第 74 页

So much for being home before dark.

Darling do what you’re told

Chapter Summary

The Finwions may singlehandedly keep Cuiviénen in business.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Summer.

Finrod knew that, to rights, he should be feeling relieved and (relatively) relaxed. After all, summer meant no more students, no more recitations to lead, no more office hours, no more papers and midterms to grade, no more desperate and complaining and panicky students to avoid and/or coddle, and no more harassed and grumpy professors to avoid and/or coddle.

But it also meant other, less pleasant things. It meant the end of another year, and another year closer, in theory, to the answer to that constant question: “So when are you thinking of defending?” with the close second: "What's next for you?" It meant another year closer to the end of grad school, a year closer to the real world, and real decisions, and an uncertainty that frightened Finrod more than he would let anyone know. Summer meant Olórin turning to him suddenly over a filing cabinet, as they sorted syllabi, and saying, his eyes under wild grey brows very sharp and bright, “We should be discussing getting a dissertation outline in front of your committee, hm?”

Summer was, in other words, simply a time where Finrod had enough space to actually contemplate the things the school year had been so good at keeping distant. It was therefore, he thought, as he stared down at his notebook, in which he’d doodled a highly detailed study of a geranium but written no notes, a thankless bitch.

Nevertheless, he had hauled himself out of 'Finrod’s Futon™' at 7am that morning, showered, exchanged smiles with Turgon over coffee, narrowly avoided treading on Ulmo Junior’s tail, and set out for the coffee shop and a day of work. He ordered a large iced latte, set himself up in his favorite window, laid a stack of books and journal articles next to him, and opened his notebook.

And drawn a geranium.

It hadn’t been his fault that some overzealous coffee shop worker had decorated every table with a small decorative vase, had it? He should complain, he thought, tapping his pencil and then absently adding some cross-hatching, about the absurdly unnecessary and distracting flower vases. He smiled to himself, thinking that Curufin would likely approve of flower related complaints, and his mind wandered pleasantly for a while.

Focus.

Finrod shook his head, a little amazed at himself. Focus had so rarely been an issue for him, historically, that it was borderline shocking to have to drag his attention back to work. He grabbed the paper from the top of the pile, and started to read.

Two hours later found him still poring over the pile of papers, his head propped on one hand as he highlighted key sections and paused periodically to take sips of his latte. Totally absorbed in his work, he jumped when two people sat down opposite him, bumping his knees under the table.

“Um, excuse me, I’m using this table – ”

“Hey, bro.”

“How goes the work, Ingoldo?”

Finrod drew his feet under his chair and raised his eyes, taken aback. One of the people opposite him was very tall, with wild, spiky hair, and was wearing a pair of aviators, even indoors. The other was almost equally tall, but her hair was waist length and caught back with a simple blue headband. Both were aggressively blond, aggressively cheek-boned, and very familiar.

His siblings.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said Aegnor, not looking particularly sorry. “But we should talk.”

“Yes,” said Galadriel. “This conversation is long overdue, in fact.”

Finrod laid down his highlighter carefully and raised his eyebrows with a certain amount of apprehension. “Oh?”

“You haven’t been home in like…weeks.”

“You’re not sleeping in your bed.”

“You’re not eating meals at home.”

“As far as we can tell, you’ve been wearing a combination of three different outfits – mixed in with pieces we can only assume are from Turgon’s wardrobe? – for, again, weeks.”

“One has to wonder how often you’re doing laundry.”

“One has to wonder how you’ve been able to bear being that sartorially redundant.”

“Is there something you’d like to tell us?”

Two pairs of eyes fixed on him as Aegnor pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead.

Finrod forced himself not to look at the geranium instead of at his sister and brother. “Um…”

But they didn’t let him finish. They leaned forward simultaneously, hands folded on the table. They looked very serious, but Finrod noted the hint of a grin at the corner of Aegnor’s mouth, and Galadriel’s eyes were twinkling.

“It’s time to come clean.”

“It’s time to give Turno his shirts back.”

“Everyone knows what’s going on.”

“They do?” Finrod himself was completely lost.

“Everyone knows you would never have bought a hooded sweatshirt for yourself.”

“The jig is up.”

Blond eyebrows arched knowingly in concert as Finrod watched in fascination, wondering if ‘synchronized eyebrowing’ was an Olympic sport. It should be.

“You’ve moved on.”

“You’ve moved out.”

“You’ve moved in with Turukáno.”

Finrod opened his mouth, but his sister and brother didn’t let him talk.

“We didn’t want to rush you, or pressure you.”

