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Elenwë laughed and ran a hand over Aredhel’s tousled curls. “Maybe you should just talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” said Aredhel. “He won’t answer my calls. Well, call.” She winced.

“You only tried once?” exclaimed Elenwë. “Oh, Ireth. You’re as bad as he is.”

“I’m sorry,” said Aredhel, affecting a pathetic look. “But I was so dazed and happy and in love that I – ” She broke off as Elenwë’s eyes widened.

“In – ”

“Oh.” Aredhel flushed. “Um, so – ”

“Was that melodrama, or are you actually saying – ”

“The latter?” said Aredhel, and twisted her hands together. “Shit, I really meant to tell you in a different way.”

But Elenwë was smiling, dropping to her knees beside her. “You love me?”

“Of course I do,” said Aredhel, meeting her eyes and going slightly breathless at the warmth there. “Honestly, El, I assumed you knew.”

“Oh, Irissë.” Elenwë shook her head and pulled Aredhel into a fierce kiss. “You bonehead. I love you too.”

-

“Planning to partake?” Caranthir gestured to Finrod and Turgon, but Celegorm made a skeptical noise.

“Pff.” Celegorm waved a dismissive hand. “Those two goody goodies don’t smoke.”

Fingon snorted loudly and Celegorm frowned at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Fingon said, and grinned. “Except that these two used to trip balls together.”

Turgon shoved his hands into his pockets, looking uncomfortable. “It was just one summer.”

But Fingon was still chortling. “Remember the night you took peyote and told me you met God? I had to go pick you up all the way down at the damn pier.”

“I should never tell you anything,” said Turgon, flushing.

“Tell me? I witnessed it! Off your damn skull, going on about hidden cities…”

“No,” said Celegorm, a little too loudly. “Turno?” He turned to Turgon, looking impressed. “My compliments, sir. Sit your ass down and have a toke.”

“No thanks,” said Turgon, but Finrod dropped down next to Celegorm and plucked the joint neatly from his hand.

“Much appreciated, Tyelko,” he said, and brought it to his lips.

“And him,” said Fingon, pointing. “On and on and on about caves and meeting God and portents of doom…”

“Hang on,” said Turgon, frowning. “I was the one who thought I met God.”

“Yes, well,” said Finrod. “So was I.”

“What? No, you’re totally just stealing my peyote trip story.”

“Psh,” said Fingon. “Like either of you even remember it. I only do because I had to drive you both home, raving like loons in the back seat.”

“And don’t forget whose tender care you entrusted them to,” said a quiet voice, and they all looked up.

Galadriel stood there, her bright hair glowing faintly in the light from the house, Amarië at her side.

“Artanis!”

“Christ, it’s been forever.”

“Are you still dating that hippie?”

Galadriel smiled but didn’t answer, and folded her long legs under her gracefully, sitting beside Maedhros. Finrod waved at his sister and reached up to pull Amarië into his lap. Amarië kissed him and settled back against his chest.

“What’s all this about you and hallucinogenic drugs?”

“It was fine until Findekáno left us with Nerwen,” said Finrod, smiling as he tucked his chin against Amarië’s shoulder. “I think she pulled pranks on us the whole time.”

“My god,” said Turgon, starting in sudden recollection. “That horrific thing with the mirror…”

Finrod shuddered. “And at one point she was glowing.”

Galadriel hummed placidly. “I was putting on my costume for our production of The Tempest,” she said. “It involved a lot of body paint.”

“Whatever you say,” said Turgon, uneasily. “That was a weird afternoon.”

They were still laughing when a shadow fell across them. Fingon looked up.

“Shit,” he said. “We should have designated a warning sound. A bird hoot or something. An owl whistle.”

“You’re stoned,” said Aredhel, and nudged Turgon lightly with her toe. “Hey, brother.”

Turgon looked up at her, backlit against the dark sky, and was quiet a moment. Then he stood without a word and turned to go.

“Hey, wait,” said Aredhel catching his sleeve. “Can we please talk?”

“I don’t want to – I have nothing to say,” Turgon’s voice was low and tight, his lips barely moving. “Leave me alone, Irissë.” He pulled away from her and made to go, but she blocked his way.

“Turno. Please?”

He looked at her, then back at the circle of curious faces. They all looked hastily away when his gaze fell on them. Celegorm actually twiddled his thumbs.

“You’re making a scene,” Turgon said.

“Actually, you’re the one making it a scene,” said Aredhel and sighed. “Come on. Give me ten minutes. Let’s go inside and talk.”

“Is she here?” Turgon was staring at the ground now, determinedly not meeting his sister’s eyes, and Aredhel swallowed.

“Yeah. But you don’t have to see her if you don’t want to.”

