Category: Tolkien-Universe

Rating: M

Couples: Egalmoth/Rog, Maeglin/Salgant

Warnings: AU, canon-levels of Everything

Chapter: 19

Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate and/or mynameisjessejk, Plot & OC´s © by me

Authors note: Set in the Otter(less) Mayhem Universe of abovementioned mynameisjessejk on AO3. Unofficial sequel to 'The House of the Mole'

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Fully healed of their injuries, Egalmoth and Rog recovered well, aided along by the devoted attention of their son. Outwardly, he looked only happy, but both had come to know him well enough to see that he was still shaken from the entire ordeal, more so even than they.

"He's closing off." Rog finally declared, sitting opposite of his fellow father and the actual mother of his son.

"He is." The other two agreed, Aredhel reaching for her cup of tea. The three were sitting on her balcony in New Gondolin, looking out over the city where the preparations for the official feast were well underway and probably soon to be finished. "But I worry that trying to force the issue will just worsen the situation." He had been fine, the first few weeks when he and she had been in Gondolin-in-Beleriand... Then Eöl had forced the issue, and Tinnuion had frozen over colder than the Helcaraxë and everyone knew how that had gone.

"Perhaps we should weaponize the otters?" The black-haired Lord suggested, leg propped up on a stool. It was the only wound that hampered either of them, the limb slow to regain its' strength and stability. "From what I hear Glaur tell, they are fixing problems left and right. They certainly cannot make matters worse."

"Luckily they are still in the city." The great-grandaunt of said otters mused, swirling the brown liquid in her gold-etched porcelain before taking another sip. "I will ask them tonight."

Looking out over the sprawling expanse of New Gondolin, they descended into companiable silence, the arrangement a well-worn one.

"Are you here?" A voice called from inside the rooms, carpet rustling faintly as someone walked over it. "Ah!" Tinnuion popped his head outside.

"Preparations done?" His white-haired father muttered darkly, frowning at the amused nod. "You owe me for this." Normally, barring royal feasts, the smith usually hid himself in his smithy for events. Of course, between not yet being allowed to do smith-work by the healers and the feast being very specifically for him - and Egalmoth - meant that that was not an option this time around.

"I'll add an extra dinner." Egalmoth rose to his feet slowly, holding out his arm. Rog obligingly took it, taking some of his weight from his weak leg. "Or five."

"Convenient illness when Tinnuion finally marries?" The White Lady of the Noldor suggested, taking the arm her son offered her. "Though I suppose that would make him sad."

"Very sad." The youngest of the four joked. "Also, what do you mean 'finally'!?"

"Isn't there some Noldor-rule that there needs to be parental approval?" Rog threatened, glowering at the chuckling group around him. "Pretty certain I can withdraw that up until you are actually married." He flicked his son's ear, to an upset squeak.

"Rog..." Egalmoth reached over with his other hand to keep him from more ear-flicking. "No bullying our son, please. Not tonight. I am sure you can sneak into a corner after the obligatory speech..."

"I will not take any bets that the rest won't follow me into that corner." He did obligingly drop his hand on the boy's head, ruffling the hair there to another squeak of the young elf. "Fine, get me all the orange-tarts at the buffet and I'll let you marry Salgant, Mouse."

"Orange-tarts!?" Aredhel laughed softly, hiding her mouth behind her hand. "Why those of all things? You don't even like them that much!"

"They are sticky and I can bombard people with them." The Lord of the Hammer of Wrath pulled his partner ahead a touch so they could head down the stairs first. "It will tide me over until I can actually leave that thing."

"I feel obligated to remind you that that will bring even more attention to you." The Lord of the Heavenly Arch pointed out with a soft chuckle.

"But I will be entertained and distracted, which is more important in the end..." The white-haired elf grinned widely. "And perhaps it will teach Turgon to finally allow me to just skip these things."

"I feel we ought to warn your uncle of the planned bombartment." Tinnuion's mother stage-whispered to her son at that highly obvious threat to the cleanliness of her brother. "I think he'll be the main target."

"Yeah." He mirrored her, wide grin splitting his face as he threw his uncle under the cart. "Good point. He did plan most of it."

"Am I the only one who feels we should not encourage him?" Tinnuion's primary father laughed, leaning heavily on the arm of his secondary father.