Aug 9 - Dinner & A Show
Title: Dinner & A Show
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: It's just a family dinner...
Word Count: 2110
Anariel watched the crowd drifted toward the exits. They didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry.
“Come on, if you stick around, they probably will too,” Arador said in an undertone.
She turned to find her brothers. Elrohir had offered an arm to Artalissë; Elladan was talking to Gilrod. Mírimë was hanging onto Maeglin, and Tinu appeared to be trying not to giggle at whatever she was saying.
Arador steered her toward a door she hadn’t noticed.
“This is where the public areas stop and the private rooms start,” he explained as they passed through it. “When you’re out there, you’re on show. Once you’re in here, it’s just us. Though there’s more of us all the time.”
The rooms might be less formal, but they were no less impressive. Unlike Imladris, where even the Hall of Fire felt comfortable, this place showed off.
“Dinner should be ready by now,” Arador added.
They turned a corner, and she decided that might be an understatement.
This is a family dinner? she asked in astonishment, eying the table.
Her brothers, behind her, were no less surprised.
Yes, this is a family dinner. Welcome to the Noldorin side, their little sister confirmed. Pace yourselves, there’s definitely more to come. This is only the first couple courses.
Anariel blinked.
Given the Slayer factor, she’d have no problems. But if this was only the beginning, that was going to be a lot by elven standards. Maybe if they were expecting a large company of dwarves, or a couple families of hobbits…
“You’ll have to tell me about dwarves,” Arador said with a grin. “Atto has stories, of course, but it would be good to hear from someone else.”
“Yes, we can never tell when our father is being serious with his Beleriand stories and when he’s joking or exaggerating,” Gilrod said. “Gildor has been some help, but he says you were the dwarf-friend.”
“You might be able to meet a dwarf,” Elrohir said. “Gimli sailed with Legolas.”
“Where did they go when they arrived?” Anariel asked.
She somehow couldn’t see Thingol being thrilled to welcome a dwarf.
“I believe they stayed near Alqualondë for a time,” Elladan said. “The last I heard, Gimli was keen to visit Aulë.”
“How could he not be? He’ll meet Mahal in person!” Anariel grinned.
If she’d known, she might have dawdled a bit more on her ‘meet the Valar’ tour to see that.
“Does it matter where we sit?” she asked.
“For most of you, no,” Grandfather Arafinwë said, coming up behind her. “But you sit near us this evening, pitya.”
Grandmother Eärwen was already steering her toward the head of the table, and the looks her brothers were giving her said they’d be no help whatsoever.
It was your idea for us to be the distraction, Elrohir snickered. Which means they’ve already gotten to fuss over us at a meal.
Arador trailed after them, and since she ended seated between the grandparents, he took a seat on the other side of Grandfather Arafinwë.
The rest of the room was left to their own devices, with the result that there was a solid block of the younger crowd down one side of the table by the time the rest of the “grownups” drifted in.
Aunt Irissë waltzed in with her husband on one arm and Grandfather on the other, and steered them to seats opposite Maeglin and Tinu. Uncle Finrod and Aunt Amarië took seats close to his parents. Anariel was pleased to see her own parents fill the space between them and the seat being held for Grandmother. Speaking of which, where was she?
“Anariel.”
Ah. There she was - and why was she looking amused?
“Were you not told no weapons in the King’s House?”
“No,” she replied with a slight frown, mentally reviewing their departure from Grandmother Nerdanel’s.
“Darling, I’m sure we told you,” Grandmother Lindë said, sounding slightly disappointed.
“You said not to being the sword,” Anariel said. “No one said anything about weapons in general!”
Not that she’d have gone along with it if they had, but they hadn’t, so she had actually done what she was told to do.
Grandfather clearly agreed with her approach. So, judging by the look on his face, did Uncle Eöl. It was one thing if the Noldor liked to wander around unprepared, but she’d had enough of that, thank you very much.
“I don’t understand,” Grandmother Nerdanel said.
She was one of the last ones in, and so would be stuck at the opposite end of the table.
You can’t have everyone sit next to you, dork, Tindomiel pointed out. Or even near you. Do you know how many grandparents we have in this room?
“She left the sword behind as we asked.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean she’s unarmed,” Grandmother said. “I can see one, which means there’s at least one more I don’t see.”
