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Cirion frowned at Captain Uirien, as he poured out a cup of his favourite Rohirric tea. “Why is there not enough hardwood to make our bridges?”
“The Navy is making some kind of machine for capturing and sinking Umbarian pirates—they call it the corvus—and they got to procurement before we did—”
Cirion sighed. He missed the days when his brother Túrin was in charge of Army procurement. “Right. I shall negotiate with the Navy and—”
His batman came in. “Your older brother wants to see you. Should I let him in?”
“Very well—convenient timing!—I can complain to him about the Navy—” said Cirion happily. “Maybe he can fix this.”
Elboron came in and nodded at Uirien, then Cirion. “Captain, brother.”
“What’s up?” said Cirion, sipping his tea. His dog Fang lay at his feet, and pricked up an ear at Elboron’s entrance, but settled down back to sleep upon recognising the newcomer.
“I’ve come to warn you that Ecthelion is on the warpath,” said Elboron.
Captain Uirien stiffened, and looked at Cirion sidelong.
“Poor Captain Uirien is Ecthelion’s commanding officer,” said Cirion.
“O, do not fear—it is nothing to do with work; it is to do with Idis’s wedding—” said Elboron.
Cirion blinked. “You mean Morwen’s wedding, surely?”
“No, I mean Idis’s wedding,” said Elboron. “Apparently after we left Emyn Arnen—many interesting things happened, including a marriage proposal, and a giant fight between Idis and Ecthelion, which is so unfair—I do not see why they had all this excitement without us—”
“O, well, jolly good; Thorongil is a capital fellow,” said Cirion. “What business is it of Ecthelion’s anyway?”
“Well—” said Elboron.
At that point, Ecthelion burst in, trailed by Cirion’s batman. “He is in a meeting—!” the batman said.
Ecthelion ignored the batman. “Cirion, you have to tell Mother and Father that Thorongil should not be obliged to marry Idis, despite what I did—”
Fang rose and stretched, and did a whining yawn of complaint at Ecthelion.
“I am in a meeting, Lieutenant,” said Cirion, wondering what Ecthelion had done.
Ecthelion blinked and saluted. “O, hullo Captain Uirien, hullo Bron, hullo Fang.”
Captain Uirien said, “Maybe I should go?”
Cirion pointed at Elboron. “Bron, can you help us get hardwood? The Navy have taken it all for those new devices to sink pirate ships, and they are hogging it.”
“It is most annoying!” said Ecthelion, flapping his hands. “Almost as annoying as Idis!”
“I will talk to Mother,” said Elboron. “It may be that Ithilien can satisfy both orders, but I must check how much the Elves have embargoed this season.”
“Very good,” said Cirion. “Please let me know.” Fang settled back down at his feet with a sigh.
“Shall I wait to hear from you, Captain-General?” said Uirien, poised for flight.
“Leave it with me, Captain,” said Cirion. “One way or another I will get the wood. You can escape this delightful partial family reunion now, if you want?”
“Thank you, Captain-General,” said Uirien, saluting crisply, and scuttled out, with a narrow backward look at Ecthelion. Cirion sensed Ecthelion was going to be told off later, which he personally felt was appropriate in the circumstances.
“What are you doing, Thel?” said Cirion, and took a large gulp of his tea before it could get too cold.
“Idis and Thorongil are having a wedding at sword point—” Ecthelion stopped as Cirion spluttered tea everywhere, startling the dog at his feet. Ecthelion wiped himself down with a handkerchief.
“Idis is pregnant?” said Cirion, wiping down his tea-spattered desk with his own handkerchief. “Also you should not tell me such things while I am drinking tea.” He patted Fang behind the ears as the dog settled back down. “Sorry Fang, old fellow.”
“We don’t actually know whether she is or not,” said Elboron, calmly. “At least, that is the version I heard from Father, although I have heard lurid versions from several people, including you, Ecthelion—”
“If she is: they have a quick private wedding; if she isn’t: they have a wedding in six weeks,” said Ecthelion, frowning.
