第 9 页

* * *

Downstairs, Amrod drummed his heels against the cabinets, perched once again on the countertop.

“Stop,” said Curufin, without looking at him, absorbed in his book.

Amrod stilled, but across the kitchen, Amras took up the beat, kicking his feet against the base of his chair.

“Stop,” snapped Curufin.

The twins gave him reproachful looks. “But we’re hungry.”

“So have something to eat.”

“It’s Sunday,” said Amras. “Brunch is traditional.”

“Yes, well, I don’t cook,” said Curufin shortly. “Get someone else.”

Amrod heaved a sigh. “Moryo says he’ll make us eggs, but only on his schedule.”

“Which means 2pm or later,” translated Amras. “And Káno had an early shift at the coffee shop.”

“And Nelyo’s upstairs with Findekáno,” said Amrod, making a face. “For another hour.”

“Go wake Tur – Tyelko,” said Curufin, turning a page.

“He’s not here,” said Amras, wandering over to the fridge and opening and closing it a couple times. “We went to his room after waking up Nelyo.”

Curufin looked up at that, his eyes narrowing. “Oh no? Where is he?”

“No clue,” said Amrod, and slid off the counter with a thump. “Does that mean you you’ll cook for us?”

Curufin lowered his book, resigned. “Fine. I hope you like cold cereal.”

* * *

The espresso machine hissed and growled in the background as Mablung leaned forward, propping his elbows on the narrow café table. “So, man, it’s a new season. C’mon, give me the details. What’s the team like without us? Tell me you’re losing on a regular basis. Tell me it’s the worst.”

Beleg smiled at his friend, and turned his coffee cup in his hands. “Well…actually we’re 5 and 0 this season.”

“No shit. Seriously?”

“Yeah. Sorry I couldn’t give you worse news.”

Mablung looped his arms over the back of his chair. “Eh. I’ll live. How’s the sparkly new captain who replaced me? One of those preppy fuckers, right?”

“Glorfindel.”

“Whatever.”

“He’s actually pretty good,” said Beleg fairly. “And – ” he shot an apologetic look at Mablung. “…it’s been a lot calmer now that we don’t have a captain and a star player who hate each other.”

“What?”

“I mean, since you and Celegorm graduated, it’s been a lot more… peaceful?”

Mablung swore. “It’s a fuckin’ rugby team, Beleg. It’s not supposed to be peaceful. It’s s’posed to be violent! Shit.”

“Well, yeah, on the field, but it’s nice not having fights in the locker room…”

“Makes you that much more violent on the field.”

“Makes you that much more bruised on the field.”

Mablung sighed, shaking his head. “Well, Celegorm may have been a rich kid asshole with a god complex, but he could tear shit up on the field. And then there was me, of course. Got anyone who can replace us?”

Mablung could have sworn a blush rose on Beleg’s cheeks, but he told himself he must have been mistaken as his friend answered evenly, “There’s that freshman.”

“What freshman?”

“The recruit. The one the president pointed Oromë to.”

“Oh yeah. I figured that was just some nepotism shit.”

Beleg shook his head. “It’s not. He’s actually the best player on the team.”

“No! Some kid?”

“Not just some kid. His dad played internationally. You remember the ’95 World Cup? Húrin Thalion?”

“No fucking way.”

“Yep.”

Mablung drummed his fingers. “What ever happened to that guy?”

Beleg shrugged uneasily. “I don’t actually know. Túrin doesn’t talk about him.”

“Huh.” Mablung looked a little put out. “So you’ve got a ringer now.”

“Yeah. But Coach doesn’t let us lean too much on him. He says we can’t afford to get complacent because we rely on one player, because then what if we lose him to an injury or something? Which, to be fair, is kind of what happened when Celegorm – ”

“We did fine without him.”

“We lost.”

“Angband had a stronger team.”

Beleg grinned. “I’ve never heard you admit another team is better. You really don’t want to admit that Celegorm was our ace in the hole.”

“Sorry, did you say asshole?”

Beleg punched him lightly. “Get over it, Mablung.”

“Are you kidding? You know what his fucking family – ”

“His father, not him.”

“Whatever. Like father, like son.” Mablung drained his drink and tilted back in his chair.

“Careful.” Beleg glanced over his shoulder. “You know one of them works here.”

“One of who?”

“One of Celegorm’s brothers. One of the sons of you know who.”

“Oh, yeah. That weirdo musician.” Mablung tilted his empty cup on its edge and spun it lightly. “The one who re-wrote the National Anthem to be twenty verses long and all alliterative. For who the fuck knows what reason.”

“Something artistic,” said Beleg pensively. “I suppose.”

“So I should watch my mouth? What’s he gonna do to me? Fire me? Evict me? Turn me out into the street like his fa – ”

“Mablung.”

