Aug 5 - Something To Talk About
Title: Something To Talk About
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: The politics part is over. Now for the dancing...
Word Count: 1795
Anariel managed not to frown too much as Grandfather Arafinwë invited the Noldorin musicians who were probably supposed to have handled their entrance before Daeron’s unexpected appearance to show off their skills.
Is this the dancing part? she sighed mentally to Elrohir.
“Absolutely,” Gildor said with a grin, stepping up to offer her his hand.
I’m a cousin here, not an uncle, and the oldest one at that. So I can get away with pulling seniority on anyone else. Though I think Aunt Anairë would have tapped me or Miryo for this anyway.
Anariel smiled and let him lead her out onto the floor, which was quickly clearing as those who had been standing to watch the spectacle early cleared space for anyone inclined to dance. If this was like Imladris, no one else would join in until the guests of honor had started the dancing.
She saw her brothers had both found partners - Elrohir with a dark-haired probably-Nolofinwion, and Elladan with one of the Inglorions.
“My sister Artalissë,” Gildor explained as he whirled her around. “The little one who may explode from sheer excitement at Elrohir thinking she’s grownup enough for the first dance is Irissë and Eöl’s Mírimë.”
“Wait, Maeglin has a kid sister?” she demanded in surprise - and tried not to glare as Gildor smirked at her since the flow of the dance meant more couples were taking the floor. With pretty much everyone else taller than her, she couldn’t spot Mirimë no matter how she turned her head.
“He does,” Gildor confirmed. “Irissë was absolutely delighted to distract from your sister and her son’s hasty marriage by horrifying Tirion with the idea that she hadn’t even waited until leaving Lórien to beget her second child.”
Anariel couldn’t help the snicker.
“Your brothers have already dubbed her ‘Aunt Trouble’,” Gildor added.
“Sounds like it fits,” Anariel replied, catching sight of her brother and Mírimë, who was explaining something with great animation while they danced. “And Artalissë?”
“Closer to Tinu’s age than yours,” Gildor replied. “Though sadly not close enough to be good friends - I think Lissë hoped, but she wasn’t tactful enough early on, and it was always going to be difficult to be the third muscat-ear to Tinu and Anairon when they all but share a begetting day.”
“Musketeer,” Anariel corrected absently. “Muscat’s a wine grape.”
Gildor took the correction with the same sang-froid he always demonstrated in the face of California references, and did not ask what a musketeer was. It was sufficient that he’d tried. (Knowing Gildor, he was more likely to ask about the wine.)
“Why didn’t Anairon get a crack at the first dance?” Anariel asked.
She hadn’t met her little sister’s best bud and partner in crime yet, but she’d heard about him.
“He’s shy,” Gildor said, with a note in his tone that said she should be careful. “No one wanted to put such pressure on him. Besides, if anyone you hadn’t met already got the honor, I suspect it would have been my brother Arador - he’s your age, and did a very good job of not sulking for weeks when you didn’t arrive with your parents.”
She suspected Gildor had steered the conversation just as well as he’d steered the dance, because the first song was just coming to an end, and they had ended up near the Inglorions, where one of the blondes she had spotted earlier was waiting with a hopeful look.
“Anariel, Arador. Arador, Anariel,” Gildor said blithely, doubtless bending if not outright breaking the norms of polite Noldorin society.
Please do not damage my brother, I’m very fond of him, he added silently. And I will definitely tell your mother if you do.
You know Scoobies only ever threatened people when it was about dating or marriage, not just ‘cousins you should be friends with’, she informed him.
I’ve learned never to underestimate you.
“Pleased to meet you, cousin,” Arador said with a bow, managing to make the expected and socially correct response sound genuine. The not-quite-smirk suggested he’d heard everything she and Gildor had just said.
She had no idea what she was supposed to do according to Tirion manners even aside from the mental part of the conversation.
I wouldn’t worry about it, Arador informed her, his tone full of mirth. Between your reputation and your dress, you’ve already given the gossips so much to talk about that they’re not going to notice whether you curtsied, bowed, or slapped me.
“Slapping would probably get everyone’s attention,” Anariel pointed out as they started the next dance, another formal one.
While Arador held her slightly closer than she suspected good manners prescribed, it was the comfortable closeness of friends, not the creepy closeness of someone trying to move too fast or put his grabby hands where they shouldn’t be.
“True, but it would also cement you as being far too much of a challenge for most of the social climbers,” he grinned. “It would also mean everyone would continue to not notice you’re not wearing shoes.”
She decided she liked Gildor’s brother. His demeanor was what she imagined Gildor’s had been several wars ago.