Cirion shrugged. “Well, I guess that answers one question I had about their relationship?”
“She seduced Thor!” said Ecthelion. “She trapped him! We have to save him!”
“How did she trap him?” laughed Cirion. “Did she hold him at knife-point?”
“No, she went into his bedroom in the night, crept into his bed and took off her clothes,” said Ecthelion, disapprovingly.
Cirion snorted tea up his nose and choked. After he had finished coughing he said, “What? That is classic! She really took off her clothing?”
“She was certainly still naked when she chased me down the hall,” said Ecthelion. “At least it meant she was not wearing those wretched knives—”
Cirion bellowed with laughter. “Why was she chasing you down the hall wearing no clothes?”
Elboron sighed. “Because Thel decided to surprise them in flagrante, and ended up seeing much more than he bargained for, at least that is what Father said—?”
Cirion roared with laughter.
“I was going to ask Thor if he wanted to come fishing with me,” said Ecthelion, colouring a little.
“Utter rubbish,” said Elboron, sternly. “You had no real intention of taking him fishing at all.”
Cirion became serious. “Now, Ecthelion, I know we have not really spoken about this before, but if you have any notion of seducing Thorongil away for yourself, I will be very cross with you—”
Ecthelion gaped. “No! Not you too?”
Elboron sighed. “Surely Beren is hurt by this kind of behaviour?”
“Gah!” said Ecthelion, stamping his foot and flinging his arms up in the air. “Argh! I hate my family!”
Cirion blinked. “What is wrong? What did we do?”
“BEREN AND I ARE NOT LOVERS!” shouted Ecthelion. “NO! NOT EVER!”
Fang rose again, and looked narrowly at Ecthelion; he did not like loud noises. His hackles began to rise, and he gave a low growl.
“Hush boy,” Cirion said to Fang.
“We don’t mind if you and Beren are lovers,” said Elboron, spreading his palms.
“BUT WE ARE NOT!” bellowed Ecthelion. “WHEN I SAY WE ARE ‘JUST FRIENDS’, I ACTUALLY MEAN WE ARE ‘JUST FRIENDS’!”
Cirion took his hands off his ears. “Seriously, we don’t mind?” Fang gave a single bark, as if in agreement.
“ARGH!” said Ecthelion, and turned and stormed out.
“If they are not lovers, then what on Middle Earth does Beren get out of that relationship?” said Cirion, after a long silence. Fang settled back at his feet with a snort.
“I have absolutely no idea,” said Elboron, with a shrug. “Maybe he likes drama and shouting?”
The batman poked his head back in. “Is everything well in here? Lieutenant Ecthelion appeared to be rather emotional? I am so sorry, but I could not stop him from—”
“Do not fear. I spat tea at him accidentally, but otherwise everything is well,” said Cirion.
The batman looked at Cirion’s desk. “Ah. I will get you a new cup and a fresh pot of tea. Surprising news?”
“Our sister is getting married, and Ecthelion does not approve,” said Elboron.
“He does not like Lieutenant Beregar?” said the batman, quirking up an eyebrow. “I thought everyone liked Lieutenant Beregar.”
“No, not Morwen: this is Idis,” said Cirion.
“I did not even know Lady Idis was seeing anyone, let alone engaged?” said the batman. “In fact I thought she would be eternally unwed?”
“Idis being Idis, it has all been very cloak and dagger, both metaphorically and in reality,” said Elboron. “She told Galadhel and I very early on about this man, in the barest details, only because we guessed there was something odd going on from her behaviour, but she has hidden it from everyone else until recently—”
“Army man, I hope?” said the batman.
“Of course. Ex-Army, now Foreign Office. He was a Lieutenant in the Fifth Harad Mounted Infantry,” said Cirion. “Very much Idie’s cup of tea—”
“Speaking of which, I will get you that fresh pot of tea,” said the batman, and bustled out with the teapot.