I can’t believe Grandmother just ratted me out, she told her brothers in dismay.
I can, Uncle Finrod said helpfully. She was very good at that.
There was a mental snort from Uncle Aryo’s direction, and a raspberry from Aunt Irissë.
I am not ratting out anyone! Grandmother said, sounding nettled. She needs to learn now what is and isn’t acceptable at court, and not telling her what was really meant doesn’t do her any favors.
“How many?” Nana asked, in her no-nonsense, don’t even think about trying verbal sleight of hand tone.
“Four,” Anariel admitted.
Then she paused, re-assessing.
“And the hair clip. Five.”
She thought about it some more. If Nana wanted a complete count…
“No, wait, six. The necklace is dwarf-made, I could use it as a garotte in a pinch.”
Several grandmothers looked appalled. Uncle Eöl looked like he was about to start laughing.
“But I don’t see why anyone’s worried,” she told her mother. “There’s knives all up and down the table.”
Anyone who wanted to get stabby could. But I wasn’t expecting that, and anyway it wouldn’t have helped if anything went wrong out there earlier.
“Off with them, pitya,” Grandmother said.
Oh, really, Nerwen!
It took her a minute to realize that was Grandmother’s mother. Tinu had clapped a hand over her mouth, probably to hide her laughter.
She grudgingly disarmed herself, and tried not to glare too hard at Uncle Carnistir when he muttered about how Celegorm would be proud.
He has a point, pitya - and given that two of those appear to be his, the options are either pride or fury that you appropriated them.
He’s not here to ask, Anariel pointed out. And it was more ‘borrowing without permission’. Besides, if he would be so proud, he’d probably have said yes.
Never mind that she wouldn’t have asked and would probably have come up with another solution had he been there.
“The hair clip, too?” she asked warily.
It wouldn’t matter much if her hair didn’t stay up now, it didn’t seem like their family would fuss now that it was just them. But she’d just as soon her hair not fall forward around her face during dinner.
“I don’t think you can do much damage with a hair clip darling,” Grandmother Eärwen said soothingly.
On the one hand, it would be nice to keep it on, but on the other… she didn’t want to let that mistaken belief stand.
First off, they really should have a clear idea of what she could do. Pelendur’s notion that she needed a babysitter might be contagious, and one good way to nip that in the bud was to show she was quite capable of taking care of herself. Secondly, she’d grant that Slayers were probably not something known to Aman any more than they had been to Middle-earth, but underestimating what someone could do was a dangerous practice.
She was pleased with how easily the hair clip came away - Faran really had thought this through. Then she picked her target and let fly. It wasn’t even a full strength throw, just a casual one, though she doubted anyone but her siblings, Grandfather, Ada and maybe Mirifinwë would know the difference.
It didn’t quite take the leg off the roast bird at Grandmother Nerdanel’s end of the table, but all anyone should need to do was tap lightly. (It came off when Gilrod pulled the sun free.)
She belatedly hoped she hadn’t just wrecked the presentation of the dish as Gilrod started her well-traveled hair clip back up the table toward her. Maeglin cleaned it off when it was his turn to pass.
Thanks, she told him.
Her mother wasn’t pleased, but Grandmother’s parents didn’t seem bothered, and Ada let her have the hair clip back. She could also tell that a few grandparents were starting to realize that whatever reputation had preceded her wasn’t just for show.
“Moryo, kindly take a seat,” Grandmother Anairë instructed.
It was a little surprising she was taking this so well - Anariel had figured her for the one who would have trouble with it. But she seemed bound and determined they were going to have a pleasant dinner.
She did raise Irissë, you know, Grandfather Arafinwë said, sounding amused.
I think I begin to understand where you get that holiday commander streak, Elladan commented.
That was only the start of the most interesting dinner she’d been to in a while.
It took her until the second course to realize that someone was missing.
“Wait, where’s Anairon?” she asked suddenly.
She wasn’t sure, but she had a suspicion the twins were doing a head count - they hadn’t noticed either.
“He’s probably still cooking, darling,” Grandmother Anairë informed her. “He planned the entire menu with the head cook, and even if he’s not cooking all of it himself, he is supervising.”
He’s also shy, Tindomiel informed her. Which means this gives him a subtle way to hide out for a bit.
