Hanno by dalliansss

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A Day Out and Raspberries

  • Much of this work are based on shared headcanons between @skaelds and me. Special mention to @Antares0606.

For as early as Aikanáro could remember, the golden presence of Ingoldo had always been there beside him and Angamaitë, their eldest brother either carrying them strapped to his back as he did some chores around their parents’ manse or else reading and writing his own scholarly work. Aikanáro’s earliest memories with his brothers were the warmth of their hugs, the solid and youthful strength of their arms, and the many, many kisses bestowed upon him by both Ingoldo and Angamaitë. 

 

But for Aikanáro, Ingoldo was his favorite sibling.

He loved Angamaitë too, but Ingoldo simply was his favorite.

 

~0~

 

Findaráto had attained his majority and two years later, Aikanár was born. Though his parents had a considerable household staff, still he had left his own house and returned to them for a time to help around with taking care of Aikanár. Arafinwë told him he need not do so, but he did it anyway, moving back to his parent’s house so he could hoard his second little brother. Growing up spending summers with Fëanáro’s massive household had instilled in him instinct and skill to look after little ones, and Aikanár was no different. 

 

But Aikanár was barely ten – still very much a baby in elven reckoning – when Nerwen was born, and the joy of having a daughter split Arafinwë and Eärwen’s attention, such that Aikanár’s care had fallen to the wayside, leaving the little elfling terribly wanting the affection of their parents. The result was, Aikanár was often left with servants who spoiled him, giving him what he wanted if only to forestall tantrums, and Findaráto found that it would not do at all. Angamaitë, while still residing with their parents, was old enough to take care of himself and Aikanár both, but Angamaitë had no patience for children and was at the age where elleths were more of an ideal occupation than deal with Aikanár’s needs.

 

So, Findaráto, with leave of their parents, took all of Aikanár’s belongings and his little brother’s nursemaid Nemmirile as well, and relocated both elfling and nursemaid to his house in Tirion.

 

~0~

 

Wee little feet pad bare down the hallway of Ingoldo’s house, and it’s early morning and Laurelin has barely brightened, and Telperion steadily declining to prepare for the Mingling. There’s a giggle somewhere, and two small, soft hands push wayward flaxen blond curls out of big blue eyes. Egg’s gaze is riveted on the closed door of his brother’s door, and he grabs the doorknob and turns it, and the door is unlocked and easily grants him admittance inside.

 

Ingoldo has a big room; with a balcony and curtains, and Egg liked sitting in that balcony during evenings, squished onto his brother’s lap as he shot a thousand questions per minute, asking Ingoldo where he had been, what did he do with his morning, and whether or not he could come next time. There’s a rocking chair there, given to his brother by their Uncle Fëanáro, and it’s a chair older than he was, even. A chair is older than he is! Imagine that!

 

Egg finds his brother still abed, his blankets rumpled. Ingoldo liked sleeping on his stomach while hugging a pillow underneath him, and he is a mess of limbs and golden blond hair, the blankets almost off him. Ingoldo wore nothing, but nudity has never been an issue with Eldar, or at least, to his brother. Another quirk of spending much of his youthful summers in Formenos, or so their Atar said. Ingoldo had no decency. De-shen-see. Whatever the word meant.

 

He climbs up the bed with the vigor of childhood, and Egg sits on his brother’s back, grabbing fistfuls of Ingoldo’s lovely blond hair and stuffing them into his mouth. He liked eating Ingoldo’s hair because it looked like runny yolk from the breakfasts Nemmirile made. Yum yum.

 

A groan. Egg giggles as his brother stirs. “Egg…Aikanár…my back…heavy…”

 

“Innoldo, Innoldo, you promsee to take me to the park today!” Egg declares, yanking on his brother’s hair a bit hard, that causes Ingoldo’s eyes to snap open.

“Ai!” Ingoldo exclaims. “Ai, I’m up! I’m awake!” Another groan. “Egg, my back–”

“Park! Park, park, park!” Egg chirps. “Innoldo go to park with Egg?”