“So what really happened?” said Cirion to Elboron.
“What Ecthelion said was true: Idis turned up in Thorongil’s room in the middle of the night, purportedly to ‘say goodnight’, and stripped off her nightgown,” said Elboron. “Thorongil is very worried you are going to kill him—?”
“Me?” said Cirion. “I cannot blame the poor man! If Fíriel turned up in her nightgown and climbed into my bed naked before we married, I would have done the same thing.”
“If I recollect correctly, in fact, you openly did the same thing before you wed,” said Elboron.
Cirion recalled this with some pleasure. “True, but we were already engaged, it was two weeks before the wedding, and Fíriel did not turn up in her nightgown; she was wearing ordinary clothes.”
Then he looked at his older brother, and grinned. Everyone had exclaimed how very large Elboron’s eldest son was for a baby born one month early, but Cirion was reasonably sure Barahir had been born at term. “I’m sure I’m not the only one to have behaved in this way?”
Elboron gave him a sly smile. “I am sure you are correct.” Then he shrugged. “But to return to the tale—Thorongil immediately proposed afterwards, and Daddy says Idis is delighted. The parents think Thorongil will be happy too, once he realises that his life and honour are not in danger.”
Cirion scratched his head. “Why would his life and honour be in danger? He did the honourable thing, did he not?”
“His family is not happy with him,” said Elboron.
“The lower nobility do tend to be more exacting about these things, although not as much as Fíriel’s family, I have found,” noted Cirion.
“They seek to prove themselves unimpeachable and worthy of movement upwards, I deem,” said Elboron. “Whereas for us, it does not matter. That is the only part of Ecthelion’s complaint which has merit: that Idis may not have realised the extent to which she outranks Thorongil.”
“Ecthelion is … like to King Eärnur … is he not?” said Cirion. “I am not imagining that he might have liked Thorongil for himself?”
“A little more omnivorous than King Eärnur, I gather,” said Elboron. “In her letter to me, Morwen said that when Idis chased Thel down the corridor, she began shouting out the names of Ecthelion’s lovers and what he does with them—”
Cirion stared at Elboron. “How, by the Valar, does Idis know this?”
“Covert operations,” said Elboron quietly. “She is rather good at being Ecthelion, but she has had to rebuff many of his suitors, she told me.”
Cirion burst out laughing and shook his head at his older brother. “Idis! A covert operative! You jest with me!”
“An exceptional one, I believe,” said Elboron, seriously. “You should ask her to show you some of the people she pretends to be.”
“How interesting,” said Cirion, scratching behind Fang’s ears, and wondering at how he could not know this of his sister. “Because Thorongil was the famous MI4592, as we ascertained from his file.”
“When I read that, I thought that they must have been drawn to each other on the basis of their similar background in intelligence gathering,” said Elboron. “Added to the fact that they both taught themselves Old Haradric for fun—”
The batman came back in with the teapot and two cups. “I am sorry this took so long: I had to find a cup for Lord Elboron as well—”
“O, thank you,” said Elboron. “That is most kind.”
“Elboron, I have just had the most wonderful thought!” Cirion sat up straight, startling Fang. “I now have the possibility of getting a Haradric spider! My childhood dream can come true!”
The batman sighed. “How would you procure such a creature, Captain-General?”
“Idis’s fiancé is a diplomat with the Harad mission,” said Elboron, looking amused. “He seems a resourceful fellow too—”
Cirion clapped. “He is! I am sure he can get me a very large hairy spider!”
“He leaves the week after Morwen’s wedding, so make sure you ask him before then,” said Elboron. “I suppose Idis will be going too?”
“Aye … unless—” said Cirion.
“Yes,” said Elboron. “Although knowing Idis, she would follow him, whatever state she is in?”
