Aug 13 - Rise And Shine
Title: Rise And Shine
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 has made it through another night of Morgoth-gifted dreams.
Word Count: 1345
Elrohir had many times over the year been thankful that he had a twin, but tonight he was particularly grateful.
With two of them, they had managed to keep their many older relatives from noticing that Anariel had retired relatively early - and that one or the other of them had kept vigil all night to be sure her sleep was not disturbed. Gildor’s brothers might have noticed, and Maeglin was aware. But the Inglorions did not know the children of Elrond well enough yet to spot anything amiss; Maeglin already knew what was afoot, and had doubtless played his part, keeping Tindomiel occupied elsewhere.
It was his luck to be there when Anariel woke shortly after daybreak.
“I had thought you would sleep longer,” he said once her was sure her eyes were truly seeing what was here and now.
She stretched languorously, rather like a cat that doesn’t want to give up its sunny spot, but made no move to rise.
“I’m not that tired,” she said. “Though I do like the idea of lounging around for a while. The family reunion things was a little…”
“Much?” Elrohir offered wryly.
He and Elladan had both spent more time with several grandparents and great-uncles. (Nothing they had seen or heard yet had made them think Irissë’s new title of Aunt Trouble did not fit.) He had even done his best to get his head around having a great-uncle in the same generation as Irissë and Turukano who was the same age as his baby sister.
He listened carefully, and then focused his thought tightly to his sister - this conversation was not for any grandparents to overhear.
Well? What did you see?
She sighed.
Pelendur. Aunt Irissë and Uncle Eöl, and I don’t like our grandfather Turukano any better for it. Uncle Aryo. Daeron. Aunt Merilin. Both Grandmother’s parents. Grandfather. Uncle Gildor.
What of Mirifinwë? Aunt Amarië? The other Inglorions? he asked.
Already saw Mirifinwë last night, along with his father, Grandmother Nerdanel, Grandmother Lindë, and Aunt Silmë. I don’t think Aunt Amarië ever really figured on Morgoth’s radar, and the Inglorions other than Gildor are Aman-born too recently for him to know anything about them. There wasn’t all that much of Uncle Gildor or Miryo either. Morgoth may have been the baddest ass around, but he wasn’t omniscient.
Elrohir digested that. It was comforting to know there were limits. All the same, though…
Was there anything interesting?
Against expectations, his little sister brightened.
There was a silver lining - thanks to Pelendur, I’ve come the closest of any of us to meeting Uncle Elros.
He couldn’t help the laugh, though there was a touch of bitterness to it. The closest of any of them except of course for Arwen.
What’s more, he knew this was another reason Anariel would never willingly admit to their father what was happening to her - to admit it meant to share with him that she was seeing one of the people he missed most, one of the two who were gone beyond the circles of the world. Even here in the Blessed Lands, the loss of his twin was a hurt for which there was no healing.
Elrohir and Elladan had known from the first moment they had understood what the Choice of the Peredhil was that no matter what they chose, they would choose together - either both Men or both elves. They could never go to separate fates as their father and uncle had. They had still been young enough and thoughtless enough to tell their father that. The look in Elrond’s eyes at that statement still haunted his sons.
He liked to think they’d made up for it when they’d shared their choice not long after Anariel’s rockslide accident, but he doubted they truly had. There had been many years between the two moments, far too long a time to live with the threat of losing two children at once. That time had also included the loss of their mother and baby sister, a child too young for any understanding of the choice. He and Elladan had been so sure that she must go to Mandos and emerge again in the Undying Lands that they had never entertained a thought of not seeing her again. But in retrospect, he was sure his father had.
“Anything you care to share?” he asked.
She grinned.
A vision of a younger elf he could have sworn was their father dropped into his mind, being sternly reprimanded for having dropped a sizable amount of snow off a roof and onto a hapless elf below. Another vision of the same elf being hauled protesting and mud-covered to the nearest water trough. An absolute disaster of an attempt to cook something he couldn’t even identify… there were almost too many to pick from. And some of them were what Anariel and Tindomiel would call a ‘double feature’ - two young elves being reprimanded.
“Ah, now I see where you get your kitchen prowess from,” he nodded - and caught the pillow she launched at him.
He laughed from more than relief that there had been something cheerful amid all the death and misery. It was hard to think of their father as a child as prone to mischief as any other, but here was the proof.
