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“Who else is coming with us on this journey?” asked Beren. He was sitting facing forward, opposite Ecthelion because he always got travel sick, as Ecthelion had found out the hard way on a previous trip some years ago when they had hitched a ride on a supply waggon.
“My sister Idis supposedly is bringing a beau, if you can believe it,” said Ecthelion, making a face. “Dior told me she had followed him, just like she followed that friend of Túrin’s in Dol Amroth years ago. It sounds … well, to be honest, I am worried for this man. His name is strange, but I cannot recall it.” Then he put up his finger: just as he’d given up trying to recall it, the name had popped into his head. “Thorongil!”
Beren mouthed the name under his breath several times. “I shall try to remember it.” His brow creased. “Idis is the tall, scary one? She is like me, is she not? She does not like people touching her. How will this relationship work?”
Ecthelion nodded and laughed. “The tall and scary description fits all of my sisters save Morwen, but Idis is the one who does not like physical contact, save with family. For this reason, she has never had a beau before, that I can recall.” He paused. “I wonder if this fellow is also averse to physical contact? I do not know how it will work.”
“I like the sound of Idis. I will not have to worry about her touching me. Also once you told me that she said that I got the eyes on my models exactly right—that it was if they were watching her,” announced Beren.
The carriage stopped. Idis got in first. “Hullo Ecthelion,” she said, kissing him. “Hullo Beren.” She waved at Beren and sat down next to him, very carefully leaving a inch gap between them.
Beren looked triumphantly at Ecthelion, and mouthed, “See?”
Then a slender man with auburn hair climbed into the carriage, and Ecthelion had to stop himself from gasping. The man was lean and fine featured, almost beautiful, with long dark auburn eyelashes framing his green eyes. He was wearing a green suit, in the latest fashionable cut among Ecthelion’s set, which made Ecthelion wonder rather.
The man blinked and smiled nervously. “Hullo. I am Thorongil.” He sat next to Ecthelion. “You can call me Thor. I hate this name.”
Ecthelion smiled at Thorongil warmly, to ease his nerves. “Thor it is then. Can you remember that, Beren?”
“I can remember that,” said Beren. “I am Beren, and that rogue you are sitting next to is Ecthelion.”
“A pleasure to meet you both,” said Thor, very politely.
The carriage set off again and no one spoke for a time. To Ecthelion’s utter shock, Idis leaned over and put her hand on her beau’s knee. “Are you well, dear Thor? Do tell me if you need to swap seats with me and you feel sick.”
Thor looked at Idis’s hand on his knee, and glanced at Ecthelion. “I am presently well, Idis. I will tell you if I get sick.”
“I have to sit facing the horses,” said Beren in jolly tones. “Otherwise I vomit.”
Ecthelion winced. “No one wants to hear about that, Beren, particularly not me. You vomited on me last time.”
“I am still sorry about that, Ecthelion,” said Beren, sadly.
“Do you go on journeys together often?” said Thor.
“Frequently,” said Ecthelion. “This is how I learned that Beren had to sit facing the horses. I am an army engineer and he is an army cartographer, you see, and we had to ride in a waggon for some reason I forget. We have shared a house for the last five years.”
“Thor was in the Army too,” said Idis, eagerly.
Thor looked embarrassed. “It is nothing to boast about, Idis. I was only a Lieutenant in the mounted infantry. By comparison to the record of your family, my achievements are nothing.”
“Thor is very modest.” Idis sounded frustrated.
“I am accurate,” said Thor.
“I approve of that,” said Beren, beaming. “I very much like accuracy.”
“I suppose it is most important when one is making maps?” said Thor.
Ecthelion did not think it was possible for Beren to smile any more widely. “Exactly! It is! I mean, if you get something out of place, it can have ramifications for generations to come. People will think a bridge is here when it is really there!” Beren made stabbing gestures with his right index finger in the air, and his expression became pained.
“That might not be ideal,” said Thor politely, looking interested. Ecthelion immediately sensed from this that Thor was far too nice for his own good: most people did not want to listen to Beren on cartographical errors. Even Ecthelion did not; although he loved his best friend dearly, there were limits to how much he wanted to hear about it.
“What is it you do, Thorongil?” said Ecthelion, in an effort to head Beren away from cartographical errors.
“I am the Third Trade Attaché to Gondor’s Embassy to Harad,” said Thor.
“Or are you Second Attaché now?” said Idis. “Did they promote you after—?”
“I do not know if that is official yet.” Thor bit his bottom lip anxiously. It made him look quite adorable. “I must say I feel rather a fraud, getting the position in those circumstances.”
Ecthelion was now even more curious. He knew some of the people in the Harad Office … rather well. “What happened?”
“O, the Second Trade Attaché did some bad things and has been imprisoned awaiting trial,” said Thor. “Nonetheless, it feels a bit like stepping into a dead man’s shoes.”
“It is not at all,” said Idis. “You are very competent, dear Thor, and much better than that other horrid, stupid man. He is very lucky I did not reach him first, or else it really would have been a dead man’s shoes—”
“Idis, you know Daddy does not like it when you do things like that,” said Ecthelion.
Idis rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at Ecthelion. “I do know that. Self-defence or defence of others only. I have stuck to that rule.”
