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Wedding Woes  by Calairiel Malromiel

~The Need for Truancy~

One of the most humorous things the brothers, Fëanor, Fingolfin and Finarfin thought they would ever see was the reunion of Finwë, Ingwë and Elwë. And with them were Elwë’s brothers Elmo and Olwë and they were playing some sort of strategy game involving tiles. Carcassonnë. In other words - War! They were playing war and the elves who had never fought in one were beating the tar out of the only one who had - Thingol!

Not quite as amusing was being part of the same generation that had the Noldorin, Vanyarin, Sindarin and Falmari lords all being treated like sassy children and were all basically there to play as serving stewards to the whims of their elders - also set up at various tables - who wished for refills of wine, mead, ale or something to nibble on. Noticeably missing from their number was Thranduil. 

“So, where is the king?” Finarfin asked, looking around.

“There’s a whole table full of them. Which king do you mean?” Fingolfin asked.

“The one who really is the king here and the haru of the ellyth my sons are going to marry in three days time!” Fëanor said wryly.

Snorting in amusement, Fingolfin said, “Odd, isn’t it? He was king so long that’s just how everyone thinks of him. Even those of us who never knew him as king. The only one who would know about that would be you brother.” he said grinning at Finarfin.

“Did you really throw your crown at your advisors?” Fëanor asked in amusement.

“No! Don’t be silly!” Finarfin said, and then smirking, added, “I threw it out the window. I heard it landed in some poor vendor's produce. But my question still stands. Where is he? Because I want to know how he got out of this and I want in on the secret.”

“Oh, it’s no secret. He has that maia of his run interference for him.” Fingolfin smirked.

“That’s handy. But, don’t we have one of those, too?” Fëanor asked, looking pointedly at Fingolfin with a lifted brow as if to say, Weeelll... Do something!

“I suppose I need lessons, because I have no idea how to get myself out of this, let alone the two of you!”

“Can you call to him?” Finarfin asked, hopefully and Fingolfin shrugged and putting up his hand to cover his face he tried just that, hoping to be sly enough that no one would figure out what he was up to. For if you’re going to be essentially turned into a maia, no one could blame you if you tried to play with it ever so often, could they?

He was shocked at how easy it was and when he explained their predicament, he actually heard the maia laugh at him good naturedly, but also promising he’d be right there. That apparently meant he just popped over but was sly enough to walk into the room as if he’d arrived by conventional means. 

Walking up to the table he waved his hands as the lords made to get up and bow and then he put his hands on his hips and made a show of talking to Finwë while pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the three brothers, who wondered at the narrowed eyes their father pointed at them, before he nodded to Aiwendil who happily gestured his thanks and walked over to the brothers, grinned and said, “Follow me.” which they happily did to the chagrin of the others left stuck in the meeting chamber.

Once they were outside, he turned and said, “There now! That wasn’t so hard, was it?” and he started to walk away, when Fingolfin called him back.

“Wait! First of all, thank you! I owe you one! And secondly, what did you say to get us out of there?”

“Oh, that was easy. I told your father you three didn’t show up for some very important wedding arrangements that urgently required your attention. Which, by the way, is why you don’t actually owe me since I’m collecting right now. So, follow me!”

And at the glare his brothers pointed at him, Fingolfin shrugged and said, “Well, he did get us out of there, so…” and moved to follow the former istari wizard.

 

~Meanwhile~

“What the hell happened to your kid, Finwë?” Ingwë asked.

“Messed with the Doomsman one too many times and got himself turned into his servant.” Finwë grumbled.

“That’s harsh!” Elmo said with wide eyes.

“Aye! Family disgrace, he is. Turned into one of them now!” Finwë groused.

“There’s nothing wrong with the maiar.” Thingol murmured.

“You mean besides the ones who went bad or the ones that ended up as pushovers for your grandkids?” Finwë said pointedly.

“There is nothing wrong with them. You should be rather proud to have one in the family. Not that you don’t already. After all, my grandkids are also your grandkids and Ingwë’s too for that matter.”

