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“Ouch!”

“Just taking a page from Idril’s book,” said Aredhel, settling back as Elenwë batted at her. “That’s what you get for leaving us.”

“I came back,” Elenwë reminded her. “I always do.”

Aredhel didn’t say anything, but petted Elenwë’s hair absently until Elenwë started to drift off. Half asleep, Elenwë murmured, “Speaking of pets… Tyelko usually brings that dog everywhere with him. It’s weird that Huan’s not here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.” Still stroking Elenwë’s hair, Aredhel glanced over at Celegorm, who was currently turned away from them. “But he’ll be back.”

Chapter End Notes

1. Music mentioned in this chapter: Sunrise, Sunset, Wagon Wheel, and Strong Enough (yes, I went with the Dixie Chicks version because it includes a part for fiddle)

2. Maedhros’ manbun thanks to Snartha.

3. Chapter title thanks to Tracy Chapman, author to all my heartfeels.

Take a gander, appreciate your candor

Chapter Summary

The thoughtfulness of friends, an email, a talk, a Talk, and a surprise.

I know it’s cliché and has been said a thousand times before, but Curufin is the Oprah of the Fëanorions.

Chapter Notes

0. Warnings: Mentions of sexy business towards the end.

Lost in thought, Ríanellë paced back and forth a couple times, before getting distracted by something on a shelf. She rose up on her toes to peer at it and then picked it up.

“Yikes, this is some hat.” She pulled the green and yellow trucker cap over her hair, tugging her ponytail through the loop at the back. “Do you often wear bro clothes with sunflowers on them?”

“Almost exclusively.” Glorfindel was sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor, frowning into a cardboard box. “What kind of candy should we put in?”

“Anything with peanut butter.” Ríanellë did another lap of Glorfindel’s room, stepping over laundry piles, and then settled down on the ground next to him. “But I was thinking, doesn’t this feel a little boring?”

“How so?”

“Well, my parents are also going to send him a care package with all his favorite snacks and so on, so that part is kind of redundant. And I know there’s no such thing as too many Reese's, but just sending him something he’d enjoy is so mundane. We should send him something that will make everyone in his battalion jealous.”

“Make a battalion of Marines jealous.” Glorfindel nodded thoughtfully. “So...alcohol and strippers.”

“Yes, I thought of that, but those might not fit in a box.”

Glorfindel grinned. “I can fold up pretty small.”

“I know, I’ve seen you in pilates. But it’s not viable, unfortunately, however happy I know it would make my brother.”

Glorfindel thought for a second. “Okay, something that would make his battalion jealous…or…”

“Or?”

Glorfindel looked at her, his eyes twinkling. “Or make him famous. What’s the weirdest stuff we can put in here?”

“Yes.” A smile broke over Ríanellë’s face and she steepled her fingers. “More importantly, what’s the most embarrassing stuff we can put in here?”

Half an hour later, when Maglor showed up at Glorfindel’s apartment with the bag of items he’d been asked to pick up on the way, he stepped through the door, his brow furrowed. “Okay, I got the Christmas crackers, the ham log, and the massage oil, but is anyone going to tell me…why…” He trailed off, his mouth falling open in confusion.

Ríanellë was dashing around saying things like, “Cheetos! And condoms! And chocolate fudge! Condoms covered in fudge. Tampons.”

Glorfindel rummaged in the box. “How about a big black dildo?”

Ríanellë drew up short. “Do you have one?” She hesitated. “Is that a question I feel comfortable asking my brother’s boyfriend?”

Maglor raised his eyebrows. “Boyfriend?”

Glorfindel and Ríanellë looked up, finally noticing the newcomer, and Maglor waved at them. “Uh, hi. Sorry. Are you two actually dating then?”

Ríanellë laid a hand to her heart as she ruffled up Glorfindel’s hair with the other. “Us? No, that would be awkward.”

Glorfindel tossed a bag of m&ms at Ríanellë. “He wasn’t talking to you, smartass.” He smiled crookedly at Maglor. “Yeah, kinda?”

“Oh.” Maglor digested this. “Hey, congrats. Everyone always wondered if you were. How long has it been going on? A few months?”

“What?” Glorfindel looked startled. “No, like. A couple weeks?”

Maglor frowned. “Seriously? What were you before?”

“Friends.”

Behind his back, Ríanellë made wobbly movements with her hands and Maglor nodded sagely. He looked around the room again, which was in a state of advanced disorder. “So why did you call me?” Ríanellë tossed a bag of Cheetos into the box along with a single Tampax, and Glorfindel scribbled ‘BIG BLACK DILDO’ on a post-it. “And what on earth are you doing?”