“We haven’t said anything because we thought you might still come back.”

“Which would have been fine, of course.”

“But you didn’t.”

“And we started to feel a little bad about taking your rent money, y’know?”

“So we talked to Bëor.”

“And Turukáno.”

“Seems like they’ve kind of assumed you’ve moved in with them already.”

“This explains that one ‘You bet your kielbasa I’m Polish’ t-shirt.”

“What, were you tired of borrowing from Turukáno? At least he’s closer to your size.”

“But that Bëor, he’s a giver.”

Finrod tried not to laugh. “Listen, you two – ”

Once again, they ignored him.

“So both your former and current roommates know you’ve moved…”

“…it’s just you who hasn’t yet acknowledged this fact.”

“Are you aware of it?”

They waited patiently.

Finrod reached for his drink and held it in front of him like an unconscious shield. “I –I wasn’t sure of the best way to tell you, and I hadn’t confirmed with Bëor and Turno that it was actually okay if I moved in with them.”

“We thought as much."

"That’s why we did it for you. Consider it confirmed.”

Aegnor bent forward and slurped at the straw of Finrod’s drink. “Oh, gross, is that soy milk? You should probably start paying them rent at some point, though.”

Galadriel reached over to borrow Aegnor’s aviators as the sun came out from behind a cloud and slanted sharply through the window and into her eyes. “Actually, we took initiative and signed over your latest rent check to them.”

Finrod moved his drink to the other side of the table and shook his head, trying to keep up. “You mean you’ve already essentially moved me into a new place?”

Aegnor stole the glass back, took another drink, and made a face. “Pretty much.”

Galadriel blinked ruminatively behind the sunglass lenses. “Are you ever going to get your belongings, though? Because if not…”

“…There’s some shit we would take.”

“Teleporno would like that green sweater of yours.”

“And we could always sell the rest.”

“No,” said Finrod firmly. “Before you ransack my belongings I should come and sort through them and pack most of them up.”

“Excellent, it’s a plan.”

They got up, as abruptly as they arrived. Aegnor patted Finrod on the back, and Galadriel gave a rare smile.

“We’ll see you Friday.”

“I will?” Finrod felt at sea once again.

“Yep. Dad wants us all home for Shabbat. Good luck with your work, Ingo.”

“Good luck with your new roommates, Ingo.”

“Good luck with your new boyfriend, Ingo.”

And like that, they were gone.

Finrod sighed and put his head down on his work. “The hit and run culture in this family has GOT to stop,” he said, to no one in particular, and let his highlighter drop to the ground.

Then he picked it up again to add some vivid and unlikely yellow to the petals of his geranium, and smiled.

* * *

Celegorm walked through the kitchen door and straight into Curufin’s glare.

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”

“Why, is something wrong?” Celegorm cocked his head and looked Curufin up and down, examining him for damage.

“No. I wanted to know what we were doing for dinner.”

Celegorm rolled his eyes. “Right, ‘cuz that couldn’t have waited until I got home.”

“But what if it was something wrong?” Curufin followed Celegorm to the refrigerator as he pulled it open and grabbed a beer. “What if I had really needed you and been unable to reach you? I could die, helpless and alone, and you – ”

“Christ, kid, lighten up.” Celegorm smacked the top of his beer against the countertop to open it. “Wasn’t Irissë home?”

“Oh, like she would save me if I were dying.”

“She might do it as a favor for me. Dude, I was hiking with Oromë in the Whites, we were out of range. I think the entire state of New Hampshire is out of cell service, actually. I turned off my phone so I wouldn’t kill the battery.”

“Out of range, sure. You just didn’t want to be interrupted while humping in poison ivy or whatever you get up to out there.”

Celegorm grinned. “You think I wouldn’t recognize poison ivy before choosing a spot to fuck? Anyway, I’m more into summit blowjobs than rolling around in some sketchy field.”

“Disgusting. I pity the Cub Scout troop that attempts any peak you’re summiting. You should get booked for public indecency.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Celegorm took a long drink. “Look, I’m turning on my phone now, happy?”

“No. I don’t need you to turn it on now, now I have you in person and can ask what we’re having for – ”

“Did you leave me a voicemail?” Celegorm was staring at his phone.

“What? No.”

“Then shut up, I need to listen to this.”

Curufin tried to say something, but Celegorm, who was holding his phone to his ear, put his hand over Curufin’s mouth, stifling him. “Shh.”

