Aug 31 - The King's House
Title: The King's House
Author: Grundy
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Disclaimer: All belongs to Whedon & Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Anariel
Word Count: 1000
Note: I had hoped to get Anariel though her presentation to the court, but I can't quite make up my mind whose perspective it should be from, so I'm punting. (There are three dueling drafts. You might see one or all of them eventually. Just not tonight.) But look, she got there!
Carnistir had been impressed with his grandniece’s composure as they made their way from his mother’s house to Grandfather’s house.
He suspected she had effectively tuned out the entire crowd. She certainly didn’t engage with them as Ingo or Maitimo would have done, or even pull any tricks to amuse them as Tyelko or Finno might have. For all he knew, she was mentally walking in the woods of Ennor.
What he could hear of the chatter from the onlookers was mostly complimentary - with a side of delicious scandal from those able to catch that Anariel’s dress was open all the way down to the small of her back. To the Sindar, that was nothing in particular. Even the most daring Noldorin dresses were rarely cut that low.
The average Noldo would chuckle over it. What Aunt Anairë would say - or do - was another question. And one he didn’t have to wait much longer to answer.
When they reached the gates of the King’s House, Pelendur dropped to one side.
“Not chickening out, are you?” Anariel asked challengingly.
“I do not understand what poultry has to do with anything,” Pelendur replied.
Carnistir knew this particular expression - he’d heard enough discussions between Tinwë and Airo on the subject.
“Chicken is the California equivalent of rabbit,” he explained.
“Rabbit? Really?” Anariel asked in astonishment.
Pelendur nodded.
“This has nothing to do with bravery,” he informed Anariel. “I am not a part of the royal family, nor do I expect I would be particularly welcome in court. I very much doubt the Noldaran will wish to see me.”
“I don’t know about that, but I'm sure Ada would,” Anariel replied.
That landed if the shifting of Pelendur’s jaw was anything to judge by.
Carnistir wasn’t sure why his brother’s captain preferred not to come to Uncle Ara’s attention, but he suspected there would be enough people in the public gallery that Pelendur would stand out only to any who might be looking for him. Uncle would have eyes only for his great-grandchildren. But Elrond might think to look for whoever had chaperoned them.
“You can be unobtrusive until the court is dismissed,” he suggested. “I’m told you know a thing or two about attending court with unruly peredhil.”
“Who’s unruly?” Anariel protested. “I have not been unruly in the least!”
“Keep walking, Ruly,” Miryo suggested. “Your brothers are just inside.”
“So is Uncle Gildor,” she snickered.
When they got inside, they found twins who were an unholy mix of Turvo and Lúthien, and Finrod’s eldest boy, whose expression turned to a mix of consternation and anticipation when he caught sight of them.
“You cheated,” he protested as the twins hugged their sister.
“Can’t win them all,” Anariel pointed out cheerfully.
“Says the one who generally does,” Gildor retorted.
“I win battles, not bets,” Anariel shrugged.
“Children,” Ammë broke in. “Gilya, settle up with your cousin later. Boys, your sister is fine, and may damage you if you ruin her dress before she’s had a chance to scandalize her grandmother.”
“They’re not going to wreck the dress,” Anariel said confidently.
“Good,” Ammë said. “I believe we’re the last ones to arrive?”
Gildor nodded.
“The three of them are to be presented to Grandfather and affirm their loyalty to the Noldaran.”
“Good thing you didn’t say swear,” Anariel snickered.
“Everyone knows better than to say that word anywhere near your father,” Gildor replied.
“Good,” Pelendur said unexpectedly. “I am glad to hear the lesson stuck.”
The twins turned inquisitive looks on him.
“Someone thought I needed a babysitter, and Pelendur here used to babysit Ada,” Anariel explained.
Before anyone could take issue with her assessement, she plowed onward.
“Why do we need to affirm our loyalty? That’s… silly.”
