Friends and Family #1
“Someone get the gate!” Celebrian shouted, arms full of dishes she was bringing to the backyard picnic table.
Arwen, barbeque tongs in hand, looked up from the sizzling hamburger patties that she’d made by hand with chunks of cheese and spices earlier that afternoon. She turned to her little brothers who were supposed to be spreading the tablecloths over said picnic table but were instead holding it up as a giant sail in the light wind. With a sigh that only a teenage daughter could make, she jogged over to the fence so she could unlatch the gate for their visitors.
Erestor came through first, a gray grocery bag with marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers in each hand. Glorfindel followed him, a watermelon under one arm and a pan of spiced corn on the cob under the other.
“Hello, Uncle Erestor, Uncle Glorfindel,” Arwen said politely. She just started eighth grade and insisted that most of her class could do with reading at least one of the etiquette books her grandmother gave her for her birthday.
Elladan and Elrohir looked up from their playing at this, faces lighting up with excitement when they spied their uncles. Throwing the checkered tablecloths haphazardly over the table just in time for their mother to put the plates down, they sprinted across the yard, yelling “Uncle Del! Uncle Del!” the whole way.
Arwen rolled her eyes, Celebrian shook her head at the twin seven-year-olds, and Glorfindel braced for impact.
The twins latched onto his arms, feet dangling, heedless of any potential risk to parts of their dinner. The large elf made a show of staggering under their combined weight, the loose ends of his golden hair dancing against his back, before easily carrying them over to the table. The boys shrieked with excitement.
Celebrian laughed and shook her head. “Dan, Ro, get down and go get the firewood from the garage like I asked.”
Glorfindel gasped and looked down at the two round faces still hanging from his elbows. “Firewood!” He exclaimed. “We can’t have s'mores without firewood. Run, boys, run!”
They took off across the yard.
She shook her head again as Glorfindel and now Erestor, who crossed the yard at a more sedate pace while asking Arwen about her classes, put their burdens on the table. “They have so much energy when they get back from school.”
The blond elf rolled his broad shoulders and sighed. “Wish I still had that kind of energy,” He said fondly.
Erestor raised a dark eyebrow at his husband as he pulled the tinfoil cover off of the corn. “Perhaps they should go to the gym with you.”
“Tempting,” He said as Arwen snatched the corn away and carried it proudly over to the grill so she could cook them on the spot she reserved for them.
Celebrian smiled at their guests. “Oh, it’s been too long since you both came over,” She said, opening her arms to give Erestor and then Glorfindel (who gladly leaned down so she could reach him) a soft hug and light kiss on each cheek. She picked up the greeting from a year spent in Doriath as a child while her mother chased her career in politics. “How are you two doing? Keeping busy, I’m sure.”
Erestor sighed and sat down on one of the table benches, the strands of hair not long enough to stay in his short ponytail falling in front of his face. “I’ve put in more overtime this month than I have since grad school.” He said.
Glorfindel put a hand to his mouth and whispered conspiratorially to Celebrian, “He’s too modest to say anything, but he got promoted to department chair.”
“Congratulations!”
The seated elf waved it away. “I’m not sure the raise was worth it.”
“Oh, he’s very sure about that,” His husband corrected, rubbing a hand across his back.
“Well, I’m sure you and Elrond can lament the struggles of leadership when he gets here.
Erestor straightened and looked toward the house. “He isn’t here? I thought he took the day off.”
Celebrian passed Glorfindel the cutting board so he could cut up the watermelon. “He did, but there was some paperwork he had to run in and sign, and then some patients weren’t doing well and one thing led to another. He just texted to say he’s leaving soon and not to wait.”
Erestor hummed. “Sounds like Elrond.” He’d known him since their first day of undergrad, so he could easily imagine how a quick office run could tumble out of hand for his friend.
“That’s rough,” Glorfindel commiserated. He never went anywhere near work on a day off but he had years of dealing with Erestor’s ‘just five minutes to make sure everything's running fine’ work days. “Does corporate even realize we all have personal lives too?” He mused, chopping the melon in half.
“Sometimes I wonder,” She said, laying out seven ceramic plates around the table.
There was a moment of silence disturbed only by the scrape of metal on metal as Arwen dutifully rotated the corn and contemplative munching as Erestor stole a melon wedge.
“At least he took the car,” Celebrian said lightly, waving away the strangely somber mood the conversation brought on. “How about you, Glorfindel? How’s your garden?”