Hi sweetheart, it’s mom. I know it’s been a while, so hope this message doesn’t come as too much of an unpleasant surprise, but I wanted to…check in. I hope your summer’s going well so far. We’ve been doing okay, though your little brothers tried to turn the trellis into a climbing wall and tore down my clematis, so now they’re on gardening duty for the next month. Anyway, I’m going to try and avoid running out your voicemail and cut straight to the point. I understand if you’re not up for coming by the house, but it’s been too long since we’ve caught up. Do you think you could manage breakfast with me tomorrow? I hope so, because I’m not actually taking no for an answer. Call or text me to confirm, but I’m going to be at Pallando’s at 9 tomorrow. I’ll see you then.

Curufin wriggled free of Celegorm’s hand and looked at him. “Was that – ”

“Mom.” Celegorm lowered the phone from his ear and stared at it blankly. “She wants to get breakfast tomorrow. And…talk.”

“Oh.”

“Is this an ‘oh shit’ moment or should I be reassured that she’s not just showing up at our place and yelling?”

“I don’t know.”

Celegorm groaned and slumped against the counter. “You don’t ever not know things.”

“Not often, no.” Curufin folded his arms and leaned up next to Celegorm. “Well, however it turns out, you’ll have backup.”

“Huh?”

“Tomorrow. I’m going with you. Not to breakfast,” Curufin amended, as Celegorm started to say anything, “but I’ll be around the corner. Just in case you need me.”

* * *

Nerdanel grabbed her purse and tucked a curl of hair back behind her ear as she opened the car door. Fëanor leaned after her from the driver’s side.

“Do you have everything?”

“Purse, phone, dignity, check.”

“Did you make a reservation? Sometimes this place fills up.”

“I’m all set, Fëanáro.”

“And are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

Nerdanel stepped out of the car and smiled at him. “Love, he’s our son. I’m getting breakfast with him. He’s not someone I’m meeting with muskets at dawn.”

“You wouldn’t duel with muskets. Pistols, maybe.”

“I wouldn’t duel with either.” Nerdanel leaned through the open window for a kiss, and he obliged her. “You know me, brass knuckles or nothing.”

“I’ll be around the corner!” he called, as she stepped away and the car behind them in traffic honked at him for double-parking. “I’m going to get a coffee and read the paper – you know where to find me if you need me.”

“I always do.”

* * *

Nerdanel ordered ‘The Belgian’, waffles with strawberries and whipped cream. Celegorm ordered ‘The Heart Attack’, fried eggs and fried potatoes with bacon, sausage, and ham.

“You’re lucky you’ve got young and bendy arteries,” said Nerdanel, watching him eat.

“Yep.” Celegorm crunched on a strip of bacon. “I gotta take advantage of it while I can. So the demons got into your flowers, huh? Man, you should put up a fence like you did when the deer were killin’ your carrots.”

“It didn’t work. They knocked down the fence.” Nerdanel took a sip of her coffee. “The best cure for the deer was giving you a slingshot for your birthday.”

Celegorm laughed. “Hah. I forgot about that. You said I couldn’t use it on my brothers, so – ”

“So your only targets were my nemeses, those pointy four-legged buggers.”

“I did fuck up – uh, mess up – your gardens other times, though.” Celegorm scraped some of his hash browns onto Nerdanel’s plate when he caught her looking wistfully at them. “I think I bent all your lilies – ”

“They were echinacea.”

“ – diving for a football one time. But that wasn’t my fault, it was Nelyo’s. Someone needed to teach that dweeb to throw.”

“You did wreck a fair amount of havoc on the verge, it’s true.” Nerdanel ate some potato with her fingers. “But still, and maybe because there’s two of them, sometimes I think the chickens have one up on you for creating messes.”

Celegorm looked at her over the table, dead on for the first time since they sat down. “No mess as big as fucking my coach though, huh.”

Nerdanel looked back at him.

The moment stretched between them.

“None quite like that, no.”

Another moment.

“I think you must have inherited your bluntness from me,” said Nerdanel, presently. “Your father is confrontational but circumspect – You and I are more like bulls. We plow into things head on.”

“Yeah,” said Celegorm, still not looking away. “How do you think I got ‘im into bed in the first place?”

“You’re trying to make me uncomfortable,” Nerdanel observed. “Give me the rest of your hash browns.”

Celegorm pushed his plate across the table. “I don’t wanna spend the whole morning dancing around the topic,” he said. “I’m not Curvo, that’s not my style, I don’t get any thrills from talking about shit without actually talking about it. Are you here to lecture me? I’m pretty bad at listening to lectures. You here to convince me to leave Oromë? Because no way in fuck is that happening.”