“Fucking leeches.”

Mablung subsided though, and they both looked up as one of the baristas, a red bandana tied around his dark hair, crossed to the register.

“Speak of the devil,” said Beleg quietly.

Mablung’s lip curled slightly. “Let’s get out of here.”

They made their way out onto the street, speaking lightly of other things. Mablung elbowed Beleg as they paused by the bus stop. “You seeing anyone these days? Who was that underclassman girl who had a thing for you – whatshername – Nellas?”

Beleg definitely blushed this time, and shook his head. “No, I’m not – I’m not seeing…anyone, really, right now.”

Mablung raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”

“Have you stopped by campus to say hi to anyone?” Beleg asked quickly. “You haven’t been in town since graduation. Have you seen anyone else from the team?”

“I was gonna go say hi to Coach at some point,” said Mablung, and then let out a whistle. “But man, talk about timing – looks like I’m in luck.” He pointed, and Beleg turned. On the other side of the street, walking with his ubiquitous companion the large grey wolfhound, was Oromë. Mablung was about to call out when Beleg’s hand closed around his upper arm.

“Check it out.”

A tall figure was striding up the street towards Oromë, fair hair loose and shaggy under a baseball cap.

Mablung’s lips tightened. “Oh, look who it is.”

“Mablung,” said Beleg quietly, a note of warning in his voice.

“I’m not going to do anything…”

They both drew back inadvertently though, so that they were half concealed behind the bus shelter. They watched as Celegorm drew to a halt before Oromë, who half raised a hand in greeting.

“Have they stayed in touch?”

“Looks like it, doesn’t it.”

“I thought after his injury…” But Mablung broke off, frowning, as Celegorm seemed to disregard Oromë’s greeting. Instead, his face was tight and angry, something dangerous flickering across his strong features.

“That looks familiar,” murmured Beleg.

“Yeah.” Mablung was still frowning. “That’s the look he gets before a fight. I should know.”

Celegorm was saying something, low and bitter, too quiet for them to hear. Oromë swayed back as if something Celegorm had said was a blow, and Celegorm laughed harshly.

“What the fuck,” muttered Mablung.

Oromë raised a hand then, reaching for Celegorm’s shoulder, but Celegorm knocked it away, his face positively murderous now, and when he spoke, his voice grew in volume so they could almost make out the words.

“…planning on telling me, huh?”

Oromë had bent towards him, speaking quietly and earnestly, but Celegorm was shaking his head, spitting words back, and again, they were now partially audible.

“…how many fucking months this time? Before…”

“Tyelko – ”

“Shut up!” Seeming to realize he had raised his voice again, Celegorm looked furious and hissed something further. Unconsciously, both Mablung and Beleg leaned forward. They could only catch snippets, and nothing that made any sense.

“…fucking Vána…. not going to be …. not again.”

“Not again what?” Mablung mouthed to Beleg, but Beleg just shook his head.

Oromë reached out, and as his hands closed on Celegorm’s shoulders, they saw him give a convulsive shudder. Oromë seemed to be trying to explain something, but Celegorm wrenched away, his eyes wild.

“Fuck you!”

Oromë flinched back, and it was such an unusual gesture in their strong, steady coach, that both Mablung and Beleg flinched too.

Seeming to realize his voice had rung out around him, Celegorm looked around. His gaze skimmed the bus shelter, and both of them drew back, but not quickly enough. Celegorm’s eyes fell on them, and for a second something like fear lit them. Then his whole face closed off into blank fury and he turned on his heel and strode off down the street, fists clenching before he buried them in his pockets.

Oromë stood still a long while, staring after him, before turning, slowly as an old man, and walking in the opposite direction.

At Mablung’s side, Beleg let out a long breath.

“What,” said Mablung slowly, “the fuck was that about?”

Beleg shook his head. “I have no idea.” But his eyes followed Oromë curiously until their coach was out of sight.

Chapter End Notes

2. I’ve decided to skillfully (read: artlessly) analogize Sindar/Noldor relations as class rivalry, with the Sindar being the more working class kids and the Noldor being the richies. Sophisticated, eh?

3. UPDATE: Now, instead of just having to deal with my coy allusions to it, you can read about Fingon and Maedhros' historic breakup/angstfest here! Wooo shameless self-promotion!

Scholars and fools

Chapter Summary

In which a bunch of people enter and exit various rooms. That’s it; that’s the story.

Chapter Notes

0. This takes place about a week after the previous chapter.

1. This chapter contains no sex. I feel rather shocked at myself.

2. Warnings for lots of nerds, though.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Galadriel set her chin in her hand and stared down at the charts spread on the floor beside her stool.