“Enjoying the last of the heat. Yevvon begged me for the last of the peppers, otherwise, I would have brought some.” He smiled, moving melon wedges to a platter so he could slice up the other half. Erestor and he lived in a highrise apartment complex in the heart of the city where green spaces were limited to the occasional public park. He still managed to grow a surprising variety of herbs and vegetables between one window garden box and a couple planters on their small deck. “Oh, and the new secretary at work got the last of the strawberries.”
“That was kind of you,” Celebrian said.
He shrugged. “I pray to Manwë she’s just more competent than the last one. I do not want another tax season like the last two.” As an accountant, he had a professional love-hate relationship with taxes.
Elladan and Elrohir emerged from the house then, lugging a plastic box filled with firewood between them. They pulled the box over to the firepit.
Elrohir jumped up onto the bench to look at Glorfindel who had just finished with the melon. “Let’s make s’mores now! I bet I can eat more than you.”
Arwen looked over her shoulder and shot her brother a little glare. “Dessert comes after dinner.”
Elladan flopped next to his brother. “But dinner’s taking hours,” He groaned.
“Well, we’d better see if we can give your sister a hand then,” Glorfindel said cheerfully as he wiped the knife and cutting board off with a hand towel. Wrapping an arm around each twin, he carried them over to their sister. “We are at your disposal, Miss Arwen.”
She looked like she didn’t know what to do with the extra help.
He hoisted the boys higher, both of them stifling laughter with their fists. “I suggest sending these two ruffians to get a clean dish for that corn: it looks just about ready.”
Arwen nodded.
Glorfindel released the boys. “Accept your quest,” He commanded, and they dashed away.
With the chaotic twins out of the way for the time being, he turned back to Arwen and helped her remove the burgers from the grill, holding the plate for her to put them on. They chatted amiably about the recipes she made recently. She’d made a resolution on her birthday to learn to make fifty different dishes by the time she turned sixteen and he liked staying up to date on her latest adventures.
The twins returned with a shallow pan for the corn and the plastic-wrapped plate of onions, tomatoes, pickles, and other vegetables that Arwen directed them to prepare earlier. Elladan brought the plate to the table and sat down next to Erestor, while Elrohir took the pan to the grill. Glorfindel carefully traded it for the plate of burgers and sent him to the table too. A minute later they were all settled around the table, the twins between Erestor and Glorfindel and an empty spot on Celebrian’s right for Elrond.
They were about to start when Elladan, apparently overcome by excitement, looked at Glorfindel, pointed at his brother, and exclaimed, “Ro found Gilly playing with a dead mouse in the basement after lunch!”
Gilly, the family’s tiny cat, was not a particularly accomplished mouser. Luckily, the mice rarely ventured inside.
“Wow,” Glorfindel said.
Celebrian raised her eyebrows, looking toward the house. “Really? Did you leave it there?”
Elrohir shook his head, short black hair falling into his eyes. “I told her she’s a good kitty, and picked it up, and put it in the garbage can outside.” He reported. “Just like dad showed us.”
Elrond doted on the cat and, as a doctor, took her health seriously. Eating mice, wild animals with who knows how many worms and other parasites, was completely out of the question.
“Thank you for doing that,” Celebrian said, settling back in her seat. A pause, then, “Did you wash your hands after?”
Elrohir exchanged a guilty look with Elladan. “No.”
“Go wash your hands,” She said, completely unsurprised. “Both of you.”
Elladan pouted (he’d only touched the mouse a little. Why should he have to go all the way back to the house and wash when all he really wanted was a burger? Besides, how did his mom even know he’d touched it?) but followed his brother inside.
When they came back, dinner finally started.
Most everyone had finished their first burger, and some of them were considering seconds when there was the very recognizable hum of a car pulling into the driveway.
Arwen, tossing aside the manners she'd been practicing all afternoon, jumped to her feet with an excited "Dad's home!". She raced her brothers to the back door. In moments, all three children were gone, leaving the adults to smile in their wake.
A minute later, a slightly windswept Elrond appeared, tugged along by a son on each hand. Arwen brought up the rear, blushing a little as the twins exclaimed that the burgers she made were the best things they'd ever put in their mouths (and they would know, having put a great many things in their mouths), and “you just have to try one right now!”
Elrond murmured an apology into Celebrian’s hair as he kissed her head before sitting down beside her. She accepted it easily and rested a hand on his knee, giving it a fond squeeze.
The adults chatted happily, slowly working their way through the meal. Eventually, the seven-year-old twins grew tired of waiting and set about starting the fire for roasting marshmallows. Their sister took pity on their feeble fire after a few minutes and abandoned her spot leaning against her mother to help them. Once a nice bed of coals glowed in the firepit, the roasting began.
Elrohir won his bet, eating a record seven s’mores.
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