Aug 3 - For Every Action
Title: For Every Action
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: Finarfin's reaction to Buffy's grand entrance and other surprises.
Word Count: 1570
Note: Again, the song is not mine - Hard Love by Needtobreathe (featuring Andra Day)
Arafinwë sighed as he took his place in the Great Hall.
He would happily have dispensed with the formality, but Eärwen and Anairë had carried their point that the sooner they got this over with, the sooner Anariel in particular could be safely secluded in the family areas of King’s House in peace, with no need for any further public appearance before the festival several weeks hence - and even that could be kept to a minimal walk of the King’s Square.
His only remaining concern was how well Elrond’s elder children would play along. Tindomiel wasn’t the only one who had remarked many times over the last hundred-odd years that she was the one who was the least trouble of her siblings.
Fortunately for Anairë’s peace of mind, Nerdanel had not only shepherded Anariel to the King’s House, but impressed on all three of her newly-met grandchildren the necessity of conducting themselves appropriately. There was no one better suited for that task short of Ammë - his law-sister had been telling young princes of the Noldor to behave themselves since Arafinwë had been a child. She’d probably told him a time or two. (His mother hadn’t arrived from Valimar in time for today’s little ceremony - she’d expected Anariel would spend some time at her parents’ house before coming to Tirion, and been caught off-guard by Anairë’s accelerated timetable.)
Arafinwë was unsurprised but ever so slightly relieved when the doors swung open to see two calm, composed young princes and one tiny princess enter. So far so good. They even seemed amused at all the fuss.
Then he recognized what Anariel was wearing and had to work to control his face. Tindomiel had warned them often enough that she was the best behaved of her father’s children…
Eärwen’s laughter bubbled merrily in his mind, but the horror Nolo echoed to him from Anairë concerned him. It wouldn’t be that much of a scandal, surely? All of Tirion knew perfectly well the relationship between Nerdanel and Elrond’s house.
He was surprised that the girl had been persuaded to wear something of Tyelko’s - from what he’d seen and heard from Elrond, Celebrían, and Tindomiel, Curvo and Tyelko were not in good odor with their grandnephew or his family.
But he was also certain Anariel’s outfit wasn’t her own doing. He’d heard a good many things about his smallest great-grandchild over the years, but not a one of them had mentioned her being a skilled enough tailor to make over something originally designed for someone easily twice her size.
The only real question was who had talked Nerdanel into it and how. He didn’t dare ask with the whole court likely to be straining their minds trying to catch any whisper that might add to the delicious whiff of impropriety in the great-granddaughter of the Noldaran wearing something so clearly associated with his eldest brother’s house - and the most scandalous member of said house, at that.
I’m not sure if it was Miryo’s idea or Moryo’s, Eärwen informed him, but Gildor lost a bet on the subject. It’s a wonder he’s not more disgruntled about it.
He should have known his grandson would have something to do with it. Though that did not explain the looks the three were drawing from observers behind them as they advanced… surely it couldn’t be making that much of a splash, even if others recognized the dress had originally been his nephew’s tunic? Was there more to it?
Just think of the chaos when Tyelko finds out… Nolo murmured.
Arafinwë thought about it - and concluded that since it would mean his nephew was home at last, he’d happily settle for intervening in the inevitable quarrel if needed.
If? Don’t you mean when? Eärwen snorted.
That was when the music started.
He had wondered, earlier in the day, what obscure point was being made by Thingol sending Daeron to visit just now.
More like scored, Eärwen said, annoyance in her tone. I may have words for Uncle Elu.
He’d heard the song before, but he hadn’t been sure who it was for. Judging by the change in Anariel’s posture, she was in no doubt.
She had gone from an easy, relaxed walk, to something else entirely. It was somewhere between commander reviewing the troops and what he suspected Nolo or Naro had looked like marching into battle.
Slayer indeed, Eärwen murmured. It would take someone remarkably brave to cross her looking like that.
Or remarkably foolish, Arafinwë thought.