“You noticed.”
“I wasn’t distracted by the dress as most people seem to be. Uncle Moryo’s work, I take it?”
Now it was her turn to grin.
“I don’t know him well enough to say it’s his very best, but it’s pretty darn good.”
Arador was bolder than Gildor had been, throwing a few daring turns and spins into the dance - and causing more than one pair dancing nearby to give them a wider berth.
You don’t want some of them too close, he informed her. Particularly not that one - your sister dubbed him Lord Poop. She and Lissë may not agree on much, but they both detest him.
I’ll be sure keep him off my dance card, she replied.
Arador didn’t bother putting his question into words - and it was kind of fun to drop a condensed ball of knowledge about California to him so that he understood the concept. Usually it was only her brothers she could pull that trick with.
“It might be an interesting way to conduct public events like this, but I suggest you don’t mention it to Aunt Anairë unless you want to actually have one next time,” he said thoughtfully.
“She’s the event planner?” Anariel asked cautiously.
“Oh, yes. And probably fuming at herself for not having gotten to talk to you and your brothers before you made your entrance so you wouldn’t have had to make up your speech - on the by? It that the saying or have I muddled it?”
“You’ve been picking my sister’s brain, haven’t you?” she snickered.
You were close. It’s on the fly - which ought to be easy to remember, since I hear Tinu actually introduced manned flight over here.
“I had time,” Arador replied. “She was often looking for a buffer between her and Lissë. Getting her talking about Sunny Dale was a good way to keep the peace. Besides, I thought you’d appreciate having someone who at least tried to learn California.”
“So you, Gildor, Artalissë…” she trailed off expectantly.
“And Gilrod, also called Elaráto, but generally only by our grandparents. Atto and Ammë tried to keep the family naming scheme going at his birth, but decided fairly quickly that wasn’t very kind to Gildor, and it wasn’t as though they had any good way to give him another name by then.”
“I’d have thought by then they’d be fretting there was another war coming on, meaning another chance for him to get killed.”
“That too. Though you blew that worry out of the water with your disappearing act. Then it was less about him getting killed than the possibility what happened with you could happen to him, too.”
“It wasn’t exactly my idea,” she frowned. “Anyway, we came back!”
“Yes, for which everyone was immensely thankful. But you can see where it made nervous parents even more nervous. And that was before the battles, dragons, balrogs, and so on.”
“Yes, fine, those were my idea. But it’s not like I hauled Uncle Gildor along with me!”
Arador didn’t miss a step, but she got that he was slightly thrown to hear his brother referred to as uncle. She decided she’d better pick up the conversation rather than let him flounder.
“So you’re the middle child, too.”
“I’d say also the troublesome one, but I’m assured all of us but Lissë are equally troublesome, and it’s just that Gildor had much more scope for his troublemaking. Though his is a distant second to yours. Much to learn, I have!”
Did you just imply I’m your Yoda??
His laughter cause heads to turn, some subtle, some not.
“Tinu told you about Star Wars?” she demanded.
“And The Princess Bride, and the monty python. So I know about Inigo Montoya and that calling someone’s mother a hamster is rude.”
Also that you are the undisputed master of It’s only a flesh wound, but I am perfectly happy to take the word of others on that rather than have you demonstrate.
“I doubt there will be much cause for it here anyway,” she snorted.
Not unless the Noldor have mellowed considerably about elf-on-elf violence since the Exile.
Not a chance, he assured her. The politics hasn’t mellowed much either - and between the clothes and the way you talk, you’ve already done an excellent job of poking that particular hornets’ nest. Just as well the plan is for you to stay in the King’s House for a while after this.
“Who, me?” she asked, pasting one of her best innocent expressions onto her face.
He laughed - and they both ignored that the song had come to an end and that they were probably supposed to switch partners. Arador doubtless expected he could charm his way out of it if anyone objected, and she was perfectly happy to stick with someone who was fun, interesting, not pushy, and unlikely to contribute to awful, terrible, no good sleep later on.
Anariel didn’t recognize the next song, but Arador evidently did - and informed her silently that while it wasn’t quite as enthusiastic or acrobatic as some of the Lindarin dances she might be familiar with, they could still make it interesting.
A quick glance around showed that most of the polite society set were clearing off. But Grandmother and Grandfather were stepping out onto the floor, and so were Aunt Irissë and Uncle Eöl. Elrohir was listening to an auburn-haired girl who looked to be explaining the steps, and Elladan was now partnering Mírimë.
“Care to show them what you’re made of?” Arador asked.