“Oh! Those grandkids. Well, you would know, after all. You married one.” Ingwë said pointedly.

“I did! And as proof they’re just like regular folk I managed to screw up and get myself killed even after she told me not to do what I did anyway.” Thingol said sagely.

“So, what’d she say to you when you got out?” Finwë asked.

“Called me an idiot and took me home. She actually isn’t the type to nag and harp on a matter.” Thingol grinned and then laid down his final tiles. When the points were all added up he’d won.

“Ha! I told you! Keep your realm secure and your allies close and you’ll carry the day!” he announced smugly, having won because his opponents' kingdoms were so large and ungainly it was impossible to keep them intact and secure. They’d all ended up devouring one another and destabilizing what they’d had, leaving Thingol the winner!

 

~Pipeweed~

Fëanor was scandalized! Really! Truly! Scandalized!

“They’re smoking! Why are they all smoking that foul weed?!!” he asked in disgust.

Having finished up all the chores the maia, Aiwendil, had them complete several times until they were deemed acceptable, they had been led to an area that was protected by tree-canopy where they’d set up a sort of wet-bar. Several of the royals were already there as well as the two former istari-wizards.

“I don’t know, but can’t you tell this has a different scent than what the Halflings partake of? And whatever this is? It seems to have a tranquilizing effect on them. Almost like Yavanna’s Harvest wine.” Fingolfin said musingly.

“Oh my! Horrible stuff, that! You wake up three days later in a strawberry field with foxes and rabbits snuggled up to you!” Finarfin exclaimed and then snapped his mouth shut as his brothers looked at him as though he’d just grown a second head.

“Well, I’m going to ask them about it.” Fingolfin declared and walked over to where Aiwendil, Olórin and the elvenking’s youngest son, Reuel, were collected and blowing clouds with their ornate pipes. Finarfin and Fëanor watched curiously as their brother casually walked over and began gesturing - no doubt asking about the pipe-weed. 

Those gathered grinned and Aiwendil passed over his own pipe and looked to be directing Fingolfin’s hesitant movements until he put the pipe to his lips and drew a small amount and blew it out. There were then waved hands and shook heads and the brothers understood - even from that distance - they were telling him to hold it. They exchanged confused glances as that’s not how the halflings or even Olórin smoked the stuff. 

But Fingolfin did as he was directed and when he looked to be holding it too long they gestured for him to blow it out. He repeated this several times and suddenly they could feel his fëa turn fuzzy and it...it tingled! They exchanged a fearful glance and rushed right over to see what had happened to their brother!

Meanwhile, Fingolfin was delightfully surprised that something that produced such an unsavory odor was actually quite nice! And meeting the eyes of Aiwendil and Olórin he could swear they hugged him with their minds as he heard a fluffy, Brrruuuutheeerrr, from them. And then he started to giggle. Not laugh. He giggled! And he couldn’t stop. Somewhere deep inside, he felt this should alarm him, but he found he didn’t care.

Then his brothers were with him, looking very alarmed, and he swung his arms around both their necks and pulled them in close, grinning, “Ah! My brothers! Have I told you how much I love you lately?” and he kissed them both on the sides of their heads and the two looked at each other in horror!

“What have you done to him?” Finarfin demanded.

“And what did you give him? What is this foul weed?” Fëanor demanded furiously.

“Ah! It is a species of the Sweet Galenas which grows wild here in Aman and then on Númenórë due to its close proximity and what with birds dropping the seeds and all....” Aiwendil began, vaguely waving his hands.

“Of course it was brought to Ennorath where it was brought to Arnor.” Olórin continued, nodding sagely.

“And to Gondor, as well.” Aiwendil added.

“Yes, but that isn’t important.” Olórin insisted, continuing, as he was a self-described expert in pipe-weed lore,  “In Arnor it made its way to the little Hamlet of Bree and that is where the Periannath discovered it.”

“Well, it couldn’t be discovered if it was already there!” Aiwendil exclaimed.

