Birthday fic for Oshun!

[klose.livejournal.com]

Title: And Then There Was Cake, or Begetting Day Horrors

Author: Klose

Rating: I'll say General - there's nothing explicit, but there are lots of references to sex, etc.

Warnings: Some potentially offensive language and bawdy humour, or attempts thereof. Also, second person perspective and pretentious prose ahead, apologies!

Summary: This is a birthday story for heartofoshun - Happy birthday!
She asked for Feanor and/or sons, and maybe some Fingon, and hopefully I've managed to incorporate all this! Here be Maedhros' jaded musings on the frivolous affair that is the Begetting Day celebration.





Begetting days in the House of Fëanáro are always a rambunctious affair. The day would usually begin innocuously enough - the celebrating elf would descend upon the dining hall decked in new formal robes, fresh from a scented bath and ready to break bread for the day.

Today, it is the honour of Maitimo Nelyafinwë, also known as Russandol to his family and You Bloody Bastard! to the fathers of various young females all across Tirion.

Now, imagine, for the sake of this narration, that you are that particular elf. Picture yourself walking through the hallways of the Fëanáro, mightiest of the Noldor - and what great hallways they are, furnished with fantastic tapestries depicting the great sights of Valinor, and that magical faraway land that is Middle-earth. The golden beams of Laurelin fall upon them, hallowing your path through your father's house. Years ago, upon this day, you were brought into this world by the love of your parents, and today marks the beginning of yet another year of your time upon Arda.

You stop to admire yourself in the looking-glass that is hung at the entrance of the dining hall. In your robes of deep emerald green, you are tall and imposing and rather handsome, if you do say so yourself. Even the pale tinge of your skin seems to work to your advantage today, and so absorbed in the sight of your own refelction are you that you do not notice your brother Tyelkormo until he is right behind you. If ever there was an elf of greater vanity than yourself, it would be Tyelkormo. Even if it was you inherited the superior good looks of the family.

But today, Tyelkormo is not interested in his reflection. Through the looking-glass you see his lips draw back into a feral grin as he calls, verily, for a pile-up - and you turn to flee, meticulously braided hair be damned! - but you have not taken one step before you find yourself on the floor, pinned down by the bodies of your six brothers. They are all rather slender, like your father - hardly endowed with gaudy, bulging muscles like Nolofinwë and his brood! So this particular circumstance should not be so terrible for you, the mighty first-born of Fëanáro, surely.

However - let it be noted, for the record, that the younger sons of Fëanáro have a tendency to be rather... fragrant. Or, as it might be explained in the vulgar tongue, they are disposed to smelling like reeling-ripe canker blossoms.

Now, so are you. And the day has only just begun.

You are next obliged to spend your time running all across Tirion, distributing gifts to your family, friends and contemporaries. Eru forbid that anyone should actually appreciate the time and coin that you spent selecting these tokens, not least your male kinsmen whose intelligence you chose not to insult by presenting them with ridiculous objects depicting certain parts of the female anatomy, and yet who seem hardly more entertained by shining jewels or beautifully new books.

Really, excepting the people who like to turn up at the commemorative feast for the free food and wine, the only person who might be said to celebrate a Begetting Day with any fervor whatsoever would be the father of said begotten elf. Seven children and countless Begetting Days later, your father has yet to tire of flaunting this apparent proof of his virility in the faces of his half-brothers.

Truly, speaking of embarassing relatives - one might even consider them to be the main attraction of a Finwean Begetting Day Feast. After all, your family is nothing if not dysfunctional.

In one corner, your Uncle Nolofinwë is drunk on too much wine and making loud, unncessary comments, and in another corner, your father is also drunk on too much wine, making loud, unnecessary comments and begging cousin Nerwen for a lock of her hair. Sometimes, you think he has no pride whatsoever.

