Another phone ficlet ✨! Enjoy 1.1k of Maedhros getting bullied by bb!aragorn and legolas! (Has Maedhros been re-embodied? Is this a Maedhros Lives AU? who knows, not me.)
Loosely inspired by Cast in Stone by @balrogballs which also features delightful amounts of Maedhros getting bullied by Estel and Legolas.
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"What's this rubbish?" Estel held up the coin Maedhros had deposited in his palm, and instead of looking in the least thankful for his act of – considerable – generosity, the boy seemed, if anything, outraged. Repulsed, even.
"You said you needed money for the fair, didn't you?" Maedhros bit out, more peeved than he would like to admit by the lacklustre response. While beaming genuflection was, perhaps, too much to ask for, sincere gratitude was not, and this was neither.
But the little brat paid no heed to Maedhros's aggravation and waved the coin in his face. "This isn't enough, old man! Haven't you ever heard of inflation? You're not in the First Age anymore – you can't buy yourself five white stallions and a handy with the spare change for a single gold coin anymore. They'll laugh me out of the fairground if I show up with this! Is that what you want? You want them to laugh at me?!" Wailing out an indeterminate aiaiai he sank to the ground, dragging his hands down his face at the mere prospect of such indignity.
Maedhros felt his eye twitch. Never, not once in all his long, debaucherous years in Tirion, would he have dared to even think the word handy in Finwë's presence.
Elrond, he thought sourly, should have walloped this boy more. Or even just once.
Pulling another coin out of his pocket with a curse, he slammed it onto the table between them. "There! And don't you even think of asking for more!" he added when the boy opened his mouth to, no doubt, protest once again.
"Ugh! You're such a cheapskate," the boy fumed, "just my luck! To have five grandfathers and each more stingy than the next."
That wasn't quite fair, thought Maedhros, given that two of the boy's grandfathers were dead, another was a star, and one was – well Maglor was definitely a cheapskate. If asked to borrow a few pennies, Maglor was liable to hand over a conch shell from his robes and start waxing poetic about the priceless gift of Ilúvatar's music.
"You know what the problem is?" piped in his little elven friend from the corner in which he was doing a handstand so quietly Maedhros had clean forgotten he was even there. "The problem is," he continued, quite sagely for a boy whose face was turning plum-purple from all the blood rushing to his head, "that he's unemployed."
Righting himself with a tidy flip, he pranced over to Estel and draped his lanky body over the other boy's shoulder and attempted to whisper, "I mean, think about it, where's he even getting the – little – money he has from? It's not like anyone would hire him. He's probably," the Prince of Mirkwood looked around furtively, "killing people for it."
Estel looked suitably alarmed. "Atto, are you some kind of highwayman? Be honest now!"
"Don't be ridiculous," Maedhros sputtered, "Of course I'm not a highwayman."
Neither boy looked convinced. "Then where did you get these?" He held up the coins Maedhros was fast regretting forking over like a lawyer displaying damning evidence in court.
"None of your business," he snapped, moving forward to confiscate the ill-gotten plunder, "Must a man account for every coin in his purse? See if you ever get another penny from me again, boy."
But Estel only scurried out of range, clutching his booty protectively to his chest lest his wicked grandfather snatch it from him. "You must have gotten it from somewhere." he said, laughing nervously. "What – does Ada give you pin money too?"
For one brief but incriminating second, Maedhros froze before he recovered himself, scoffing, "What nonsense." But it was too late. Like a shark attracted to the chum, the boy scented his weakness in the air. Had it been any other time and any other victim, Maedhros might even have been proud of him.
"Oh my god," breathed Estel, eyes wide as saucers, "He does. Ada gives you pin money." Next to him, his horrid little friend started braying with laughter like some blonde, two-legged donkey.
Forgetting his earlier trepidation, the boy rushed towards him. "How much? D'you get more than me? That's not fair! You shouldn't get more than me!"
"Of course I get more than you," Maedhros snapped, so offended by the idea of recieving even less of an allowance than his own grandson that he forgot to deny the accusation entirely.