Elrohir and Elladan had dropped back a step, now looking less Anariel’s elder brothers than her honor guard. They too walked more deliberately, far more princes of the Noldor than they had before.
“You know the situation can't be right, and all you ever do is fight. But there's a reason that the road is long - it take some time to make your courage strong.”
Resto’s wife Merilin was singing the female part, one of the few unintimidated at the idea of singing with Daeron.
Anariel, it seemed, was another. He was startled when she joined in on the second chorus - and he tried not to be disturbed that she made it “what don’t kill me makes me stronger”.
The three children of Elrond reached the front of the crowd as the song came to a point where Daeron would normally have picked it back up, but Anariel pre-empted him with a few lines of her own devising.
“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’ve found!”
So much for no oaths, Eärwen murmured.
He found himself unable to argue. Song or not, that verse had the ring of a vow - and it had been witnessed by far too many for the child to walk it back.
I very much doubt she could be persuaded to go back on it, Eärwen told him privately.
It’s easy enough to hear who taught her, Nolo said wryly. Just as well Naro’s not here for this. He’d be insufferable.
Arafinwë didn’t dare turn his head to respond to either of them - not with Daeron and Anariel turning the last section of the song into a Lindarin-style call and response, neither one giving an inch.
“Hold on tight.”
“It’s a hard love.”
“Don’t lose hope.”
“It’s a hard love.”
“Get back up.”
“It’s a hard love!”
Then they switched, Anariel taking the call and Daeron the response - and Arafinwë dearly hoped the rest of the crowd couldn’t see what he and Nolo were catching. Those memories were probably meant for Daeron, but with him placed near them as he was…
“Hold on tight,”
That has to be the Morannon, Eärwen whispered in horror. Nerwen never saw it herself, but she had some of it from the boys…
“Don’t lose hope,”
Whatever the stronghold he saw next was, it was nothing in Arda that he recognized. Something from California? What had Celebrían called the place where they lived? Sunny Dale?
“Get back up!”
Nolo’s hand closed spasmodically on the arms of his chair, a completely involuntary reaction more telling than anything else possibly could have been - that had been Morgoth himself reaching for a downed opponent. The dread Vala was battered and bloodied, but not beaten. It was a sight to terrify even one who hadn’t died at his hands.
He dared a sideways glance only to find that Nolo had caught Anairë’s hand in what looked to be a crush grip, locked in memory. He could only hope the rest of the court hadn’t noticed - or worse, his children or Nolo’s.
How does she know what that looks like? his brother demanded in strangled tones.
Because she did as the song says and got back up, Anairë said crisply. After all, she is here, is she not?
She was indeed, and while that oath might have been more for the Sindar, both in Thingol’s kingdom and those she had been raised among, Anariel also had the Noldor in the palm of her hand without even half trying. The court was applauding wildly for the end of the song.
I’d say that’s neatly erased any thought of whose tunic she repurposed, Anairë remarked in satisfaction.
A shame she’s uninterested in politics, Eärwen laughed. She’d make quite the High Queen.
Arafinwë knew better than to think Anariel could be persuaded to take the crown - even if he did suddenly have the unholy urge to discover what her methods of dealing with unruly courtiers might be.
Don’t you dare, Arafinwë Ingoldo, Anairë said with steel in her tone. That child is fragile.
So fragile Morgoth failed to break her, Arafinwë snorted for Eärwen’s ears alone.
You can both be right, you know, she replied.
That, he reflected, might be true. It was certainly something to bear in mind.
And then Daeron casually lobbed one more Thingol-designed verbal bomb.
“Eluchíl,” he said, with a bow that Merilin mirrored.
DID HE JUST?? was the only coherent reaction from Nolo, whose outrage overwhelmed anything Arafinwë might have gleaned of Anarië’s reaction.
I am going to have words with my father and for my uncle, Eärwen announced in a dangerous tone.
“Singer,” Anariel replied, her voice rippling with amusement - and giving away that while it might come as a surprise to everyone else, she had already known she was now Thingol’s chosen heir.