Curufinwë and Tyelkormo, in the meanwhile, are dancing rather too lecherously with cousin Irissë, and Makalaurë has progressed to singing bawdy drinking songs with such cringe-worthy titles as "Ballad of the Throbbing Python of Love". Not long after, Nolofinwë and Fëanáro engage in a drunken brawl; and in the ensuing chaos, Caranistir throws a punch at cousin Angarato and Ambarussa nudge the punch bowl off the table.

By the time the damn celebratory cake is brought out, you are quite ready to bolt. Elves, you know, are rather too fond of their ridiculous rhymes and nonsensical melodies, and there is surely no song more absured than the so-called "Begetting Day Song". We shall speak no further of it, except to observe that no one sings it louder than your esteemable father.

Let us move on to the part where your cousin Findekáno is encouraging you to blow out the candles upon the cake. These candles symbolise your new age, and there are a depressingly large number of them on the cake, only reminding you that you are swiftly leaving your days of youth and excess behind you as you let out a mighty, exasperated sigh upon them.

The candles are removed, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Very soon, Telperion will begin to wane, and the day will officially be over. In another month or so, there shall be another Begetting Day to be celebrated, perhaps, but it shall not be your part to suffer the various indignities that accompany it, thank Elbereth.

Also, there is cake.

It is baked lovingly by your mother, and it is decorated with a likeness of you, using colourful, sugary icing. But you barely have time to realise that cousin Turukáno, the little punk, has vandalised your cake with what can only be termed politely as a "phallic symbol" - before you notice that Findekáno is suddenly grinning rather too widely at you, and a large slice of cake is promptly smashed into your face.







----------------

Names, Quenya to Sindarin:

Maitimo/Nelyafinwë/Russandol - Maedhros

Fëanáro - Fëanor

Tyelkormo - Celegorm

Makalaurë - Maglor

Caranistir - Caranthir

Curufinwë - Curufin

Findekáno - Fingon

Nolofinwë - Fingolfin

Turukáno - Turgon

Nerwen - Galadriel

Irissë - Aredhel

Angaráto - Angrod

Comments

[dawn_felagund]

Hilarious! Actually, the second person works quite well for this piece (and I'm not fond of second person, having seen too many "experimental" pieces utterly flop under it ;) and I'll admit that I laughed out loud several times. You nicely combine Elven traditions with our traditions, and the Finweans are as lovable and obnoxious as ever.

[klose.livejournal.com]

Dawn, hi! You know I've been meaning to get back to you with feedback for The Tapestries, but between running around London and a dodfy internet connection, have been a bit absent-minded. :S

Anyway! Thank you so much for taking the time to comment (I admit I had a bit of an omgsquee! moment when I saw that you did!), am glad to know that this piece did not completely fall flat on its face... and that it managed to illicit laughs from someone other than myself. :P

I'm usually leery of using the second person perspective, myself, beacuse it takes a special situation and certain voice/style to make it work? Like one of those "choose-your-own-adventure" things
I'd been having a bit of trouble with the POV, though, and I thought I'd just take the risk since it was a short, rather tongue-in-cheek piece!

[dawn_felagund]

You're quite welcome! (And no worries about The Tapestries ... I understand the feeling of absentminded/overwhelmed quite well. ;)

(I admit I had a bit of an omgsquee! moment when I saw that you did!)

*blushblush*

Back in the day, I used to read and comment on everything posted in the community.

One of the reasons, incidentally, that it has taken a year-and-a-half to get the website launched. ;)

Like one of those "choose-your-own-adventure" things

*snicker* Actually, I was thinking the other day that one of them set in The Silmarillion could be kind of fun (but not fun enough that I'm willing to write it ...)

[klose.livejournal.com]

I tend to do website building in fits, myself, which is why my numerous projects are in perpetual WIP state - in any case the website's looking great! And so extensive, too.

