Bloody silmarils, book I by Dilly

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Chapter 10: My Brother the Hero

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Fingon Fingolfinion was taking a breath of fresh air in the courtyard of the castle, and the gold chains in his great plaits made quite a martial din as he walked.

Belin and Ecthelion watched him silently, hidden behind a straw bale.

"They look 'like each other very much, Messire, the High King of the Noldor and Fingonion. It's a bit like when you're doing a cuttin'. You cut a branch off the shrub and plant it in the ground. And then it's the same shrub all over again. It's kind of the same for those two."

"Belin Goldenhead", said Ecthelion, "however daring Fingolfin Finwion may be, no one has been able to match the valour of his son Fingon to this day. He is a model for all of us, a kind of ideal. That said..."

"Yes?"

"I never thought I'd be taller than him."

"So you're a little disappointed."

The Lord of the Fountain looked at his squire in surprise.

 

 

Later in the evening, King Turgon was seated at the festive table with a plaster collar around his neck. Fingon, his elder brother, was sitting right next to him. He had taken off his armour and traveling clothes and put on a Prussian blue tunic in a shade that suited him well. The stern and determined expression that was usually on his face had temporarily gone away. At that moment he looked only... kind.

"By Aulë, but what a beautiful necklace!" Turgon remarked then.

"Which one?"

"The third in silver, with the ruby."

"Ah, this one... it's a gift from Maedhros."

"Why doesn't that surprise me," Turgon grumbled to himself.

"I have to admit that I hadn't had a chance to wear it until today," said his brother. "But I think it's mithril, not silver."

"Can I look at it more closely?" asked Turgon, engrossed in his plaster.

Like his cousins Finrod and Curufin, he was very interested in the arts of jewelry. Fingon untied it and placed it in the palm of his hand. Turgon began to observe him, his eyes shining.

"Indeed, it is mithril... and this ruby... by Aulë! It's not a ruby, it's a red diamond!"

"What's the difference?"

"Don't you know the difference? Red diamonds are the rarest of all types of diamonds! Your necklace must be worth a quarter of my gold reserves and… gemstones like that, there must be no more than three of them in all of Middle-earth! I can't believe Nelyo gave you this!"

"Some Naugrim must have given him... and since he's not very fond of necklaces…"

Turgon had a skeptical pout. He gave him back the collar and started to eat a plate of cold cuts to console himself.

 

* * *

"I'm so glad to see you, little brother," Fingon confessed with a slanting glance, just before the roasts arrived. "My little brother whom I hadn't seen for so long... because he had disappeared into the wilderness and no one knew where he was."

"But I do what I want, in the end! Is there a law that says I have to keep you informed of everything I do? I was taking a breath of fresh air in a quiet, secluded place, and by Ulmo, I won't talk, even under torture."

"By Varda, I just wanted to know where you were ! And I remember Vinyamar, on my last visit. Now half the houses look deserted. Where have all these people gone? It looks like some kind of supernatural phenomenon."

"It's vacation time in Nevrast."

"Or rather, they've all migrated to your secret kingdom."

Turgon's gaze fell on his brother's left forearm, which was even more muscular than the last time he had seen it, and which seemed hard as stone. He touched it with his fingertip.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing... I was wondering if they were like Glorfindel's."

* * *

Two hours later, the desserts were brought to the table. Turgon had already drunk more than he should have, and he dreamily said to Fingon :

"Once, I fell asleep on the lawn over there... And I had a prophetic dream."

"Again?"

"I dreamt that you got married and had a child... His name was Galahad. Gil-Galahad."

"But of course... I'm not getting married to please you."

"You should think about it, though. People talk."

"Talk?"

"They tell things. You're still only seen with men."

"That's a really stupid accusation," replied Fingon. "I must have told Maedhros at least ten times already that I had nothing but curiosity about Men. He was imagining things."

"I wasn't talking about those men! But since we're talking about Maedhros... What's this weird relationship between you two, exactly?"

"It's called friendship, brother."

"Friendship? I wasn't born under Arien. He keeps sending you gifts, each one rarer and more expensive than the last. And I can see how he looks at you. There's a little blazing inferno in each of his eyes when he puts them on you. It looks like his father."

"This is ridiculous. There was never a flame in Maedhros' eyes."

Hildor the minstrel seeped into the conversation: "In his hair, on the other hand..."

"Oh you, don't start," Turgon ordered sternly.

"You bore me about my necklace, but that bracelet on your wrist, wasn't it a gift from Finrod?"

"It's a simple gold bracelet he made me for my birthday. It has nothing to do with a red diamond."

"Bah! I'm told you're sharing your quarters with your steward."

"Of course, so that communication is faster between us, and so that I always have him on hand."

"Always on hand, you say?"

Turgon's face turned red.

"Dare you imply that me and Penlodh...? " he became indignant. "Two such respectable persons and…"

The end of his defence was lost in indistinction.

"I'm not implying anything, brother, I'm not implying anything... I am simply stating the facts..."

It was time for fruit and marzipan. The cupbearer filled Turgon's cup with a dark, thick wine.

"Tell me, 'cause I'm trying to refine the thing here... Does Maedhros ever touch your hair?"

"Huh? Why do you ask?"

"Because if he touches your hair, it's proof that he feels much more than friendship for you. Elenwë often touched my hair. And so did I..."

Fingon looked embarrassed.

"Why are you bringing this up again? No, Maedhros doesn't touch my hair."

"Well, that's something. And does he have a small dog?"

"A small dog?"

"Yes. A tiny dog. Elves with inverted tastes often have a tiny dog."

Fingon frowned on her spiky eyebrows, and a fingolfinian expression of contempt appeared on her face.

"But this is ridiculous! Maedhros doesn't have a small dog... And I don't see what having a small dog has to do with being gay!"

"Of course, this is not an established truth," Turgon conceded. "But it's a statistical fact..."

"Oh, boy. I've never heard anything so stupid," replied Fingon with a cold laugh.

"Why are you getting so angry," said Turgon as he emptied his glass.

"Because it's a totally stigmatizing assertion."

"Stigmatizing what?"

"That's absurd... And I never thought you'd believe in such commonplaces..."

"Commonplaces, commonplaces..."

Fingon rose abruptly from the table.

"I have a small dog!" he exclaimed, throwing his napkin on Turgon's plate. "And I'm not a homosexual!"

He left the room.

Turgon looked devastated.

"By Eru and all the Valar..." he murmured. "He's the woman in the relationship!"

 

 

 

 

 

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Chapter End Notes

On the subject of Maedhros gifts, you can read the one-shot "The Lord of the Gifts" in the same series.