The Poolakis, Chapter the Fourth Her first thought, when Deannin read the letter from Brendon, was that Arwen was just a baby. Well, not literally a baby, but a child, and certainly not ready to marry.
She was rather annoyed with Brendon for bringing up the subject. “We already have almost a full house,” she muttered to herself. “And even though Ciro has become an elder, it will be a long time before he dies.”
She was distracted from her thoughts by some giggling in the corner.
“Ladies!” laughed Moira.
“Great kisser!” gasped Fiona.
“Hopes we can cook and do repairs!” they giggled together.
Deannin confiscated Elrond’s letter and read it. “Well, it’s not the most elegant proposal I’ve ever heard of, but for a teen-aged boy who’s never met you, it’s not so bad. I’ll leave it to the two of you to figure out which one should marry him.”
“Mom?” said Fiona.
“Well, someone from this family has to, and I hope you don’t think it should be Elwing. She’s just a baby.”
“But – “ Moira began to object.
“I have to leave for work,” said Deannin. “Now, relax. You don’t have to decide tonight.”
After Deannin left, Fiona started thinking. She was a loner, and there were times when her family drove her crazy. Every afternoon, Arwen and Elwing declared themselves queen of the world, and ruled their kingdom in piping shrill voices.
And you could barely move across the room.
And she didn’t want to get started on the subject of the bathroom. One sister versus three sisters and a brother? It was a no-brainer.
Because she was a genius, Fiona had perfect recall of Elrond’s letter when she responded.
Dear Elrond,
I know what you mean about your father. My dad’s the greatest, but ever since he got old, he’s spent all his time watching the chipmunk in back. And he doesn’t seem to mind whether it’s cold or he’s still in his pajamas.
Anyway, this is what I look like. I’ve already decided that my lifetime wish is to become a—
“What are you doing?” Moira demanded.
“Nothing,” said Fiona. “My homework.”
“You always get your homework done as soon as we come home. You were writing to that boy, weren’t you?”
“No,” said Fiona. “I had this problem I couldn’t figure out right away, so I had to let it sit a while.”
It was Moira’s turn to do some thinking. She wasn’t all that interested in Elrond, but she didn’t want to see Fiona snatch him up. If Fiona was writing to him, then she would have to write, too. Now, what was his name? It didn’t matter.
Hey, there, she wrote.
My name is Moira, and everyone says I’m the prettiest in the family. I’m also a witch. I bet we could have a lot of fun together. Here’s my picture.
And that, thought Moira, should take care of that.
When Deannin returned home that evening, she discovered that Beren had become a teenager.
It was time for her to do some match-making, too.
Dear Aubria,
I think you received the same letter from Brendon that I did. I’ve been thinking that probably the best arrangement would be for his Colin to marry our Arwen, and our Beren to marry your Thistle. And then one of your sons would marry Elanor to round things out. Let me know what you think. Love, Deannin.