“Must I deal with a hairy spider?” pleaded the batman.
“You did say that you were happy with all animals when I hired you?” said Cirion. “Also, did you know that these ones can be taught to play fetch? They are very intelligent, for spiders.”
His batman sighed again, more deeply. “Very well, Captain-General.” He paused. “When is the wedding of your sister and this diplomat?”
“Er, we do not exactly know presently,” said Elboron.
“A maximum of six or seven weeks away, Ecthelion was saying?” said Cirion, and Elboron nodded.
The batman’s eyebrows went up, and his mouth fell open. “But this is the sister who threatened to castrate a man? I thought she did not like men?”
“To be accurate, she threatened to strangle that man at the dance,” noted Cirion. “I might do the same if someone was foolish enough to grab my backside when I did not want it grabbed.”
Elboron shrugged. “She likes this particular man very much indeed, and he reciprocates that affection wholeheartedly.”
The batman’s face cleared as realisation dawned. “He did not—? No wonder Lieutenant Ecthelion does not approve of him—!”
“No, no, you have it quite wrong: Ecthelion approves of Thorongil, but disapproves of Idis’s conduct,” said Cirion. “Really I think Ecthelion is jealous, don’t you, Bron?”
“At the time when Gala and I got engaged, Idis said that she would likely never marry and never have children, much though she wished to do both—now she has her chance,” said Elboron, sipping his tea. “My parents are not upset, nor are the rest of us. It is only Ecthelion.”
“Thorongil did seven years in Harad.” Cirion had a better understanding of what might immediately impress his batman. “He was heavily involved, in various ways, in the successful assault of Qom Hadara.”
“Ah,” said his batman, with a tone of respect. “A full rotation?”
“Moreover, Fang likes him, and he likes Fang,” said Cirion. Fang lifted up an ear and opened one eye to hear himself mentioned.
His batman smiled. “Never higher praise was uttered!”
“Well, if you consider that my father is quite content, and combine that with Fang’s good opinion—” said Cirion.
“—Morwen said Beru likes him too—” interjected Elboron “—And the Elves like him—“
“—Beru is my father’s cat,” said Cirion, to the batman’s quizzical look. “Anyway, taking those four things into consideration, and our own judgement of his character, we are inclined generally to approve. And I really do not think it is my place to criticise any man for that kind of thing, as long as his intentions are honourable, which they were in this case—?”
“I agree with all points made by Cirion,” said Elboron, firmly.
“I see now,” said his batman. “Should I send Lieutenant Ecthelion away if he comes back?”
“Yes please,” said Cirion.
The batman left, and Cirion continued, “If Ecthelion comes back, I shall be sorely vexed by him, and I always feel bad about that, because Ecthelion is probably the most brittle of us, do you not think, Bron? And he takes any criticism badly—”
“Definitely,” agreed Elboron. “I am not quite sure what happened there: he was brought up in the same way as the rest of us?”
“It is just the way he is,” said Cirion. “I know Mother worries about it, though.”
“I am heartily pleased to see Idis settled,” said Elboron. “She was also brittle for a time?”
“I always felt that she would be fine,” said Cirion. “She is basically a very sweet, clever, good-hearted girl who happens to bear daggers, and who does not like people at dances touching her bottom.”
“It was lucky for Thorongil that she carries daggers; she killed at least one Khandian assassin,” said Elboron.
“No one told me that part!” said Cirion, clapping. “Well done, Idis! I always thought she was the third deadliest of us!”
Elboron narrowed his eyes and smiled. “Of course, I am the deadliest?”
“In your dreams alone, big brother,” said Cirion, smiling back in the same way. “Only second, on my count—”
Elboron laughed, stood and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you for helping neutralise Ecthelion, O deadly one, and I will talk to Father about how to calm him down further—?”
“Very good,” said Cirion. “Good bye, Bron.”
