What Happens at Camp Eglarest, Stays at Camp Eglarest by polutropos

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Daeron

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“No, no, you’re not getting it.” Maglor slapped the steering wheel with his palm and flared his eyes wide at the road ahead. “The semiotics of harmonic categories do not allow for an epistemological analysis of tripartite theory–”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Daeron shuffled in the passenger seat and tugged at his shoulder strap. They’d been driving for six hours straight and he was now not only going numb below the waist but the midday sun was making the metal four-wheeled cage unbearably hot. And somehow he’d given his roommate an opening to talk about this.

In the five months they’d been living together in one of Maglor’s dad’s mansions (turns out Fëanor Finvesen populated every property he owned in Beleria with a son or other family member to avoid the empty-homes tax), they mostly got along. But when Daeron had responded to the post looking for a roommate he hadn’t expected that music – the common interest that drew him to reply in the first place (well, that, and living in a mansion) – would actually be the issue they’d squabble about most. 

“What do you mean?” Maglor’s brow was knit with sincere confusion when he glanced over at Daeron, who slumped into his seat and met his eyes with an indifferent stare. “Oh, do not tell me you agree with Stella Ekszer’s* theory of–”

“Okay, first off,” Daeron held up a finger on the hand he was dangling out the window, “the words you are using make about as much sense together as the toppings you got on your frozen yogurt yesterday, and two,” he put up another finger, “I don’t know who the fuck Stella Ekszer is.”

“You don’t know who – mm!” Maglor pursed his lips and inhaled deeply. “I don’t know why I even–”

Daeron caught sight of a white post with a sign in tiny text reading EGLAREST BEACH CAMPING. “Wait, that’s the turn!”

“Oh, shit.” Maglor made a sharp right and they careened off the highway onto the narrow road. The car jolted up and down as they sped far too quickly over the uneven pavement.

“Slow down!” Daeron shouted, gripping the window frame.

“I am! I can’t just go from a hundred** to ten like that. Maybe you should get a license before you start telling me how to drive!”

“No way, cars are evil,” Daeron grumbled, “I’m telling you, they will be banned within ten years.”

“All right, get out and walk the rest of the way then!” When Daeron didn’t respond, he smacked the steering wheel again. “Dammit, Dae, you’re so self-righteous! Can’t you go one weekend without pushing some environmental agenda?”

A moment of tense silence passed as Maglor carefully guided the car around a series of immense potholes. They might as well have been walking at this speed. 

The camping trip to Eglarest Beach had been Lúthien’s initiative. His ebullient older sister hadn’t even bothered to ask Daeron if he wanted his roommate along for their annual July long-weekend trip, but given that she was bringing her obnoxious fiancé he didn’t mind having someone else – though the fact two of Maglor’s brothers had gotten wind of the plans and invited themselves was worrying.

“I’m sorry,” Maglor mumbled when they got onto a smooth stretch. “And you’re right about the toppings. Peanut butter and pineapple do not go together. It was disgusting.”

Maglor looked over at him for a reaction and Daeron felt an involuntary tug at the corners of his lips. He leaned forward to grab his phone from the console and started searching.

“Oh, no…” Maglor’s voice dropped as he returned his attention to the road. Daeron bit down on a laugh and hit play.

Baaabbee and a bubblegum beat poured from the speakers like a cry of vengeance. Daeron turned the volume up as high as he could and started to twist and sway in his seat as he drummed out the rhythm on his thighs. 

Daeron caught a glimpse of Maglor’s pained expression, tears practically spilling from the rims of his grey-blues eyes, shaking his head of thick black curls in disgust at the ‘assault on his senses,’ as he would call it. 

"Ring ding dong ring ding dong!” Daeron sang along at the top of his lungs and he smacked Maglor’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Come on, sing it!”

Maglor muttered something but Daeron couldn’t hear him over the blaring K-Pop; he set the song on repeat. 

"Fantastic fantastic fantastic fantastic, elastic elastic elastic elastic,” Daeron belted as they bumped along the narrow road and it turned to gravel, forcing Maglor to slow down even more – prolonging his misery, Daeron thought, and he cackled mirthfully.

When they were finally pulling up to the campground, music still blasting, Lúthien came running up to the car.

“Hey! You made it!” she shouted, running alongside them. “Beren found a spot right on the water – oh my god, I love this song! It’s such a vibe.”

“Right?!” Daeron exclaimed.

Maglor pulled up to the campsite and aggressively turned off the car and the music with it. Slamming his door on the way out, he stalked off into the trees and shouted towards the sky.

“What’s wrong with him?” Lúthien asked.

“Oh, he doesn’t think Ring Ding Dong is a vibe,” Daeron said.

A startling pop made Daeron and Lúthien both jump and turn to face the source of the sound, where they saw a huge motorbike weaving down the road, engine sputtering and belching. Its driver slid up beside Maglor’s hatchback and came to a stop only a few feet from Lúthien. He pulled off his helmet, releasing a mop of straw-gold hair that fell to frame a confident grin and bright grey eyes.

“Hi,” he said, swinging a leg over the bike and popping out the kickstand in one smooth motion. “I’m Celegorm.”