Actually, I was thinking the other day that one of them set in The Silmarillion could be kind of fun (but not fun enough that I'm willing to write it ...)
No kidding! All the varying permutations would drive me mad. However, I do recall Cirdan wrote one a few years back - Possibilities (http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1362148/1/). It's incomplete, but there are certainly enough chapters for an adventure or two. ;)

[heartofoshun.livejournal.com]

Read now just the first chapter. Will go back and read more. Had a moment of clarity. Been there done that: I would have grabbed my stuff and been out of my house in a flash. Now I understand why I love those Feanorians so much.

[heartofoshun.livejournal.com]

Just absolutely lovely. I really like the image of Nolofinwe and Feanor going at it. They really sound much too reserved in most descriptions of their encounters with one another, except for that one little incident with the sword. I do not know if canker blossoms actually smell either, but they certainly sound really nasty and appropriate to a writhing mess of testosterone-poisoned adolescent Feanorians.

You introduced quite a few new and different images for me here in this one. I rather like the idea that those other Finweans were the brutish ones in the eyes of our dearest Nelyafinwë. Also like that you mentioned Irissë--I had to spend some time just the other night looking for this version of her name so that I could include her behaving imprudently with her cousins in the story I am currently working on. I also really like your description of the infamous Galadriel's-hair incident. It never really sounded like something Feanor would do to me, but Feanor drunk as a skunk could explain it better. Yes, last but not least: Finweans = dysfunctional family (I keep telling friends--I feel like I really know these people!).

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

[klose.livejournal.com]

I admit, I partly drew on my experience with my own family, who made me realise that even the most apparently 'normal' families have some level of dysfunction to them!

And speaking of the Quenya names, I did include them because I recall you mentioned having a fondness for them. And I'm looking forward to reading your portryal of Irissë's cousinly exploits - in "A New Day", I presume. Can't wait for it!

I have to say, the story about Galadriel's hair was one thing that never failed to make me feel for Feanor. But it's an intriguing possibility to be the catalyst for him even thinking about trying to trap the light of the Two Trees in something - especially when the light was around available everyday, twice??

Oops, got carried away with a bit of a ramble, there - but I'm so glad this little piece, or certain elements of it at least, worked for you! And thank you so much for the beautifully thought-out comment. :)

[heartofoshun.livejournal.com]

Oh, it worked all right! Great fun. On Irissë's cousinly exploits, here's just a drafty little teaser:

Above the still squawking fowl and barking dogs of the courtyard, and an increasing din of male voices, Maitimo heard a distinctly feminine peal of laughter that he identified as belonging to Irissë, followed by a shriek of “Put me down, Tyelkormo, before you drop me in the chicken dung. Pityo, Telvo, give me a kiss.”

[klose.livejournal.com]

That Aredhel, such a flirt! And it makes sense too - love how you bring that bantering to life with just overheard dialogue, I can almost feel the affection and familiarity. It's fabulous - and even more so for a drafty teaser!

[heartofoshun.livejournal.com]

"That Aredhel, such a flirt! And it makes sense too" Oh, good! Glad it works for you. I'm strictly limiting the sexual side of it to undertones at very most--but, yes, she is flirting and they will flirt with her too, I am sure. Too bad she has to run off and get involved with that dark old stick in the mud. It's unfortunately a big, cold world out there compared to where she came from. (Draft: because I'm still struggling with language: chicken sh*t seemed not at all right; chickens droppings did work because I already had "drop" in the sentence once; chicken dung? can one use the word dung in referring to the output of chickens?) Whoops, sorry there I go.

Thanks again for the wonderful story and kind remarks--it's getting lots of page clicks as a chapter of my "birthday" story.

[klose.livejournal.com]

"dark old stick in the mud" - how that made me laugh!

I got this comment yesterday I think but didn't have enough time with the ethernet cable to respond, but I did have a conversation with my sister about this between then and now. Dung seems to imply, well, something voluminous?! Chicken dropping works best for me, personally, (alternatives like faeces, sh*t and crap have too much of a modern connotation, I suppose?) - but I can't think of any alternative for 'drop', admittedly. Does it have to be chicken crap, per se? Maybe mud patches or something. (As you can see, I've spent waaaay to much time thinking about this. :P)

I'm excited to hear about the page clicks, I suppose my warnings must have aroused curiosities... :P Thanks for getting the chapter up there, by the way, despite all that coding! And thank you for the all the comments and pimping, of course. :D

[sinneahtes.livejournal.com]

*can't stop laughing* Oh man, brilliant piece!