I wonder if we can get Pelendur to tell us stories? We never pressed Ada for more about his childhood or youth once we understood it pained him to recall his brother. But it would be good to know more of both of them. I suppose beyond a certain point, there is little more of our uncle?
Ada put him on the ship to Numenor still quite drunk, she informed him. That was the last I saw of him. I suppose there was no good way for Sauron to follow them on any visits to Numenor so early in the Second Age. He might not have been much diminished, but I bet he stayed away from the Sea.
She sobered.
Did anyone visit Numenor later, when Sauron was there?
I doubt it, he reassured her. By that time, the elves seldom went to the island, and only in the western parts, where there were still elf-friends. He would no doubt have cheerfully killed any caught in Armenelos.
Judging by the relief on her face, she’d been worried she’d get to see Sauron in his high priest of Melkor phase, supervising the sacrifices when not conducting them himself.
It is hard to see evil I cannot fight, she admitted.
It is history, he reminded her. It has already happened. You cannot change it.
I know, but it would be satisfying to at least be able to hit things.
“Maeglin is not about to offer, but I suspect you could recruit Grandfather and Uncle Eöl easily,” Elrohir told her. “Particularly Uncle Eöl, who seemed rather insulted that Grandfather dismissed his son’s skills in the telling of your minor arm injury the other day…”
“Maybe in a little bit. Breakfast first,” Anariel declared. “Do you think I can get away with a quiet breakfast? Like, not all our relatives?”
“I hate to break it to you, but this is not all our relatives,” Elrohir reminded her. “There are more in Alqualondë, Valimar, Thingol’s kingdom-”
“Neldoreth,” she supplied.
“-Neldoreth, Gondolin, and possibly other places I don’t know of yet,” he finished.
“Aren’t you full of happy thoughts this morning,” she grumbled.
“You could always see if you can wheedle something out of the kitchens and bring it back up here,” he suggested. “If you get enough for three, Elladan and I can eat with you.”
She considered.
“Do you have any idea where the kitchens even are here?”
He didn’t, but he doubted it would be a problem.
“Since when have you ever had difficulty finding your way to food?” he asked.
“Point,” she conceded, finally making to get out of bed. “In that case, let’s see what’s here in the way of normal clothes, and then I’ll go scout out where the kitchens are.”
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 has made it through another night of Morgoth-gifted dreams.
Word Count: 1345
Elrohir had many times over the year been thankful that he had a twin, but tonight he was particularly grateful.
With two of them, they had managed to keep their many older relatives from noticing that Anariel had retired relatively early - and that one or the other of them had kept vigil all night to be sure her sleep was not disturbed. Gildor’s brothers might have noticed, and Maeglin was aware. But the Inglorions did not know the children of Elrond well enough yet to spot anything amiss; Maeglin already knew what was afoot, and had doubtless played his part, keeping Tindomiel occupied elsewhere.
It was his luck to be there when Anariel woke shortly after daybreak.
“I had thought you would sleep longer,” he said once her was sure her eyes were truly seeing what was here and now.
She stretched languorously, rather like a cat that doesn’t want to give up its sunny spot, but made no move to rise.
“I’m not that tired,” she said. “Though I do like the idea of lounging around for a while. The family reunion things was a little…”
“Much?” Elrohir offered wryly.
He and Elladan had both spent more time with several grandparents and great-uncles. (Nothing they had seen or heard yet had made them think Irissë’s new title of Aunt Trouble did not fit.) He had even done his best to get his head around having a great-uncle in the same generation as Irissë and Turukano who was the same age as his baby sister.
He listened carefully, and then focused his thought tightly to his sister - this conversation was not for any grandparents to overhear.
Well? What did you see?
She sighed.
Pelendur. Aunt Irissë and Uncle Eöl, and I don’t like our grandfather Turukano any better for it. Uncle Aryo. Daeron. Aunt Merilin. Both Grandmother’s parents. Grandfather. Uncle Gildor.
What of Mirifinwë? Aunt Amarië? The other Inglorions? he asked.
Already saw Mirifinwë last night, along with his father, Grandmother Nerdanel, Grandmother Lindë, and Aunt Silmë. I don’t think Aunt Amarië ever really figured on Morgoth’s radar, and the Inglorions other than Gildor are Aman-born too recently for him to know anything about them. There wasn’t all that much of Uncle Gildor or Miryo either. Morgoth may have been the baddest ass around, but he wasn’t omniscient.