“Yes, yes. Ai, get off my back, come here–”

 

Egg promptly rolls to the side, allowing his grown brother to roll onto his back. Ingoldo brushes back his tangled golden hair from his face. He still has a massive pillow crease on his left cheek, and a streak of dried drool, which fascinates Egg. The chubby-cheeked elfling crawls forward and pokes at the pillow crease on his brother’s face. 

 

“Uwah, Innoldo, face broken!” he exclaims. “I fix! I fix, I fix!” So saying he gives his brother a massive smooch on the ‘damaged’ cheek.

“Ewwww,” Ingoldo winces. “Your breath is bad!”

 

 

The kitchen smells heavenly: pancakes and maple syrup, and coffee. Egg clings to his brother as they descend from his rooms together. Ingoldo had combed down his lovely golden hair and got into a verdant green Telerin skirt that reached his ankles. Nemmirile, Egg’s nursemaid, turns from where she has just finished setting the table and greets the princes good morning, the greeting which they return. 

 

“Breakfast looks lovely, Nemmirile,” says Ingoldo, smiling brilliantly at her. “You’re joining us, yes?”

“Yes, Findaráto,” she fetches the pot of coffee and pours them a cup each – Egg was judged to be too young still for the drink. 

 

Egg is relegated to the seat beside his brother’s own, given with his own plate and two pancakes. He eagerly picks up the knife and fork, and he nods happily when Ingoldo pokes a square of butter onto his pancakes and then adds the syrup on top. Egg watches in utter fascination as the butter melts and mixes with the viscous syrup. It enthralls him for some minutes, until his brother coaxes him to start eating – he won’t want his pancakes cold. That said, Egg cuts into breakfast and starts stuffing his cheeks. Om nom nom.

 

He is ten, and Ingoldo has always said he should start to eat cleanly, because eating messily would make him dirty and ugly, ai! Egg took the lesson to heart, striving at every meal time to eat as cleanly as possible, little crumbs and spots of sauce on his person or on his clothes. He has been doing exceedingly well since he and Nemmirile moved to Ingoldo’s house, primarily because Egg could not bear to have his beloved older brother upset or disappointed in him.

 

At the end of breakfast, Egg only had small amounts of crumbs around his cheeks, and not a dollop of syrup on his clothes!

 

“Well done, Egg,” Ingoldo praises him and kisses him thrice on each cheek. “As a reward, you have this cantaloupe for dessert.”

 

He is allowed a small bowl of cantaloupe balls. Egg’s eyes widen, and he takes up the longer and slender dessert spoon to get started on the sweet treat. As he eats, Ingoldo and Nemmirile move around the house doing the rest of the chores – and he wonders why Ingoldo does not have servants like Atar and Amil do back in Alqualondë. Even then, Nemmirile doesn’t do much chores – as far as he understands it, tasks were split between Nemmirile and Ingoldo, with Ingoldo taking the bigger share. 

 

Egg wonders when he can start helping with the chores too, as he eats more cantaloupe balls. 

 

 

Nemmirile gives him a bath in the bathroom in his suites – really, a guest suite of Ingoldo’s, given to him since they moved here from Alqualondë. Egg sits in the tub as Nemmirile washes his hair.

 

“Namma,” Egg speaks, keeping his eyes closed so as not to get shampoo suds in them. “Namma, I wear blue in the park today, okay? I wear blue.”

 

He hears his nursemaid’s soft, fond laughter. “Alright, Egg. We’ll pick blue clothes for you today.”

 

He isn’t allowed to play with his duckies in the tub today, because Ingoldo has people to meet and they will have time to play at the park, or so Egg is told. So Egg indeed does not ask for his duckies, and Nemmirile helps him dress in a blue-and-silver ensemble. She towel dries his thick curls and patiently and meticulously works out the tangles there. 

 

“There, don’t you look lovely,” Nemmirile smiles when the hair-combing is done. 

Egg smiles widely at her from the mirror. “I look lovely! Yes! Thank you, Namma!”

 

Ingoldo then enters the room, already fully dressed in verdant green and gold, his long hair kept hanging loosely except for the braids at either side of his face. He beams at Egg. “Ah, someone looks dashing.”