Now I'm thinking it'd be scary to handle the cake with lit candles of an older Elf, if they celebrated that way after their hundredth year... ;)

[klose.livejournal.com]

:D Laughing is definitely good - defintiely better than discretely clicking the "back" button and labelling me with the "crazy" tag. :P

You know, I did so think about how to get around the candles thing, even something like fifty candles would be a ridiculous fire hazard. My solution being that they use special candles to symbolise the numbers. Like those shaped in the appropriate digits or somthing. :P

Thanks for commenting! :D

[heartofoshun.livejournal.com]

We have a lot of long hair in my family (very Elvish, of course)--so the candles always a hazard. I'm so old we used one candle for every decade on mine this year! Hey, thanks again. Such fun!

[klose.livejournal.com]

:D! You're welcome! My family's resorted to using single, token candles just for the sake of having it, but we've always been radical that way. In any case, I'm envious of your two cakes - hope they were good!

[dawn_felagund]

*ponders the possibility of a "crazy" tag* ...

Totally kidding, of course. ;)

[klose.livejournal.com]

Well, a crack!fic tag might not be entirely out of order... :P

[sinneahtes.livejournal.com]

If I thought to label anyone with the "crazy" tag, my own journal would be overwhelmed with uses of it. ;)

Perhaps they use gold candles for every thousand years, silver candles for every hundred, and different colors for every digit place...

My family just puts in as many candles as we can find in the kitchen for the sake of having something to blow out (rarely enough) and the person getting the cake either mocks them for not having the right amount or says, "Yes, thank you, I am that young..." :D < /rambling>

[klose.livejournal.com]

I was thinking about the different colours for every digit place, too, but I really like the gold and silver candles for each millenia and century - what a great idea.

LOL, no worries about rambling. Allow me to indulge in it, myself: in my family I usually try to put like, say, three-and-four candles for 34, but thanks to maternal interference we usually end up having just one candle, and another wish-candle. And in my case, I've recently insisted on just getting the cake and eating it straight. :P

[sinneahtes.livejournal.com]

And now I'm imagining F&eauml;anor trying to outdo all Elves with making pretty birthday candles with glowing gems on the wicks or something... maybe in the next Tolkien book to come out after Children of Hurin, there'll be a note about "Feanorean Candles" or "Feanorean Cakes." ;D

[sinneahtes.livejournal.com]

Oops, that was supposed to be Fëanor...

[tarion-anarore.livejournal.com]

Hahahaha!!! Oh, what fantastic fun! Makes me appreciate that any indignities I suffered on my own birthday are rather small. ;)

[klose.livejournal.com]

Yay, thank you so much for commenting! :D! I admit that I'm now curious about what other sort of indignities it is possible to inflict on a person, LOL!

[angelica-ramses.livejournal.com]

Singing Happy Birthday out loud with misicians and all and blowing candles on a cake in a restaurant full of perfect strangers. That's as embarassing as it goes for me.
The story is one of the funniest ever. I never imagined Turgon as "a little punk" but always as rather stuffy and stuck-up. Really funny. Congratulations

[klose.livejournal.com]

Oh, I definitely agree: I detest the whole "Happy Birthday" singing thing, period, which is why I just cut the cake straightaway without all the fanfare. :P

Turgon as a stuffy prick - in fact my Turgon in other places is rather smug and obnoxious, so I can totally see that! But somehow I couldn't bear to give the credit for the cake vandalim to anyone but him. ;)

Anyway, thank you so much for your comments! They made my day, I really appreciate it. Thanks for reading! :D!