“I hope the wind changes and your face sticks like that,” said Ecthelion.
“I hope the wind changes and blows all your hair off,” said Idis. “Then you will not be able to be nearly as vain.”
“How many years are there separating you?” said Thor.
“He is the next one down from me,” said Idis. “Two years.”
“Hold, if you work in Gondor’s Embassy to Harad, you might know my cousin!” said Beren.
“I might,” said Thor, cautiously. “What is your cousin’s name?”
“His name is Arahaelon,” said Beren.
Thor beamed, and relaxed. “I do! But he is in Harad at the moment, although I suppose it will be time for him to come home soon.”
Ecthelion looked at Thor narrowly. “You know Arahaelon too?”
“Of course,” said Thor. “I know him very well. We have spent much time together in Harad.”
Suddenly, Ecthelion began to feel more worried than curious. As he had cause to know, half of the Harad office tended towards intimacy with men, Arahaelon among them. (Ecthelion did not really count Sirion: he had standards and did not wish to go there). He had also heard from various sources that there was a new, very pretty young man of whom Arahaelon had made quite a pet of during some of the Harad rotations. And here was a pretty young man, looking very appealing in a fashionable dandy suit, made in a cut popular among Ecthelion’s own set—
“So have you known Idis long?” he said to Thor.
Idis and Thor looked at each other shyly. “Not that long,” said Thor. “Although it feels like longer—”
“It is now almost three months!” said Idis, patting Thor’s knee again. Thor flinched a little and glanced at Ecthelion with alarm again.
They sat in silence again for some time, while Ecthelion stewed, and wondered how to raise the question which was in his mind. Eventually he mused, “You know, you can try to pretend that certain things about yourself are not true, sometimes. But it is always better to own up to those things before you get in too deep.”
Everyone else stared at him. “What are you talking about, Ecthelion?” asked Idis.
“I must ask the same thing,” said Beren. “Is there a terrible crime you wish to confess to committing?”
Ecthelion looked at Thor with raised eyebrows, and Thor stared back at him, and blinked his spectacularly pretty eyes several times.
Eventually after a long silence, Thor said, “I do not know if I have any personal experience of this as such, but if the fate of the previous Second Trade Attaché is any guide, I think you are probably right, Ecthelion. Gadrion should have owned up before—well, before he got in very big trouble of a kind I cannot really talk about until the trial happens.”
“Do you think we will have to give evidence?” said Idis.
“I will ask my brother,” said Thor. “I imagine so.”
“I would hate to give evidence.” Beren brightened. “Does anyone want to see my model of a Nazgûl steed?”
“I beg your pardon?” said Thor. “What did you ask?”
“If you want to see my model steed of the Nazgûl!” said Beren. “It has wings which flap!”
“Beren makes intricate models of historical battles,” said Ecthelion. “Our apartment is full of them, except in my room, because I refuse to have any in there.”
“I still think your room would be perfect for the Battle of Helm’s Deep!” said Beren.
“No,” said Ecthelion. “No, no, no.”
Beren pouted. “That is not fair, Ecthelion.” Then he scrabbled under his seat and brought out a wooden box. “I have packed it in lamb’s wool and straw.”
He slowly pulled back the lid, and drew out a little, grey-green winged creature. It did indeed have wings that flapped. Ecthelion squinted at the wings. “Beren, my dear! You stole my springs! The springs I had on my workshop table!”
“You were not using them,” said Beren, with dignity. “I waited several weeks to see if you were going to do anything with them and you did not. And my Nazgûl steed needed them more than you did. See how the wings flap when I push his tail.”
Thor held the Nazgûl steed on his hand. “That is rather marvellous, actually.” He gently pushed the tail.
Beren beamed. “I am very glad you think so. But I need to check with the Lady Éowyn about the colour of the steed, to see if she remembers what it was.”
“I do not think she actually remembers much about that incident,” said Idis. “At least, she could never say much to us other than, ‘I cleaved his invisible head in half, and then Merry told me that my sword burned up.’”
“Invisible?” said Thor. “That must have made it awkward.”
“He was wearing a visible crown, so that made it easier,” said Ecthelion. “Or so I believe from the songs.”
“That is vexing!” said Beren, digging in the box again. “At the moment I have painted the King of the Nazgûl’s head grey, but I will have to think of something else.” He drew out a tiny black figure.
“You will have to remove the head, it seems,” said Thor, peering at it. “Or paint it to merge with the background?”
“How can I make a crown hang over an invisible head?” said Beren. “Wire? Do you think I can use very thin wire?”
“Or put it on a long black string hanging from the ceiling,” said Idis, her mouth twitching.
“No, then it will swing around in the breeze,” said Beren, very seriously. “Does your mother know what the crown was made of, perchance?”
“She was not in a state to look at it, I understand,” said Idis. “Everyone thought she was dead, until Uncle Imrahil realised she was alive—but only after she had been put upon a bier.”
“I do not know why other people do not note the kinds of details I wish to know,” said Beren.
“It is just that other people are sane, Beren,” said Ecthelion, patting Beren’s knee very gently.
Beren beamed at him. “O no, I like those of your family whom I have already met, because when I am with them, I feel quite normal!”
