第 77 页

Glorfindel: Thanks! I can bring a back-up hammer.

Celeborn: excuse me, but can someone define ‘douchebag chic’?

Aredhel: Tyelko

Fingon: Tyelko

Aegnor: Turkafinweee. Look it up and his picture is in the dictionary next to ‘douchebag’

Celegorm: i’ll douche yer mOM

Aegnor: case in point

Galadriel: Sweetie seriously I showed you pictures

Celeborn: I just don’t think I have the right clothes for it.

Galadriel: You don’t. It is one of the many reasons I love you.

Caranthir: Now that we’ve thoroughly established that Tyelko is a dbag… (yeah seriously Celeborn just wear anything you’ve ever seen him wear to a tailgate)

Caranthir: I need to come grab some stuff from the house anyway

Caranthir: so yeah, I’ll be there

Celegorm: :DDD YAY

Celegorm: we shall have an almost entirely complete feanorion set. hot damn

Celegorm: all thanks to me. the great unifier. YEA SHALL IT BE KNOWN AS THE REUNION OF CELEGORM

Maedhros: Not a fan of that epithet. Lacks a certain panache.

Celegorm: it’s not always all about you Nelyo

Aredhel: yes for example sometimes it’s about me

Haleth: Moryo tagged me in on this thread. Is it okay if I crash?

Aredhel: OH MY GOD YES PLEASE SAVE ME FROM THIS SAUSAGE FEST

Aredhel: also totally meant to copy you, sorry!

Aredhel: can’t believe I forgot you but included arko, what a mistake

Galadriel: I’m bringing some people to counteract the sausage fest issue too, no worries

Argon: WOO MORE CHICKS

Aredhel: we’ll just keep him in the back yard out of harm’s way

Aredhel: tie him to a tree with some kibble or something

Celegorm: kinky.

Maedhros: Can we PLEASE stop using this thread for random conversation? My notifications keep going off while I’m trying to work.

Fingon: I personally don’t mind. This is wayyy more entertaining than the emails about budgets and union strikes

Turgon: Bëor says he’s sorry about that.

Fingon: oooh Bëor should come to the party! I promise not to talk shop with him, or do any of the traditional things The Man usually does to union reps

Fingon: shot inna head, dropped in the harbor w feet in cement, etc

Turgon: …yeah

Turgon: I’ll be sure to include that in the invitation

Turgon: you psycho

Fingon: IT’S BEEN A LONG WEEK OK

Fingon: Who am I kidding, it’s been a long two years

Turgon: hey Ireth will your cat be attending?

Aredhel: yes turno he will be manning the dj booth and playing several rounds of flipcup

Aredhel: 　? he’s a cat not a party guest

Aredhel: get your head out of your ass

Turgon: I MEAN do I have to worry about him scalping and/or otherwise assaulting me

Turgon: and for the record, “cat” is up for debate

Aredhel: no, he will be in my room

Aredhel: he’s in a burrowing phase

Aredhel: so I’ve given him free range of my laundry hamper

Curufin: Turukáno I am fully sympathetic to your concerns. Trust me that if I could have done something besides ban the creature from my own room (a tactic that has succeeded only marginally), I would have.

Celegorm: /i/ suggested mittens.

Aredhel: WILL EVERYONE LEAVE MY DAMN CAT ALONE

Maglor: hey, sorry to chime in late but it looks like I’m going to be home, so…two tofudogs, please.

Aredhel: :D Hey, look who it is!

Maedhros: You’re coming home　　 Since when　　　? What day will you be back? Does this mean you’re done recording　? I haven’t heard from you in ages WHAT’S THE DEAL

Aredhel: who’s using the thread for personal conversation now?

Maedhros: Wait hold on Káno I’m calling you

Maedhros: oh my god I literally can’t believe this

Maglor: Yes hi I am standing here looking at my phone but it is not ringing hurry up

Celegorm: gawd get a room you two

Aredhel: oki closing this thread

Aredhel: see you all in two weeks!

Aredhel: :) love u

Chapter End Notes

1. So about the Children of Hurin… Since September of 2014 I’ve had ideas for how the events of the Narn fit into the dwmp verse. For a while, I was going to get into them, mostly so I could play more with Beleg and Turin et al. I realized, though, that it would be a massive distraction from the main cast and the other storylines there, and so I dropped it. I still think trying to actually work in the Narn would be overly distracting, and honestly, I think it deserves its own story. That is what it may someday get: a modern au of its own, set in the dwmp universe, unspooling in parallel. But if (and that’s a big IF) this happens, it needs to be its own thing. THAT SAID: I need more of certain Sindar in this story, and as a result, as we get glimpses of Mablung and Beleg and Nellas, we will also get glimpses of CoH events taking place. I will not be going into great detail, but they will be alluded to. Just a head’s up that this will be happening, and a disclaimer that you’re not going to get the full, completely fleshed out story just now!