He attended several meetings, his batman successful rebuffed Ecthelion upon a second and third approach, and Cirion decided he would leave early and go home to Emyn Arnen.
His batman raised an eyebrow. “Do tell me what happened with your sister, her beau and Lieutenant Ecthelion when you return? I have not seen Lieutenant Ecthelion this excitable in some time—”
“I shall,” said Cirion.
He enjoyed the ride home immensely: riding was one his favourite activities. Fang loped along beside, his jaws open in a grin and his tongue hanging out. He loved a good walk. Cirion let him and the horse have a drink in the water trough for horses down in the village of Emyn Arnen, and then took them up to the cottage he lived in with Fíriel and the children. He stabled the horse, and Fang lay down with a huge sigh in his basket. Cirion instructed a servant to fetch Fang some food, and then went in search of his wife.
He found Fíriel in the solar, talking seriously to Idis, and paused in the doorway to watch.
“I really do not care about colours,” Idis was saying. “But Morwen, Thor’s mother and Thor’s sister-in-law are obsessed about them?”
“What colour do you like Thor to wear?” said Fíriel.
“Green,” said Idis. “Well, actually, I like it best if he is wearing nothing at all—”
“So I hear,” said Cirion, folding his arms.
Both women jumped, and Fíriel burst out laughing. Idis turned bright red and said, “Cirion! Don’t kill him! Don’t kill him! It was my fault!”
“Why do you think I would kill him? He is going to marry you, is he not? And he looks like he would make you a capital husband.”
Idis’s shoulders slumped. “O good. For some reason he is really worried about it. His silly friend told him horror stories that you would rip him limb from limb or something.”
“I am glad to hear that my reputation is as I like it to be,” said Cirion. “However, the reality in this specific case is different.”
“How did you come to hear of this drama in any case, Cirion?” said Fíriel. “It is times like this I am both sad and glad I am down in the cottage—”
“Elboron and Ecthelion came to see me today—” said Cirion.
“Don’t listen to Ecthelion!” said Idis.
“That was essentially Elboron’s main point,” said Cirion. “We sent him away; in fact, he lost his temper and sent himself away.”
Fíriel’s Mama came wandering in. “O! Cirion! Hullo!”
Cirion leaned down and kissed her. “Hullo, Mama.”
“You were not supposed to be home tonight?” said Mistress Eliril, curiously, seating herself opposite Idis and her daughter.
“He is nosy,” said Fíriel.
“Why did Thel lose his temper?” said Idis.
“We told him that we did not mind if he and Beren are lovers,” said Cirion. “And then Bron said he should think of Beren, and I said he should not try to seduce other people’s lovers—”
“Thor doesn’t tend that way anyway,” said Idis. “Ecthelion is convinced he does, but he doesn’t. Most definitely not, I think I can say that now.”
“Ecthelion lives in hope,” said Fíriel, sniggering.
“What?” said Fíriel’s Mama, with great interest. “Ecthelion tried to seduce your fiancé away from you, Idis?”
“Not exactly. He just tried to suggest to me and everyone else that Thor was a man who went both ways and might be happier without me,” said Idis. “And he gave Thor his form—and Thor showed it to me—and we burned it—”
Cirion snorted. “I am a bit sad you burned it. We could write a sequel to A Gondor Rose Blooms in the Desert based upon it, Fíriel?”
Idis laughed. “—‘then he looked upon her with flashing dark eyes, and internally she did a dance of joy’—”
Cirion grinned. “I still do not understand what an internal dance of joy is?”
“You are incapable of an internal dance of joy, darling,” said Fíriel. “Your dances of joy are all external.”
“And you love it,” said Cirion, giving his wife an appreciative look.
“Anyway, what colour do you think you will wear for the wedding, Idis?” said Fíriel’s Mama, tactfully.
“Argh!” said Idis.
“Green,” said Fíriel, patting Idis’s knee. “Just say ‘green’, Idie.”
