With apologies to Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for this work.
It had taken Fingolfin the greater part of an age to find a suitable and eligible Noldo lady, and an additional fifty years to convince her sensible and respectable parents of the advantages of a marriage between their daughter and his eldest son. He had left to Anairë the task of persuading Fingon, who after a five-minute discussion with his mother agreed that getting married was an excellent idea and that his sixteen thousandth begetting-day was the perfect occasion for the wedding.(1)
All the guests were present and the feast was about to be brought in when Finarfin's chief advisor dashed into the hall, holding a small book. "Stop!" he shouted, "This wedding cannot happen! The groom is already married and has a son!"
Fingolfin glared at the advisor, doing his best imitation of his half-brother. "My dear fellow," he said, "don't be ridiculous."
"I have proof," said the advisor, "it's right here in this volume." He opened 'The Silmarillion' near the back of the book and held it out to Fingolfin.
Fingolfin deigned to glance down and saw his own family tree printed on the page. He saw the names of Fingon, Turgon, Idril, Aredhel and Elrond, but this family tree had one slight difference: the name of Ereinion Gil-galad was written beneath Fingon's. According to this source, Fingon did indeed have a son. "Fingon!" he bellowed, "Is this true? Is Ereinion Gil-galad your son? Did you have a wife in Beleriand?"
"Erm..." said Fingon, trying very hard to remember the events of the First Age. "Not that I recall, Father." He had suppressed most of his memories of Middle-earth during his stay in the Halls of Mandos, particularly those relating to ice, eagles, dragons, Balrogs and his time as High King of the Noldor.
"Not that you recall! That is not good enough son. Are you or are you not already married?"
Fingon turned to his cousin Maedhros, who was supposed to be acting as best man.(2) "Did I get married while I was in Middle-earth?" he asked.
"I don't know," he replied, "I was insane for most of the First Age; you can't trust my recollections. Only last week I thought I remembered someone jumping off a tower and changing into a bird! Isn't that silly?" He thought for a moment. "Turgon might know."
"Don't ask me," said Turgon, "I was in Gondolin most of the time, except for the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, but if you did have a son, why did I become High King when you died?"
"Good point Turgon," said Fingolfin, beaming proudly at his second son.
"Perhaps the scribe misheard and this Ereinion Gil-galad is actually Finrod's son," suggested Maglor, who was providing the music for the wedding.
"Certainly not" said Finrod, smiling adoringly at his wife, "I had no wife or child until I returned from Mandos and married my beautiful Amarië."
Fëanor hopped up onto a table and coughed loudly to gain everyone's attention. "Oh no! Oh Eru, don't let him swear another oath," prayed Finarfin, "I don't think I could cope with it." Eärwen patted his arm comfortingly.
"The solution to this problem," Fëanor announced, "is very simple. If no one here has ever heard of this Ereinion Gil-galad, we shall have to ask Námo. He is supposed to be omniscient."
There was a slight disturbance at one of the tables near the back of the hall. Rodnor Finellach stepped forward and spoke to Fingolfin. "I was called Gil-galad while I was High King of the Noldor-in-exile," he said, "and I suppose that I am a descendent of kings, but my father is Orodreth, not Fingon."
"Are you sure about that?" asked Fingolfin, looking suspiciously at his brother's great-grandchild.
"Oh yes; my mother never even met your son!"
"This is all very interesting," said Fëanor, "but we still don't know whether Fingon is married or not. Celegorm has sent his hound to find Námo; I expect he will be here soon."
All the elves sat down to await the Doomsman of the Valar, wondering if they would ever get their meal, but it was less that quarter of an hour before he arrived. "Greetings my lord Námo," said Fingolfin "We would like to know if this wedding can proceed, or if my son Fingon is already married, O Mighty One." Fingolfin had learned from experience that it was wise to be polite to the Vala and not antagonise him.
"I fear that your wedding may not proceed, Fingon son of Fingolfin, son of Finwë."
"Then I have a wife?" asked Fingon, "Who is she?"
"You are not married," said Námo, "the editor of the book made a slight mistake, which he admitted to in a subsequent publication."
"Then why can't the wedding go ahead?" demanded the bride's mother.
Námo looked at her. "Because your daughter does not wish to marry the son of Fingolfin. Indeed, she took advantage of the confusion and left this place twenty minutes ago. She wrote you this letter." He handed her a neatly folded piece of paper and departed.
Both the bride's parents read the note and her father spoke to Fingolfin. "My daughter intends no insult to you, but she feels that it would be unwise for her to marry into such a turbulent family. Today's reminder of your son's involvement in the rebellion against the Valar was too much for her and she does not wish to be espoused to a kinslayer. The wedding is cancelled." They walked away, taking the long route out of the hall to avoid Fëanor.
"This is all your fault!" Fingolfin shouted at his half-brother. "You have ruined my son's happiness once again! Look at him! He's devastated!"
Fëanor observed his nephew, who was sitting between Turgon and Maedhros. He was laughing and all three elves were holding large cups of Amrod and Amras's 'special recipe' fruit punch. "Devastated? He looks cheerful enough to me. Are you sure he wanted to marry the girl at all?"
"Of course he wanted to marry her, you fool, he wouldn't be here if he didn't!"
"I thought he was here because aunt Anairë threatened to..."
"What Caranthir means is that you didn't give him a choice." Curufin swiftly cut in before Caranthir could tell everyone exactly what coercion Fingon's mother had used.
"Perhaps not," said Fingolfin, "but I just want my son to be happy, and how can he be happy if he doesn't have a wife and children?"
"That is a very dangerous attitude, brother," said Fëanor, "consider all the trouble that would have been avoided if our father had been satisfied with one child and no wife."
Fingolfin thought about responding in kind to this insult against his very existence, but decided against it because Fëanor did have a point. He had been happy enough in Beleriand without Anairë, although being High King had probably helped. He turned to his son. "You do want to be married, don't you Fingon?"
"No Father, I don't think I'm ready to get married yet," said Fingon, "but perhaps I will be in another sixteen thousand years or so." A dejected expression flickered across his face. "Everyone except Maedhros and Finrod forgot that it's my sixteen thousandth begetting-day today and I think I'd like to have a party. "You won't mind if I use the food and wine from the wedding banquet, will you?"
Fingolfin suddenly felt very guilty. Amid the frantic preparations for the wedding, it had completely slipped his mind that it was also his son's begetting day. Letting Fingon have his party was the least he could do to make up for it. "That's an excellent idea, son. Are there any particular unattached ladies of your acquaintance you would like to invite?"
(1) Tolkien does not give a birth date for Fingon, but I have assumed he was born in approximately 1200 Years of the Trees, which means this story is set in the present day.
(2) There is no evidence in Tolkien's work that elves would have a 'best man' at a wedding, but someone has to look after the rings!