Aug 2 - Making An Entrance
Title: Making An Entrance
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: Buffy's introduction to the High King's court.
Word Count: 1050
Note: The song and the lyrics are not my doing - the song is Hard Love by Needtobreathe (featuring Andra Day)
Anariel was so going to curb stomp Morgoth at the first possible opportunity.
By rights, she should have been able to look around her, take in all the scenery and fashion and architecture and everything. Instead, she was stuck focusing on the few kin she knows like her life depends on it. Her life might not depend on it, but her sanity probably did. She already had one to look forward to the next time she slept, plus all the relatives she knew she was not going to be able to avoid meeting in the next couple hours.
She actually did sort of look forward to seeing Pelendur, because it would mean seeing a lot of her father when he was young, and her uncle that pretty much nobody talks about. (She understood. She would never press her father to talk about Elros. She knew full well what it was to lose a sibling to mortal death. She didn’t want to know what it’s like to lose a twin.)
Grandfather Arafinwë was front and center, which made sense seeing as he was the High King. That must be Grandmother’s mother to his right. Grandfather Nolofinwë was on his other side, and Grandmother Anairë next to him. Judging by the expressions, they’d recognized whose clothes had gotten sized down for her.
It was tough to keep a polite formal smile on when she really wanted to grin.
Gramma Nerdanel had taken a place in the front row facing them, with Uncle Carnistir, Aunt Silmë, Grandmother Lindë, and Mirifinwë (who she still wanted to call Erestor) with her. Gildor was next to Mirifinwë. Uncle Finrod was with them also, and she guessed the cluster of blonde heads to either side of him must be Amarië and their other children.
Ada and Nana were in the first row on the other side of the central aisle, with Grandmother and Grandfather with them. Beyond them, Tinu and Maeglin, and a couple that had to be his parents - his mother looked scarily like Grandmother, just with dark hair and a darker complexion.
She had no idea who the other people who rated first row were, on either side of the aisle - more relatives?
We know some of them, Elrohir informed her quietly. Playing decoy had a few advantages.
She wondered why he was taking such care.
Grandfather Arafinwë hears even better than Grandmother, Elladan warned her.
She glanced up, meeting their great-grandfather’s eyes - and he had much the same expression Grandmother got when she overheard something they hadn’t meant her to but wasn’t in a mood to tell anyone else.
Hello there, she said cheerfully. He’d hear the grin, even if she kept her face court-appropriate.
The formal part will go quickly, he assured her.
That was when the music started. She didn’t recognize the first few notes, but then it settled into something she knew in her bones.
It was the song the Sindar had sung to her, the one that had been the difference between victory and defeat, life and death.
She had no idea how they’d managed to get someone to sing that today of all days in the court of the Noldaran, but she was absolutely certain the singer was not Noldorin. Whoever he was, she recognized his voice. She’d heard it once before, when it really counted.
Her back straightened, her shoulders squared.
This was a song that had to be earned, and she damn well had and would.
It was the first time she’d heard the whole first verse properly. She’d come in midway through the song in her little throwdown with the biggest of Bads, and Melian telling it to her wasn’t quite the same as hearing it sung. She had no idea who the singer was, or the female singer who took the second verse. But they were both good.
If she hadn’t known the eyes of everyone who was anyone in Tirion were on her right now, she might have let a tear fall. Instead, she lifted her chin, kept moving forward, and joined in the second time the chorus came around.
It was a Lindarin song, and they’d clearly sent their best singers. But she was the granddaughter of Kanafinwë Makalaurë and he’d trained her to hold her own with anyone, up to and including the Valar.
She put her own twist on the chorus - it was her song, after all. What didn’t kill her did indeed make her stronger. Morgoth was such a lousy strategist…
As she reached the front row, she seized the chance to add something to the song. Whoever the singer was, he could carry it back to the Lindar so they would know their song had been heard and appreciated.
“When the wolves come and hunt me down, I will face them all and stand my ground. There’s a fire burning in me - they will see my strength in this love I found!”
She finally spotted the singer, standing just behind and to one side of her royal grandparents - and almost missed a note in surprise as she recognized him. Daeron of Doriath had written a song for her? And winkled his way into the Noldorin court so she’d hear it sung as he’d intended?
Make the rafters ring, little one! he told her.
The warmth that washed over her was not just one Sinda to another, it was an uncle looking at a niece who did the family proud, beaming at her as her voice soared, matching his note for note.
For that, she showed him in the last half of the song what it had been worth - the fall and the fight, the Morannon, Sunnydale, all of it. (Well, almost all of it. Not the curse. That was between her, Morgoth, and maybe Sauron.) But Daeron deserved to see what it looked like when she got back up.
The last chorus echoed not just with fierce pride, but with the knowledge of victory.
Thranduil wasn’t the only one who saw Lúthien’s legacy when he looked at her.
Are you sure you want that comparison? Daeron asked. It’s a lot to live up to. Remember, she beat him in his own hall.
I aim to beat him in his own world, she shot back. Again. This time for keeps.