“I think I shall say we will be nude so that people will not ask any more,” said Idis.
“Thorongil would not like a naked wedding,” said Cirion. “He strikes me as slightly self-conscious about nudity? Purely based upon my impression when first meeting him in the baths—”
“He is still upset about having to run after me and Thel wearing only his underpants,” sighed Idis. “He says he has nightmares about it—but he did better than me. He was mostly clothed by the time Mummy and Daddy turned up!”
Cirion looked at his sister. “And you were not?”
“I had a dressing gown, but I forgot to tie it up until Mummy and Daddy arrived, because I was very, very angry with Ecthelion in so many ways. I mean, how dare he lecture me upon sleeping with one person, when we had already agreed in principle at a very early stage that this was tending towards marriage? And Ecthelion—” Idis broke off and eyed Cirion.
“Is like to King Eärnur? Has been living in intimate quarters with a man for the last five years? Sleeps with several of my officers who prefer men?” suggested Cirion.
“All of those. So you know too,” said Idis. “But just to warn you, he does sleep with some women, and he objects to being likened to King Eärnur. He says it was insufferably stupid to attack the Witch King of Angmar in solo combat, and, if he was set upon doing that, Ecthelion thinks King Eärnur should have at least tried to produce some offspring before he left—”
“A logical conclusion,” said Cirion.
Fíriel’s Mama blinked. “Who is King Eärnur again?”
“When I joined this family, I learned that he was the last King of Gondor before King Elessar returned,” said Fíriel.
“It was I who told you,” said Idis with satisfaction. “And it turns out that my hypothesis that Uncle Boromir was also ‘like to King Eärnur’ was entirely correct.”
“Did Daddy not tell you about that when you joined the Navy? O, I forgot…” said Cirion.
“No one would let me join the Navy, you may recall,” said Idis acerbically. “Or the Army, Cirion, as you know very, very well…”
“So you dressed up in costumes and spied on people instead?” said Cirion. “Bron told me.”
Idis cackled, bent herself over and squinted up at him. The transformation in her face and manner was remarkable. “Mistress Gwendes admires you very much, Cirion! That young lad, Cirion, so young to become Captain-General! So handsome and well-built, do you not think? Such a lovely man! Although that big dog of his is half a Warg, and I really would not want to clean up the fur that beast sheds—”
Cirion burst out laughing. “Ioreth!”
“That is indeed upon whom I based Mistress Gwendes,” said Idis, straightening back up, her face returning to normal.
“You should be a player, Idis,” said Fíriel’s Mama, with awe.
“No, I do not like audiences,” said Idis.
“What were you doing then, pretending to be this woman?” said Fíriel.
“Spying on bad people,” said Idis, with equanimity. “It was a lot of fun, and in fact, that is sort of one of the ways I came to meet Thor: I had to spy on his horrible upstairs housemate, who turned out to be stupid, not bad. But I shall give it up to go to Harad with Thor.”
“Sort of?” said Cirion.
“Well, I was already perhaps a little bit aware of him, because he was the only person to beat me in the public service test,” said Idis, blushing. “And then, later, because he was being followed by assassins, I had to talk to him—”
Cirion guffawed. “Idis! I hear you killed the assassins? Third most deadly of the siblings, and third worst at dealing with other people beating her in a competition?”
“Out of the ten of you, who is worse at dealing with being beaten than Idis?” said Fíriel’s Mama.
“Me and Elboron, of course,” said Cirion, with surprise.
Idis’s face was a glowing picture of wonderment. “You think I am the third most deadly?”
“Definitely,” said Cirion, solemnly.
His sister leaped up and hugged him tightly. “O thank you, Ciri, that is lovely of you to say!”
“I sometimes wonder how I became part of such an insane family, where being deadly is a compliment,” said Fíriel.
Cirion grinned at her. “Because you could not resist my charms!”
“No one can resist you, Cirion,” said Idis.