“As much difficulty as the succession has caused over the years, it is necessary for political stability,” Ammë said firmly. “Do you want to be King?”
Anariel gave her an appalled look.
“No one in their right mind would want me to be King," she spluttered. "The only place I should be leading is on a battlefield. Even then, it’s probably healthier for everyone else to be further back.”
“You are in Aman, there are no battlefields here,” Carnistir pointed out.
Anariel didn’t answer. At least, not verbally. Her face, however, said quite clearly that battle in Aman wasn’t entirely unprecedented.
“You are not fighting any battles today,” Pelendur said firmly. “And if you were, you would need to change.”
“What for?" Anariel demanded indignantly. "This looks amazing!”
Carnistir’s mother sighed.
“Pelendur, I think you should go in. Gilya, Miryo, you too.”
All three of them hesitated only a moment before obeying. Pelendur slipped in on his own, but Gildor and Mirifinwë gallantly offered an arm each to Silmë and Lindë to escort them.
His mother watched them go before turning to Elrond’s children.
“I understand the three of you aren’t used to Noldorin politics,” Ammë told them. “But I’m sure your father made certain you learned quite a bit about how many fights there were over who was King or in line to be King.”
The boys nodded. Anariel gave a small shrug.
“So you will walk in there with dignity, say what's appropriate, and behave yourselves for the rest of the public occasion. Anariel, that means no damaging anyone during the dancing.”
Carnistir, remembering some of Tinwë’s antics before she married, knew that warning was both necessary and useless.
“Dancing? We have to dance?”
Judging by her tone, Anariel would have been less bothered by dragons.
“There is usually dancing at these affairs,” he confirmed drily. “I know you don’t give a hoot about the court, but humor Uncle Ara. He’s sentimental, and didn’t get to see any of you at your coming of age.”
The twins gave their sister a look, and Carnistir was certain they’d silently added something.
“Fine,” Anariel agreed grudgingly.
His mother glanced in.
“I believe they’re just waiting on you,” she said.
Anariel sighed.
“All right, let’s do this.”
Author: Grundy
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Disclaimer: All belongs to Whedon & Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Anariel
Word Count: 1000
Note: I had hoped to get Anariel though her presentation to the court, but I can't quite make up my mind whose perspective it should be from, so I'm punting. (There are three dueling drafts. You might see one or all of them eventually. Just not tonight.) But look, she got there!
Carnistir had been impressed with his grandniece’s composure as they made their way from his mother’s house to Grandfather’s house.
He suspected she had effectively tuned out the entire crowd. She certainly didn’t engage with them as Ingo or Maitimo would have done, or even pull any tricks to amuse them as Tyelko or Finno might have. For all he knew, she was mentally walking in the woods of Ennor.
What he could hear of the chatter from the onlookers was mostly complimentary - with a side of delicious scandal from those able to catch that Anariel’s dress was open all the way down to the small of her back. To the Sindar, that was nothing in particular. Even the most daring Noldorin dresses were rarely cut that low.
The average Noldo would chuckle over it. What Aunt Anairë would say - or do - was another question. And one he didn’t have to wait much longer to answer.
When they reached the gates of the King’s House, Pelendur dropped to one side.
“Not chickening out, are you?” Anariel asked challengingly.
“I do not understand what poultry has to do with anything,” Pelendur replied.
Carnistir knew this particular expression - he’d heard enough discussions between Tinwë and Airo on the subject.
“Chicken is the California equivalent of rabbit,” he explained.
“Rabbit? Really?” Anariel asked in astonishment.
Pelendur nodded.
“This has nothing to do with bravery,” he informed Anariel. “I am not a part of the royal family, nor do I expect I would be particularly welcome in court. I very much doubt the Noldaran will wish to see me.”
“I don’t know about that, but I'm sure Ada would,” Anariel replied.
That landed if the shifting of Pelendur’s jaw was anything to judge by.
