Category: Tolkien-Universe

Rating: M

Couples: Egalmoth/Rog, Maeglin/Salgant

Warnings: AU, canon-levels of Everything

Chapter: 61

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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"Out of curiosity..." Rog looked over at his son while they were working together in the forges of New Gondolin. He politely pretended not to notice how the youngster seemed to almost be more anger-hammering, rather than truly working on something. "How go your preparations?" So he decided to employ Egalmoth's way of dealing with the matter, which was to distract him.

"Mmh?" Mouse looked up questioningly, putting his hammer down briefly.

"With my and Egalmoth's wedding outfits, how far along are you? It's a month orso now." The older smith smiled lightly. "I don't think I've seen you work on anything, and Salgant's not writing angry songs about night-smithing either..."

"Oh, I finished that while you were gone." The black-haired elf formed a small grin. "It wasn't that much to make, after all."

"Thank you." The gratitude in those two words were real, at least until he noticed the grin widening. "Okay, what did you do, Mouse? I don't like that look on your face." Alarm started growing as the grin did not stop growing. "Tinnuion?"

"Well, it was a suggestion from Grandma..." Tinnuion smirked almost evilly, clearly feeling this revenge for the emotional breakdown his own wedding-clothes had caused him way back when.

"Which one?" The emotions filling him started morphing into something akin to fear, because there were not that many grandmothers in this family, and he knew two of them too well to trust them with this matter.

"Qilla." Oh, and the fact that she had already progressed to nickname-levels in their relationship was dreadful.

He cursed under his breath as he buried his face in his hands, now very, very dubious he wanted to know. Yet, he also wanted to be prepared. "What did she do now...?"

"Suggested you and dad wear each other's formal outfits."

Sonuva... He should not have searched for her before his wedding. Wait... "So I am in Noldor-formal... and Egalmoth is wearing the festival clothes of my tribe?" That... was an interesting thought, the other would look absolutely gorgeous if they managed to pull it off. "Are you aware what that is?"

"Grandmother warned me I would not want to." Turgon's nephew chuckled, clearly having decided on titles for most of the grandparental generation by now. Even if he looked quite sour still whenever around Egalmoth's side of that entire mess. "So I gave them his measurements from Midwinter and they'll arrange for it, so that at Midsummer I can... to quote her; pretend I had nothing to do with it and be blissfully upset at the implications without any guilt of having created the scene. End quote."

"You got this from Aredhel. Certainly not me or Egalmoth..." The Lord of the Hammer of Wrath accused him - he was not even going to consider what his son might have gotten from his sire - lowering his hands again with a chuckle of his own. "Remind me not to trust you with any other parties I intend to throw. You'd probably put me in a pinata or some such nonsense."

"I would never!" The youngster managed to pull off a quite adequate insulted face. "I am not nearly golden enough to be that kind of person."

"Why do you think Erestor does the organising for the House of the Golden Flower? Glaur and Ecthel cannot be trusted with anything less than lives." He ruffled his hair, to a squeak and the clatter of some hairdecorations that did not manage to deal with the abuse. He pulled his arm back from the swatting hands, helping gather up the fallen metal objects. "But it's all done?"

"Well, I don't know about the clothes for dad's, but your stuff is." The Lord of the Mole started tucking his things into one of his pockets, looking for some reflective surfaces to see in what kind of mess his hair had become. Honestly, perhaps he should take after his Avari father if this would become a regular habit.

"I hope you realize you will have to deal with me appreciating him a lot."

"I am planning on bringing a bucket." Tinnu squeaked again when his father ruffled his hair again, dislodging most of the few survivors.