“I did tell you that we were all a little unusual,” said Idis defensively to Thor.
“You have not met my family yet,” said Thor with a sigh. “Then you will discover another kind of unusual. My mother’s enthusiasm is extreme—”
They stopped for a break, and everyone got out to stretch their legs. Thor wandered off to relieve himself, and Beren fiddled with his Nazgûl model.
“Thor is marvellous, is he not?” said Idis to Ecthelion, her eyes glowing.
“He seems nice,” said Ecthelion. “Too nice. You have to remember that the power balance in this relationship favours you, and that you might dominate him.”
“He is a very sweet person,” agreed Idis. “Although he did smash a chair over someone’s head when it was necessary.”
“Has he said ever said anything about Beren’s cousin to you before?” said Ecthelion.
“This Ara-person? Nothing at all that I can recall,” said Idis, shrugging. “Our main focus was on the two colleagues who were in Minas Tirith, one of whom turned out to be a criminal. Anyway, why would that person matter?”
“No reason,” said Ecthelion.
Thor sauntered back, smiling, and Idis embraced him dramatically. Then they all got back in the carriage.
By the time they had reached Emyn Arnen, Ecthelion was in a state. After hearing the story of how Thor and Idis had met—his sister had chased the man for months?—he concluded that Idis had pursued and captured Thor, who was far too polite for his own good, and did not know how to get out of the bind he was in. The important thing was to ensure that anything which happened from now on was made with full discussion and consent from each party.
They got to Emyn Arnen, and the family gathered around to meet them. They seemed particularly excited: Ecthelion presumed it was because they had not met Thor before.
“It is so romantic, how they met,” Morwen said to Ecthelion. “O, and Beren seems most pleasant too—”
“Beren is a very good man, albeit a little obsessed with maps.” Then Ecthelion lowered his voice. “But to be honest I found the Idis and Thor story creepy. Imagine if I did that to a woman? It would be regarded as disgusting.”
“O, that is just Idis,” said Morwen. “And look, she is ever so happy!”
Ecthelion looked over at the couple. Idis was grasping Thor to her, and Thor looked very embarrassed about it. “Hmm, what about him?”
“Idis says he is very happy too,” said Morwen, smiling, and Ecthelion despaired.
And then the incident with the bedrooms occurred. It transpired that Beren was sleeping in the family corridor, whereas Thor was sleeping in the guest corridor. At this Idis threw a huge tantrum, of the kind Ecthelion had not seen her throw for several years. She was almost crying tears of rage.
“No! Why is Ecthelion’s friend in the corridor with him, and my friend is far away? This is not fair, Mummy.”
“Please don’t get upset; it is really fine,” said Thor, patting Idis’s arm. “I do not mind if I am in the guest corridor. No one really knows me—”
“I will stay in the guest corridor too, if that makes things easier,” said Beren, anxiously.
Éowyn narrowed her eyes at Idis. “It is not really the same, Idie.”
“It is! I do not see the difference at all. You always spoil him because he is difficult.” To Ecthelion’s surprise, Idis pointed at him.
Ecthelion snorted. “I hardly think that I am the difficult one, Idis. I am not the one presently throwing a tantrum. I am not the one who made Mother and Father pull their hair out because I moped around the house not talking for several years. I did not attempt to jump from the dome of Dol Amroth University library—”
Idis’s eyes lit up with fury. “I did not actually attempt to jump off, Ecthelion. I merely stood on the edge of the roof—”
“That is enough from both of you!” His mother looked sad. “You used to be such good friends when you were small. What happened?”
“I realised that Idis is a pain,” said Ecthelion. “A pain who does not understand the nature of consent—”
“You have the strangest ideas as how one should relate to people, Ecthelion,” said Idis. Ecthelion thought this was an extraordinary accusation coming from her. He opened his mouth to explain to her exactly why this was.
“Enough! Off to your rooms, now!” barked Éowyn. “Idis, you shall show Thor to the guest bedroom.”
Ecthelion and Beren went upstairs. “I am a little bit embarrassed to be in the family corridor,” said Beren.
“Well, I do not see why you are. You are my best friend,” said Ecthelion. “It is quite different to being my beau, and moreover, possibly a beau who has been forced into a relationship he does not want—”
“But Thor seems very nice!” said Beren. “He really liked my model of a Nazgûl steed! And later, he had an idea for the invisible head!”
“That is my point, Beren, he is very nice.”
“I do not really understand,” said Beren.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures. I think I shall show Thor my form for relationships tomorrow,” said Ecthelion, once he had delivered Beren to his room. “I suspect he may already be familiar with some aspects of it, otherwise I would not dare, but he must be saved from my sister.”
“I did not really understand that form either.” Beren sat on the end of his bed. “Why would anyone want to do any of those things?”
Ecthelion laughed. “This is why I like you, my dear Beren. You are so refreshing! I like being around someone who does not have any interest in those things at all.”
“You are very strange, but I like you too,” said Beren. “Things are never boring with you, and you let me steal your springs for my Nazgûl steed.”
Ecthelion went downstairs and was surprised to see his brother Túrin and his family coming in the front entrance.
“I did not expect to see you here?” he said to Norien, Túrin’s wife.
