But Not Always Sweet by Grundy

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Over The Years

4 true drabbles for the Literature prompts N1: Parody, N2: Whodunnit, N4: Sketch Comedy, and N5: Dream within a dream

No warnings on this chapter.

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Elrond found his children laughing. Little Arwen’s infectious mirth had spread to her brothers and he suspected all three would be hard put to settle.

“What is so amusing?” he asked curiously. After hours trying to keep Celeborn and Erestor from glaring holes in each other, he could do with a chuckle!

“Elladan has made up the best song, Ada,” Arwen burbled. “It is after the Noldolantë but funny instead of sad. He calls it Am In Gelydh!”

The expression on his son’s face suggested he was unaware Maglor had also been skilled at humor and parody, not just tragedy.

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Fëanáro gave all seven sons and assorted nephews his sternest look.

“You might save yourselves considerable trouble and confess now,” he suggested.

He was unsurprised that no one stepped forward. He wouldn’t have in their places. Nevertheless…

“I will find out who was responsible for this,” he warned them silkily. “And there will be consequences.”

Not even Curufinwë was willing to meet his eyes.

Any mirth the young ones had expected to feel had been outweighed by him discovering so quickly just why everyone was giving him such looks.

“I will restore my hair to its proper color first, however.”

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Gil-galad blinked in bemusement.

“What under the stars are you children doing?” he asked.

Elros had many talents. Though drawing wasn’t one that stood out particularly, he was surely capable of producing something better than… whatever the thing that looked like someone had crossed a rabbit with a dragon was meant to be.

“It’s a mannish game,” the boy explained blithely. “You have to illustrate words or phrases well enough for your teammates to guess them. And osanwë is unfair, so we’re practicing.”

“And your phrase is…?”

“Likely as a fire-breathing bunny,” Elrond filled in. “It’s something the Haladin say.”

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“It doesn’t seem real,” Amarië whispered.

Finrod knew what she meant. Being alive – again – and back home after so many years of wishing for that very thing (without the detour through the Halls) occasionally led him to question if he were still alive, somewhere in Beleriand, and merely dreaming.

That tomorrow was to be their wedding day felt like even more fanciful, to the point he almost feared he might wake up. It was too much.

“But it is,” Amarië added softly. “One more sleep and then…”

He laughed quietly, but privately he wondered.

Could one dream within a dream?