“Good,” said Turgon forcefully. “I don’t think I could handle – Fine, Ireth. Ten minutes. But that’s all.”

“Thank you,” she said, setting her jaw against the words. “Inside, then?”

The rest watched them set off for the house, Turgon’s back rigidly straight, Aredhel’s shoulders tight.

Celegorm let out a low whistle. “Yikes.”

Fingon was watching worriedly. “Do you think I should go with them?”

“No,” said Maedhros. “Best to let them work it out themselves.”

“Where’s Elenwë?” asked Amarië, sliding from Finrod’s lap to look around.

“Hiding.” Elenwë came from around the back of the house. “Being pathetic.”

Amarië made a sympathetic noise and held out her arms. Elenwë sighed and leaned against her as the taller girl folded her into a hug.

“They'll reconcile,” said Galadriel, in a tone that made the matter sound settled.

“You’re so sure?”

“Yes,” said Galadriel, and left it at that.

Caranthir sighed gustily. “Sooo. Where were we before all the soap opera drama happened?”

“Getting high,” said Finrod.

“Hearing about Nelyo the high school stoner,” said Celegorm, and smirked at his brother.

“Spending the last 30 minutes collecting an arsenal of embarrassing memories to wield against you,” said Maedhros, tossing a clump of dirt at Celegorm. “Careful how you tread.”

“I’m ashamed of nothing,” said Celegorm, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back. “Bring it on.”

“Two words,” said Maedhros, and there was a glint in his eyes. “Wet dog.”

“Okay,” said Celegorm loudly. “Everyone shut up about Nelyo being a high school stoner already, I have no good stories about it, and neither does Findekáno, right?”

“I dunno,” said Fingon, grinning. “I’m kind of intrigued about what stories there are that could embarrass Tyelko…”

“Best we all keep our mouths shut, hm?” said Maedhros lightly, as he pulled a chuckling Fingon against his side.

“Has it been ten minutes yet?” asked Elenwë, trying to read her watch in the darkness. “Do you think we should check on them?”

“They’ll be back in three,” said Galadriel confidently. “And all will be, if not well, then on its way to well.”

“How do you know?” asked Elenwë, drawing her brows together quizzically.

“She just does,” said Celegorm, Caranthir, Maedhros, Fingon, and Finrod together.

Galadriel gave a serene smile. “Yes. Now, someone pass the joint.”

Chapter End Notes

0. I wrote this entire chapter just to set up the one-off joke about Finrod and Turgon tripping balls together. The rest is incidental.

1. I’m not much of a pot smoker, so if this all reads rather like, “HEY FELLOW KIDS let’s smoke some DRUG CIGARETTES” it’s because I actually am Steve Buschemi’s character from 30 Rock.

Fight with myself ‘til I’m bleeding

Chapter Summary

There are some secrets even best friends don't know.

Chapter Notes

0. Warnings for this particular chapter: This chapter contains descriptions of a relationship between two people, both over 18, where one is in an authority position over the other. It also mentions a gnarly sports injury, but doesn't go into any real detail. Warnings also for Celegorm being reckless and an eensy bit self-destructive (ok, a lot self-destructive).

1. This is a bit more intense than previous chapters. Unintentional. No fear, it'll return to bad jokes and alcohol soon enough.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Aredhel jogged lightly in place, waiting for the light to change. “I swear, your dad still sometimes scares the shit out of me.”

Celegorm pulled off his shirt and used it to wipe sweat from his face. “What? You weren’t even there this morning, chill out.”

“Findekáno told me about it.”

Celegorm snorted with laughter. “Oh, that’s right. How’d he make his escape? Window?”

“Window.” The light changed and they set off across the street, rounding the corner and making their way onto the bike path. “Your dad’s unexpected Sunday brunch drop-ins are murder for people he hates who are dating his sons.”

Celegorm laughed. “Ah, perfect Nelyo, driving our father up the wall by sleeping with a Nolofinwion.”

“How long will it take him to get used to the idea?”

“Well past their tenth wedding anniversary, I’d say,” said Celegorm. “Hold up, shoe tie.”

They came to a halt, and Aredhel braced her hands on her hips, catching her breath as Celegorm did up his sneaker lace.

“I’m just glad he never knew about me and you,” said Aredhel, pulling her ponytail tighter. “How much would he have lost it?”

“We would never have found ‘it’ again,” said Celegorm, straightening up. “But you’ve found another pretty blonde now, so…”

Aredhel sighed happily, and they started to jog again. “She is so much prettier than you.”

“Hah. As if.” Celegorm tossed his head. “No one is prettier than me.”

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall…”

“Don’t even front, bitch, I am the fairest of them all.”

