Picking Up The Pieces by Grundy  

Stuck In A Moment

Turukano thanked Nienna for small mercies.

He’d fully expected to have to put a cheerful front for his parents, aunt and uncle, and Ingo’s entire family dining with him this evening. Elenwë would have gotten him through it somehow, but after the day he’d had, he really wasn’t in a mood for people. Particularly given he was going to have to host not only his entire family, but all the lords tomorrow night.

The morning could be kindly termed a disaster. His afternoon had been a little bit better. Elenwë had let him alone to contemplate the unpleasant prospect of having to make nice with his sister’s dratted husband for the holiday. He’d concluded he really had no choice – if he hadn’t given in to his wife’s request, his mother would have made it an order. She fully expected him to make peace with his sister so that they could both be in Tirion for his niece’s birth. (If one of them wasn’t, he was painfully aware it would be him.)

To his surprise, Elenwë had announced she and Amarië were having a girls’ evening, so he and Ingo would be on their own for dinner. His parents were dining with Tinwë and Lómion at the Mole. Ingo’s parents had gone to Laurefindil’s house. Ingo’s oldest had somehow cadged his way into dinner at the Mole, and his younger siblings had gone to the Hammer. (If Turukano had to guess, they were going to fish for information from Rog. How they thought they’d accomplish that without their host realizing something was afoot was beyond Turukano. And to think his family twitted him about his lack of subtlety!)

He was well aware there were a few strings attached to this unexpected luck.

He had little doubt Ingo was if not under orders at least under suggestion this evening. Happily, Ingo generally only took suggestions when he felt like doing them in the first place. Unfortunately, Ingo was also his closest friend and curious by nature, so if the suggestions had anything to do with Turukano’s nephew or his dratted law-brother, Ingo would be more than amenable.

He was also sure Ingo wasn’t going to let him get away without talking about whatever Ingo intended to talk about. There was a single bottle of wine on the side table.

He wasn’t sure if it was a promise or a threat. Maybe it was both.

He didn’t know if Elenwë had told their cook what to send up, or if the woman had just known what he would want as she so often seemed to. It was simple but delicious – her excellent roast beef sliced just so, the honeyed carrots that were his particular favorite, and scalloped potatoes.

When Ingo swung into the room, it was clear he’d assumed the evening would be casual. He could have wandered out onto the archery ranges without needing to change. 

“When Amarië told me it would be just the two of us, I begged the wine off of Atto,” Ingo told him cheerfully. “Figured he’d have a few bottles from his and Aiko’s little project with him.”

Ingo gestured at the bottle – which did indeed sport a label proclaiming it from the royal vineyards, and had Aiko’s crest on it.

“You’re telling me your father travels with his own wine?”

Turukano couldn’t help but shake his head.

“Are you telling me yours doesn’t? Besides, I thought it would be a viable peace offering.”

“Why do you need a peace offering?” Turukano asked in bemusement.  “Shouldn’t I be the one apologizing?”

“I do believe that’s progress,” Ingo grinned. “If you feel the need, by all means.”

Turukano rolled his eyes, but took the offered opening anyway.

“I’m sorry, Ingo. I’ve been an ass. Then and now. About a good many things.”

Care to be more specific?

“You want me to make a list?”

Ingo grinned, the sort that had often driven their older brothers and cousins nuts.

They both knew Ingo could pick all of it right out of his head. Lómion wasn’t all of it, not by a long shot. Ingo would also know that Turukano wasn’t quite ready to admit out loud that Irissë might not have married a troll, even if he had grudgingly accepted that he’d been in the wrong. He might have admitted to it back when Moryo and Aiko had returned, but admitting and accepting were two different things. And Irissë had made it impossible to avoid dealing with any longer.

“No, not really. It sounds like you’ve had enough thinking time to get there. Glad you’ve finally seen it,” Ingo said thoughtfully. “Just as well I thought to find something good. It’s becoming something of a tradition to use someone else’s wine as a peace offering. Artë made up with Tyelko by sending him a bottle she nicked from Curvo – one of the ones we stashed at Ivrin, incidentally.”

Turukano for the first time in his new life did not feel any need to snap at the mention of their absent third. Well, maybe a little. It was still a reflex, but not as strong as before. And he hadn’t actually snapped. Even if that was because he’d distracted himself by dishing out their dinner… What was it his irrepressible granddaughter liked to say? Baby steps?

“If she makes peace with Tyelko using Curvo’s wine, and I make peace with you with Aiko’s wine, whose wine do I nick to send to Curvo? Assuming he’s around to accept it anytime soon?”

Ingo considered as he opened the bottle.

“Good question. Maybe if you ask your baby brother nicely he’ll pick something from the royal cellars for you? Assuming you were actually serious, that is.”

Turvo accepted the glass Ingo handed him without complaint, passing him a plate in return.

“My baby brother doesn’t want much to do with me,” he pointed out sadly. “I doubt that’s changed in the last week or so. And it’s not likely to anytime soon, either.”

