Tolkien Secret Santa Advent Calendar, Day 4: "Fruit cake"
For day 4 of @officialtolkiensecretsanta 's Advent Calendar event!
Title: There Are No Pineapples in Mithrim
Rating: Gen
Characters: Fingon, Turgon, Aredhel
Words: 298
Summary: The Noldor who have crossed the Helcaraxë are spending their first Yule in Middle-earth, and Findecáno wants to do something special to celebrate. But his plan is proving harder than he hoped to execute.
Read on AO3 or click the readmore below to read it here!
(Author's Note: Since we just arrived in Middle-earth, Quenya names are used: Findecáno=Fingon, Turucáno=Turgon, Macalaurë=Maglor, Irissë=Aredhel.)
"Pineapples," Findecáno asked desperately. "Please tell me they at least have pineapples in Middle-earth."
Turucáno glanced pointedly outside at the frozen lake, and the eight inches of snow already on the ground, and growing deeper. "Pineapples, if Yavanna isn’t personally sustaining them, only grow in warm and humid climates; there certainly won’t be any here."
"This is ridiculous!" Findecáno threw up his hands in frustration. "Look, I was never expecting I could recreate Mother's Yule cake recipe exactly, but I thought I could do something. But all I could get from the Sindar were a few dried apples and prunes!" He sighed. "Nothing is the same without the light of the Trees."
"I suppose if you wanted to ask--" Turucáno tossed his head dismissively toward the south, not even willing to name the party he meant. "They might still have some supplies left, if they were careful with them."
Findecáno stared soberly at the wall in the same direction. It was true; those who had crossed by ship would not have been forced to scrabble for any last scrap of food long before their journey’s end, and might still retain some small horde of dried fruits brought from Valinor.
But he couldn't cross to the camp on the other side of the lake, and he didn't think his brother really expected him to. Their father wanted to limit contact between the two hosts of the Noldor, lest simmering tension rise to outright conflict. And in any case, his heart couldn't bear to see Macalaurë wearing Finwë's crown in his elder brother's place. Once had been quite enough. “I--”
"I'll go," said Irissë with a roll of her eyes, pulling her cloak over her shoulders and tromping out into the storm. "But I get the first slice of cake."