Then dinner was called, and Cirion embraced his children, who were very happy to have their Dadda home. He loved them so much.
“You can stay for dinner if you want?” said Fíriel to Idis.
“I will, and then I will go back to Emyn Arnen,” said Idis. “All this waiting around to see what is going to happen next is getting a bit boring, so it is nice to have other company—”
Later, after dinner, Cirion took his sister aside and said, “I wish you’d spoken to me before you got into this. There are—things—I could have given you to ensure that it was less likely for you to fall pregnant, Idis.”
Idis blushed. “Well then, it is a pity we did not speak. But it is not as if we planned what happened, as such. In fact, you can be quite sure that we did not, because if I had planned it, I would have been much more surreptitious and crafty about it, and Ecthelion would not have known anything, nor Mummy and Daddy—”
“Our parents walked in on you too?”
“No, Mummy came in the night to check that Thor was comfortable, and, er, maybe she saw us both asleep in his bed, and then quietly told Daddy. So we had been discovered anyway; but it would have been much better if Thel and Beren had not walked in while we were—ah, we just could not resist trying a second time—?”
Cirion burst out laughing. “This is hilarious!”
“Thor is really embarrassed, still,” said Idis. “I started it the first time, by hugging him wearing only a nightgown; but he started it the second time, by patting my hand in a sensual way when he was assuring me that he was more than happy to marry me—”
“O, this wedding is going to be a barrel of laughs!”
“Do you know what Beren said to Thor after they came upon us? He said, ‘I don’t suppose you still want to go fishing?’ He is quite insane, Ciri.”
Cirion was now laughing so hard he could barely speak. Eventually he said, wiping his eyes, “If they are just friends, as Ecthelion claims, he must be insane—because if they have no intimate contact, what is in it for him?”
“Thor thinks Beren likes the drama that follows Ecthelion around,” said Idis. “Also, maybe Beren is relieved that Ecthelion puts up with his obsessions with tiny models of historical armies and maps? I could not live with all those little models. Unfortunately, Beren gets the eyes right, and it feels like 1000 tiny Orcs and 1000 tiny Elves are watching you, if you happen to go to their apartment.”
Cirion brightened as he thought of something from earlier in the day. “Idie, if you and Thorongil go to Harad, do you think you could get a very large Haradric spider for me?”
Idis beamed. “Of course, dear brother! We shall do our best!”
Cirion kissed Idis on the forehead. “Thank you, little sister, and do take care walking up the hill.”
Idis turned to go, and then stopped herself. “O, goodbye.”
“You never say goodbye?” said Cirion with astonishment.
“Thor thinks things will be less socially awkward for me if I learn,” said Idis. “So, again, farewell.”
She slipped out into the darkness, and Cirion told his children bedtime stories, and kissed them goodnight, as he always did when he was home. Then he yawned and went back to his bedroom and let his valet undress him.
Fíriel was sitting up in bed sewing. “Idis is utterly hilarious.”
“I have not laughed so much for at least a month,” said Cirion.
“Did she tell you how Ecthelion interrupted them just before the best bit, the second time?” said Fíriel, giggling. “She is still really annoyed about it.”
Cirion laughed. “No! She told me how Beren asked if Thorongil still wanted to go fishing, and that she fell into temptation a second time because Thorongil patted her hand in a sensual manner—”
Fíriel put down her sewing and said, “How does one pat a hand in a sensual manner?”
Cirion sat down on the bed beside her. “We could experiment?”
“Here, I offer you my hand,” said Fíriel, grinning.
Cirion took her hand and caressed it, then kissed it, and kissed up the inside of her arm.
“Ahhh.” Fíriel shivered as he slipped his hand into her nightgown. “Now I understand—”
“At least no one will interrupt us before the best bit,” said Cirion, grinning.
“I’m glad you came home tonight,” said Fíriel, breathlessly.
“Me too,” said Cirion.