Two cousins walk into a...oh heck, like they need a bar.

[finrod]

Turgon: *hammers on Finrod's door*

Finrod: *answers* Hey, Turu. What's up?

Idril3: *loves on Finrod*

Turgon: Guess what!

Finrod: *scritches* What? Come in.

Turgon: *steps inside* Our cousins are going to set fire to my city.

Finrod: ...Why?

Turgon: *closes the door securely* They found another silmaril AND they're fighting.

Finrod: *pales* Wait, what do you mean another silmaril? And fighting how?

Turgon: I don't even know. I got it from my sources. *means gossip*

Finrod: So...there are TWO silmarils in this city?!

Turgon: Yes. *finds some cups and pours out their brandy*

Finrod: *grimaces*

Turgon: Here. Rant with me.

Finrod: *takes a sip* What do you mean they're fighting?

Turgon: Fëanor’s going around in a paranoid huff.

Finrod: About his sons? That seems...well. Odd. *but it's Fëanor, so pretty much nothing surprises him*

Turgon: I don't have much more details than that. The 'person' who passed on the news wasn't the most communicative.

Finrod: Who was it?

Turgon: He wishes to remain anonymous. *totally means Dagnir*

Finrod: *gives Turgon a Look*

Turgon: Really, you'll be happier not knowing.

Finrod: *arches an eyebrow* If you insist.

Turgon: *gulps his brandy* And I'm done with Maglor.

Finrod: *puzzled* But... Just this week you said you kissed again and you were going to go on a date.

Turgon: I had a little talk with Lio that opened my eyes to how bad an idea it was.

Finrod: Explain please!

Turgon: It's too much of a conflict of interest, with the dangers the Fëanorians pose to the city and... my feelings about the rest of them. *toys with his glass*

Finrod: But I thought you like him.

Turgon: It's... it's just not wise.

Finrod: *takes another drink* So, you think Maglor is going to burn down your city then?

Turgon: Not him.

Finrod: So... He's not going to burn down your city, but his brother and father might, and he'll side with them?

Turgon: Yes. Or I'll have to do something about his father and brother and he'll... not be happy.

Finrod: *admits* That is a little awkward...

Turgon: I should have stayed loyal to my wife.

Finrod: *pats his leg* I'm sorry.

Turgon: So that's the news. A second silmaril and I've chosen to die alone.

Finrod: *half grin* You and me.

Turgon: Two old elves sitting and being bitter together.

Finrod: One more bitter than the other.

Turgon: You. You.

Finrod: *shakes his head and pours Turgon more brandy* You, of course!

Turgon: But I've got a doggy.

Finrod: And I've got a pony.

Turgon: The pony cannot nap by your head in bed.

Finrod: True.

Turgon: Thus, I am less bitter.

Idril3: *napping on his back with his legs in the air*

Finrod: Mmm. Agree to disagree then.

Turgon: I shouldn't feel this bad about deciding to stop with Maglor, right? Sworn enemy and all that?

Finrod: Well... you ARE kind of condemning him for something he hasn't done yet.

Turgon: I don't want to be conflicted if something does happen. Like Lio said, I can't keep a relationship with Maglor in a bubble.

Finrod: No, I suppose you can't... *half shrug*

Turgon: So. Alone.

Finrod: You don't sound terribly happy about your choice.

Turgon: I'm not.

Finrod: *frowns, thinking*

Turgon: *sips his drink* At least I didn't fall for Celegorm. That'd be a whole other level of pain.

Finrod: Ugh. Thank goodness for that.

Turgon: Imagine me mooning over him.

Finrod: I'll pass.

Turgon: I'm drunk, I'm picturing it.

Finrod: In order to keep Maglor out of your head?

Turgon: He looks so SMUG...

Finrod: Enough, Turu.

Turgon: Fine! More drinking.

---

And then they get inordinately and companionably drunk.