Elrohir digested that. It was comforting to know there were limits. All the same, though…
Was there anything interesting?
Against expectations, his little sister brightened.
There was a silver lining - thanks to Pelendur, I’ve come the closest of any of us to meeting Uncle Elros.
He couldn’t help the laugh, though there was a touch of bitterness to it. The closest of any of them except of course for Arwen.
What’s more, he knew this was another reason Anariel would never willingly admit to their father what was happening to her - to admit it meant to share with him that she was seeing one of the people he missed most, one of the two who were gone beyond the circles of the world. Even here in the Blessed Lands, the loss of his twin was a hurt for which there was no healing.
Elrohir and Elladan had known from the first moment they had understood what the Choice of the Peredhil was that no matter what they chose, they would choose together - either both Men or both elves. They could never go to separate fates as their father and uncle had. They had still been young enough and thoughtless enough to tell their father that. The look in Elrond’s eyes at that statement still haunted his sons.
He liked to think they’d made up for it when they’d shared their choice not long after Anariel’s rockslide accident, but he doubted they truly had. There had been many years between the two moments, far too long a time to live with the threat of losing two children at once. That time had also included the loss of their mother and baby sister, a child too young for any understanding of the choice. He and Elladan had been so sure that she must go to Mandos and emerge again in the Undying Lands that they had never entertained a thought of not seeing her again. But in retrospect, he was sure his father had.
“Anything you care to share?” he asked.
She grinned.
A vision of a younger elf he could have sworn was their father dropped into his mind, being sternly reprimanded for having dropped a sizable amount of snow off a roof and onto a hapless elf below. Another vision of the same elf being hauled protesting and mud-covered to the nearest water trough. An absolute disaster of an attempt to cook something he couldn’t even identify… there were almost too many to pick from. And some of them were what Anariel and Tindomiel would call a ‘double feature’ - two young elves being reprimanded.
“Ah, now I see where you get your kitchen prowess from,” he nodded - and caught the pillow she launched at him.
He laughed from more than relief that there had been something cheerful amid all the death and misery. It was hard to think of their father as a child as prone to mischief as any other, but here was the proof.
I wonder if we can get Pelendur to tell us stories? We never pressed Ada for more about his childhood or youth once we understood it pained him to recall his brother. But it would be good to know more of both of them. I suppose beyond a certain point, there is little more of our uncle?
Ada put him on the ship to Numenor still quite drunk, she informed him. That was the last I saw of him. I suppose there was no good way for Sauron to follow them on any visits to Numenor so early in the Second Age. He might not have been much diminished, but I bet he stayed away from the Sea.
She sobered.
Did anyone visit Numenor later, when Sauron was there?
I doubt it, he reassured her. By that time, the elves seldom went to the island, and only in the western parts, where there were still elf-friends. He would no doubt have cheerfully killed any caught in Armenelos.
Judging by the relief on her face, she’d been worried she’d get to see Sauron in his high priest of Melkor phase, supervising the sacrifices when not conducting them himself.
It is hard to see evil I cannot fight, she admitted.
It is history, he reminded her. It has already happened. You cannot change it.
I know, but it would be satisfying to at least be able to hit things.
“Maeglin is not about to offer, but I suspect you could recruit Grandfather and Uncle Eöl easily,” Elrohir told her. “Particularly Uncle Eöl, who seemed rather insulted that Grandfather dismissed his son’s skills in the telling of your minor arm injury the other day…”
“Maybe in a little bit. Breakfast first,” Anariel declared. “Do you think I can get away with a quiet breakfast? Like, not all our relatives?”
“I hate to break it to you, but this is not all our relatives,” Elrohir reminded her. “There are more in Alqualondë, Valimar, Thingol’s kingdom-”
“Neldoreth,” she supplied.
“-Neldoreth, Gondolin, and possibly other places I don’t know of yet,” he finished.
“Aren’t you full of happy thoughts this morning,” she grumbled.
“You could always see if you can wheedle something out of the kitchens and bring it back up here,” he suggested. “If you get enough for three, Elladan and I can eat with you.”
She considered.
“Do you have any idea where the kitchens even are here?”
He didn’t, but he doubted it would be a problem.
“Since when have you ever had difficulty finding your way to food?” he asked.
“Point,” she conceded, finally making to get out of bed. “In that case, let’s see what’s here in the way of normal clothes, and then I’ll go scout out where the kitchens are.”