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A Middle Earth Parenting Class
A Middle Earth parenting class. What could possibly go wrong?
I had invited Maglor to teach it with me. From what I could tell, Elrond and Elros were rather happy with Maglor. Well, they weren’t unhappy. Well, they were relatively okay, which was good enough.
“Alright.” I said loudly, hoping it would make the class shut up. It didn’t. “Settle down.”
Maglor stood in the middle of the room and shouted, “Shut up and listen!”
I had frozen with shock.
“Ahem.” He brushed the creases out of his tunic, looking a little uneasy.
“Wow, Maglor.” I smiled, impressed. “Yes. Welcome to Middle Earth Parenting 101.”
Fëanor found he could do nothing but glare at his son. Maglor must have noticed because he then said, “I didn’t make anyone attend. Don’t blame me.”
“You do not drag your children into Kinslayings.” I scolded patronisingly. “Also, you do not provoke a Kinslaying around your children.” I added, glaring at Eärendil as I said it.
“How did I provoke a Kinslaying?”
“You left your children and your wife alone with no army and a Silmaril.” Maglor replied. “You were asking for it.”
“And when the rightful owner of the Silmaril comes asking for it, you give it to him.” I said.
“I’m sorry; I thought this was a parenting class?” Denethor asked. “When did it turn into a Silmaril class?”
Maglor looked at the clock hanging at the front of the class above the Interactive Whiteboard. “A few seconds ago.”
“You’re just grouchy because Ilúvatar doesn’t like you.” Fëanor joked.
As the strangely small class erupted in an argument, I pulled Maglor aside. “This isn’t going very well. You know who needs to be here? The number one parent in the universe.”
“Alright, I’ll just nip over to Rivendell and get him shall I?”
I shook his head. “Why do you get to go?”
“Because I know where it is?”
“No-one can fly the frigate that flies, Eärendil!” Fëanor yelled, dragging myself and Maglor back to the situation at hand.
“Behave or I’ll send you to remove!” Maglor shouted.
“Remove is so childish.” Eärendil muttered.
“Yes,” I clapped my hands together, “thank you, Eärendil, for bringing us back to the point.” I know it was unprofessional of me, but I then couldn’t help but mutter. “At least Fëanor socialised with his sons.”
“Yes, why is my father here exactly?” Maglor defended.
“You do not drag your children into Kinslayings!” I repeated.
“Maedhros gave up his right to rule to Fingolfin,” Maglor told his father, “did you know that?”
“Are we supposed to follow people like Maglor?” Elwing then spoke up defiantly. “Is that what you’re telling us? That we should kidnap children for our own selfish needs?”
“Oh yes,” Fëanor said, leaping to his son’s defence, “because two abandoned elflings were vital to their plans.”
“This is not about the Silmarils!” I yelled, and in the same tone I added. “But if it was, that is a very good point.” I cleared my throat. “Maglor, do you have any parenting tips?”
“Yes. You don’t want to overdo it. You don’t want to smother them, although I can tell that’s not going to be a problem. I’m not saying you should be completely absent, Elwing, Eärendil, but... Well, you need to build up a feeling of trust. You won’t get that feeling if you treat them as though they’re, well, incompetent. Spend time with them, but don’t do everything for them. And I can already tell none of you are listening. This is going straight through one ear and out the other. Feel free to cremate your living children, or just abandon them completely. This is a message for the owner of the magical flying ship. The Silmaril has been taken. I repeat. The owner of the magical flying ship, the Silmaril has been taken. There are giant spiders under your desk. This is fun.”