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phynckeSeries: Cousins
Title: Pass the Peas, Please
Author: phyncke
Beta: aglarien1
Characters: Artanis (Galadriel), Aegnor, Finarfin, Eärwen, Angrod, Celeborn
Warning: Silliness and vegetables.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate. I have borrowed them for my own amusement and for yours, I hope. No profit has been made.
Summary: Artanis (Galadriel) asks her brother to pass the peas at the dinner table, to a silly consequence. Years later in Doriath, she asks again with a different result.
Pass the Peas, Please
Artanis – quenya name for Galadriel, her father name, meaning ar=“noble”, nis=”woman”
Aika - short for Aikanáro or the Sharp Flame (Aegnor)
It was dinner time at the home of Lord Finarfin’s folk. Hands must be scrubbed, nails cleaned from the day’s grime, and faces washed to a shine, before all appeared in the formal dining room appropriately attired at the prescribed hour, or rather at Eärwen’s gentle insistence. She might have to call up the center stairs for her unruly brood of children who were ensconced in their rooms, either at play or with each other, rough housing or competing at the latest card game to sweep Tirion.
This night, Finarfin surveyed the table proudly. His children were all seated finally, after tumbling down the stairs one after the other in a row. Though he had to own, Artanis moved with a grace surprising in one so young. At present, she sat sandwiched between Aegnor and Finrod, beaming at them both and waiting for her mother to put the finishing touches on the finely set dining places.
Eärwen struck the match, leaning over to light the candelabra in which three large candles were set. It was placed prominently in the middle of the dining table. One set of eyes followed the movement of the flame raptly, with no movement of his head, just his eyes, keen blue irises honing in as each wick caught, and the flame hissed to life, finding its strength.
“Pass the peas, please, Aika.”
The youngest daughter of this house loved vegetables, and especially peas. They were so small and round and sweet to eat. She loved them with butter and just a touch of salt to flavor, just like her mamma made them. Tonight the bowl of peas was to her elder brother’s left, within easy reach, right at the corner of the table.
The flames shimmered and danced, moving, sharpening, and then dissipating fluidly. He could watch forever, or so he thought.
“Brother,” the little girl piped up again, somewhat louder. “Pass the peas, please.” She spoke clearly, distinctly, enunciating each word for effect, so there would be no mistaking what it was she wanted. She wanted the peas. Yes, she did. He had to hear her, he MUST.
The dishes made their way around the table, all but the peas of course: carrots, potatoes and roast in their turn. The other elves took their portions, Eärwen served her daughter, and then they began to eat. Aegnor sat transfixed while Artanis looked unhappily at the peas surely growing cold at the end of the dinner table.
“Angrod, how are your studies progressing with…”
Finarfin, always conscientious, inquired after each of his children in turn, not intrusively, but enough that they would know that he was interested. At frequent and regular intervals during the dinnertime conversation, the youngest child queried her brother for the peas. She tried different tones of voice to see if that was the problem. Nothing seemed to work.
Aegnor did not eat the food on his plate. He watched the glowing flames, shifting his focus from one to the other, observing as the fire on each candle continually renewed itself, feeding off of itself. Flame is eternal, he thought. How interesting it was, and how beautiful to look at.
Finally giving up, Artanis sat in frustrated silence between her two older brothers; one in discussion with their father, the other annoying her beyond measure. Her usual dinner habit was to join in the conversation with amusing anecdotes of her own about her day or what she and her friends were doing. But not tonight. She sat obsessing about the now stone cold peas in their crock at the end of the table. Suddenly, she decided on a new course of action.
She got to her feet with a flounce, stood directly behind her very rude brother and shouted as loud as she could,
“PASS THE PEAS, PLEASE, BROTHER!!!”
Everyone at the table heard that, and the offending sibling was so startled that he reacted immediately, turning to face his irate sister while simultaneously flinging out his left arm to knock the coveted bowl full of peas in a spinning arc to the floor. As they overturned, the legumes scattered to the four corners of the room. Artanis watched this all in open-mouthed horror. That moment would, in later years, be recounted by both siblings with much amusement and hilarity, but for now, it was not the least bit funny, at least not to one little child.
“Oh my,” Eärwen said.
“Arty…” Aegnor began to get up.
“Just…just…DON’T…” The little girl shrieked, fleeing the room, not wanting to shed tears in front of the rest of her family.
Sitting back down in his chair, the youngest son looked at his father, who said, “Perhaps there are more peas in the kitchen? Your mother always makes too much.”