 

“Dash-eeng,” Egg repeats the word. “I dashing!” He scrambles out of his chair, runs to his brother and holds up his arms expectantly. Ingoldo rolls his lovely eyes and picks him up anyway, and Egg hugs into his neck, already nosing into his throat and his golden hair.

 

Ingoldo smelled nice! Like lavender! 

 

 

The park is the expansive, public one just before Mindon Eldaliéva, with its exquisite pathways, the mallorn trees, the tables and chairs. Ingoldo takes him to an area designated for elflings, and here Egg is let go to play with other early elflings there, sons and daughters of lords of Tirion and commoners both. Ingoldo beams at the parents there watching their children, and he is greeted with the courtesy expected for him, things which Egg does not understand yet. What Egg does know is that they are both princes, special, in a way. 

 

Egg is soon engaged, chasing two boys and two girls, and them chasing him in turn. They frolick unhampered – clamber up the slide, onto the swing, onto the see-saw, whatever else they could lay their small hands on. Egg picks up one of the free-use hoops and tries to play with it, but everytime he tries to ‘wiggle’, the hoop falls, simply too big. This frustrates him, and a tantrum crackles underneath his golden curls, until Ingoldo notices his displeasure and comes to his rescue, and distracts him toward the play pyramid nearby instead.

 

By the time he is too tired and now hungry, a crowd has formed around his brother, obscuring Ingoldo from his sight. Egg pauses, wondering where all the people had come from. They are all grown men and women, clad in the austere tunics and dresses of the Noldor and Vanyar, their clothing rich and ornately detailed with embroideries. A whine rolls from Egg’s lips as he runs toward the gathering, pushing aside legs and bodies. He wants hanno, he wants his brother, he wants hanno, he wants his brother, go away go away go away go away—

 

He gives the last few bodies a big shove just as the first whine rolls from his lips, and his cheeks and nose flush red as he starts to cry. The crowd has parted, and there Ingoldo sits on the bench, flanked by a Vanyarin lady who claps a hand over her lips when Egg draws near them, positively throwing a loud, wailing tantrum. 

 

“Ai, Egg, little one, what is the matter?” Ingoldo is on his feet at once, and Egg is swept into his warm, beloved hold. “Hush now, hush now, I’m here, I’m right here, I have you.”

 

Great sobs rack Egg’s little shoulders and he takes great gulps of air. He has balled his hands into fists and rubs the tears out of his eyes, and he twists in Ingoldo’s hold to look at the ellon and elleth around them. They are Noldor and Vanyar – dark-haired and golden-haired, all friends of Ingoldo’s from university. They are all amused with him, and the elleths coo at him and try to touch him. Egg growls at one elleth who offers him her silk kerchief, and he twists back to hide his face by his brother’s neck. 

 

“No! Go away!” Egg cries, his voice muffled.

 

Soft laughter ripples around the small crowd around him and his brother.

 

“Aww, look at him, he’s upset!” comes an elleth’s voice.

“One would think you birthed him yourself, Ingoldo,” an ellon’s voice says.

 

Egg feels the laughter ripple from his brother’s chest, and when it escapes Ingoldo’s mouth it is as if Yavanna herself laughed, and the world bloomed brighter for it. “He’s just hungry, and tired now, I expect. Excuse us.”

 

Ingoldo sits back down on the bench and turns to the picnic basket there. He fetches a towel and hands it to Egg, who promptly uses it to wipe his face. He looks up at his brother, but Ingoldo simply smiles at him. He is then offered a sandwich next. 

 

The food does its magic; soon Egg is seated properly on his brother’s lap as he eats his sandwich, unmindful again of the crowd around them and the philosophical discussion that had quickly picked itself back up. Words, words, drift around Egg, and he sits there for now uncomprehending. As he eats, he looks to the elleth still sitting beside them, and she smiles at him, and he supposes she’s lovely, but nothing can be lovelier than his elder brother.

 

 

The picnic basket is empty now, and the crowd that had earlier gathered around them has dispersed. Egg is still on his brother’s lap, but he is flopped against Ingoldo’s chest, drowsy and belly full of food. Ingoldo holds him there, and he is reading from a book, singing softly. It’s comfortable, being held like this, and Egg sleepily thinks he should not like to grow up if only to be held like this by his brother forever. 