Anariel wasn’t sure what to say to that. She hadn’t expected her little sister’s best friend to be the cook.
“He is going to eat with us, though, right?” she asked.
“I’m sure he’ll join us once the desserts are complete,” Grandfather Nolofinwë smiled.
Don’t worry, he’s in the kitchens, he can eat as much as he wants, was Tindomiel’s blithe take. Without getting all nervous like he sometimes does. You can make a big deal about him later.
Tindomiel looked to be taking her own advice and pacing herself, but Anariel had no such concerns.
The Slayer was perfectly happy to have all the calories, even without any good way to burn them now that her arm was well healed. She was going to have to work on that. It was a fair bet she was going to be wired tomorrow morning - not to mention, in a mood to hit things.
She got why Anairon had been focusing on dessert when they finally got to it a couple hours later.
Her jaw dropped at the elaborate confections being set in front of everyone. They all involved chocolate in some form, but hers…
It looked like the bowl itself was made out of carefully shaped chocolate, decorated with chocolate, and contained several more forms of chocolate, topped with either chocolate whipped cream or piped chocolate mousse, and drizzled in chocolate syrup.
Great googly moogly, had the Noldor turned chocolate into its own craft? Not that she was complaining!
“Tinwë explained death by chocolate to me,” a not quite calm voice at her elbow said.
She looked up to discover now that she got a good look at him, Anairon had a strong resemblance to his father.
“I used her as a test subject to get the brownie part right,” he continued. “And the ice cream. I was going to try for a more elaborate shape, but she thought you’d prefer simple.”
There was ice cream in this? And in what universe did this qualify as simple?
“Other people tried to volunteer for taste testing duty,” Uncle Aryo said. “Alas, only Tinwë would do.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect,” she assured him.
“Try it!” he urged.
Judging by the look on his face, in his mind this was the make or break moment of the entire evening.
Happily, she didn’t have to feign the bliss when she took her first bite. Or the next one. Or the one after that…
“Looks like another triumph, little brother,” Aunt Irissë said fondly.
Completely and totally, Anariel said, her mouth too occupied with dessert to answer out loud. She couldn’t believe the understatement in her sister’s woefully inadequate description of her bestie. And after I finish, you are so explaining how you made 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: It's just a family dinner...
Word Count: 2110
Anariel watched the crowd drifted toward the exits. They didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry.
“Come on, if you stick around, they probably will too,” Arador said in an undertone.
She turned to find her brothers. Elrohir had offered an arm to Artalissë; Elladan was talking to Gilrod. Mírimë was hanging onto Maeglin, and Tinu appeared to be trying not to giggle at whatever she was saying.
Arador steered her toward a door she hadn’t noticed.
“This is where the public areas stop and the private rooms start,” he explained as they passed through it. “When you’re out there, you’re on show. Once you’re in here, it’s just us. Though there’s more of us all the time.”
The rooms might be less formal, but they were no less impressive. Unlike Imladris, where even the Hall of Fire felt comfortable, this place showed off.
“Dinner should be ready by now,” Arador added.
They turned a corner, and she decided that might be an understatement.
This is a family dinner? she asked in astonishment, eying the table.
Her brothers, behind her, were no less surprised.
Yes, this is a family dinner. Welcome to the Noldorin side, their little sister confirmed. Pace yourselves, there’s definitely more to come. This is only the first couple courses.
Anariel blinked.
Given the Slayer factor, she’d have no problems. But if this was only the beginning, that was going to be a lot by elven standards. Maybe if they were expecting a large company of dwarves, or a couple families of hobbits…
“You’ll have to tell me about dwarves,” Arador said with a grin. “Atto has stories, of course, but it would be good to hear from someone else.”
“Yes, we can never tell when our father is being serious with his Beleriand stories and when he’s joking or exaggerating,” Gilrod said. “Gildor has been some help, but he says you were the dwarf-friend.”
“You might be able to meet a dwarf,” Elrohir said. “Gimli sailed with Legolas.”
“Where did they go when they arrived?” Anariel asked.
She somehow couldn’t see Thingol being thrilled to welcome a dwarf.
“I believe they stayed near Alqualondë for a time,” Elladan said. “The last I heard, Gimli was keen to visit Aulë.”
“How could he not be? He’ll meet Mahal in person!” Anariel grinned.
