Title: Breakfast Conversation
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: FingonxFingolfin
Disclaimer: I do not own the elfies. Tolkien’s estate does. 🙁 Please buy me the elfies for my birthday?
Summary: Turgon tells Aredhel a family secret over breakfast.
Note: Incest and some bad language. Not beta’d. This is total crack humour not at all meant to be taken seriously.

They were sitting together at a table on the balcony outside of Turgon’s room. The height of it gave them an excellent view over Gondolin in the morning sun. Aredhel stepped away from where she was standing at the rail and took her seat again, across from Turgon who was neatly sipping a glass of fruit juice. She watched him for a minute then tilted her head and asked, “Have you ever wondered why Fingon is such an ada’s boy?”

Turgon finished his drink, setting the glass on the wooden table, and reached across the table to take his sister’s hand. He pressed a brotherly kiss to the delicate fingers and replied, “No, dear sister, I know the reason.” And then he said no more.

Aredhel quirked her eyebrow in just the way their father did whenever he was fairly certain one of them was lying to him. “What is it?” She knew full well Turgon had a habit of avoiding topics he felt he needed to protect her from and she wasn’t going to let him.

“Oh. Well, that’s a little complicated to get into.” Turgon was about to explain how he probably shouldn’t tell her when Aredhel delivered a sharp kick to his shin, and he relented.

—–

It was around two in the morning when Turgon slipped out of his guestroom. He had never been terribly fond of Barad Eithel, but his father had insisted on a visit, so Turgon had come. Now he wandered his way through that drafty tower, the stone floor cold against his bare feet. The dark, drab stone loomed around him as he tried to determine his way back to the kitchens for a glass of water. Finally deciding on a direction, he set off.

15 minutes of continued wandering in the dark had Turgon doubting his chosen route. In fact, he was about to turn around and head back in the direction he’d come from when he heard a moan. Was that… there, another. His brother’s voice, definitely. Could something be wrong with Fingon? Turgon followed the sound, trying to locate its source, when he heard another moan. This one sounded a bit like his father. Creasing his brow in cofusion, Turgon continued to follow the soft sounds until he stood in front of a large door – his father’s bedroom, if he recalled correctly.

Carefully, carefully, he pressed his ear against the door to listen to what was going on. Were those moans shared grief? Or something else? And what were those other sounds? The strange… was it thumping?

Turgon knelt down so he could peer into the keyhole of the door. Viewing into the dimly lit room, he could barely make out his brother’s form. His brother’s naked form moving back and forth. Naked? Why was Fingon naked in their father’s room? Unfortunately, Turgon’s current vantage point wasn’t going to allow him to see anymore than that. He would need to try something else if he wanted that answer. Knocking was probably out of the question, so Turgon carefully turned the handle of the door and pushed.

Only to find it locked. So much for that. Another moan, in his father’s voice, brought him back to the keyhole again. Still, all Turgon could make out was Fingon’s naked back. He was starting to get frustrated.

And then he heard it. That. The most terrifying thing he’d ever heard in his life.

“Yes. Aiya, Findekano… harder. Harder!” Turgon’s eyes widened in shock as he saw his brother’s still naked form moving and – he finally realized – thrusting into their father’s body.

The realization struck him so hard, he fell back onto the floor and landed on his ass. “Oh dear Lord Eru, they’re fucking!” Like a sudden light in the midst of a dark room, he felt as though he could finally see everything. That certainly explained why Fingon followed their father around and had never bothered to found his own kingdom like he’d once wanted to! Turgon slowly backed away from the door before regaining his feet and slowly stumbling back to his own room, the glass of water which had drawn him from it long forgotten.

—–

“And that, dear sister, is when I realized how fucked up our family is.” With a sardonic smile, Turgon concluded his tale and brushed a few imaginary crumbs off his sleeve. He seemed to do that everytime they spoke about their brother, actually. Almost as if mentally cleaning himself of that contact.

It was at this point that Aredhel finally noticed her hand, which she had raised to cover her mouth – which was ajar ever so slightly from shock – and slowly lowered it back down to her lap. “Well. That certainly does explain your desire to have a city hidden even from adar and Fingon.” She shifted somewhat uncomfortably on her chair. “Thank you for asking me to come live with you.”

Turgon gave her a reassuring nod, and lifted the tea pot that sat between them. “Have some more tea, it’ll calm your nerves. Would you like a shot of brandy with that?”

She had three.