You might as well begin as you mean to go on…
“Sure, why not?”
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: The politics part is over. Now for the dancing...
Word Count: 1795
Anariel managed not to frown too much as Grandfather Arafinwë invited the Noldorin musicians who were probably supposed to have handled their entrance before Daeron’s unexpected appearance to show off their skills.
Is this the dancing part? she sighed mentally to Elrohir.
“Absolutely,” Gildor said with a grin, stepping up to offer her his hand.
I’m a cousin here, not an uncle, and the oldest one at that. So I can get away with pulling seniority on anyone else. Though I think Aunt Anairë would have tapped me or Miryo for this anyway.
Anariel smiled and let him lead her out onto the floor, which was quickly clearing as those who had been standing to watch the spectacle early cleared space for anyone inclined to dance. If this was like Imladris, no one else would join in until the guests of honor had started the dancing.
She saw her brothers had both found partners - Elrohir with a dark-haired probably-Nolofinwion, and Elladan with one of the Inglorions.
“My sister Artalissë,” Gildor explained as he whirled her around. “The little one who may explode from sheer excitement at Elrohir thinking she’s grownup enough for the first dance is Irissë and Eöl’s Mírimë.”
“Wait, Maeglin has a kid sister?” she demanded in surprise - and tried not to glare as Gildor smirked at her since the flow of the dance meant more couples were taking the floor. With pretty much everyone else taller than her, she couldn’t spot Mirimë no matter how she turned her head.
“He does,” Gildor confirmed. “Irissë was absolutely delighted to distract from your sister and her son’s hasty marriage by horrifying Tirion with the idea that she hadn’t even waited until leaving Lórien to beget her second child.”
Anariel couldn’t help the snicker.
“Your brothers have already dubbed her ‘Aunt Trouble’,” Gildor added.
“Sounds like it fits,” Anariel replied, catching sight of her brother and Mírimë, who was explaining something with great animation while they danced. “And Artalissë?”
“Closer to Tinu’s age than yours,” Gildor replied. “Though sadly not close enough to be good friends - I think Lissë hoped, but she wasn’t tactful enough early on, and it was always going to be difficult to be the third muscat-ear to Tinu and Anairon when they all but share a begetting day.”
“Musketeer,” Anariel corrected absently. “Muscat’s a wine grape.”
Gildor took the correction with the same sang-froid he always demonstrated in the face of California references, and did not ask what a musketeer was. It was sufficient that he’d tried. (Knowing Gildor, he was more likely to ask about the wine.)
“Why didn’t Anairon get a crack at the first dance?” Anariel asked.
She hadn’t met her little sister’s best bud and partner in crime yet, but she’d heard about him.
“He’s shy,” Gildor said, with a note in his tone that said she should be careful. “No one wanted to put such pressure on him. Besides, if anyone you hadn’t met already got the honor, I suspect it would have been my brother Arador - he’s your age, and did a very good job of not sulking for weeks when you didn’t arrive with your parents.”
She suspected Gildor had steered the conversation just as well as he’d steered the dance, because the first song was just coming to an end, and they had ended up near the Inglorions, where one of the blondes she had spotted earlier was waiting with a hopeful look.
“Anariel, Arador. Arador, Anariel,” Gildor said blithely, doubtless bending if not outright breaking the norms of polite Noldorin society.
Please do not damage my brother, I’m very fond of him, he added silently. And I will definitely tell your mother if you do.
You know Scoobies only ever threatened people when it was about dating or marriage, not just ‘cousins you should be friends with’, she informed him.
I’ve learned never to underestimate you.
“Pleased to meet you, cousin,” Arador said with a bow, managing to make the expected and socially correct response sound genuine. The not-quite-smirk suggested he’d heard everything she and Gildor had just said.
She had no idea what she was supposed to do according to Tirion manners even aside from the mental part of the conversation.
I wouldn’t worry about it, Arador informed her, his tone full of mirth. Between your reputation and your dress, you’ve already given the gossips so much to talk about that they’re not going to notice whether you curtsied, bowed, or slapped me.
“Slapping would probably get everyone’s attention,” Anariel pointed out as they started the next dance, another formal one.
While Arador held her slightly closer than she suspected good manners prescribed, it was the comfortable closeness of friends, not the creepy closeness of someone trying to move too fast or put his grabby hands where they shouldn’t be.
“True, but it would also cement you as being far too much of a challenge for most of the social climbers,” he grinned. “It would also mean everyone would continue to not notice you’re not wearing shoes.”
She decided she liked Gildor’s brother. His demeanor was what she imagined Gildor’s had been several wars ago.