If she’d known, she might have dawdled a bit more on her ‘meet the Valar’ tour to see that.
“Does it matter where we sit?” she asked.
“For most of you, no,” Grandfather Arafinwë said, coming up behind her. “But you sit near us this evening, pitya.”
Grandmother Eärwen was already steering her toward the head of the table, and the looks her brothers were giving her said they’d be no help whatsoever.
It was your idea for us to be the distraction, Elrohir snickered. Which means they’ve already gotten to fuss over us at a meal.
Arador trailed after them, and since she ended seated between the grandparents, he took a seat on the other side of Grandfather Arafinwë.
The rest of the room was left to their own devices, with the result that there was a solid block of the younger crowd down one side of the table by the time the rest of the “grownups” drifted in.
Aunt Irissë waltzed in with her husband on one arm and Grandfather on the other, and steered them to seats opposite Maeglin and Tinu. Uncle Finrod and Aunt Amarië took seats close to his parents. Anariel was pleased to see her own parents fill the space between them and the seat being held for Grandmother. Speaking of which, where was she?
“Anariel.”
Ah. There she was - and why was she looking amused?
“Were you not told no weapons in the King’s House?”
“No,” she replied with a slight frown, mentally reviewing their departure from Grandmother Nerdanel’s.
“Darling, I’m sure we told you,” Grandmother Lindë said, sounding slightly disappointed.
“You said not to being the sword,” Anariel said. “No one said anything about weapons in general!”
Not that she’d have gone along with it if they had, but they hadn’t, so she had actually done what she was told to do.
Grandfather clearly agreed with her approach. So, judging by the look on his face, did Uncle Eöl. It was one thing if the Noldor liked to wander around unprepared, but she’d had enough of that, thank you very much.
“I don’t understand,” Grandmother Nerdanel said.
She was one of the last ones in, and so would be stuck at the opposite end of the table.
You can’t have everyone sit next to you, dork, Tindomiel pointed out. Or even near you. Do you know how many grandparents we have in this room?
“She left the sword behind as we asked.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean she’s unarmed,” Grandmother said. “I can see one, which means there’s at least one more I don’t see.”
I can’t believe Grandmother just ratted me out, she told her brothers in dismay.
I can, Uncle Finrod said helpfully. She was very good at that.
There was a mental snort from Uncle Aryo’s direction, and a raspberry from Aunt Irissë.
I am not ratting out anyone! Grandmother said, sounding nettled. She needs to learn now what is and isn’t acceptable at court, and not telling her what was really meant doesn’t do her any favors.
“How many?” Nana asked, in her no-nonsense, don’t even think about trying verbal sleight of hand tone.
“Four,” Anariel admitted.
Then she paused, re-assessing.
“And the hair clip. Five.”
She thought about it some more. If Nana wanted a complete count…
“No, wait, six. The necklace is dwarf-made, I could use it as a garotte in a pinch.”
Several grandmothers looked appalled. Uncle Eöl looked like he was about to start laughing.
“But I don’t see why anyone’s worried,” she told her mother. “There’s knives all up and down the table.”
Anyone who wanted to get stabby could. But I wasn’t expecting that, and anyway it wouldn’t have helped if anything went wrong out there earlier.
“Off with them, pitya,” Grandmother said.
Oh, really, Nerwen!
It took her a minute to realize that was Grandmother’s mother. Tinu had clapped a hand over her mouth, probably to hide her laughter.
She grudgingly disarmed herself, and tried not to glare too hard at Uncle Carnistir when he muttered about how Celegorm would be proud.
He has a point, pitya - and given that two of those appear to be his, the options are either pride or fury that you appropriated them.
He’s not here to ask, Anariel pointed out. And it was more ‘borrowing without permission’. Besides, if he would be so proud, he’d probably have said yes.
Never mind that she wouldn’t have asked and would probably have come up with another solution had he been there.
“The hair clip, too?” she asked warily.
It wouldn’t matter much if her hair didn’t stay up now, it didn’t seem like their family would fuss now that it was just them. But she’d just as soon her hair not fall forward around her face during dinner.
“I don’t think you can do much damage with a hair clip darling,” Grandmother Eärwen said soothingly.
On the one hand, it would be nice to keep it on, but on the other… she didn’t want to let that mistaken belief stand.