“If – and it is an if – you can get back on Tinwë’s good side, you should try asking her. It wouldn’t surprise me if she knows exactly what you ought to do there.”

“Naturally she knows,” Turukano sighed, picking up his fork. “Whether she’ll tell me is the question. And I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“As long as we’re on apologies, would you forgive me if I stole your cook?” Ingo asked after a few bites. “This is very good.”

“Probably not.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not like I’d be depriving you, your little brother’s a cook.”

“He hasn’t completed his mastery yet and doesn’t want to be here anyway.”

“You know, as long as you’re getting into apologies, you could try one with him.”

“I would if I had any idea what I’d be apologizing for at this point! I’ve tried several times before. He’s got Finno’s maddening way of smiling pleasantly and not letting you get any idea what he really thinks. Besides, you know as well as I do Irissë’s already decided he’s her little brother. And I’m not fool enough to make her mad again right away.”

“Fair point. She’s not going to listen to apologies if I upset whatever plans she has for him. And she’d get Artë involved.”

“So I get to keep my cook?”

“If you must. Did you mean it about apologizing to Curvo?”

Turukano wasn’t sure if it was the food, the wine, or the lack of a horde of relatives badgering him, but he was starting to relax for the first time in a while. Certainly the first time since he’d invited Ingo. It wasn’t quite ‘old times’, but it was starting to feel like they really were friends again.

He wasn’t sure how Ingo could forgive him so readily – aside, of course, from ‘being Ingo’ – but he was grateful. Grateful enough to be willing to try doing something similar himself.

“Yes,” he said, surprising himself almost as much as Ingo. “I did.”

He didn’t mention that in addition to everyone being so pointed about him being in the same kind of trouble as Curvo (even if he’d been responsible for the death of at least one fifth of Menegroth, not just that jackass Eöl), he also had some questions for Curvo. The sort of questions he knew now he wouldn’t get very far with asking Ingo and wasn’t about to risk any body parts asking Artanis.

“In that case, you’d better patch things up with your baby brother first. Moryo got a little heated about that, but you know perfectly well Curvo would be worse if things aren’t better by the time he’s back. I’m not sure what we’ll do about the wine. Between me, Curvo, Artë, and Tyelko, we wiped out all the bottles from Ivrin.”

“You know, we could celebrate being all together in the same place and alive again without wine.”

“Or we could have a glass together, even if it’s not the wine we originally planned. You can have the occasional sociable drink without overdoing. You’ve manage perfectly well all this week.”

“It helps to have my friends around to remind me when it’s time to stop,” Turvo admitted.

“I think that’s at the heart of it. We all end up more alone than we should have,” Ingo said, unexpectedly serious.

“You mean you, me, and Curvo?”

“Us three in particular. We’re not good loners, and I don’t know that we’d improve with practice. Curvo and I handled things better as a team. But not just us. I think nearly everyone was too much on their own in the end – everyone who went to Beleriand. Tyelko was already showing the strain by the time I left Nargothrond. Ango was half mad between missing Lótë and worrying about Resto and his children. Aiko…”

Words appeared to fail Ingo.

“I’ve heard,” Turukano said gently. “I’ve also heard you were alone at the end.”

Ingo didn’t quite shudder.

“I think it was worse for you,” he replied quietly. “Whatever you may have heard about Tyelko and Curvo, which seems to have gotten out of hand, that was deliberate. I didn’t want to lead everyone in my kingdom to destruction with me. So we made sure I wouldn’t. It may not have worked out as we’d hoped, but I didn’t know that until I was here. As far as I knew, I’d left everyone safe and in good hands. You had to watch your city die. I think that would have been harder by far than fighting wolves and getting a chance to tell Sauron what I thought of him.”

Turukano swallowed hard.

He never talked about the fall of his city with anyone. He’d done his best to avoid it even in the Halls. He’d waited Namo and his helpers out until they’d let him be. He’d thought that would be the end of it, but things had gotten worse once he left the Halls. He hadn’t felt at home in Tirion, but Ondolindë was in some ways worse. How could his people stand to recreate their city, let alone insist he return to it, given how it had all ended? Yet how could he be elsewhere when Rillë and his lords had worked so hard to build it again?

“I…”

To his embarrassment, he realized he was crying.

You did your best.

He looked up, startled at the osanwë. He would never have met Ingo’s eyes otherwise.

You wouldn’t have listened if I said it out loud.

He laughed even as he cried.

“No,” he agreed thickly. “I wouldn’t have. Because my best wasn’t enough. Not even close.”

“Neither was mine,” Ingo sighed. “It’s occurred to me that while we did well to follow Ulmo’s advice to found our cities, we should have paid better attention to how we’d get our people away again when it was time to go. We knew it couldn’t last forever.”

“Would it have helped?” Turukano asked. “I don’t know what he told you, but to me he promised a warning. He sent me a sign. Tuor told me it was time to go. And in my heart of hearts, I knew him to be Ulmo’s messenger. But I had lost hope after the battle and thought we were safer hidden away than going back out into all that.”