“You noticed.”
“I wasn’t distracted by the dress as most people seem to be. Uncle Moryo’s work, I take it?”
Now it was her turn to grin.
“I don’t know him well enough to say it’s his very best, but it’s pretty darn good.”
Arador was bolder than Gildor had been, throwing a few daring turns and spins into the dance - and causing more than one pair dancing nearby to give them a wider berth.
You don’t want some of them too close, he informed her. Particularly not that one - your sister dubbed him Lord Poop. She and Lissë may not agree on much, but they both detest him.
I’ll be sure keep him off my dance card, she replied.
Arador didn’t bother putting his question into words - and it was kind of fun to drop a condensed ball of knowledge about California to him so that he understood the concept. Usually it was only her brothers she could pull that trick with.
“It might be an interesting way to conduct public events like this, but I suggest you don’t mention it to Aunt Anairë unless you want to actually have one next time,” he said thoughtfully.
“She’s the event planner?” Anariel asked cautiously.
“Oh, yes. And probably fuming at herself for not having gotten to talk to you and your brothers before you made your entrance so you wouldn’t have had to make up your speech - on the by? It that the saying or have I muddled it?”
“You’ve been picking my sister’s brain, haven’t you?” she snickered.
You were close. It’s on the fly - which ought to be easy to remember, since I hear Tinu actually introduced manned flight over here.
“I had time,” Arador replied. “She was often looking for a buffer between her and Lissë. Getting her talking about Sunny Dale was a good way to keep the peace. Besides, I thought you’d appreciate having someone who at least tried to learn California.”
“So you, Gildor, Artalissë…” she trailed off expectantly.
“And Gilrod, also called Elaráto, but generally only by our grandparents. Atto and Ammë tried to keep the family naming scheme going at his birth, but decided fairly quickly that wasn’t very kind to Gildor, and it wasn’t as though they had any good way to give him another name by then.”
“I’d have thought by then they’d be fretting there was another war coming on, meaning another chance for him to get killed.”
“That too. Though you blew that worry out of the water with your disappearing act. Then it was less about him getting killed than the possibility what happened with you could happen to him, too.”
“It wasn’t exactly my idea,” she frowned. “Anyway, we came back!”
“Yes, for which everyone was immensely thankful. But you can see where it made nervous parents even more nervous. And that was before the battles, dragons, balrogs, and so on.”
“Yes, fine, those were my idea. But it’s not like I hauled Uncle Gildor along with me!”
Arador didn’t miss a step, but she got that he was slightly thrown to hear his brother referred to as uncle. She decided she’d better pick up the conversation rather than let him flounder.
“So you’re the middle child, too.”
“I’d say also the troublesome one, but I’m assured all of us but Lissë are equally troublesome, and it’s just that Gildor had much more scope for his troublemaking. Though his is a distant second to yours. Much to learn, I have!”
Did you just imply I’m your Yoda??
His laughter cause heads to turn, some subtle, some not.
“Tinu told you about Star Wars?” she demanded.
“And The Princess Bride, and the monty python. So I know about Inigo Montoya and that calling someone’s mother a hamster is rude.”
Also that you are the undisputed master of It’s only a flesh wound, but I am perfectly happy to take the word of others on that rather than have you demonstrate.
“I doubt there will be much cause for it here anyway,” she snorted.
Not unless the Noldor have mellowed considerably about elf-on-elf violence since the Exile.
Not a chance, he assured her. The politics hasn’t mellowed much either - and between the clothes and the way you talk, you’ve already done an excellent job of poking that particular hornets’ nest. Just as well the plan is for you to stay in the King’s House for a while after this.
“Who, me?” she asked, pasting one of her best innocent expressions onto her face.
He laughed - and they both ignored that the song had come to an end and that they were probably supposed to switch partners. Arador doubtless expected he could charm his way out of it if anyone objected, and she was perfectly happy to stick with someone who was fun, interesting, not pushy, and unlikely to contribute to awful, terrible, no good sleep later on.
Anariel didn’t recognize the next song, but Arador evidently did - and informed her silently that while it wasn’t quite as enthusiastic or acrobatic as some of the Lindarin dances she might be familiar with, they could still make it interesting.
A quick glance around showed that most of the polite society set were clearing off. But Grandmother and Grandfather were stepping out onto the floor, and so were Aunt Irissë and Uncle Eöl. Elrohir was listening to an auburn-haired girl who looked to be explaining the steps, and Elladan was now partnering Mírimë.
“Care to show them what you’re made of?” Arador asked.
You might as well begin as you mean to go on…
“Sure, why not?”