“I’m still not convinced we’ve optimized walkability.”

“Cut down on the number of parking lots,” said Elenwë, who was sitting on the floor. “They’re a terrible use of space, they increase the urban heat island effect, and they encourage people to drive more.”

“Yes, good,” said Galadriel, jotting busily in her notepad. “And the distance issue can be resolved with multi-use neighborhoods. If the grocery store is just around the corner, why drive?”

“Mm.” Elenwë stretched her legs out to either side and propped her elbows on the floor, studying the sketches.

“This is why we need such zoning law reform. It’s absolute nonsense that neighborhoods have regulations preventing multi-use construction,” Galadriel went on. “All the studies show – ”

“Water,” said Elenwë, not listening. “Let’s talk about water.”

Galadriel sighed. “Fine. What do we need to discuss?”

“Well, we’re assuming an eastern city, right? So that means the focus is less about water rights and conservation and storage than it is about storm and wastewater management. Have you considered permeable pavements?”

“Materials are more your realm than mine,” said Galadriel. “Won’t that be expensive?”

“The benefits can seriously cut down on costs,” said Elenwë enthusiastically. “Particularly if you factor in cuts to snow removal. The permeable pavements facilitate melt, so you can allocate less of your budget on plows, sand, mag-chlor, and so on.”

“Slow down.” Galadriel was scribbling again. “Go back to the part about – ”

“Um,” said a voice, and they both looked up. Maedhros was standing over them, having just walked through the door, keys in one hand, groceries in the other, looking slightly confused.

“What are you – ”

“How are you doing, Maitimo?” asked Galadriel, returning to her notebook.

“I’m fine, but – ”

“I like your haircut.”

Maedhros raised a hand to his head, looking slightly bewildered. “Thank you, but – ”

“Do you have a compass?”

“What?”

Elenwë took pity on him. “We’re working on our combined-discipline city planning project,” she said. “Artanis is dealing with the city planning aspect, actually, I’m the consulting environmental engineer. Our departments gave us permission to do a collaborative senior project, even though she’s liberal arts and I’m engineering. Cool, huh?”

“Very,” said Maedhros. “But why are you on our floor?”

“My apartment is tiny and doesn’t let us spread out,” said Elenwë, “and Artanis – ”

“ – lives with two brothers who lack the concept of tidy life, tidy mind,” said Galadriel vaguely. “Not that I help. But we haven’t actually seen our floor in a month or so.”

“Carnistir said we could work here,” said Elenwë.

“Ah,” said Maedhros, setting the grocery bag on the counter. “And where is he?”

“Upstairs,” said Galadriel.

“With Haleth,” said Elenwë, and tried to suppress a smile.

Maedhros narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to insinuate something?”

“Not the something you think,” said Galadriel, as all of a sudden raised voices drifted down the stairs, apparently in heated debate. They all paused to listen, as the voices got louder.

“Have you ever considered that maybe Adam Smith was wrong?”

“How DARE you.”

“I’m just saying – ”

“You are speaking of the father of capitalism.”

Someone snorted loudly. “You say that like it’s a reason I should respect him.”

“IT IS!”

“Yeah, well, you and Adam Smith can both take the bloated carcass that is capitalism and shove it up your asses.”

Something smashed, there was a lot of incoherent yelling, and shortly thereafter a figure came unperturbedly down the stairs.

Galadriel, Elenwë, and Maedhros watched as a short, dark-skinned girl with her hair in braids wandered into the kitchen. “Hi,” she said to Maedhros, holding out her hand. “I’m Haleth. I think I’ve given your brother an aneurysm.”

“Pleasure,” said Maedhros, at a loss, and shook her hand.

“Hey, Hal,” said Elenwë from the floor.

“Hey,” said Haleth. “Nice performance last week.”

“Thanks!” Elenwë looked pleased. “It was our first piece in the new space.”

“The choreography was sick.”

“Amarië’s,” said Elenwë, looking envious. “She’s so talented. We’ll miss her once basketball season starts up again. But she has her priorities… But hey, what are you working on?”

“Economics,” said Haleth.

“Yikes.”

“It’s not so bad.” Haleth sat down on the floor next to Elenwë. “It’s entertaining, at least.”

A minute later, Caranthir came thundering down the stairs. “You can’t just walk away, I’m not done debating with you!”

“It seemed like you were having a fury stroke, so I decided to give you some time to recover,” said Haleth patiently.

“I WAS SIMPLY COMPOSING MYSELF FOR A REBUTTAL – ” Caranthir began, at volume, and Haleth shook her head.

“Caranthir. I’d like to discuss this with you, but you make it difficult when you get this emotional,” she said, and gave Elenwë and Galadriel a meaningful look. “Men.”