At that helpful suggestion, Aegnor bolted from the dining room without a backward glance, leaving a laughing family in his wake. All would soon be well, of this they were certain.
/---/
“Artanis, are you in there?” Aegnor stood at his sister’s door with a warm bowl of peas in his hand. They were made just how she liked them; lightly buttered with a hint of salt. He was a cad but he was not irredeemable.
“Goway…” came the muffled response, from deep within a feathered pillow. “I am not talking to you ever, ever, ever, ever, ever again. Not ever. Never would be too soon.”
He could hear the tearful sniffle and he stepped just into the room. The door was slightly ajar and he could nudge it further open with his booted foot. He saw Artanis lying face down in her soft, comfortable down pillow.
“If you let me in there, I have something that will cheer you up. They are warm, buttery and very delicious. They will get cold if you wait too long. “
“Come in, then,” she muttered as she sat up and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Her hair was mussed and she looked a fine mess. She looked at Aegnor hopefully to see what he had brought her.
As dramatically as he could, he sauntered to the bed to present her with the new bowl of peas. He added a flourish with his free arm and stated,
“Your peas, my lady, hand delivered by your rapscallion brother, no less.” To his delight, he was rewarded with a red-eyed smile and a happy giggle.
“I like peas,” said the lady simply, between mouthfuls.
Aegnor sat and nodded, asking, “Do these peas please you, my lady?”
“They do, very much, Aika. Thank you.” And so the lady finished every…last…one.
/---/
Many years later, in a land far away, a land under the protection of a beautiful Maiar in Middle Earth, the lady asked from behind mysterious long lashes.
“Are those peas I see there, Lord Celeborn?”
“Why yes, my lady, in butter, if you please,” he said without pause, having been waiting for a chance to speak with her all evening.
“I do so love peas. Could you pass them to me, please?”
“I would be delighted.”
And so the lord happened to pass the elegant bowl to the lady, and their fingers brushed at that table, in King Thingol’s opulent halls. Both felt something that they had never envisioned before. After that, their eyes met, and so on, and on, for the rest of their long lives.
“It was not about the peas, “Celeborn said to Galadriel as they were reunited on far green shores after their duties and trials there were over.
“Of course not, darling.” But she did so love peas, and always would.
The End
Title: Pass the Peas, Please
Author: phyncke
Beta: aglarien1
Characters: Artanis (Galadriel), Aegnor, Finarfin, Eärwen, Angrod, Celeborn
Warning: Silliness and vegetables.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate. I have borrowed them for my own amusement and for yours, I hope. No profit has been made.
Summary: Artanis (Galadriel) asks her brother to pass the peas at the dinner table, to a silly consequence. Years later in Doriath, she asks again with a different result.
Pass the Peas, Please
Artanis – quenya name for Galadriel, her father name, meaning ar=“noble”, nis=”woman”
Aika - short for Aikanáro or the Sharp Flame (Aegnor)
It was dinner time at the home of Lord Finarfin’s folk. Hands must be scrubbed, nails cleaned from the day’s grime, and faces washed to a shine, before all appeared in the formal dining room appropriately attired at the prescribed hour, or rather at Eärwen’s gentle insistence. She might have to call up the center stairs for her unruly brood of children who were ensconced in their rooms, either at play or with each other, rough housing or competing at the latest card game to sweep Tirion.
This night, Finarfin surveyed the table proudly. His children were all seated finally, after tumbling down the stairs one after the other in a row. Though he had to own, Artanis moved with a grace surprising in one so young. At present, she sat sandwiched between Aegnor and Finrod, beaming at them both and waiting for her mother to put the finishing touches on the finely set dining places.
Eärwen struck the match, leaning over to light the candelabra in which three large candles were set. It was placed prominently in the middle of the dining table. One set of eyes followed the movement of the flame raptly, with no movement of his head, just his eyes, keen blue irises honing in as each wick caught, and the flame hissed to life, finding its strength.
“Pass the peas, please, Aika.”
The youngest daughter of this house loved vegetables, and especially peas. They were so small and round and sweet to eat. She loved them with butter and just a touch of salt to flavor, just like her mamma made them. Tonight the bowl of peas was to her elder brother’s left, within easy reach, right at the corner of the table.
The flames shimmered and danced, moving, sharpening, and then dissipating fluidly. He could watch forever, or so he thought.