Norien adjusted the youngest toddler on her hip and smiled. “It is always nice to visit family, Ecthelion.” She leaned forward with interest. “So—tell me, what do you think of Idis’s new beau?”
“She has trapped him,” said Ecthelion. “I do not believe they have negotiated this relationship properly.”
“Now, now, Thelly,” said Túrin, shaking his head. “Idis deserves to be happy too—” Then their mother came in and Ecthelion was unable to explain his point because his mother was too busy spoiling the Dol Amroth grandchildren.
Over the next day, the house filled with people. The Ithilien Elves turned up unexpectedly, which sent Ecthelion’s mother into a panic.
“Really, do not trouble yourself,” said Legolas. “We do not need much.” He leaned in closer and said quietly, smiling happily. “We are really just here to see Idis. We hear that—?”
“Yes, yes, she has met a young man,” said Éowyn, beaming.
“That is good,” said Orophin. “She is a very nice Human. We have worried that she is lonely.”
Ecthelion was then treated to the spectacle of a horrified Thor being surrounded by curious, staring Elves. He did not think that Thor had anticipated this, which was quite reasonable; nor had Ecthelion.
After the Elves, Ecthelion decided that he really needed to talk to Thor. The Elves had evidently decided that whatever was going on between his sister and Thor was serious, as had Túrin and Norien, which was frankly ridiculous after three not-very-clearly negotiated months.
While they were fishing, Ecthelion made sure he was next to Thor. Eventually he said quietly to Thor, “I have found in relationships that it helps if you have everything very clearly negotiated.”
“Hmm?” said Thor vaguely. “I suppose it might. O, that fish slipped away—”
“A friend of mine has a sort of form or contract which he uses when he meets someone with whom he wishes to have a relationship. It just so happens that the friend once left a copy with me,” Ecthelion said. “You may wish to look at it, before this goes any further, and be honest with yourself. I know myself how hard that honesty can be, but it is very necessary to know what you’re doing, before you find yourself in deeper than you mean to be.”
“Deeper!” said Thor. “Yes! I need to try that deeper shaded part!” Ecthelion was unsure whether Thor was being deliberately obtuse or just vague.
Ecthelion drew the form out of his pocket and handed it over. Thor scanned it, and blushed bright red. “O, er, I see—well, thank you.”
Ecthelion watched him walk off. Thor folded the form and put it in his jacket, and Ecthelion congratulated himself on a job well done. He also noted that Thor had expressed no surprise at the actual content of the list, unlike Beren, who had asked detailed questions as to what was involved. This strengthened Ecthelion’s instinct that Thor had experience in at least some practices listed beyond the obvious.
The next morning, after the bonfire, Idis came to his room. She folded her arms. “What was that piece of rubbish you gave Thor yesterday, Ecthelion?”
“Some people I know exchange forms with prospective intimate partners,” said Ecthelion, with awkward horror. “Once one of those people left a copy with me and I thought it might be useful as, er, a discussion starter?”
He had not anticipated that Thor would show the form to Idis; he had thought Thor would not want to give himself away.
Idis unfolded her arms swiftly, and narrowed her eyes. She said with scary intensity, leaning forward on her toes, “Thor is mine, Ecthelion. All mine.” Ecthelion heard a click and realised that she had unsheathed her wretched throwing daggers.
Ecthelion’s mouth dropped open, and he waved his hands at his sister. “No! No! That is not why I gave it to him! Can you make that very clear to him? I simply advised him that you and he may wish to use some variation upon it, because it does not seem to me that you—and I do mean you in particular—have clearly negotiated boundaries—”
Idis laughed, relaxed, and folded her daggers and put them back up into her sleeves. “I do not think we will need that form, when we sleep together. We burned it in the fire, and we intend never to think of it again.”
Ecthelion stared at her. “You have been thinking about sleeping with him! Idis! I am glad Mother put him in the guest corridor!”
Idis blushed and refused to meet his eyes. “So what if I have been thinking about it? I have no doubt that sleeping with people is one of your main topics of thought, Ecthelion, if not one of your main activities.”
“It is quite different for me,” said Ecthelion. “I am a man. And I am very careful: I do not want to have any offspring, given that I would feel obliged—”
“What if I suddenly do want to settle down?” said Idis. “What if I want to have children?”
“You do realise that some men can … er, ah … like other men?” Ecthelion hoped that Idis had not been able to pick up that the form was his, although he suspected that her insistence that Thor was hers meant that she had been able to glean that much.
Idis rolled her eyes at him. “I am not stupid, Thel.”
“Well, I am just warning you that many diplomats are like that; it is well-known.” Ecthelion shrugged and thought of a positive aspect of this whole matter. “At least I can’t fault your taste, for once—”
Idis looked at him with contempt and fury. “Thor is mine.” She turned sharply and went out, slamming the door.
Ecthelion was angry with Idis. He was not going to sleep with her beau … at least not while they were still together. He was not that kind of man. If he slept with someone who had a partner, he made sure the partner consented, read the form and signed it. Then he shrugged; he had done his best to warn his sister.
The next day he said to Cirion, “I think that Idis wants to seduce Thor into her bed.” He thought that maybe Cirion would have some idea of how to deal with this, given Cirion’s own history.