They ran on, laughing and joking, dodging strollers and dog walkers alike. Aredhel was scarcely paying attention to where she was going when Celegorm grabbed her sharply by the arm.

“Ow.” She gave a cry of surprise and pain as Celegorm’s fingers closed tight around her wrist. “What the – ”

But Celegorm pulled her abruptly from the path and into a brambly stand of trees, shielded from the view of the joggers and bicyclists on the path.

“Tyelko, what the fuck – mmph.”

Celegorm clapped a hand over her mouth. “Shh,” he hissed, eyes fixed on the path.

She froze against him, silently fuming. He was tense against her back, unusually still. She could feel his heart thumping against her shoulder blades.

On the path, through the flickers of leaves and branches, a man was passing. Tall, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, with braided brown hair and dark skin, he was walking with a large wolfhound padding at his side. Though he carried no leash, the dog stuck close to his hip, not even turning his head as bikers and joggers passed them.

Aredhel frowned. Something about the man, something about those distinctive eyes – such a light brown they were almost golden – was familiar. She squinted, and memory hit her, all at once. Sitting at the sidelines at one of Celegorm’s rugby matches, and that tall man thumping Celegorm on the shoulder as he came off the field, covered in mud and (often) blood, grinning like a fiend, his light hair a wild corona around his head, pure joy and barely restrained violence in every line of his body.

Recognition thudded into her, and she blinked, but the man had gone. Celegorm released her, and let out his breath.

She turned to look up at him. “Wasn’t that your old coach?”

Celegorm didn’t look at her. “Mm.”

Aredhel put her hands on her hips. “Look, Tyelko, I’ll forgive you manhandling me into the bushes only if you give me some straight answers.”

Celegorm looked uncharacteristically awkward. “Fine. Yeah, that’s my old coach.”

“What’s his name - Oromë?”

“Yeah.”

“And why are we hiding from him?”

“Um. Y’know. My senior year on the team didn’t end super hot…” he trailed off, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I remember.” She scowled at him. “You went fucking batshit in a match and ended up with a compound fracture. Idiot. I’m still mad at you about that.”

“Yeah. Well, there were a lot of things about my last season that didn’t go according to plan.” He fell silent then, and she waited.

“Like?”

“Jeez, Irissë, you can’t just let it drop?”

“Tyelko.” Aredhel grabbed him by the ears and dragged his head around so that he looked her in the eyes. “I know you better than anyone. You don’t hide from shit. You don’t hide from people you’ve been in fights with, you don’t hide from people you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of, god knows, you don’t even hide from ex-girlfriends who have legitimate reasons for wanting you flayed. Why are we hiding now?”

Celegorm squirmed. “Can we keep running? If I’m going to get into this, I need to be moving.”

“Fine,” said Aredhel, and released him.

They set off down the path in the opposite direction from the one the man – Oromë, Aredhel reminded herself again – had taken. It was still several long minutes before Celegorm spoke, jostled by Aredhel’s insistent elbow.

“You know how I told you I’ve had, like, one experience with a guy?”

“Yeah,” said Aredhel. “Tyelko’s great gay experiment, of which you will tell me no details.”

“Yeah.”

“Am I about to get details?”

“How explicit do you want?” Celegorm’s old grin was back, if a little crooked, and she swiped at him.

“Give me what’s important, perv. Only,” she almost stopped running, her eyes widening. “Wait. I know you were just fucking with me all those times you hinted it was Findekáno, but if you – ”

“Christ, Ireth, no. Not even when he and Nelyo were split up. Do you know how many pieces my brother would have left me in? I know he seems less violent than me, but that’s all a cover.” He shuddered. “Anyway, apart from some flirting to drive up Nelyo’s blood pressure, siblings’ lovers are off-limits. That’s a rule I obey, even though some people…” He nudged her, and she made a face.

“Man, you have got to let that go. I seduce one of my brother’s girlfriends and all of a sudden it’s my damn legacy.”

Celegorm laughed. “So against the Code.”

“You’re getting off topic.” Aredhel flicked her ponytail over her shoulder and attempted to give him the stink-eye. “So. The Great Gay Escapade. Not with my brother. Who was it? A teammate? Did your coach walk in on you or something? Did he give you shit for it, or freak out on you? ”

Celegorm sighed. “Close, but no cigar.”

“No?”

“Not a teammate. And no, he didn’t walk in, so much as…” he trailed off, and Aredhel stopped dead in her tracks.

“No.”

Celegorm pulled up and turned back to her. “Yeah.”

“No. You fucked your coach?”

Celegorm smiled uneasily. “Yeah?”

Aredhel boggled. “Just once, or – ”

“More than once.” Celegorm looked over his shoulder and scrubbed his hand through his hair like he did when he was uncomfortable. “Kind of…for six months?”