”

“I see,” said Galadriel, and didn’t push for more.

“Specifically,” Caranthir pushed on, even though his cheeks were burning, “any hook-ups…with older women.”

Celeborn looked up curiously. “How much older are we talking? Over thirty? Over fifty? I’ve heard that mature women really -”

“Hush, Teleporno,” said Galadriel. “Your crush on the Dean was cute last semester, but now it's getting a bit old. So to speak.”

“You don’t know I’m talking about Melian,” said Celeborn, tossing another dandelion at her. “And besides, if I hadn’t been hanging around outside her office, I never would have met you. I just know that I’ve read articles that say women’s sex drives really kick in around – ”

“At any rate,” said Galadriel, quellingly. “I can find that out for you, Carnistir.”

“Can you?” Caranthir’s voice came out overly eager, and he cleared his throat roughly. “I mean, I’m just interested. Oh, look at the time,” he glanced skyward, not even bothering to affect a glance at his watch. “I should be going. Bye, Artanis. Celeborn. Um, try a smaller gauged needle next time if you don’t want it to be so bulky.”

Celeborn and Galadriel watched him walk away, hands in his pockets, and Celeborn put his head on the side contemplatively. “What was that about, do you think?”

“I think,” said Galadriel, stretching out and resting her head on Celeborn’s lap, “That he’s wondering if his friend has been hooking up with our Aunt.”

* * *

Celegorm was pacing his room, phone pressed to his ear. “Seriously? Another one?” He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, babe. Occupational hazard dating of someone with five million brothers. But yeah, I’m sorry he accosted you at practice. Which one was it this time?” He groaned. “Yeah, that’s Moryo. What the fuck. What was he asking about?”

Celegorm drummed his fingers against the windowsill. “Of course I haven’t told them. I mean, apart from Curvo. Of all things to tip them off, the damn dog…” At his feet, Huan looked up curiously, cocking his head to the side. Celegorm reached down to ruffle his ears. “If Curvo knows, and Moryo suspects, then Nelyo’s not far behind. He’s not as smart as Curvo, but – Yeah. No, of course I haven’t told my parents, you fuckin’ crazy? Have you told yours? Sorry, sorry. That wasn’t fair. But yeah, I don’t think – Hang on.” Celegorm looked up, listening, pressing the phone briefly to his shoulder. His brow furrowed as a familiar voice drifted up the stairs. “Listen, Oromë, I might have to go. Can I come over later? I can, like, 85% guarantee none of my brothers will show up. And I can 100% guarantee I’ll be naked within five minutes of arriving. Quicker, except you’ve said your neighbors have Opinions on guys showing up on your front step in the buff, right? Hah. I’m kidding, I’m kidding…” A knock came on the door, and Celegorm broke off. “I gotta go. Hey, but guess what? I lo-” The door opened, and Celegorm’s fingers fumbled for the ‘end’ button. “Shit.”

Fëanor was standing in his doorway, eyebrows raised.

* * *

Fëanor didn’t yell.

When they were young, the scariest thing for his sons would be when Fëanor crouched down before them, quiet and intense, meeting their eyes directly, and asked them in a very soft voice if they knew why he was disappointed.

Nerdanel sometimes lost it and yelled – mostly if something legitimately dangerous was going on, like Caranthir and Celegorm hoisting the Ambarussa in a laundry basket elevator to the third floor window.

(“C’mon, mom, it was Curvo’s design!” “You expect to shift blame for this onto your five year old brother? That’s low, Moryo.” “IT WAS.” “Bedroom. Timeout. Now.”)

Fëanor didn’t yell.

It made him that much scarier, especially when they were teenagers, slipping back into the house after curfew.

(“It’s past one, Nelyafinwë. Care to explain?” That patient, intense look. Fingers steepled. It was enough to send cold shivers down the spine.)

Fëanor was intimidating enough that generally, his sons would bow before his disapproval and accept the consequences meekly. Shouting back at him? Not an option.

Celegorm was the exception.

Celegorm almost always shouted back. While Celegorm was between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, the house was rocked on a near weekly basis by the furious fights between him and his father. Standing down was never in his nature – nor was moderation, self-control, or, for that matter, self-preservation. As a result, he existed in a semi-permanent state of being grounded and Fëanor existed in a semi-permanent state of exhaustion.

By the time Celegorm left for college, their relationship had smoothed out somewhat with distance, and they got on well enough, both relieved not to be constantly treading on each other’s toes under the same roof.

It was a moment of rather strong déjà vu, then, as Maedhros and Maglor tried to go about their morning routine in the kitchen while upstairs angry voices rose and fell.

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” asked Maglor, at last, as they heard Celegorm swear loudly, and their father reply, levelly but no more quietly, “Watch your language, Turkafinwë.”

“I’m not sure,” said Maedhros uneasily, as Curufin wandered into the kitchen, apparently unruffled.

“Good coffee today,” he said brightly, pouring himself a cup.

“Thanks,” said Maglor, “I used the Sumatran bean instead of the – ”

“Do you know what dad’s angry about?” interrupted Maedhros, who was watching Curufin carefully.

“Haven’t a clue,” said Curufin, and flipped open the newspaper. “Hm. Looks like Nolofinwë’s stock has dropped yet again; what a shame. Seems like all those hours your boyfriend has been putting in haven’t made much of a difference, after all.”

Maedhros twitched, but refused to rise to the bait. “Why haven’t you and Tyelko been talking lately? Is this anything to do with why dad’s over here fighting with him?”

“Wasn’t there something about him vanishing the night of mom’s show?” Maglor put in. “I know dad was upset that he left early.”