First off, they really should have a clear idea of what she could do. Pelendur’s notion that she needed a babysitter might be contagious, and one good way to nip that in the bud was to show she was quite capable of taking care of herself. Secondly, she’d grant that Slayers were probably not something known to Aman any more than they had been to Middle-earth, but underestimating what someone could do was a dangerous practice.
She was pleased with how easily the hair clip came away - Faran really had thought this through. Then she picked her target and let fly. It wasn’t even a full strength throw, just a casual one, though she doubted anyone but her siblings, Grandfather, Ada and maybe Mirifinwë would know the difference.
It didn’t quite take the leg off the roast bird at Grandmother Nerdanel’s end of the table, but all anyone should need to do was tap lightly. (It came off when Gilrod pulled the sun free.)
She belatedly hoped she hadn’t just wrecked the presentation of the dish as Gilrod started her well-traveled hair clip back up the table toward her. Maeglin cleaned it off when it was his turn to pass.
Thanks, she told him.
Her mother wasn’t pleased, but Grandmother’s parents didn’t seem bothered, and Ada let her have the hair clip back. She could also tell that a few grandparents were starting to realize that whatever reputation had preceded her wasn’t just for show.
“Moryo, kindly take a seat,” Grandmother Anairë instructed.
It was a little surprising she was taking this so well - Anariel had figured her for the one who would have trouble with it. But she seemed bound and determined they were going to have a pleasant dinner.
She did raise Irissë, you know, Grandfather Arafinwë said, sounding amused.
I think I begin to understand where you get that holiday commander streak, Elladan commented.
That was only the start of the most interesting dinner she’d been to in a while.
It took her until the second course to realize that someone was missing.
“Wait, where’s Anairon?” she asked suddenly.
She wasn’t sure, but she had a suspicion the twins were doing a head count - they hadn’t noticed either.
“He’s probably still cooking, darling,” Grandmother Anairë informed her. “He planned the entire menu with the head cook, and even if he’s not cooking all of it himself, he is supervising.”
He’s also shy, Tindomiel informed her. Which means this gives him a subtle way to hide out for a bit.
Anariel wasn’t sure what to say to that. She hadn’t expected her little sister’s best friend to be the cook.
“He is going to eat with us, though, right?” she asked.
“I’m sure he’ll join us once the desserts are complete,” Grandfather Nolofinwë smiled.
Don’t worry, he’s in the kitchens, he can eat as much as he wants, was Tindomiel’s blithe take. Without getting all nervous like he sometimes does. You can make a big deal about him later.
Tindomiel looked to be taking her own advice and pacing herself, but Anariel had no such concerns.
The Slayer was perfectly happy to have all the calories, even without any good way to burn them now that her arm was well healed. She was going to have to work on that. It was a fair bet she was going to be wired tomorrow morning - not to mention, in a mood to hit things.
She got why Anairon had been focusing on dessert when they finally got to it a couple hours later.
Her jaw dropped at the elaborate confections being set in front of everyone. They all involved chocolate in some form, but hers…
It looked like the bowl itself was made out of carefully shaped chocolate, decorated with chocolate, and contained several more forms of chocolate, topped with either chocolate whipped cream or piped chocolate mousse, and drizzled in chocolate syrup.
Great googly moogly, had the Noldor turned chocolate into its own craft? Not that she was complaining!
“Tinwë explained death by chocolate to me,” a not quite calm voice at her elbow said.
She looked up to discover now that she got a good look at him, Anairon had a strong resemblance to his father.
“I used her as a test subject to get the brownie part right,” he continued. “And the ice cream. I was going to try for a more elaborate shape, but she thought you’d prefer simple.”
There was ice cream in this? And in what universe did this qualify as simple?
“Other people tried to volunteer for taste testing duty,” Uncle Aryo said. “Alas, only Tinwë would do.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect,” she assured him.
“Try it!” he urged.
Judging by the look on his face, in his mind this was the make or break moment of the entire evening.
Happily, she didn’t have to feign the bliss when she took her first bite. Or the next one. Or the one after that…
“Looks like another triumph, little brother,” Aunt Irissë said fondly.
Completely and totally, Anariel said, her mouth too occupied with dessert to answer out loud. She couldn’t believe the understatement in her sister’s woefully inadequate description of her bestie. And after I finish, you are so explaining how you made this.