Luckily for him, and unluckily for Elrond, his son chose that moment to make his entrance, and rather than waste any more time bandying words about uselessly with his grandfather, Estel decided to go straight to the source.
Flinging a hand in Maedhros's direction, he demanded, "Ada, does Atto get more pin money than me?"
"Stop calling it pin money," Maedhros barked even as a bemused Elrond started hemming and hawing, "and of course I do. Yonya, tell him."
"Well..." Elrond began, eyes darting between the two of them like a deer caught between two hunters trying to decide which would be more merciful.
Slowly, Maedhros turned to face him more fully. "Elrond," he said, with as much menace as he could muster (a not inconsiderable amount, for the curious and uninitiated), "I do get more than him, don't I?"
Elrond wouldn't meet his eyes. "Oh, you know–"
Life really was just an unending series of indignities, wasn't it?
"The boy?" he exploded as Estel joined his friend in bursting into peals of hysterical laughter, slapping his thighs and pointing at Maedhros through streaming eyes, "The boy gets more than me?!"
As if being maintained by one's son was not already humiliating enough.
Having rapidly regained his equilibirum, Elrond huffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh come off it, Atto. He's young – he has sweets to get, friends to impress. You, on the other hand, buy one new cloak every ten years, what will you even do with more pin money–"
"It's not pin money–"
"And you – give me that," reaching over, he wrestled Estel's loot away from him, "Stop extorting your grandfather for money."
Maedhros held out his hand expectantly, shooting Estel a smug smirk over Elrond's head, and then stared in incredulous horror as, instead of returning his largesse, Elrond slipped it discreetly into his own pocket.
"Now, please," he continued as if nothing has happened, "don't let Maglor find out I'm giving you an allowance else he'll bleed me out of house and home and neither of you will see so much as another copper piece from me again." That said, he swept out of the room, leaving both grandfather and grandson gawping after him.
A sullen silence settled in the air, broken only by Estel scuffing his foot sulkily against the floor. "I guess that's what I get for taking from the poor," he grumbled, not looking at Maedhros.
For the tropical prompts, Aegnor and Angrod and Fingon and cold drinks and food, if you like? In whatever language you choose. Thank you!
Hi! Thank you so much for the prompt! This was great fun writing - these silly boys! All three of them are in their early teens here.
Day 1
Rated: G
Wordcount: 564 words
“What’s for dinner? I’m starving!” Angaráto complained for the tenth time.
Ambaráto rolled his eyes. “Stop whining, you’ve just eaten lunch!”
“Clearly it was not enough,” Findekáno said with a smile.
They all sat comfortably in their grandfather’s solarium, enjoying the festivities. After having a meal with the whole family – tense, as usual, for Fëanáro decided to show up – the three of them had been lounging and showing off the gifts they had received from their parents and siblings.
“I bet that no one would say anything if went to kitchen to eat more,” Angaráto said. “It’s not like they will let us starve until dinner is served!”
Ambaráto looked uncertainly between his brother and his cousin. Findekáno was more familiar with Finwë’s palace than any of Arafinwë’s children – and if he was honest with himself, the lunch had been light and the idea of having more turkey with corn crumbs made his mouth water.
“I wouldn’t mind eating more,” Ambaráto admitted.
“Sure, why not?” Findekáno stood up. “I myself am drying to have some ice-cold coconut water.”
“Oh yes, that too,” Angaráto said with evident glee, his eyes shining. “It was very kind of Fëanáro to bring those.”
“It wasn’t exactly his idea, but Maitimo’s,” Findekáno supplied with a murmur. “Look, you go ahead and I will join you in a minute. I will ask something quick to my father first.”
Ambaráto shrugged, and on to the kitchen they went. The servants made no protest when they showed up and started taking off the ice the green salad with tomatoes, carrots, nuts, and mango, avocado sandwiches, beetroot soup, lentils, and the turkey with corn crumbs from the night before – the food was cold and fresh to fend off the heat of this time of year.
Ambaráto had a little more salad with the turkey and some sandwiches, while Angaráto ate as though it was his first meal of the day.