Cirion snorted. “Aye, that is what you think?” Then he laughed and said, “I think we all know that, given how vocal Idie has been about the distance between Thorongil’s bedroom and her own; I suspect only Thorongil’s good manners are stopping her from acting on it—”
“O by the Valar,” said Ecthelion. “This is a disaster.”
Cirion looked quizzically at him. “Why? However, I think someone should tell our parents that they should be encouraged to marry sooner rather than later, just like Fíriel and me. I may talk to Father. It is most pleasing that Idis has found such a pleasant fellow, is it not?” He strode off.
Ecthelion despaired of his family by the end of the day. Elboron and Túrin had almost identical views to Cirion, Morwen and Daerien had cooed about how beautifully romantic it was, Húrin said he thought Thor seemed like a capital fellow and that Ecthelion should mind his own business, and Dior said that he thought Thor was utterly batty and thus entirely suitable for Idis.
“I was a bit doubtful at first, as you know,” Dior said, “because of the following around, and the crazy green suit incident, but I am now satisfied. Have you seen how often Thor wears that wretched suit—just about every second day!—and how Idis smiles when he does? And how he gazes at her when she’s not looking at him?”
When he came upon his sisters-in-law, Galadhel, Fíriel and Norien, in the lounge room, Ecthelion tried them.
“So, I do not approve of this relationship of Idis’s,” he declared to them. “Idis has trapped this poor, unhappy man.”
Norien looked at Gala and Fíriel, and laughed. “I am not so sure about that, Thel. I was just telling the others that I came upon Idis and Thorongil in the garden earlier today, and from what I saw, Thorongil was neither unhappy, nor trapped. Quite the opposite—although they were a little embarrassed when they realised I had seen them.”
Gala smiled. “I’m so happy for Idis—”
“What if Thorongil turns out to be—well—a bit odd?” said Ecthelion.
“It follows that if Idis likes him, and he likes her back, he’s necessarily a little strange,” said Fíriel, gently. “Personally, I think he is remarkably nice: he’s odd in all the right ways which enable him to fit into this family.”
Norien and Gala nodded agreement.
“No, that is not what I mean—” Ecthelion gritted his teeth at the necessity to be more direct. He had to drop a hint to someone “—I mean that he is so very pretty, and as a diplomat, he spends a lot of time with other men—?”
Norien raised an eyebrow, and her expression hardened. “Idis has always liked pretty, clever men: I daresay she’s not alone there, Ecthelion? Incidentally, if what I saw before was any indication, he seems to like Idis very much indeed, and it is unlikely anyone could successfully seduce him away from her.”
Ecthelion stared at her with shock, and felt himself flush with panic. Surely she was not accusing him of wanting to seduce Thor away from Idis? He could think of no way in which Norien could know of his preferences. They did not have overlapping social circles and none of his family knew, although Idis surely now had a suspicion. He was not sure what to do about that.
“I advise you to leave this matter alone henceforth. Do not forget Idis bears daggers, Ecthelion!” Gala warned.
“She has already threatened me with them this morning. I do not understand why. It was most unfair of her, I thought,” said Ecthelion glumly, and to his shock, his sisters-in-law laughed.
“Beren seems really nice—do think of his feelings, also,” said Fíriel.
Ecthelion stared at her; he was unable to see what Beren had to do with anything they were discussing.
Cirion came in at that point, and said, “Orodreth has grazed his knee, Firi, and put a hole in his trousers.” Then he turned to Ecthelion and said, “Also, Thel, if you are still going on about Idis and Thor, I shall hang you by the toes from the chandelier in the Great Hall until you stop, because I am sick of it.”
The sisters-in-law clapped and beamed, and Fíriel said, “Well said, darling.”
Ecthelion retreated and felt very disappointed with his sisters-in law. In desperation, he tried his mother. “Leave Idis alone,” she said. “I do not understand why you bait her so. It is cruel.”
Then he tried his father. His father said, “One day you and I are going to have to have a proper talk, Ecthelion, but now is not the time.” He paused and said thoughtfully, “If I had thought there was any problem with Thorongil courting Idis, I would have arranged for Thorongil to be sent to the darkest wilds of Khand, by the way.”
Ecthelion flinched a little at this rare view of the ruthless side of his father.
After that, he gave up on his family and complained to Aragorn. To his surprise, the normally gruff King stared at Ecthelion for a long moment, and then smiled. “Pray, I would not worry about it. It is all rather lovely, I think. When they marry, I shall offer to preside.”
Of all the people Ecthelion had been expecting to react like Morwen and Daerien, Aragorn would have been bottom of the list, along with Cousin Amrothos and the Dwarves. He was exceptionally disappointed.
Finally, he complained to his Uncle Éomer, the absolute last resort, because while Éomer was tremendously fun, he was not particularly discreet about such matters, but given that Ecthelion had tried everyone else, he had given up on discretion.
Éomer, Lothíríel and all the Rohirrim laughed and said, “Do not worry, Ecthelion.”
“Actually, Thorongil and Idis remind me rather of your parents when they were young.” Aunt Lothíríel turned to Éomer. “Do you not think so, dear?”
Éomer nodded. “I agree, my darling.”
