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Morning

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Voronwë wakes in the morning to find Tuor gone. On the other side of the bed, Idril is still sound asleep. She's managed to steal most of the blankets and has wrapped them around herself like a cacoon. Voronwë smiles and shakes his head. After briefly stretching, he stumbles out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom. He turns the shower on, and the water snakes down cold. Voronwë shivers and turns the knob to warm before stepping fully under the shower head. A good part of him wishes that he will never have to leave Gondolin and all these comfortable amneties behind again, despite Ulmo's warnings and Idril's visions.

He steps out of the shower and pats himself dry with a towel. He glances at himself in the floor length mirror on the other side of the room. He tries to see himself the way Tuor sees him, as some stunning beauty, but he looks so ordinary. He dedicates a full five minutes to making faces at himself in the glass, before grabbing his used night shirt off the black slate floor and heading back into the bedroom.

Idril is awake now, yawning and blinking. 'Good morning.'

Voronwë smiles. 'Morning, your highness.' He bends and kisses her cheek, and she smiles back at him.

Tuor comes in, carrying a tray. 'I made breakfast.'

Idril's eyes light up as she takes in the fruit and cheese filled pastries and the pitcher of freshly squeezed strawberry juice. 'Tuor, you're amazing.'

Voronwë laughs. 'Tuor, I'm not sure that counts as breakfast.'

'Sure it does.' Tuor presses a pastry to Voronwë's lips, and Voronwë opens for him.

'Good boy,' Tuor says, as if Voronwë were a dog.

Voronwë chews on the pastry slowly, savoring the sweetness, before finally swallowing. 'You're going to make me fat.'

'Good,' Tuor says, 'I've never seen a fat Elf before. It will be a welcome change.' Tuor pours the juice out into three glasses. 'Let's toast.'

'Does this have alcohol in it?' Voronwë asks, looking suspiciously at his glass. 'Because you know some people actually have to work.'

'It's just juice,' Tuor says. 'I just like making toasts. It's fun.'

'You're bonkers,' Voronwë says.

'Let's toast to that then,' Tuor says.

'To you being bonkers?' Voronwë says.

Tuor nods.

'No, I'm not toasting to that,' Voronwë says, but Tuor has already clinked their glasses together.

'To being bonkers,' he says, and Idril actually repeats the toast, eyes sparkling. Her hair is bit awry from being pressed against her pillow, but she somehow still looks perfect and poised.

'If you don't mind,' Voronwë says, putting his glass down. 'I'm going to dress now.'

'Oh, I mind a lot,' Tuor says. 'You should be naked at all times. I should make an ordinance.'

Voronwë blushes bright red. 'Don't you dare.' He opens the dresser that's tucked out of the way behind some drapes, and he gets out a blue tunic and a silver belt. The day is hot, and he's not going to be out riding so there's no need for trousers.

'At least I still get to see your beautiful legs,' Tuor says, after Voronwë has finished dressing and has resettled himself on the bed. He hands him a plate with three pastries. Voronwë takes it, still blushing.

'You're so pretty when you're rosy like that,' Tuor says.

'I will kill you,' Voronwë mumbles, blushing even harder. He bites into a pastry. This one is cheese whereas the first one he had was jam. He decides he likes them both a lot.

'No, you won't,' Tuor says, lightly. 'Between my sexual and culinary skills, I think I'm quite safe.'

Voronwë's mouth is too full of pastry for him to argue. Idril sips her strawberry juice slowly. She's looking attentively at the door. Voronwë wonders but doesn't ask why. Three minutes later, Eärendil comes bounding through. He rushes over to his mother and covers her face in kisses.

'Good morning, mother!' He turns and climbs onto Tuor's lap and kisses him too. 'Morning, father.' He moves to the third lap and gazes up at Voronwë adoringly. 'Morning, Ronwë.'

'Good morning, baby,' Voronwë says.

Eärendil pouts. 'I'm not a baby. I'm three.'

'Oh, I'm sorry,' Voronwë says.

Eärendil nods, fully placated. 'It's an honest mistake.' He looks at the pastries. 'Num.'

Tuor sets some on a plate for him. 'I made them.'

Eärendil grins. 'Good. You're the best at it. Even better than the bakeries.'

Tuor is all smiles. 'Why thank you.'

Idril finishes her juice and quietly puts her remaining two and a half pastries on Eärendil's plate, before getting up to use the bathroom. Voronwë frowns slightly. Sometimes it seems that Idril is two different people, one happy and one sad. He decides not to think about it too hard though. Maybe she's just in a mood. His eyes dart back to Tuor, who is holding Eärendil close. Eärendil's face is already covered in jam, and he's smacking his lips and beaming at his dad.

'I want to learn how to make these,' he says.

'I'll teach you someday.' Tuor runs his fingers through Eärendil's fluffy, gold hair. Eärendil beams and crams another pastry into his mouth.

'Small bites,' Tuor says. 'Don't want you to choke.'

'I won't!'

Tuor kisses his forehead. 'You smell good.'

'Mother gave me a bath last night,' Eärendil says. 'She used lavender soap.'

Tuor nods. 'That must be it then.'

Eärendil nods. 'Uh huh.' He looks over at Voronwë and smiles. 'You stayed through the night again.'

Voronwë gazes down at the crumbs on his plate. 'Do you mind?'

'No, of course not,' Eärendil says. 'It's always more fun when you're here.' He leans over and kisses Voronwë's cheek. 'You're the best, Ronwë.'

Voronwë smiles. 'I'm glad you think so.'

'You'll play with me after breakfast?' Eärendil asks.

Voronwë shakes his head. 'I have work today, but I'll play with you later, all right?'

Eärendil frowns but accepts the compromise with a little regal nod. 'All right, this evening will have to do then.'

Voronwë smiles. 'I'll teach you how to swim, how's that?'

Eärendil's eyes light up. 'I'd love that!'

'How does six sound?' Voronwë asks.

'It sounds marvelous.'

'Good, then it's a date.' Voronwë takes Eärendil's hand and lightly kisses the air over an imaginary ring.

Eärendil giggles and blushes. 'You're silly, Ronwë.'

'Am I?'

'Yes!' Eärendil buries his face in Tuor's chest, suddenly shy. He peers out at Voronwë and then hides away again.

'I think he has a crush,' Tuor says, smiling.

'Shut up,' Eärendil mutters.

'Oh, it's true.' Tuor looks at Voronwë and shakes his head. 'My, you're a heartbreaker.'

Voronwë shakes his head. 'You're horrible, Tuor.' He glances at the clock on the wall. 'All right, I have to go.' He gets up off the bed and straightens out his tunic and hair. He makes for the door but turns back at the last moment and blows Tuor a kiss. 'See you later.'