 

(He wants to be held like this by Atar and Amil too, but they’re busy – too busy fawning over little Nerwen, who Egg dislikes, because if she didn’t get born, then Atar and Amil’s attention would have remained with him, still.

 

But he has Ingoldo’s attention.

Ingoldo’s attention is all his.

If Nerwen takes it, Egg decides, he will bite her so hard she will not attempt to do so ever again.)

 

“Ingoldo, out and about still? Have you had your midday meal?”

 

Egg rouses at this new voice. He opens his eyes and sees an ellon in indigo and white approaching them. This one is thoroughly Noldo in his dark hair, but curiously enough, he has gold ribbons in his braids. He wears a prince’s silver circlet on his brow, and even though Ingoldo is seated, Egg knows somehow his brother is taller than this approaching one. 

 

“We have had our midday meal, thank you, Findekáno,” Ingoldo replies. “We’re just resting now.”

 

Findekáno? Egg rouses, pushing away from his brother to sit up properly. He rubs briefly at his eyes, then looks at Findekáno curiously.

 

“Ai, Egg, tis your cousin Findekáno!” Ingoldo laughs. “Do you not recognize him?”

 

Findekáno is smiling at him, and Egg feels confusion cloud his young mind. Of course he regards Ingoldo as fairest and his most beloved, but then here comes this cousin, with gold in his hair, smiling so warmly at him. Findekáno, Egg decides then and there, is as fair and radiant to him as Ingoldo is. 

 

“Carry me,” Egg demands, twisting his body around and holding out his arms.

 

His brother and Findekáno laugh, but Findekáno picks him up from Ingoldo’s hold and cuddles him close. Egg is awed to be staring at Findekáno’s ageless face this close. For someone in a thoroughly golden household, a darker beauty like Findekáno is an exotic sight, so rarely beheld. Egg pokes his cousin’s cheeks, then he tugs at those gold-braid hair. He immediately puts the end of one gold-twined braid into his mouth, making Findekáno laugh again.

 

“This one has the tendency of our family to put things into their mouths,” Findekáno says.

“I know, right?” Ingoldo answers with a beam. “I drink ink, and Egg eats people’s hair. Nessa’s teacup tits, we’re a strange bunch!”

 

They laugh, and Egg smiles through the mouthful of Findekáno’s braids. 

 

 

Laurelin is waning when they go back home. They spent the afternoon being hosted at Findekáno’s home, where Egg wandered about poking his head into the rooms and inspecting trinkets as his brother and cousin discuss something about Grandfather Finwë’s palace. There is mention of their cousin Russandol as well, and Egg remembers Russandol because of his red hair, and he liked eating Russandol’s red hair and imagine that it tastes like tomatoes, or watermelons. Findekáno gave them corn muffins to eat, and it was all so very good that Egg ate five.

 

Nemmirile has supper cooking back at Ingoldo’s house. Since she is busy, Ingoldo takes him to dress down in his room. Egg obediently gets out of his now-soiled clothes and allows his brother to dress him in a worn shirt of his – they will have a second bath later, after supper. Egg sits on Ingoldo’s bed as his brother sheds his own tunic and gets back into his Telerin skirt. 

 

Egg topples sideways, drowsy from all the muffins he ate at Findekáno’s house. The last thing he sees as sleep overtakes him is Ingoldo’s long golden hair, swaying as he moves about.

 

He wakes again when Ingoldo lifts him from the bed. Egg yawns, and he wraps his small arms around his brother’s neck. Ingoldo presses kisses onto his curls, onto his forehead and his cheeks.

 

But Ingoldo’s lips remain by his left cheek, and there he blows a very loud raspberry on his brother’s face. “ BBBFFFFFFFTTFTFBFBFB!”

 

Egg only yawns, tightening his hug around his brother. “Bffftpfpftft.” He answers.

 

Ingoldo laughs in delight at his antics, and like this, they descend back to the kitchen-dining area where Nemmirile waits.

 

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