nice things to say to people

context: [a wedding]

"You know I'm in love with you. It's not just convenient. I love you."

Fingon looks up from where he had been studying his fingers. After everything has been said and done, and the initial shock had ebbed following the lucidity afforded by the sobering tea, here they sit, in his chambers, by the balcony. This particular balcony faced away from the grand courtyard and instead looked out at the vegetable garden he had tended himself for years now, during his quiet idyllic days of freedom. A few white goats roamed around nearby, nibbling on grass.

He looks up at Aegnor. Aegnor, standing before him, panic in his eyes and mingled with worry and concern. Through their freshly-minted bond, he feels those emotions, and perhaps they help echo his own, though his own set of emotions are well-controlled in comparison. But they share common ones: panic, concern -- perhaps a tinge of fear.

For his part, Fingon-- how is he supposed to explain this? That right after the feast honoring Hador Lórindol, he gets into this kind of unprecedented trouble? There was not even a feast for betrothal first. No formal proposal. No ceremony expected of him as the High Prince of the Noldor. Worse, this was a match that the Valar themselves forbade in Aman, even though they are in Beleriand and the cultures of the Sindar and Avari proved otherwise.

How is he supposed to even begin to explain to his father the High King what exactly happened, between him and Aegnor?

"Did you wed me because you were threatened by Hador?" Fingon asks, his voice soft, but he could have brandished a sword at Aegnor, for the way the bigger, taller elf flinches and a frisson of hurt shoots through their bond.

"Finno, that's not--" Egg cries out, sinking into his knees and grasping his hands. "This-- I love you, Finno. I always have! I realized this not long ago-- I admit-- I'm not the best with feelings, or how to truly, properly articulate them-- and I don't deny that I've been flip-flopping around like grounded fish, so many years, even in Valinor--!"

"Yes," Fingon says, not pulling his hands away. "Even in Valinor. You ran to me after every heart break, every failure. Was your heart break with Andreth so great, you had to do this to me? Was your fear of Hador Lórindol so insurmountable? You imagine a mere adan could threaten you?"

Hurt flares across the bond. Aegnor's tears spill over from his eyes and he pulls back, dropping his hands. Fingon clenches them into twin fists, though his gaze never left Aegnor's face.

"There are consequences, Aegnor," he continues. "We are princes of the Noldor. There were a great many expectations for us, regarding these things, and we have flouted them all. You can't run from these consequences now. We face them, or..."

Or what?

"What makes you think I wouldn't?" Aegnor says, and through their bond Fingon feels the beginnings of the other's anger.

"How you treated me over the years of our friendship speaks otherwise," says Fingon. "You will excuse my small doubts. You have no choice but to do so."

The door opens. Fingon's chamberlain, Vorosanya, lets himself in. The ellon bows to them, concern in his gray eyes.

"The High King is looking for you both. I cannot delay, my lords," says Vorosanya.

Fingon stands. "Then we will go meet my father for the breaking of the fast. I'm sure he will excuse me and my....spouse...for the tardiness."

He exits the room first. Aegnor follows, silent, and Vorosanya trails after them both.

nice things to say to people

Sometimes Aikanaro still wonders how it is that he has Findekano sitting with him. Like today. It is a fine day in Vinyamar: since Turgon and his people's disappearance, the rule of Nevrast and its capital Vinyamar had fallen back to Findekano, and they were obliged to visit the seaside territory now and then. There is talk, Egg knows, that the High King is thinking of giving him Nevrast, since the territory is too rich to be abandoned, and Cirdan their neighbor too busy with the Falas already an extensive territory in itself.

But eh. Ruling? Egg can do it, if he is put up to it, but he would really rather not. Ruling entailed many responsibilities he rather avoid, if he could. Yet on the other hand, it means Fingolfin is acknowledging him and Findekano, and for that, Egg was willing to put on the responsible one's boots and rule.

The seaside castle of Vinyamar stands over a cliff overlooking the sea, and it was said if one squinted hard enough of a very clear day, they would be able to see the lighthouse at Tol Eressea. Egg has never tried.

Finno's household staff is moving about briskly, all business, which leaves Egg and Finno by the balcony, enjoying the sea breeze. Vorosanya the High Prince's chamberlain will take care of everything for them. Egg is already contemplating the blue waters of the ocean. Maybe they could swim...

They do this. They go out, follow an old path to the coast, and in the privacy of that hidden little beach they swim around in the warm waters, chasing each other, splashing each other. More and more the idea of having Vinyamar and Nevrast as his seat appeals to Egg.

It is early afternoon when they sit by the sand, sheltered by the shade of many coconut trees there. Egg sleepily leans into Findekano's side, his cheek on his spouse's dark hair.

"Do you think I can rule Nevrast properly?" Egg asks sleepily.

Somewhere he feels Finno kiss his cheek. “A lot of people’s lives are better because you’re in them. I do not see why you cannot do a good job as Nevrast's new lord. Dorthonion was a job well done, my love."

Egg pinks. Uh. Uhhhh. Now he's shy, dammit. His end of their bond bubbles with it. He tucks his face into Finno's dark hair.

"Alright. If you say so. I'll do my best, Finno-Finno." "Mmhm. I know you will."

@skaelds

Secret Dating Things

By all history and lore lessons, it is said that elves should get together and wed only a member of the opposite sex. One of the primary objectives of marriage, after all, was to continue the bloodline, beget children. This aim had not changed since the days before days in Cuiviénen where the elves first awoke.