“We’re sending Ecthelion the worst care package ever.”

“Oh, of course, stupid of me to ask.” Maglor dropped the bag carefully onto the carpet.

Ríanellë pressed her fingers to her temples, closing her eyes as she thought. “If we acquire a dildo, do you think there’s a way to spring load it so it smacks him in the face when he opens the box?”

“I’d have to consult my little brother on that one.” Maglor sat down on the ground next to Glorfindel.

“Why, is he a sex toy expert?”

“No, he’s an engineer.” Maglor peered into the box. “Do these boxes go through…like screening or something?”

Glorfindel and Ríanellë exchanged glances. “They might?”

“What if a Marine screener opens it and gets smacked in the face with a dildo? You gotta figure that’s a domestic terrorism charge at least.”

“It would really cement it as the worst care package ever,” said Ríanellë, but Glorfindel was already crossing ‘(SPRING LOADED?)’ off his list.

Maglor settled down, tapping his fingers on his knee. “Okay. What’s his least favorite music? Let’s perform it on glockenspiel and send it to him. On cassette.”

“Told you he was the right person to invite over,” said Ríanellë happily, as she sat on the floor next to Maglor and leaned over him to grab the pen from Glorfindel. “What do you think would make him cringe more, Billy Ray Cyrus or Poison?”

“I like Poison,” said Glorfindel mildly, and both Ríanellë and Maglor made revolted faces.

“Oh, Sunshine. It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

* * *

It was turning into a far less productive afternoon than Curufin had planned on, thanks to two uninvited intruders who had occupied his room. But one, at least, could be taken care of with some bodily force.

Despite Aredhel’s insistence that he must be a natural cat person for Lómion to be so drawn to him –“He usually hates all men!”– Curufin had refused to warm to the cat’s presence. “C’mon, Curvo,” Celegorm had said. “Let ‘im hang out with you, you’re clearly two weird little kindred spirits. He hates people, you hate people. You’re obsessed with your computer, he’s obsessed with your computer; he bites those who try to snuggle him, you - well, honestly he’s still more cuddly than you, there. But you even have the same hair color!” He’d proceeded to duck at the venomous look Curufin had thrown him.

Now Curufin shoved Lómion out of his room with one hand and closed the door with the other. Then he turned, hands on his hips, to glare at his brother, who was sprawled across his bed and fiddling with one of his circuit boards and who would be far less easy to throw bodily from the room.

Celegorm twiddled something on the circuit board and Curufin narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to break that.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. Why are you still in here?”

“Bored.”

“You’re always bored.”

“Everything is boring.”

“I am far more boring than Irissë,” said Curufin hopefully. “Go hang out with her.”

“Elenwë’s in there.” Celegorm made a face. “Everyone’s all sweet and cozy with their significant others, shoot me in the fucking face.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Curufin ignored the renewed scratching at his door. “And don’t be so whiny, for god’s sake, you’re acting like you’ve been through a break up. Have you?” He leveled a sudden stare at Celegorm.

“What?” Celegorm went ashen. “No!”

“Well, then, stop acting like you have. Either go and actually break up with him –”

“I don’t want to break up with him!”

“– or go fix things. Apologize, if it was your fault, and it probably is.” Curufin waved an impatient hand. “Do whatever you’re supposed to do. Erotic massages of regret. Leave a dead squirrel of contrition on his step. I don’t know how you two communicate.”

Celegorm looked like he was torn between irritation and amusement. “Are you trying to give me relationship advice, Curvo?”

“I’m trying to get you out of my room.”

“A dead squirrel,” muttered Celegorm, but he was grinning as he slid off Curufin’s bed. “I’m gonna use that one on you next time you’re mad at me.”

“You’re hopeless every time you and Oromë aren’t speaking,” said Curufin, sitting down at his desk and booting up his computer. “And I am the one who suffers. Go fix it, idiot, so I can get some work done.”

Celegorm rested a hand on the back of his chair. “Look at you, caring about the state of my relationship.”

“Only as it pertains to me. I’d be just as happy if you ended things and took a vow of celibacy.” Curufin ruminated a moment. “More happy, in fact. Combine it with a vow of silence and we might be getting somewhere.”

“Thanks a ton, dude.”