“Aye, they did not have clearly negotiated boundaries either,” said Deorthric. “I did try to talk to Éowyn about it once, after that huge fight they had when Elboron was but a babe, after Faramir went to Rhûn. Éowyn threatened to punch me.”
“Faramir and Éowyn still do not have clear boundaries,” said Éomer. “I am not sure where one ends and the other one starts at times. At first it worried me, so I know why you worry, and it does you credit as a brother, Ecthelion, but I would leave Thorongil and Idis alone. They are already off to a better start than your parents—neither of them have tried to die an honourable death by insane acts of bravery in battle recently, so far as I am aware? Deorthric, be a good man and get me another beer—”
At this, Ecthelion knew he was going to get no satisfaction from his uncle, or even Deorthric. He sought refuge with Beren, who told him at length how he had spent hours sketching old banners from the front hall, and did Ecthelion know that his parents had a rare banner from Minas Morgul which still gave off a faintly noisome feel? Somehow this was oddly comforting.
He managed to shelve his worries during the Autumn Feast, and enjoy his time with his various cousins, relatives and friends, but after most people other than Túrin and his family, himself and Idis had gone home, Ecthelion became consumed by anxiety again. What if his sister got stuck in an unhappy relationship because she refused to listen? He could imagine Thor being a martyr. Moreover, he had heard his sister say several things over the past five years which indicated that she wanted a child, and he worried she intended to entrap Thor. Beren made him go for several walks around the gardens, and then for a ride to forget about it.
Finally, the morning of his departure to Minas Tirith came. Ecthelion woke early, as he often did on days where he had no nightly activities. Then he realised that he had forgotten to ask Idis if she was also going to catch the coach home with him, Beren and Thor again.
He wandered down to Idis’s bedroom and saw that the door was slightly ajar; she must have risen. He pushed open the door. Her bed was neatly made, and she was not in her room.
“O no!” said Ecthelion. He thought about going down to Thor’s room by himself, but then he thought it would probably be better to ensure he had another witness. He knocked on Beren’s door.
“Hullo Ecthelion,” said Beren cheerfully. As was his wont, he had risen early and was immaculately dressed.
“Will you come with me while I ask Thor if he would like to come fishing with us before we leave this morning?” said Ecthelion.
Beren frowned. “I would not think there would be time for fishing, but we can always ask?”
They walked down to the guest corridor, which was actually quite a long way away: Thor had been placed much further away than Ecthelion had realised, although he now understood his mother’s reasoning. As they got closer, Ecthelion heard an excited moan, and then some urgent quiet conversation.
“Who or what is that?” said Beren.
“I think I may be able to guess,” said Ecthelion, and pushed open the door to Thor’s guest room. He regretted his decision instantly.
For some reason, he had not thought about what he would see if he opened the door: namely, a naked couple engaged in intercourse. He realised that he had not quite believed the pair would be foolish enough to go that far without a clearer understanding of what each party wanted. It was something he had seen before, of course; but he discovered it was entirely different and altogether off-putting when one person in the couple was one of his sisters. He did not want to think about it ever again: he discovered that there were limits even for him.
The couple stopped as soon as he spoke, and stared at him, and Thor jumped off Idis and sank to the floor. After a moment of utter horror and silence, his sister leaped up off the bed and began screaming at him. She picked up one of Thor’s boots from the floor and threw it at Ecthelion’s head with force and accuracy. It hurt.
Ecthelion panicked, and decided his parents had to be told what was going on. Unfortunately, Idis then chased him down the corridor, wearing only a dressing gown, and bearing Thor’s other boot in a threatening manner. She began shouting loudly about Ecthelion’s own intimate activities in the corridor. She knew a lot more about his activities than he had thought, including names of partners—not just the contents of the form—and now, because she was so loud about it, half of his siblings and their spouses, and possibly even some of his nephews and nieces were also aware of his predilections. Ecthelion was utterly ashamed and had no idea where she had obtained this information from. Meanwhile, in the distance, Thor was calling out repeatedly that he would marry Idis. This was exactly what Ecthelion had not wanted to happen.
Dior and Daerien approached and asked what was wrong, and why Idis was wearing nothing other than a dressing gown. As he attempted to explain, Idis lost her temper totally again, and threw the other boot at Ecthelion before he could duck, and then threatened to kill Ecthelion. Dior ran off to get their parents, while Ecthelion decided that the best course was to keep making for his parents’ room before he was murdered by his older sister. He did not see what Daerien was doing.
Finally, partially-clothed Thor and fully-clothed Beren caught up with them, and the other two men were trying to stop Idis from punching Ecthelion, when his parents arrived and made everyone calm down.
To both Ecthelion’s and Beren’s shock, it transpired that everyone had thought that they were a couple. Suddenly, his siblings’ compliments as to Beren’s pleasant nature and calming influence made a lot more sense to Ecthelion, as well as his sister-in-laws’ imprecations to think of Beren’s feelings. He was having extreme difficulty realising that perhaps most, if not all, of his family had know of his preferences for some time and had not said anything; and then it became evident that his parents had known too.
This was simply too much for Ecthelion. He had spent many years feeling ashamed, and had thought he was discreet: exposing his form to the beau of a family member had been a desperate measure. He was horrified that Idis knew the details of his intimate life. He had to walk away.