“You two!” A call came from the kitchen door, and they saw their grandmother standing with her hands on her hips. “What do you think you are doing?”
“Findekáno said we could eat.” Angaráto immediately defended himself around a mouthful.
“Did he now?” Indis came in their direction with one raised, menacing brow. “Did he also tell you to eat all of our dinner beforehand?”
Ambaráto widened his eyes, and he knew his brother did the same. Oh, he was so cross with Findekáno! How dare he have a laugh at their expense?
“We didn’t know-” he started explaining.
“We were hungry-” his brother continued.
“Well, you can have one more sandwich each, and then off with you!” She shook her head and tutted. On the background, at the door, they could still hear her complaining. “I will have a serious conversation with Arafinwë. I don’t know what these boys do down there but they are always hungry! If we are not careful there won’t be one single bone left to the dogs!”
They scurried out of the kitchen, and when they reached a corner, Angaráto grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Here, have this.” He shoved in Ambaráto’s hand a tray of lemon tarts with cream that he somehow managed to steal on his way out.
They shared excited little giggles and stuffed their faces with dessert, no shame and no trace of regret left.
Hi, friend! Thanks so much for the ask! This took a slightly angstier turn than I expected - sorry! Hope you like it anyway! <3
Day 3
Rating: G
Wordcount: 540 words
Maglor watched with skepticism as Finrod assorted the offerings they had collected into a neatly sculpted wooden boat. It was not that he didn’t believe in gaining Uinen’s favor or placating Ossë’s ire – it would be foolish to do so – but that they would consider himself worthy of forgiviness.
He was not a Teler, and although an exceptional musician (the best there ever was were Finrod’s own words), he had lost that right a long time ago when he had chosen a bloodied sword over his kinsman's lives.
Finrod was humming a tune of thankfulness for the land that made Maglor sigh and turn his gaze away, back to the entrance of the Annon-in-Ghelyd from whence they had come. The cave was completely hidden from sight, and if he didn’t know there was a passageway there, he would never find it with his naked eyes. He had to commend that prig Turgon for thinking of it.
“Stop overthinking it, Káno,” Finrod said low, sensing his worry, but without raising his eyes from the garden.
“I am not.” He sniffed.
Finrod looked up at him, brows slightly furrowed. “Look,” he stood up, putting the white flowers down. “All you have to do is wish them well. Nothing else.”
Maglor bit the inside of his cheek. Wishing well to the gods that murdered hundreds of his people in revenge for the kinslayings? Sounded only fair.
“Fine, let us be done with this,” he muttered grumpily.
Finrod’s smile was bright and warm, and it made something melt inside Maglor’s heart.
“Come on, then.” He led Maglor to the water, and together they finished tidying the little boat filled with white flowers, lavender soap, blue and white candles, combs, mirrors, and other goods.
Finrod took off the diamond-encrusted necklace he had been wearing and put it around the candles. Then, he opened a small vial of a sweet perfume and dripped it over the offerings. He looked back at Maglor with a dazzling smile that almost made Maglor forget what they were doing in the first place.
“My grandfather’s people say that Ossë is vain, and that Uinen enjoys the scents of flowers.” His smile turned rueful.
Maglor grabbed him by the nape and pulled him down for a kiss.
“For luck.”
Finrod chuckled and kissed him back. “For luck. But wait!” he laughed when Maglor’s hand sneaked up his light shirt. “We can do more in a minute.”
He bent over his golden head and closed his eyes in a silent prayer, and Maglor did the same.
Keep my brothers safe. It is all I ask.
When he opened his eyes, Finrod was watching him with a mix of joy, lust, and compassion. Together they set the boat on the water and watched as the waves took it ever inward, until it sank.
“There,” Finrod said. Then, he took Maglor by the waist and pulled him closer. “Make love to me here and let them be witnesses of your good faith, son of Fëanáro.”
The words echoed wrong in Maglor’s ears, and a sense of foreboding told him his wishes would not be granted. But he granted Finrod’s wishes, at least, hoping beyond hope that they would spare Finrod from following his fate.