“Anytime,” Curufin murmured, and opened his email as Celegorm closed the door behind him.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

From: “Curufin F." <curufinwef@beleriand.edu>

To: “Curufinwë Fëanáro” <curufinwef@tengwar.net>

Subject: Re: troubleshooting

Dear Father,

I won't be able to tell for sure until it's compiled (which will take a while; my estimate puts it at 2 hours right now so I’m writing you while it does), but I think some of your suggestions will pay off in terms of improving the swap function and (I hope) getting rid of that loop error with which I’ve been having so much trouble. I appreciate the input.

Apologies for the delay in responding; the school year has shown no signs of being a slow wind-up so much as a running start. But I am reminding myself of what you always say, that any class I end up in that ‘takes it easy' on me is probably not worth my time. The senior seminar I registered for is worthwhile, though I remain unimpressed with my classmates, for all they're two years older than me. The professor, at least, is suitably challenging. He initially seemed inclined to treat me differently from the other students, as I am the only sophomore, but after our first graded assignment he's seen the error of his ways and I am enjoying having my skill level acknowledged. It has made me no friends amongst my peers, but I am not in fact here to make friends.

Tell Mother that my phone is not broken, I have simply been too busy to pick up, but that I appreciated her message. Yes, you can tell her, I am remembering to eat, I am remembering to sleep, and I have amazingly managed to keep myself alive for 19 years and shall continue to do so.

You can vary the level of sarcasm in that last clause when you relate it to her, lest I be subjected to another long voicemail.

In regards to your other questions:

-I read the WIRED piece and am not sure about the feasibility, but like you, will keep my eye on it.

-Water on Mars itself does not shock me, but the implications are certainly significant. Do you plan on seeing The Martian? I am not usually much of a moviegoer, but I am tempted.

-The washing machine is working well now. Thank you for having the repairman come by.

-The stain on the downstairs bathroom ceiling has not grown. I think it was caused by the time Makalaurë overflowed the tub upstairs rather than by any ongoing leak or seal issue. Provided we ban him from luxurious baths in the future, I do not think the water damage will worsen.

-Yes, Nelyo is working/attending school. If he is being obtuse on the details, then it is not for me to reveal his current undertaking, but you can know that it is 1) not lucrative, and 2) apparently well suited to his temperament. Go figure.

-I don't know what impression you have gotten from Morifinwë, but there is nothing ‘going on' with us. If you have gotten the idea that there is, I would simply remind you of his tendency for theatrics and moodiness and assure you that there is nothing that needs your attention.

I will keep this email from getting over-long and sign off now, but I have attached an article from Ars Technica that you might find interesting. Let me know what you think about the fuel cell question.

Sincerely,

Curufinwë

P.S. Tyelko is well.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

He ran spellchecker through the email, then read it through a further time for good measure before hitting send with a mixture of apprehension and relief. It felt good being in touch with his father again, like slipping back into a well-worn favorite item of clothing. The suspicion that their contact might in some way be a betrayal of Celegorm, or a sign of his own weakness that he had gone back on his threat to his father, niggled at the back of his mind, but he tamped it down as best he could. Still preoccupied, Curufin jumped when a knock came at his door.

“Since when is my room the main attraction in this house?” he muttered, striding over to the door and yanking it open. “What.”

“Hi, Curvo.” Maedhros smiled at him. There were shadows under his eyes, Curufin noted, but the tension lines he sometimes got around his mouth weren’t there, which seemed a good sign.

“You look like you haven’t been getting enough sleep,” Curufin said, examining his brother. “But at least you’re eating well.”

Maedhros looked down at his midriff. “Are you saying I look like I’ve gained weight?”

“I never said that.” Curufin turned back into his room, letting his brother follow after him. “But I am familiar with the sorts of things Findekáno cooks. Hardly calorie conscious, no?” He sat at his desk and looked up to see his brother with a familiar expression of discomfort and restrained temper on his face, and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Pleasantries thus dispensed, he settled back in his chair and said, “What do you want, Nelyo?”

Maedhros sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned forward on his knees. “I have to take the Praxis test soon, for my teaching certification, and if I want to teach math at the secondary level I…well, I need to pass it in that topic.”

“I don’t know why you want to teach math at all,” murmured Curufin, spinning a pen between his fingers. “You were a history major or whatever, surely you’d be better suited to social studies.”

“There are far fewer positions for social studies teachers,” said Maedhros in the patient tones of one who had explained this many times before. “But there’s demand for math teachers, and at any rate, that’s where the opening was in my program. So math it is, but you know I haven’t taken a math class in ten years at this point. I was wondering…” He took a breath. “I know you’re busy, but might you be able to tutor me on some of the more advanced material?”