Betting on Family by Tehta

Betting On Family

Read Betting On Family

“You know,” said Artanis, “Grandmother tells me that we used to elect our leaders. Before we got to Valinor, that is.”

“Oh?” Írissë took a brief break from pacing the terrace to stand at the railing, gazing at the square down below. Yes, Father and Uncle Feanaro were still going at it. She could not hear their actual words, of course -- they had not reached the shouting stage yet -- but the shocked, yet intrigued expressions of the growing crowd of onlookers suggested that they had, at least, started on the veiled personal insults.

“Moreover,” Artanis continued from her seat in the shade, “we would usually elect their eventual replacements as well. After all, establishing a line of succession actually made sense back then, what with the East being such a dangerous place.”

“Oh, I know!” Írissë turned to face her. “The East! Where everything was scary and new and thrilling, and where every turn of the stars brought a new surprise, and where people used to disappear, never to be seen again. You know, I almost envy them-- No, come on”, she said in response to her cousin’s slight flinch. The one that often indicated moments of foresight, at least those that were not marked by increased thoughtfulness. “Obviously I do not mean I envy them all the dying. That would be far too melodramatic, and probably quite dull, once the novelty wore off. But I rather like the idea of getting away from things. I mean, this whole family situation,” she continued with a gesture towards the square, where the argument seemed to be escalating, “is so… so…”

“Pointless? Unreasonable? Embarrassing?”

“Predictable. Repetitive. Endlessly, endlessly tedious.”

Artanis tilted her head to one side. “Your father does not seem bored. And neither does Uncle, not once they get going.”

“I guess not.” Írissë strode over, and threw herself down on the bench beside her. “But then, I suppose that is exactly why they keep at it. In fact,” she continued, sitting up a little, “I would bet anything that if some actual danger actually appeared, they would make peace at once.”

“Hmm.” Artanis looked thoughtful.

“After all, I argue with my brothers too, and we always reconcile when it matters. Even if the threats we face are not even very exciting ones. Just… boring courtiers, and cancelled hunts, and matching, uncomfortable outfits. Speaking of which, have I mentioned--”

And there it came: the shouting. From the sound of it, Father had been the first to crack, this time. Írissë sighed, and wriggled back against the wall.

“Anyway,” said Artanis, with a sympathetic look. “As I was saying: elections. They do sound very practical, even in a peaceful land like ours, where leaders do not die or disappear. After all, new candidates do keep appearing--being born, I mean--and it seems so unfair that-- Besides, I suspect grandfather could use a rest.”

“I certainly would, in his place. Imagine being a ruler: all the responsibility, the paperwork, the diplomacy--”

“The opportunity to arrange things sensibly for once. And to prove oneself: surely you would welcome a chance to do so?”

“Not as a leader! Have you noticed what Grandfather’s days are like? Stupid meeting after stupid meeting, with breaks only to read stupid documents.”

“As overloaded schedule could hamper one quite badly, of course. But then, a competent leader should be able to streamline the court so it is no longer necessary.”

“I suppose.” Írissë smoothed out her skirt. “But that sounds utterly boring, too. Thank Eru I am the youngest, and so it is very unlikely that I will ever-- Ah.” She gave her cousin a searching look. “I see. And I want you to know that I would be happy to vote for you, if you requested it, if only to enjoy the looks on all our cousins’ faces when you beat them all. I do have one condition, though.”

Artanis raised her eyebrows in question.

“You must promise never to vote for me!”

When Artanis failed to laugh at this excellent joke, Írissë had to do so herself. Once she had finished, they passed a moment sitting in companionable silence. Yes, silence: the incident in the square was clearly over. Írissë let out a long breath.

“So,” said Artanis at last. “Your new quiver, then? The one with the pearl inlay?”

“Yes? What about it?”

“I seem to recall that you wanted to make a bet, one about Uncles reconciling when faced with danger. Would you stake your new quiver on it?”

Írissë gave this some thought. “Yes, if you put up your sailboat. Oh, come on,” she continued, before her cousin could protest the uneven stakes. “You know it is only fair, given your fortune-telling abilities.”

“I do know, trust me.” Artanis smiled. “But if you are concerned about my gift of insight, why make the bet at all?”

“Why not? Betting is exciting. I need all the excitement I can get.”

---

Írissë finally spotted Artanis close to the bottom of Túna, which she was descending, her face pale in the light of the torch held in her hand; paler even than could be explained by contrast with the unfamiliar darkness.

“Oromë’s spear!” Írissë hurried to her cousin’s side. “What has happened? Was it something exciting? Tell me I did not miss it all!”

“Much has happened, yes, but I think the real excitement is only about to begin.” Artanis embraced her briefly, with her torch-free arm. “And do not worry, I will tell you everything! But…” She frowned, as she did when foresight proved elusive. “How come you missed it? Where were you?”

“Where do you think?” Írissë reached over her shoulder, to retrieve the quiver. “Fetching your winnings, of course.”

---

Chapter End Notes

0. Thanks to LJ friends who encouraged me to post this as a story, even though it is such a short little thing!
1. Galadriel's thoughts in this story were inspired by the SWG Silmarillion re-read, where we started discussing Noldorin succession laws (and why they would have any, in the first place.)