Egg, Aikanár, understood that. But what lessons he had been given as a young elfling has always been supplemented by other life lessons from his elder brothers, Ingoldo and Angamaitë, from whom he got the learning and understanding that it was perfectly normal to 'play around' and experiment, discover his tastes -- his likes and dislikes with partners, and the entire business of courting and coupling -- so long as there was no untoward and inappropriate betrothal, so long as both parties consented to whatever was being done, that no accidental marital bonds were forged and that no children suddenly popped up.

Egg could do that. He has been doing that.

That night he's perfectly drunk -- the fault of overindulging in classic Telerin rum, and the pearl-beaches of Alqualondë glimmered silver under Telperion's light. His flavor of the month, another ellon -- Maltanecel, a friend from his youth -- has an arm around him, and in turn Egg has an arm around the taller, dark-haired Noldo's waist.

They were working together on a Loremastery work over how oceanic currents affected Telerin and Noldorin maritime trade, and they had just turned in their final draft to their advisor earlier. Of course it necessitated a celebration. Rum and good food were mandatory.

Egg had been batting his cerulean blue eyes at Maltanecel a few hours prior in the tavern, but his friend needed the encouragement brought by two more bottles of rum before they stumbled out of the establishment after hastily paying for their meals and drinks. Rum-flavored kisses are excellent, Egg discovered, and as they wobble-trudged through an abandoned area of the beach, they kissed and kissed and kissed.

Through Egg's hazy mind, he is still aware they are by the shore. He kisses Maltanecel but every scritch and scratch makes them jump, or if the white-foam waves crash just a bit louder than usual. Egg chuckles here and there at their silliness, but even if he were inebriated beyond Irmo's rescue, he will not forget Angamaitë and Ingoldo's words of caution. Yeah.

They collapse on the sand behind an upturned fishing boat and continue their drunken kissing spree. Maltanecel says something about his tunic being uncomfortable, and Egg, giggling like no tomorrow, tries to figure out his buttons.

"Wait--wait, Egg," Maltanecel moans, and Egg squints-- was he a little bit green?

Before Egg could say anything, Maltanecel turns to the side and vomits onto the sound.

Egg wavers, drunk, but his mind insists quite clearly that no, he does not like vomit-flavored kisses. He is about to say this, but Maltanecel topples backward. Knocked out.

A flutter of disgust worms its way through the pleasant drunken state of Egg's mind. It clears up a great chunk of his thoughts. He sits there on the sand, wrinkling his tanned, freckled nose.

Bleagh. Never mind.

Secret Dating Things

Angrod surveys his younger brother move about, packing loaves of bread in a hardy cloth. Egg is pretending to not notice his scrutiny; the tall, tanned, muscular and flaxen-curled elf moves about, whistling merrily even, as he surveys jars of jam, decides on orange and strawberry, and adds those to the basket.

"Do we have goat cheese?" Aegnor asks, turning to him, cheery, perhaps overly cheery. Angrod narrows his eyes. "Yes. In the pantry."

Egg snaps his fingers, turns heel, and skips off toward the pantry. To Angrod, the nightmare of the year past where Egg and Finrod had their most terrible quarrel seemed inexistent. He remembers it still, how he and Edhellos were hard-put, panicking, unable to know which brother to pacify first: Egg, who was shouting vitriol and words of hatred toward their eldest brother -- or Finrod, who has never raised a voice against each one of their siblings, but on that day only fury was on his face, distorting his visage even.

I will never grant you that blessing even if you crawl for it! Finrod had screamed, and it was terrible to behold. Angrod might not have been the object of his ire, but this was Finrod, who never got angry with them, whose patience extended as infinitely as strands of Varda's starlight hair.

But now, one year later. Egg is here, unnaturally cheerful, hoarding food...for what?

When Egg emerges from the pantry with the cheeses, Angrod clears his throat. "Where are you going, Aikanár?"

Egg freezes, still clutching the cheeses. He looks at Angrod like a deer caught in torchlight, smile frozen on his tanned face.

"Picnic," Egg says, smile still stiff and contrived. Of all of Finarfin's children, Aikanár was the most hopeless of them when it came to lying. "I'm going on a picnic...I eat a lot...and I like cheese."

"Huh. And where are you taking this picnic? You won't need that much if you just want to sit by the shores of the Aeluin," Angrod points out.

That smile gets tense. "I'm gonna...." Egg gestures vaguely. Angrod could see him scrambling all of his brain cells for an excuse. "I'm gonna ride a bit. Ladros, you know? See some of my friends from Bëor's-- yes."

"I thought you avoided Bëor's people after the--." Now it is Angrod's turn to gesture.

"Huh? I did? Haha!" Aegnor's smile hitches up, blindingly brilliant, and he hurriedly shoves the cheeses into his loaded basket. "Erm. And then I'll uh, ride west!"

"West...?" Angrod repeats.

"I'm going to picnic with Artaresto, and so there! Stop asking questions! I'm a grown Elf!" Aegnor cries out. Taking advantage of Angrod's surprise at the vehemence, Egg quickly snatches his basket and escapes the kitchen.

Somewhere, a rooster crows outside.

Angrod relaxes in his seat. He sips another mouthful of coffee. Huh. But he does have an idea where Egg might be going. Dor-lómin. A journey that is only five days on horse, really, but Egg will get lost, and the journey will take 8 days, maybe 10. So the food is more for him, really, than a picnic. Though Angrod knows the cheese will go to a cousin of theirs, named Fingon.

A slow smile appears on Angrod's lips. Eru. Finally.