It was only then that Daeron noticed the large German shepherd seated nonchalantly in a rack affixed to the back of the bike. He stumbled backwards.

“Turco!” came Maglor’s voice, addressing his brother in their native tongue. “I told you not to bring Huan! They don’t allow dogs here.”

“Really? Or was it because your weird roommate is scared of them?” He looked Daeron up and down and smirked.

“He can understand us,” Maglor snapped, sending Daeron a conciliatory glance.

“You speak Quenya?” Celegorm pointed a strong finger at Daeron.

“Yes,” said Daeron, at the same time as Maglor said, “He speaks seven languages.”

“Jesus,” Celegorm whistled, “nerd.”

Meanwhile, Lúthien had gone to greet Huan and the dog was enthusiastically licking her face and pawing at her shoulders.

Nervously eyeing the slobbery animal, Daeron rubbed his sweating palms over his jeans and extended a hand towards Celegorm. “I’m Daeron.”

“Yeah, I know who you are,” Celegorm replied. “I’ve seen your cute posters plastered on every street corner. How is it you get all the best gigs and my brother gets none? Don’t suppose it has anything to do with being the mayor’s son?”

“Uh…” Daeron let his hand fall and stared at it.

“Cel, seriously,” Maglor said. “Don’t be an ass. Daeron is just better known in Beleria than I am, I’ve only been in town a few months.”

Daeron had expected to remain in Maglor’s bad books over the Ring Ding Dong incident for a little more than five minutes, and was almost disappointed that he was taking his side against Celegorm. He returned Maglor’s apologetic smile with a quirk of his lips and Maglor held his gaze for an uncomfortably long moment.

“Oh, aren’t you the cutest!” Lúthien cooed at Huan as he jumped out of the carrier into her arms, toppling her backwards. She laughed gleefully. 

Celegorm spun to face her and extended an arm to help her back up. “And you must be Mayor Singh's daughter?” 

She ignored his hand and leapt to her feet, ruffling Huan’s fur as he stood panting happily beside her. “Yes, that’s me. Lúthien Singh-Goel. And if you shit on my little brother again I will hit you.”

Celegorm stepped back and arched his eyebrows, casting a glance back at Daeron and Maglor. “Damn. Noted.”

“Good,” Maglor said. "Thank you, Lúthien, for your help keeping my brother in line." He turned back to Celegorm. "Where’s Curufin?”

Celegorm shrugged and opened the trunk of his bike to begin unpacking. “He couldn't find any one to look after Tyelpe.”

“What about Finrod? I thought he loved hanging out with Tyelpe.”

“Apparently Curvo pissed him off,” Celegorm waved him off. “I don't know. You didn’t seriously want him here, anyway, did you?”

“Oh, heeyyy everyone.” They all looked toward the drawling voice coming up behind them, which belonged to Beren, Lúthien’s fiancé. Daeron had always thought his sister could do better, but he felt this especially right now as he caught sight of the tattered boots, wool socks hiked up to his knees, and the scraggly beard he had let grow rather out of control. Lúthien, of course, threw herself at him and started rooting through his pack excitedly.

“Hey, Daeron,” Beren said, “hey, hey everybody.” He nodded at Maglor and Celegorm as he walked down toward the picnic table. “I’m Beren.” He threw his pack down on the table and put his hands on his hips, breathing deeply and looking around. “Man, how much do you love this camping spot? Stellar.” 

“Oh, wow!” Lúthien exclaimed, pulling a giant chicken-of-the-woods from his pack. “Beren, I can’t believe you found all these!”

“Yeah, babe, it’s gonna be great. Mushroom burgers tonight.”

“Perfect,” Celegorm said. “I brought some of that frozen ground elk from last fall’s hunting–”

Beren’s perpetually chill expression hardened and he glared across the table at Celegorm. “No, man. We don’t eat animals here.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Celegorm said, “don’t tell me I’m stuck with a vegetarian for four days!”

“Vegan,” Beren corrected.

“Christ, that’s much worse.” He opened his mouth to say something more, but Lúthien caught his eyes, daggers blazing from hers, and he pinched his lips shut. He huffed off to the corner of the site with an armload of his camping supplies, Huan padding after him with a whimper. 

“Uh, sorry,” Maglor said, walking over to shake Beren’s hand. “I’m Maglor, Daeron’s roommate. That was my brother Celegorm. He’s, uh, he gets better. He’s not good with first impressions. Kind of likes to piss on things when he first sees them, to mark his territory – like his dog.” Maglor laughed nervously.

“I fucking heard that!” Celegorm shouted as he hammered a tent peg into the ground.

Beren was calmly unpacking and sorting his haul of funguses as if nothing had happened. “Yeah, cool, it’s chill. Nice to meet you, Maglor.”

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Chapter End Notes

* Stella means ‘star’ in Italian, Ekszer means ‘jewel’ in Hungarian/Magyar. Elemmírë, the famed composer of Aldudénië, a lament on the Darkening of Valinor, also means Star-Jewel. ** kph, folks. Maglor is not that much a speed demon. If you're like me and have never listened to K-Pop in your life, this is the song Daeron torments Maglor with: Ring Ding Dong.