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: Finarfin's reaction to Buffy's grand entrance and other surprises.
Word Count: 1570
Note: Again, the song is not mine - Hard Love by Needtobreathe (featuring Andra Day)
Arafinwë sighed as he took his place in the Great Hall.
He would happily have dispensed with the formality, but Eärwen and Anairë had carried their point that the sooner they got this over with, the sooner Anariel in particular could be safely secluded in the family areas of King’s House in peace, with no need for any further public appearance before the festival several weeks hence - and even that could be kept to a minimal walk of the King’s Square.
His only remaining concern was how well Elrond’s elder children would play along. Tindomiel wasn’t the only one who had remarked many times over the last hundred-odd years that she was the one who was the least trouble of her siblings.
Fortunately for Anairë’s peace of mind, Nerdanel had not only shepherded Anariel to the King’s House, but impressed on all three of her newly-met grandchildren the necessity of conducting themselves appropriately. There was no one better suited for that task short of Ammë - his law-sister had been telling young princes of the Noldor to behave themselves since Arafinwë had been a child. She’d probably told him a time or two. (His mother hadn’t arrived from Valimar in time for today’s little ceremony - she’d expected Anariel would spend some time at her parents’ house before coming to Tirion, and been caught off-guard by Anairë’s accelerated timetable.)
Arafinwë was unsurprised but ever so slightly relieved when the doors swung open to see two calm, composed young princes and one tiny princess enter. So far so good. They even seemed amused at all the fuss.
Then he recognized what Anariel was wearing and had to work to control his face. Tindomiel had warned them often enough that she was the best behaved of her father’s children…
Eärwen’s laughter bubbled merrily in his mind, but the horror Nolo echoed to him from Anairë concerned him. It wouldn’t be that much of a scandal, surely? All of Tirion knew perfectly well the relationship between Nerdanel and Elrond’s house.
He was surprised that the girl had been persuaded to wear something of Tyelko’s - from what he’d seen and heard from Elrond, Celebrían, and Tindomiel, Curvo and Tyelko were not in good odor with their grandnephew or his family.
But he was also certain Anariel’s outfit wasn’t her own doing. He’d heard a good many things about his smallest great-grandchild over the years, but not a one of them had mentioned her being a skilled enough tailor to make over something originally designed for someone easily twice her size.
The only real question was who had talked Nerdanel into it and how. He didn’t dare ask with the whole court likely to be straining their minds trying to catch any whisper that might add to the delicious whiff of impropriety in the great-granddaughter of the Noldaran wearing something so clearly associated with his eldest brother’s house - and the most scandalous member of said house, at that.
I’m not sure if it was Miryo’s idea or Moryo’s, Eärwen informed him, but Gildor lost a bet on the subject. It’s a wonder he’s not more disgruntled about it.
He should have known his grandson would have something to do with it. Though that did not explain the looks the three were drawing from observers behind them as they advanced… surely it couldn’t be making that much of a splash, even if others recognized the dress had originally been his nephew’s tunic? Was there more to it?
Just think of the chaos when Tyelko finds out… Nolo murmured.
Arafinwë thought about it - and concluded that since it would mean his nephew was home at last, he’d happily settle for intervening in the inevitable quarrel if needed.
If? Don’t you mean when? Eärwen snorted.
That was when the music started.
He had wondered, earlier in the day, what obscure point was being made by Thingol sending Daeron to visit just now.
More like scored, Eärwen said, annoyance in her tone. I may have words for Uncle Elu.
He’d heard the song before, but he hadn’t been sure who it was for. Judging by the change in Anariel’s posture, she was in no doubt.
She had gone from an easy, relaxed walk, to something else entirely. It was somewhere between commander reviewing the troops and what he suspected Nolo or Naro had looked like marching into battle.
Slayer indeed, Eärwen murmured. It would take someone remarkably brave to cross her looking like that.
Or remarkably foolish, Arafinwë thought.