Carnistir wasn’t sure why his brother’s captain preferred not to come to Uncle Ara’s attention, but he suspected there would be enough people in the public gallery that Pelendur would stand out only to any who might be looking for him. Uncle would have eyes only for his great-grandchildren. But Elrond might think to look for whoever had chaperoned them.
“You can be unobtrusive until the court is dismissed,” he suggested. “I’m told you know a thing or two about attending court with unruly peredhil.”
“Who’s unruly?” Anariel protested. “I have not been unruly in the least!”
“Keep walking, Ruly,” Miryo suggested. “Your brothers are just inside.”
“So is Uncle Gildor,” she snickered.
When they got inside, they found twins who were an unholy mix of Turvo and Lúthien, and Finrod’s eldest boy, whose expression turned to a mix of consternation and anticipation when he caught sight of them.
“You cheated,” he protested as the twins hugged their sister.
“Can’t win them all,” Anariel pointed out cheerfully.
“Says the one who generally does,” Gildor retorted.
“I win battles, not bets,” Anariel shrugged.
“Children,” Ammë broke in. “Gilya, settle up with your cousin later. Boys, your sister is fine, and may damage you if you ruin her dress before she’s had a chance to scandalize her grandmother.”
“They’re not going to wreck the dress,” Anariel said confidently.
“Good,” Ammë said. “I believe we’re the last ones to arrive?”
Gildor nodded.
“The three of them are to be presented to Grandfather and affirm their loyalty to the Noldaran.”
“Good thing you didn’t say swear,” Anariel snickered.
“Everyone knows better than to say that word anywhere near your father,” Gildor replied.
“Good,” Pelendur said unexpectedly. “I am glad to hear the lesson stuck.”
The twins turned inquisitive looks on him.
“Someone thought I needed a babysitter, and Pelendur here used to babysit Ada,” Anariel explained.
Before anyone could take issue with her assessement, she plowed onward.
“Why do we need to affirm our loyalty? That’s… silly.”
“As much difficulty as the succession has caused over the years, it is necessary for political stability,” Ammë said firmly. “Do you want to be King?”
Anariel gave her an appalled look.
“No one in their right mind would want me to be King," she spluttered. "The only place I should be leading is on a battlefield. Even then, it’s probably healthier for everyone else to be further back.”
“You are in Aman, there are no battlefields here,” Carnistir pointed out.
Anariel didn’t answer. At least, not verbally. Her face, however, said quite clearly that battle in Aman wasn’t entirely unprecedented.
“You are not fighting any battles today,” Pelendur said firmly. “And if you were, you would need to change.”
“What for?" Anariel demanded indignantly. "This looks amazing!”
Carnistir’s mother sighed.
“Pelendur, I think you should go in. Gilya, Miryo, you too.”
All three of them hesitated only a moment before obeying. Pelendur slipped in on his own, but Gildor and Mirifinwë gallantly offered an arm each to Silmë and Lindë to escort them.
His mother watched them go before turning to Elrond’s children.
“I understand the three of you aren’t used to Noldorin politics,” Ammë told them. “But I’m sure your father made certain you learned quite a bit about how many fights there were over who was King or in line to be King.”
The boys nodded. Anariel gave a small shrug.
“So you will walk in there with dignity, say what's appropriate, and behave yourselves for the rest of the public occasion. Anariel, that means no damaging anyone during the dancing.”
Carnistir, remembering some of Tinwë’s antics before she married, knew that warning was both necessary and useless.
“Dancing? We have to dance?”
Judging by her tone, Anariel would have been less bothered by dragons.
“There is usually dancing at these affairs,” he confirmed drily. “I know you don’t give a hoot about the court, but humor Uncle Ara. He’s sentimental, and didn’t get to see any of you at your coming of age.”
The twins gave their sister a look, and Carnistir was certain they’d silently added something.
“Fine,” Anariel agreed grudgingly.
His mother glanced in.
“I believe they’re just waiting on you,” she said.
Anariel sighed.
“All right, let’s do this.”