Then he went back to his room and wept bitterly. In some ways, he wished his family had been right and that Beren was his lover. However, he was incapable of being faithful, and poor Beren was not capable of physical affection. What was their relationship? It was something more than friends, but less than lovers. In dark moments, he felt petty, flighty and promiscuous next to his steadfast and loyal family. Last year, when Lady Maewil had attempted to persuade Beren into a marriage of convenience, Ecthelion had been seized by an intense fear he would die alone and unlamented. He needed Beren; without him, he felt worthless.
After a little time, Beren came in, drew out a clean, neatly folded handkerchief and gave it to Ecthelion. Then he patted Ecthelion’s shoulder repeatedly—a gesture which made Ecthelion cry harder—and said that his main interests in life were maps and models, and that he thought this might be a blessing, actually, because while he knew the theory, he thought that the practical aspects of what Idis and Thor had been doing looked a little messy.
Ecthelion laughed through tears. “That is not messy. That was rather tame, apart from the fact that it involved my sister, which is just disgusting. However, one can get far messier than that—”
Beren put his hands over his ears. “I do not want to hear.” Then he beamed. “Do you think we shall be invited to their wedding?”
“That was exactly what I was trying to prevent!” said Ecthelion. “I was trying to prevent Idis from seducing Thor so that he would then feel honour-bound to marry her!”
“Instead you have ensured that he now has no option but to marry her,” said Beren, and Ecthelion started to weep again.
“Nay, do not weep, dear Ecthelion,” said Beren. “I think Thor is happy about it, or he will be, once he gets over half of your family seeing him partly naked, or indeed, entirely naked—”
“He had a very nice bottom, for what that is worth,” said Ecthelion. “But I do not think I will point this out to either of them.”
“I did not even notice,” said Beren. “I was still wondering if he would want to go fishing or not in those circumstances?”
Ecthelion started to laugh and cry hysterically at Beren and clasped his hands. “Do not change, my friend. And please, please, do not leave me! I could not bear it. I need your friendship.”
“I do not think I am capable of changing, and I will never leave you,” said Beren, solemnly, gently extracting his hands. “Who else would put up with my models? O, I just realised I forgot to ask your mother about the colour of the Nazgûl’s steed. Do you think I could ask her before we leave?”
“I expect we will be leaving later than anticipated,” said Ecthelion. “So go ahead.”
Beren left, and Ecthelion lay face-down on his bed and wept some more. Then his bedroom door opened, and his father came in and sat on the edge of his bed, and patted Ecthelion’s head, just as he had when Ecthelion was a little boy and was unwell.
“Hullo Daddy,” said Ecthelion.
“Hullo,” said his father. “Well, that was an interesting morning. At least, out of all of us, you were wearing the most clothing out of anyone.”
Ecthelion snorted. “I suppose.” Then he said, “Are you all going to disown me? Does everyone hate me?”
“No,” said his father, his hawkish profile silhouetted in the window. “It is a pity all of it had to come out in that way. You should have raised the issue of Idis and Thorongil privately with your mother and myself, rather than walking in on them.”
“I was not really thinking,” said Ecthelion.
“I can tell.” His father paused. “We knew Idis had gone to Thorongil’s bed. We were going to talk to them about it.”
“O,” said Ecthelion, feeling very foolish. “I was just so worried that Idis was going to trap Thor into a marriage. I am still not that comfortable with the way that relationship started, and I think he should not be forced to marry her, and that he should start running now—”
“Leave it, son,” said his father. “Idis may not conduct her relationships in the way that you do, but each of my children is very different. I would not have expected this variation among offspring until I experienced it.”
“I do not think I am ever going to have offspring,” confessed Ecthelion.
“Not everybody does. And I have plenty of grandchildren as it is. But today has been a day for confidences and stories. I have already told poor Thorongil a story to make him feel less guilty. Can I tell you one? I realised that your mother and I forgot to speak to you about these matters, because you did not do a stint in the Navy.”
“I hate boats,” said Ecthelion.
“So does your mother,” said his father. “She is like you; she throws up even in the gentlest of seas. She threw up on Amrothos and Loti when they first met her.”
“What is the story?”
“Once upon a time, there was a man who had a beloved elder brother. His elder brother was not only beloved by the man, but also by their father and by all the people of the City in which they lived. The elder brother was martial, brave and handsome—”
“Is this Boromir?”
His father ignored him and kept going. “After some time, it became evident that the elder brother did not want to marry. Not at all. He simply was not interested in women. His main interests in life were fighting and carousing with his … friends.”
“What did your father think?”
“The father of the brothers did not think about this. He loved the elder brother best, regardless.” His father’s voice broke a little.
“Daddy, you do not have to tell this story if you do not want to,” said Ecthelion, sitting up.
“It is necessary,” said his father, and then cleared his throat. “Anyway, the younger brother loved the elder brother very much, because the elder brother had been the only one to show him kindness and love when he was a boy, after their mother died. But the elder brother was a little … messy with his affairs. Because the younger brother loved him so much, he spent many years sorting out the problems which arose as a result.”
“Now that is not good,” Ecthelion said sternly. “I do my best to avoid messes and to prevent anyone else from having to clean up after me.”