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: Buffy's introduction to the High King's court.
Word Count: 1050
Note: The song and the lyrics are not my doing - the song is Hard Love by Needtobreathe (featuring Andra Day)
Anariel was so going to curb stomp Morgoth at the first possible opportunity.
By rights, she should have been able to look around her, take in all the scenery and fashion and architecture and everything. Instead, she was stuck focusing on the few kin she knows like her life depends on it. Her life might not depend on it, but her sanity probably did. She already had one to look forward to the next time she slept, plus all the relatives she knew she was not going to be able to avoid meeting in the next couple hours.
She actually did sort of look forward to seeing Pelendur, because it would mean seeing a lot of her father when he was young, and her uncle that pretty much nobody talks about. (She understood. She would never press her father to talk about Elros. She knew full well what it was to lose a sibling to mortal death. She didn’t want to know what it’s like to lose a twin.)
Grandfather Arafinwë was front and center, which made sense seeing as he was the High King. That must be Grandmother’s mother to his right. Grandfather Nolofinwë was on his other side, and Grandmother Anairë next to him. Judging by the expressions, they’d recognized whose clothes had gotten sized down for her.
It was tough to keep a polite formal smile on when she really wanted to grin.
Gramma Nerdanel had taken a place in the front row facing them, with Uncle Carnistir, Aunt Silmë, Grandmother Lindë, and Mirifinwë (who she still wanted to call Erestor) with her. Gildor was next to Mirifinwë. Uncle Finrod was with them also, and she guessed the cluster of blonde heads to either side of him must be Amarië and their other children.
Ada and Nana were in the first row on the other side of the central aisle, with Grandmother and Grandfather with them. Beyond them, Tinu and Maeglin, and a couple that had to be his parents - his mother looked scarily like Grandmother, just with dark hair and a darker complexion.
She had no idea who the other people who rated first row were, on either side of the aisle - more relatives?
We know some of them, Elrohir informed her quietly. Playing decoy had a few advantages.
She wondered why he was taking such care.
Grandfather Arafinwë hears even better than Grandmother, Elladan warned her.
She glanced up, meeting their great-grandfather’s eyes - and he had much the same expression Grandmother got when she overheard something they hadn’t meant her to but wasn’t in a mood to tell anyone else.
Hello there, she said cheerfully. He’d hear the grin, even if she kept her face court-appropriate.
The formal part will go quickly, he assured her.
That was when the music started. She didn’t recognize the first few notes, but then it settled into something she knew in her bones.
It was the song the Sindar had sung to her, the one that had been the difference between victory and defeat, life and death.
She had no idea how they’d managed to get someone to sing that today of all days in the court of the Noldaran, but she was absolutely certain the singer was not Noldorin. Whoever he was, she recognized his voice. She’d heard it once before, when it really counted.
Her back straightened, her shoulders squared.
This was a song that had to be earned, and she damn well had and would.
It was the first time she’d heard the whole first verse properly. She’d come in midway through the song in her little throwdown with the biggest of Bads, and Melian telling it to her wasn’t quite the same as hearing it sung. She had no idea who the singer was, or the female singer who took the second verse. But they were both good.
If she hadn’t known the eyes of everyone who was anyone in Tirion were on her right now, she might have let a tear fall. Instead, she lifted her chin, kept moving forward, and joined in the second time the chorus came around.
It was a Lindarin song, and they’d clearly sent their best singers. But she was the granddaughter of Kanafinwë Makalaurë and he’d trained her to hold her own with anyone, up to and including the Valar.
She put her own twist on the chorus - it was her song, after all. What didn’t kill her did indeed make her stronger. Morgoth was such a lousy strategist…
As she reached the front row, she seized the chance to add something to the song. Whoever the singer was, he could carry it back to the Lindar so they would know their song had been heard and appreciated.
“When the wolves come and hunt me down, I will face them all and stand my ground. There’s a fire burning in me - they will see my strength in this love I found!”
She finally spotted the singer, standing just behind and to one side of her royal grandparents - and almost missed a note in surprise as she recognized him. Daeron of Doriath had written a song for her? And winkled his way into the Noldorin court so she’d hear it sung as he’d intended?
Make the rafters ring, little one! he told her.
The warmth that washed over her was not just one Sinda to another, it was an uncle looking at a niece who did the family proud, beaming at her as her voice soared, matching his note for note.
For that, she showed him in the last half of the song what it had been worth - the fall and the fight, the Morannon, Sunnydale, all of it. (Well, almost all of it. Not the curse. That was between her, Morgoth, and maybe Sauron.) But Daeron deserved to see what it looked like when she got back up.
The last chorus echoed not just with fierce pride, but with the knowledge of victory.
Thranduil wasn’t the only one who saw Lúthien’s legacy when he looked at her.
Are you sure you want that comparison? Daeron asked. It’s a lot to live up to. Remember, she beat him in his own hall.
I aim to beat him in his own world, she shot back. Again. This time for keeps.