Throw your fist through the ceiling

Chapter Summary

In which the sons of Fëanor throw house parties, everyone drinks terrible beer, and…you know the deal.

(Can you believe it’s almost been a year since the first one of these?)

Chapter Notes

0. This is an empty calorie of a chapter in many ways. In other, very real ways, it is a four course meal. If you count the courses as 1. drinking games, 2. inappropriate kissing, 3. awkwardness, and 4. Too Much Noise.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Celegorm and Aredhel each had a PBR in hand and were playing a lazy game of Polish Horseshoes in the front yard. The careless arcs of their frisbee were slowly driving Huan more and more wild with excitement and frustration as he darted between them. They looked up as a car pulled up to the curb, and Huan took advantage of their inattention to seize the frisbee right before it knocked Celegorm’s bottle from his ski pole.

“Damnit, dog, that would have been a point for me!”

“Ah, I woulda caught it anyway.” Celegorm took a swig of PBR. “Look, it’s your brother. And my brother. Hey, bitches.”

Fingon parked the car and got out, and Aredhel whistled her appreciation. He was wearing jean shorts cut off at the knee and his Flight of the Noldor: Sausagefest tank top, a trucker hat pulled low over his eyes.

“Yo, we match!” Aredhel danced down the front walk as Huan settled down happily to gnaw the frisbee. She was wearing one of Celegorm’s mesh scrimmage pennies, and a pair of shorts that said RUCK ME across the ass. She tweaked the brim of her own trucker hat, and Fingon high-fived her.

“That is an impressive amount of douche, little sister.”

“I got it from the rugby side of Tyelko’s closet.” Aredhel wiggled her butt. “I think the team sold these as a novelty fundraiser, but Tyelko wears them totally without irony. He’s an inspiration to me.”

Maedhros had unfolded himself from the passenger side of the car, and Aredhel cocked her head at him. He was wearing tight fitting skinny jeans and an equally tight shirt that read I listen to good music. You listen to crap.

“I decided to go as a different sort of douchebag,” he said, in answer to her raised eyebrows.

At that moment, Curufin came out the front door, his jacket slung over his shoulder and his computer case under his arm. He glanced at Maedhros. “Nice Makalaurë costume.”

Maedhros grinned. “Thanks.” He swiveled to watch Curufin pass. “Are you heading out for the evening?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you going to be?”

“Don’t fret your head, mother. I’ll just be down at the vacant lot shooting up heroin and soliciting prostitutes.”

“Bring cash,” said Celegorm, who had raided Aredhel's closet in retribution and was resplendent in one of her crop-tops and a pair of bright yellow shutter shades. “Eyyy, looking good, Findekáno.”

“Save it,” said Fingon, holding out a hand, which Celegorm walked into accidentally on purpose. “Wait, do some prostitutes take credit cards?”

“It’s the 21st century, I’m sure some of them do.”

“Probably not the ones in the vacant lot doing heroin with Curvo.”

“I believe it’s generally more of an exchange of services system,” said Curufin, heading for the mailbox.

“You give them lessons in HTML5, they give you a blowjob?”

“Yes, exactly, you know me well.”

“Say hi to Finrod for me,” said Celegorm, with a rather dangerous grin. “I hope he appreciates the HTML5 lessons.”

Curufin ignored him and set off down the street.

“Are you going to be coming back tonight?” Maedhros called after him, still looking unhappy.

“Who can say? Enjoy your night of idiocy and try not to burn the house down. If you do, I will have no compunction in telling Father it was entirely your fault.” Curufin rounded the corner and disappeared.

“That’s interesting,” said Aredhel. “Would that indicate he and your father are speaking, then?”

“Hng,” said Celegorm, noncommittally.

“How often does he go to Finrod's?” asked Maedhros in a low voice, and Celegorm rolled his eyes.

“Back off, mom – ”

“Will both of you stop calling me that?”

“ – I’m not his babysitter, or his guard dog, so I’ve been told. Leave him alone.”

“I am leaving him alone, it’s you I’m – ”

“AHEM,” said Fingon loudly. “We are getting side-tracked from some very important things that I fear you have forgotten, Mae.”

“Eh?”

“Our housewarming gift. Our beautiful, expensive, deeply loving housewarming gift, for a house that’s already been warmed quite enough, but that now has my sister in it and is therefore deserving of a few more coals.”

Celegorm dropped the glasses down his nose so he could look at Fingon with renewed interest. “A housewarming gift, you say?”

“Yep. A truly adult one.” Fingon winked. “Open the trunk, Maitimo.”

Maedhros, who looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or dubious, popped the trunk.

“Oh my god.” Aredhel clasped her hands to her heart. “Finno. You got us a keg!”

“I did,” said Fingon cheerfully. “And not just any keg – this is real beer, an Iron Foundry microbrew from Blue Hills, none of that corn-piss crap you usually serve at this place.”