“Yes, but it was the Periannath who first stuffed it into a pipe to smoke it.” Olórin explained proudly, as though it was his discovery! “And they were also the ones who domesticated and cultivated it for distribution.” He then continued with, “Indeed, it was old Tobold Hornblower of the Southfarthing who developed the Longbottom Leaf.”

“It is of the genus Nicotianeae and includes Longbottom Leaf and Old Toby. When smoked it has an interesting effect of both relaxation and alert awareness and a focus of attention when needed.” Aiwendil explained, as he was a maiar of Yavanna and knew all such botanical lore.

Continuing, he added, “But they also developed Southern Star which is of the genus Cannabaceae which definitely has a euphoric and calming sedative effect. It is quite pleasant, though the periannath don’t seem to value it at all.” he concluded incredulously.

“Oh they value it. They just don’t understand its true value - preferring their ale and mead, don’t you know.” Olórin said sagely, adding, “No, no they don’t understand it at all and mostly use it in a medicinal way to help alleviate pain.”

“But why is he like this?” Finarfin asked fretfully.

“Oh, well, it’s his first time, don’t you see. And this one packs quite a, uh, potent punch.” Aiwendil said, grinning widely.

“I’ll say. This is better than Yavanna’s wine!” Reuel agreed.

“Well, she is my mentor, after all. I just, uh, tweaked it a bit.” Aiwendil said proudly.

“And it is very nice, Aiwendil! Very nice indeed.” Olórin intoned approvingly and pulled deeply on his pipe.

“InDeeeed!” Fingolfin squeed and began snickering. Fëanor looked at his brother, fearful now, and turned furiously towards the maiar and growled at them, “You fix him right now!”

But Reuel smiled and said, “Oh, there’s no fixing involved. He’ll come down soon and he may be veerrry hungry! Then he’ll sleep. And when he wakes up he’ll be fine.” he assured the brothers.

“Yes! And no hangovers! It really is much better than wine, in my opinion. You get all the glowy festival joy without any of the unfortunate side effects of wine consumption.” Olórin said jovially.

“How long?” Finarfin asked helplessly.

“Oh, well, it may be awhile.” Aiwendil smiled happily.

“I’m going to kill him!” Fëanor sighed.

“Oh, you don’t want to inadvertently trigger his self-defense protocols!” Olórin warned.

“No indeed. Why, he doesn’t even know he has them.” Aiwendil agreed.

“Could get very messy and then we’d have to go and bother old Námo to fish you out.” Olórin tutted.

“Well, let’s get our inebriated friend out under Ithil and the stars so he can dance to the Music!” Aiwendil said happily.

“Oh my, Yes! What fun we will have!” Olórin exclaimed with such joy that those who had known him in Ennorath would be hard-pressed to recognize him.

And with that, the two former wizards pulled the already high-flying Fingolfin from his brothers’ grasp and disappeared with a blink of the eye. Reuel turned to smile at the brothers, saying, “He’ll be fine!”

 

~0~

Fëanor went out the next morning and went to find his sister-in-honor. He didn’t know why Lord Irmo had come to him but he needed to talk to Ñolo’s wife, Anairë.

When he found her she looked wary at first and Fëanor didn’t feel like he had the time to fuss with niceties. “Where’s Ñolo?”

“He’s sleeping. Those maiar brought him back insensible only an hour ago and he’s not twitched once since.”

“That’s good. We won’t be interrupted.” Fëanor said, adding, “Now, tell me what’s wrong with Ñolo?”

“I don’t know…” Anairë began, only to be interrupted by Fëanor.

“Please? Lord Irmo came to me and told me Lord Námo was worried about him. Since his change, what have you noticed that causes you concern?” he asked.

Taking a breath and letting go of whatever she was holding, Anairë blurted out, “It’s his emotions. I don’t know what the ainur are, but apparently they feel things deeply. More deeply than we do. I think they are just used to it and are better able to deal with them. And for Ñolo, who always felt things deeply anyway, it has been so overwhelming for him that he’s just shutting down. I think it’s his only defense and I’m afraid I’ll lose him.”