Elrohir and Elladan had dropped back a step, now looking less Anariel’s elder brothers than her honor guard. They too walked more deliberately, far more princes of the Noldor than they had before.
“You know the situation can't be right, and all you ever do is fight. But there's a reason that the road is long - it take some time to make your courage strong.”
Resto’s wife Merilin was singing the female part, one of the few unintimidated at the idea of singing with Daeron.
Anariel, it seemed, was another. He was startled when she joined in on the second chorus - and he tried not to be disturbed that she made it “what don’t kill me makes me stronger”.
The three children of Elrond reached the front of the crowd as the song came to a point where Daeron would normally have picked it back up, but Anariel pre-empted him with a few lines of her own devising.
“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’ve found!”
So much for no oaths, Eärwen murmured.
He found himself unable to argue. Song or not, that verse had the ring of a vow - and it had been witnessed by far too many for the child to walk it back.
I very much doubt she could be persuaded to go back on it, Eärwen told him privately.
It’s easy enough to hear who taught her, Nolo said wryly. Just as well Naro’s not here for this. He’d be insufferable.
Arafinwë didn’t dare turn his head to respond to either of them - not with Daeron and Anariel turning the last section of the song into a Lindarin-style call and response, neither one giving an inch.
“Hold on tight.”
“It’s a hard love.”
“Don’t lose hope.”
“It’s a hard love.”
“Get back up.”
“It’s a hard love!”
Then they switched, Anariel taking the call and Daeron the response - and Arafinwë dearly hoped the rest of the crowd couldn’t see what he and Nolo were catching. Those memories were probably meant for Daeron, but with him placed near them as he was…
“Hold on tight,”
That has to be the Morannon, Eärwen whispered in horror. Nerwen never saw it herself, but she had some of it from the boys…
“Don’t lose hope,”
Whatever the stronghold he saw next was, it was nothing in Arda that he recognized. Something from California? What had Celebrían called the place where they lived? Sunny Dale?
“Get back up!”
Nolo’s hand closed spasmodically on the arms of his chair, a completely involuntary reaction more telling than anything else possibly could have been - that had been Morgoth himself reaching for a downed opponent. The dread Vala was battered and bloodied, but not beaten. It was a sight to terrify even one who hadn’t died at his hands.
He dared a sideways glance only to find that Nolo had caught Anairë’s hand in what looked to be a crush grip, locked in memory. He could only hope the rest of the court hadn’t noticed - or worse, his children or Nolo’s.
How does she know what that looks like? his brother demanded in strangled tones.
Because she did as the song says and got back up, Anairë said crisply. After all, she is here, is she not?
She was indeed, and while that oath might have been more for the Sindar, both in Thingol’s kingdom and those she had been raised among, Anariel also had the Noldor in the palm of her hand without even half trying. The court was applauding wildly for the end of the song.
I’d say that’s neatly erased any thought of whose tunic she repurposed, Anairë remarked in satisfaction.
A shame she’s uninterested in politics, Eärwen laughed. She’d make quite the High Queen.
Arafinwë knew better than to think Anariel could be persuaded to take the crown - even if he did suddenly have the unholy urge to discover what her methods of dealing with unruly courtiers might be.
Don’t you dare, Arafinwë Ingoldo, Anairë said with steel in her tone. That child is fragile.
So fragile Morgoth failed to break her, Arafinwë snorted for Eärwen’s ears alone.
You can both be right, you know, she replied.
That, he reflected, might be true. It was certainly something to bear in mind.
And then Daeron casually lobbed one more Thingol-designed verbal bomb.
“Eluchíl,” he said, with a bow that Merilin mirrored.
DID HE JUST?? was the only coherent reaction from Nolo, whose outrage overwhelmed anything Arafinwë might have gleaned of Anarië’s reaction.
I am going to have words with my father and for my uncle, Eärwen announced in a dangerous tone.
“Singer,” Anariel replied, her voice rippling with amusement - and giving away that while it might come as a surprise to everyone else, she had already known she was now Thingol’s chosen heir.