Aredhel jumped up and down. “I’m going to go get the tap!” She darted into the house.

Celegorm still hadn’t said anything.

Fingon folded his arms. “Well, Tyelko?”

Slowly, Celegorm approached him. “Finno,” he said softly. “Findekáno.”

Fingon took an inadvertent step backward. “Um.”

Celegorm raised his hands and cupped Fingon’s face gently, tenderly. “Findekáno. You know you have always been my favorite cousin, right? Hell, my favorite family member, period.”

“Uhh.”

“My dearest cousin. Most favorite. And this keg? This keg is why.” Celegorm turned his eyes upward eloquently, then kissed Fingon deeply on the lips.

Fingon held very, very still. Then he turned, and walked towards the house. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to set your house on fire.”

Celegorm was still laughing when a hand descended on the back of his neck, grabbed him by the scruff, and shook him, none too gently. He yelped.

“Tyelkormo,” whispered Maedhros, low and deadly. “I am going to kill you.”

“Maitimo!” Celegorm grinned ingratiatingly, dangling from Maedhros’ hand. “Aw, come on. I didn’t even use tongue.”

“YOU DID TOO,” yelled Fingon from the house. “Ireth, where’s the lighter fluid?”

“Kill you,” said Maedhros, turning the words over in his mouth almost lovingly. “Until you are quite dead.”

“Help,” said Celegorm, twisting in Maedhros’ grasp.

In the backyard, Aredhel had placated Fingon with a beer and a bratwurst.

“How’s working for dad going?”

“Eh, can’t complain. How’s working for mom?”

“Eh, can’t complain.”

From the front yard came a brief scream and the sound of running feet. “Fuckin’ hell, Nelyo! Káno? MORYO. CURVO HELP.”

Celegorm appeared around the side of the house, running fast. Close behind him was Maedhros, who didn’t even look like he was working hard.

“Curvo’s not here,” he said, matter-of-factly, and spun Celegorm around by the shoulder.

“So,” said Aredhel brightly, turning back to Fingon. “I got the tap.”

“Oh, excellent,” he said, as Maedhros very carefully dropped Celegorm into the hedge. “We should get the keg going.”

* * *

Galadriel, Amarië, and Andreth turned the corner onto Mithrim Lake Road, talking fast.

“I didn’t really get the dress code, so I just pulled something neon out of my closet?”

“You’re as bad as Teleporno, I swear. Have you not been in college for the past several years? You know what a douchebag looks like, surely. And Andreth, I don’t quite get the look you’re going for.”

Andreth, who was in a wife-beater, army pants, and aviators, chewed on the cigar between her teeth. “What’s not to get?”

“You look like you should be in Top Gun or something.”

“Right. And who always says Top Gun is their favorite movie?”

“Douchebags.” Galadriel conceded. “Fine.”

“I liked Top Gun okay,” said Amarië, trying to tug the hem of her shirt down. “Especially Goose.”

Andreth batted her hands away from her top. “Girl, it’s a crop top, stop trying to make it cover everything.”

“It’s drafty.”

“You think that’s drafty.” Galadriel winced and tried surreptitiously to adjust her shorts. “I don’t know how Daisy Duke wore these day in and day out, mine keep trying to head north.”

Andreth gave a snort of laughter, but looked speculatively at Galadriel’s backside. “They may be impractical, but your ass has never looked better. In fact, this may be the first time I’ve noticed you have an ass.”

“I very much have an ass,” said Galadriel, dignity, and Amarië and Andreth both laughed, until Galadriel looked offended. “I beg your pardon.”

“You have very nice legs,” said Amarië, fairly. “But I can’t in good faith say you have much of a – ”

“Booty,” finished Andreth promptly. “Not that you’re one to talk, Amarië. I think I have the only true junk in the trunk of the lot of you.” She swung her hips and wrapped her arms around each of their waists. “Man, who is looking forward to getting faced tonight?”

“I shall not object to imbibing mightily,” said Galadriel serenely, and flicked one of her pigtails over her shoulder.

“I’m still not sure this is such a good idea,” Amarië mumbled. “I feel weird hanging out with the Fëanorions, it’s not like I’m good friends with them, and…” She trailed off.

“Findaráto won’t be there,” said Galadriel, cutting to the heart of things, as usual. “I promise. And don’t think of it as going to a Fëanorion party – You’re going to see Irissë!”

“Yes,” said Amarië with visible reluctance. “I suppose. But other people will be there…”

“We’ll keep you away from Caranthir,” said Galadriel, as Andreth nodded and growled happily, "Defensive perimeter.”

“And I’m sure Curvo won’t be around.”

“Right,” said Amarië, still uncomfortable.

“I can’t make the same promise to you,” said Galadriel to Andreth, who was practicing blowing smoke rings from her unlit cigar. “Aiko will almost definitely be there. Is that going to be okay?”