“I’ve noticed that he seems detached. Yet he also tends to cling desperately to Arakáno.” Fëanor said, hoping for some enlightenment from his sister-in-honor.

“That has been something that came with the change. He was fine before. Yes, he felt guilt over our youngest dying. Yes, he died in Ñolo’s arms. And yes, he never quite got over that. But it was one of those things that hurts but you’re still able to go on. Fading enough over time that it doesn’t gnaw every moment of every day. Then he was changed and it came back a hundredfold. It’s been overwhelming for him and I don’t know how he still functions, honestly. Thankfully, Arakáno knows and has been good natured about it, but brother, he has his own family now and he’s had to curtail much to put up with a clingy atar until we can figure a way to sort him out.” Anairë said fretfully and it occurred to Fëanor that she’d been dealing with this alone and was feeling quite overwhelmed.

Taking her hand and patting it awkwardly, he said, “I see. Look, I’m not sure what to do yet either. But apparently Lord Irmo thought I could help and so it’s a puzzle he feels I can solve. And I promise you I will solve it.”

“Thank you, Fëanáro. Just knowing I’m not alone in my worry over him is a great relief.” and seeing Fëanor’s worried face, she added, “Oh, our family knows, but as talented as my children are, this is beyond them, as well.”

“I think this is beyond all of us. I think I was tasked because I’m just stubborn that way.” he said and surprised a laugh out of Anairë and as he left her he felt an odd sense of accomplishment in being able to bring a smile to her face.

And as strange as it would have sounded to anyone, he needed his siblings and their atar.

 

~0~

Rounding up his siblings had been easy. Only Arafinwë and Írimë Lalwendë were there and their pavilions were right next to each other on the Faire Grounds. Indis and Findis had stayed on the mainland and were in Valimar as one of Findis’ great granddaughters was about to give birth and they wanted to be there, rather than attend the wedding of Fëanor’s sons.

And luckily, Finwë’s pavilion was in that same general vicinity, as all in the House of Finwë were clustered around each other and centrally located. The hard part was rousing Finwë from the rigors of the previous evenings activities!

“Finish your tea, atar. I need you to be with us.” Fëanor said briskly.

“What are you so worked up about? The wedding is still two days away!” Finwë grumbled, and looking blearily about and seeing his son and daughter, added, “And why is your sister and brother here? Where’s Ñolo? Is this some sort of family meeting?”

“Yes it is. And Ñolo isn’t here because it concerns him.” Fëanor brusquely said. That got Finwë’s attention and he quickly drained his tea and impatiently beckoned for another, which Lalwen dutifully attended to.

“We’re here, brother. What is so urgent about Ñolo?” Finarfin asked, taking a seat.

“There apparently were some side-effects to his change that are destroying him.” Fëanor said bluntly.

“Isn’t that rather hyperbolic, son?”

“No. Not at all. In fact I received a visit from Lord Irmo stating just this concern. And he was sent by his brother Lord Námo who had gone to him for help in the first place.”

“Why did he come to you? Surely this is something they can manage between the two of them?” Lalwen asked, frowning. She may not like them, but she respected their power.

“I would expect the same, honestly. But he came to me and I expect the gentler approach would be for his family to intervene.”

“How? How are we to help if the Valar can’t?” Lalwen demanded, worried now.

“The only way I can think of is through our familial blood bond.” Fëanor said.

“I think we should find those maiar and talk to them.” Finarfin said.

“You think they would have more knowledge than the Valar?” Finwë asked skeptically, wide awake now and fairly close to bouncing off the walls with his tea intake.

“I think they are probably closer to what Ñolo is now. They’re different from the Valar and would at least have some insight that we lack.” Finarfin defended and was surprised when Fëanor agreed.

“I think Ara is right. They seemed to understand him very well last night and they took him with them. I’d like to know what exactly they gave him,” he said grimacing, “And why they took him.”

“Right! Let’s go!” Finwë said, bounding out of his seat, and stopped to bark, “What?!!” when his children all protested.

“Atta!” Lally said, rolling her eyes, “You need to get dressed first!”






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