“I know,” said his father, raising an eyebrow. “That is very good and thoughtful of you.” Ecthelion realised that his father was utterly sincere, and he became tearful again.
His father put up his hand and made a face. “Later the younger brother married a beautiful woman. He discovered that the woman had a much older cousin who had never wished to marry either. The cousin had been killed at the Fords of Isen—”
“Théodred? But—wait—no! Didn’t Boromir and Théodred know each other?”
“Extremely well, we suspect, without knowing for sure,” said his father, and laughed. “As I said to your mother, Númenóreans find golden hair exotic and attractive, and Rohirrim find dark hair exotic and attractive. Or maybe there is just a mutual attraction between members of my family and members of your mother’s. Because of course, Éomer married my cousin, so there is a pattern of familial attraction—”
“So, did Mummy know about her cousin?”
“Of course,” said his father. “She knew about his preferences well before she met me. We did not speak of the preferences of either of our relatives until we had been married for some years, because it is not the kind of thing about which one speaks, and it was even less so in those days. The most anyone ever said was that Boromir was reminiscent of King Eärnur of old—”
Ecthelion laughed. “Insanely brave, somewhat foolish and attracted to men?”
“Just so,” said his father. “I loved Boromir, very much, but he was headstrong and vain-glorious at times. In any case, the point is that both your mother and I are accustomed to male relatives who prefer men, and expected that at least one of our children would—”
“I sleep with women sometimes too!” said Ecthelion. “And I would not attack Minas Morgul by myself. That was exceptionally stupid.”
His father smiled. “I would not say you are reminiscent of King Eärnur of old, Ecthelion. You are far more thoughtful, and much more complicated.”
“I am glad I am not the heir, or anywhere near being the heir, however,” said Ecthelion.
“Yes, that is probably lucky,” said his father. “Do you want to wash your face and have some breakfast?”
“I am hungry,” said Ecthelion. “But I am so very ashamed—”
“I will walk down with you and support you,” said his father, and Ecthelion began to cry again, and his father embraced him.
When they got to the kitchen, everyone was sitting quietly. Thor and Idis had evidently been crying too, and were holding hands tightly under the table. They refused to look at him.
“Er, hullo everyone,” said Ecthelion. “I am very, very sorry about this morning and about various things I might have said and done—”
“Sit down and eat,” said his mother, and brought him a plate.
“So,” said Morwen, brightly, after smiling at Ecthelion. “What colour are you going to have at your wedding, Idis?”
Idis looked up, her eyes swollen and bloodshot. “Not pink; that is your colour. Other than that, I do not care.”
Túrin pointed at her with a fork, grinning. “As long as you wear more than a dressing gown, Idie!” Norien clucked her tongue and shook her head at Túrin.
“I would be happy to wear more than nothing at all,” said Thor, blushing, and still looking at his plate. “I have no desire to do that again.”
“O, well, you are family now, Thor,” said Dior. “You are certainly loopy enough to fit in with us. And think about it, half of us have already seen you naked in the baths, so—”
“I enjoyed my time here. It has never been dull,” said Beren. “The food has been lovely and the company excellent, and there have been some most interesting dramas. I hope you will have me back again?”
“But of course. There is no way you and Ecthelion—?” said Éowyn, hopefully.
Ecthelion looked at Beren, and Beren shook his head. “No,” they said simultaneously.
“That is a pity,” sighed Morwen. Then she pointed at Beren. “You are still coming to the wedding! Both weddings! I shall be drawing up guest lists!”
“Well, I am glad.” Beren sat up straight and an excited expression came over his face. “Lady Éowyn, you did not happen to note the colour of the steed upon which the King of the Nazgûl rode before you slew it, did you?”
“Leathery,” said Éowyn. “It could have been greenish-brown? It was certainly horrid, and when it flapped its wings, the stench was foul—”
Beren sighed. “I shall have to repaint the model steed. I guessed greenish-grey.”
Thor sat up a little straighter. “Show everyone how its wings flap, Beren. I think they will enjoy that.”
Beren scuttled off, then brought back his wooden box and drew out the model.
“That really is quite something,” said Morwen. “How does it flap?”
Beren beamed. “Press the tail! I stole Ecthelion’s springs to make it!”
“Hmph,” said Ecthelion. “I do not know that I forgive you.”
“And I do not know that I forgive you, Ecthelion,” said Idis, coldly. Thor put his hand on her arm and shook his head. Ecthelion was unsure whether he was trying to calm Idis down or agreeing with her.
After an awkward silence, their father said, “Now, some of the people at this table have done some things they regret, and this morning’s events were … not ideal. But I have had cause to think this morning about when I was young.”
He paused, and cleared his throat.
“I am not going to be my father and let my child go to his death, unblessed, without telling him how much I love and value him. This is so even if the choices my children have made may not be the choices I would have made. I do not want to make the mistake my own father made. I love you all, different as you are. And I will not have you fight like this. That is enough.”
Idis sobbed uncontrollably on Thor’s shoulder. Morwen and his mother were also crying, in a more controlled fashion. Ecthelion hated to admit it, but he had to wipe his eyes too.
“We love you, Father,” he said.