“Brother,” the little girl piped up again, somewhat louder. “Pass the peas, please.” She spoke clearly, distinctly, enunciating each word for effect, so there would be no mistaking what it was she wanted. She wanted the peas. Yes, she did. He had to hear her, he MUST.
The dishes made their way around the table, all but the peas of course: carrots, potatoes and roast in their turn. The other elves took their portions, Eärwen served her daughter, and then they began to eat. Aegnor sat transfixed while Artanis looked unhappily at the peas surely growing cold at the end of the dinner table.
“Angrod, how are your studies progressing with…”
Finarfin, always conscientious, inquired after each of his children in turn, not intrusively, but enough that they would know that he was interested. At frequent and regular intervals during the dinnertime conversation, the youngest child queried her brother for the peas. She tried different tones of voice to see if that was the problem. Nothing seemed to work.
Aegnor did not eat the food on his plate. He watched the glowing flames, shifting his focus from one to the other, observing as the fire on each candle continually renewed itself, feeding off of itself. Flame is eternal, he thought. How interesting it was, and how beautiful to look at.
Finally giving up, Artanis sat in frustrated silence between her two older brothers; one in discussion with their father, the other annoying her beyond measure. Her usual dinner habit was to join in the conversation with amusing anecdotes of her own about her day or what she and her friends were doing. But not tonight. She sat obsessing about the now stone cold peas in their crock at the end of the table. Suddenly, she decided on a new course of action.
She got to her feet with a flounce, stood directly behind her very rude brother and shouted as loud as she could,
“PASS THE PEAS, PLEASE, BROTHER!!!”
Everyone at the table heard that, and the offending sibling was so startled that he reacted immediately, turning to face his irate sister while simultaneously flinging out his left arm to knock the coveted bowl full of peas in a spinning arc to the floor. As they overturned, the legumes scattered to the four corners of the room. Artanis watched this all in open-mouthed horror. That moment would, in later years, be recounted by both siblings with much amusement and hilarity, but for now, it was not the least bit funny, at least not to one little child.
“Oh my,” Eärwen said.
“Arty…” Aegnor began to get up.
“Just…just…DON’T…” The little girl shrieked, fleeing the room, not wanting to shed tears in front of the rest of her family.
Sitting back down in his chair, the youngest son looked at his father, who said, “Perhaps there are more peas in the kitchen? Your mother always makes too much.”
At that helpful suggestion, Aegnor bolted from the dining room without a backward glance, leaving a laughing family in his wake. All would soon be well, of this they were certain.
“Artanis, are you in there?” Aegnor stood at his sister’s door with a warm bowl of peas in his hand. They were made just how she liked them; lightly buttered with a hint of salt. He was a cad but he was not irredeemable.
“Goway…” came the muffled response, from deep within a feathered pillow. “I am not talking to you ever, ever, ever, ever, ever again. Not ever. Never would be too soon.”
He could hear the tearful sniffle and he stepped just into the room. The door was slightly ajar and he could nudge it further open with his booted foot. He saw Artanis lying face down in her soft, comfortable down pillow.
“If you let me in there, I have something that will cheer you up. They are warm, buttery and very delicious. They will get cold if you wait too long. “
“Come in, then,” she muttered as she sat up and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Her hair was mussed and she looked a fine mess. She looked at Aegnor hopefully to see what he had brought her.
As dramatically as he could, he sauntered to the bed to present her with the new bowl of peas. He added a flourish with his free arm and stated,
“Your peas, my lady, hand delivered by your rapscallion brother, no less.” To his delight, he was rewarded with a red-eyed smile and a happy giggle.
“I like peas,” said the lady simply, between mouthfuls.
Aegnor sat and nodded, asking, “Do these peas please you, my lady?”
“They do, very much, Aika. Thank you.” And so the lady finished every…last…one.
Many years later, in a land far away, a land under the protection of a beautiful Maiar in Middle Earth, the lady asked from behind mysterious long lashes.
“Are those peas I see there, Lord Celeborn?”
“Why yes, my lady, in butter, if you please,” he said without pause, having been waiting for a chance to speak with her all evening.
“I do so love peas. Could you pass them to me, please?”
“I would be delighted.”
And so the lord happened to pass the elegant bowl to the lady, and their fingers brushed at that table, in King Thingol’s opulent halls. Both felt something that they had never envisioned before. After that, their eyes met, and so on, and on, for the rest of their long lives.
“It was not about the peas, “Celeborn said to Galadriel as they were reunited on far green shores after their duties and trials there were over.
“Of course not, darling.” But she did so love peas, and always would.
The End