He didn’t mention that Ingo’s death had also been part of him losing hope. That noble death might have been an inspiration to Thingol’s people and to the Men Ingo had been so fond of, but to his cousin and best friend it had been nearly as great a catastrophe as the battle a few years later.

“I didn’t get any sign. Unless Curvo was supposed to be my sign.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Curvo would have told you flat out if he was a sign. And been incredibly cranky about it.”

Turukano rather enjoyed the thought of the dramatics that would have ensued had Ulmo tapped Curvo to carry a message for him.

“Maybe we were meant to reunite,” he suggested before Ingo could start laughing. “Follow the river down to the same spot. Or even to the sea. Rillë ended up there, after all. Imagine if we’d brought both our kingdoms there.”

For one thing, Curvo’s brothers would never have dared assail little Elwing for the blasted jewel if they had been at such a disadvantage in numbers. Maybe they wouldn’t even have gone to Menegroth. Curvo might have found a different solution under different circumstances.

And with that thought, forgiveness became a lot easier.

“If that was the plan, we sure screwed that up,” Ingo sighed.

“Yeah…”

Turukano paused.

“He will be released, won’t he?”

The more he talked about him without ranting, the more he was actually starting to miss his other cousin.

“If Moryo came back, I have to think they all will. Namo seems to be taking his time about it, but I’m sure he’ll get there eventually.”

“Maybe he’s trying. Who’s to say Aiko and I are the only stubborn ones?”

Turukano wasn’t about to admit that he might be happy to see the rest of their cousins, too. He’d even deal with the inevitable fight with Maedhros. Maitimo. Whatever he was calling himself now. His older brother’s dratted mate.

Heard you anyway. You should probably not repeat the part about hoping Aryo and Anairon will have better taste to anyone else.

He wouldn’t. Strictly speaking, he hadn’t even said it to Ingo. But that didn’t make it any less true.

“Get out of my head, Ingo. And pass that bowl with the blue tea towel over it. If I’m right, that should be dessert.”

“Dessert? I thought you don’t get dessert when you’ve misbehaved. Or did no one tell the cook?”

“How long am I going to hear variations on that theme?”

“I don’t know. Probably until Curvo’s back.”

“At which point he can take it up and give you a break?”

“Ah, you do remember how it goes when you’ve been an ass.”

“I’m already starting to question why I missed either of you.”

“I’m hurt! And you have to admit, you’ve been a pretty big ass this time. Excuse me, you did just admit to it.”

Turukano sighed.

“You’re going to milk this all evening aren’t you?

“And tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that…”

“You know, I don’t usually, but I suddenly find myself forward to the standing silence.”

If you think that’s going to stop anyone, you really do need to come to more family get-togethers.

He hadn’t admitted to anyone but Elenwë that he found the holiday a trial, tied up as it was with memories of how things had ended in Beleriand. He wasn’t even sure why it was still such a favorite holiday among his people. But this year it might be a little easier to play the part expected of him.

Ingo gave him a reproachful look.

“You didn’t listen at all to Tinwë’s therapy, did you?”

“I listened.”

“You didn’t actually understand, then.”

“It was all about Irissë and Eöl. We didn’t talk about the rest of it.”

Ingo raised an eyebrow.

“I suppose you were the first one they’d worked with. And as ever, no one thought to try starting with something easy first.”

“Since when do you know so much about therapy?”

“Since I tried it.”

Turukano raised an eyebrow. He could see no reason Ingo had needed it.

“I was curious. And it wasn’t as though anyone was pushing me into it as they did you. It was interesting. And it turned out to be quite useful – it helped me rebuild with Aiko. I think it would have gone much worse between us otherwise.”

Ingo paused.

“Maybe you should try again? And this time talk about more than just Irissë and Eöl?”

“Why would I talk about them if I try it again?”

Turukano didn’t even wait for Ingo’s retort.

“I have to put up with him at dinner tomorrow, do I have to talk about it too?”

Ingo almost fell off his chair laughing.

“You sound as petulant as Irissë and Artanis being made to wear a circlet as kids,” he informed Turukano when he could speak.

“As petulant as any of us, don’t you mean?” Turukano snorted. “Ammë insists none of us were fond of the things as children. Rillë wasn’t either, though thankfully she just settled for reproachful looks designed to cause paternal guilt.”

“Really? I suppose I got lucky. Gildor never protested. Though I suppose Curvo did help me a bit there.”

“Oh?”

Ingo laughed and told some story of Curvo trying out different color stones until he found the color the baby liked best and then setting that in a circlet for him. It was charming, plausible, and to Turukano’s ears, exactly the kind of thing Curvo would come up with to cover up something else.

Turukano made absolutely certain to keep his reaction locked away where Ingo wouldn’t notice. But now he was certain Curvo was the one to ask. And actually genuinely irritated that Curvo wasn’t back yet. That part was safe enough to let Ingo ‘hear’.

“See what you missed, not letting anyone visit?” Ingo chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make that mistake again.”