A Walk down Memory Lane by Raiyana

Vëassë Tyeroliëo and a Bowl of Cheese

Because of this discussion, Maglor is now the president of the association for the appreciation of cheese in Tirion... Moryo does not quite approve.

“It’s just cheese, Makalaurë,” Carnistir said, giving his brother an exasperated glare. Makalaurë gaped at him, looking almost physically wounded as he clutched the small container to his breast with an affronted huff.

“Just cheese?” he screeched, glaring at Carnistir. “This is first class Tyeraman!”

“It’s cheese,” Carnistir scoffed, picking up one of the flaky crackers that Makalaurë had had the cook bake special. “And a dry biscuit.”

“With herbs!”

“Sorry,” Carnistir drawled, crumbling the small square between his fingers, “dry biscuit… with herbs.”

“You know Makalaurë likes his cheeses, Moryo,” Maitimo interrupted, dropping a hand on one of their shoulders. He didn’t squeeze, but Carnistir suddenly felt very aware that he might. “Perhaps you’ll come to like it if you try it.”

“I think it’s quite tasty,” Telperína said, biting into her cracker and attempting to catch the crumbs before they fell down her neckline. Carnistir smirked at Curvo, who seemed far more interested in the journey of the crumbs than the argument over the cheese. It was adorable how he still thought no one had noticed his massive crush on the silver-haired playwright, really. “It’s a subtle flavour, but I like the combination.” Stuffing the rest of her cracker into her mouth – Curvo looked disappointed for a moment before he remembered that his brothers were watching – she chewed thoughtfully.

“I still don’t see any reason to make a cheese-club,” Carnistir said, but accepted a cracker of his own, the soft pale cheese with its white rind lying innocently on the crunchy pastry.

“It’s not a cheese-club, Moryo!” Makalaurë protested, coming down from his ‘at least someone appreciates my hobbies’-cloud long enough to glare at Carnistir. “I have founded the Association for the Appreciation of Cheese – and you are definitely not going to qualify for membership! – in an attempt to bring the different cheesemaking traditions of Aman together!”

“Yes, but Vëassë Tyeroliëo?” Carnistir asked, doing his best to ignore the way Curvo watched Telperína spread the cheese on another biscuit. It seemed like a borderline erotic act, the way his brother’s eyes glowed, and that was something Carnistir did his best not to imagine – he hadn’t even kissed the girl yet, he had no grounds to be looking at her that way.

“The Fellowship of the Cheese-People is a perfectly good name!” Makalaurë exclaimed, wincing when Maitimo’s hold tightened. Carnistir let out a small grunt.

“Fine.” Gritting out the word insincerely, he accepted the small cracker with bad grace.

“Eat it.” Maitimo’s command was as hard to disobey as one of Atto’s, but Makalaurë’s smugness when Carnistir finally popped it into his mouth was mitigated by the way he tried to cringe away – evidence that Maitimo’s silent warning was delivered equally to both of them.

Carnistir ate the cheese.

It was annoyingly tasty.

Not as annoying as watching Curvo eat his morsel from Telperína’s fingers, of course; that sappy smile looked wrong on Curvo’s face, too reminiscent of the way Atto would sometimes stare at Ammë. Carnistir sighed. Last time, they’d received new brothers shortly after he’d caught that look on his Atar’s face. And Curvo hadn't even kissed the girl yet.

Chewing, he nudged Curvo wordlessly, the ósanwë equivalent of ‘I see you’ making Curvo fall off his chair and stealing the attention of their brothers.

Carnistir stole another of the small crackers while no one noticed. Maybe the Cheese-People wouldn’t be a complete waste of time…