Aug 22 - And Then There Were More
Title: And Then There Were More
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 is looking forward to a quiet evening.
Word Count: 1610
Anariel followed Arador curiously.
Tonight wasn’t some grand family dinner. Apparently even when the whole Finwean clan - and this wasn’t even all of them yet, there were still more who hadn’t arrived yet from Alqualondë and Valimar and… other cities - gathered in one place, dinner with everyone together every night was judged a bit much.
So this evening everyone was eating in smaller clusters throughout the gardens and terraces. Uncle Finrod and Aunt Amarië had elected not to join anyone else, but to host their own small dinner with their children in one of the gardens. She’d expected Grandmother would want to come too, but Grandmother had decided to eat with her own parents - and Aunt Irissë and Uncle Eöl were joining them.
The Inglorions seemed like the low-pressure option. Her brothers had been willing to play diplomat and split the difference between Nolofinwë and Arafinwë until they learned Ada was joining Gramma Nerdanel for dinner. Anariel wondered who was going to tell Anairë and Eärwen that Gramma Nerdanel had all the peredil but one tonight…
“I don’t know about Auntie, but I’m sure Grandfather will tell Grandmother,” Arador grinned. “Besides, I don’t know that he’s too sorry you’re all somewhere else. I think he means to have a conversation with Uncle Celeborn and Uncle Eöl.”
Anariel stopped.
“More telling off?” she demanded.
“I doubt it, but I can’t answer for what Grandmother will say to them,” Arador shrugged. “Come on, you don’t want to disappoint Ammë, do you? She wheedled a few things out of Anairon especially for you…”
Anariel couldn’t help but snicker.
She’s only been in Tirion a couple days, but she already wondered how long it was going to be before her grandparents collectively ran out of new things or ‘I hear it’s your favorite’ to try out on her.
“Oh, they’ll just start recycling them, or serving them in different combinations. But I doubt it will get to that point for a while. It’s not as though they’re going to give you just chocolate all the time.”
“You say just chocolate like it’s a bad thing,” she informed him. “Chocolate is always good.”
“You’ll never get tired of it?” he asked.
“Nope,” she replied airily. “Maybe if it was the same exactly form of chocolate all the time, but why would anyone do that? Especially when they can make it as fancy as some of the chocolate I’ve seen here.”
She had already figured out that elves in Aman love new things. She’s dying to find out if they’re as faddy as teenagers, because that’s what Tinu made it sound like.
“I don’t know much about teenage mortals, but surely elves in Middle-earth also enjoyed discovering fun new things?” Arador said, sounding faintly puzzled.
“Don’t look at me,” Anariel shrugged. “Most elves were already sailing by the time we came to Imladris. I spent almost a hundred years hearing that no matter how amazing it was there, or Lothlorien, or the Greenwood, they used to be so much better and this was their autumn.”
“Autumn is a beautiful season,” Arador observed. “Though somewhat different in Tirion than in Imladris, I think. But it is difficult to compare it to other seasons if that is all you have ever seen.”
“Exactly,” she nodded. “And anyway, the fads there would have been totally different. You’d never coax the Sindar into wearing those shiny shoes.”
“I didn’t say all our novelties made sense.”
They were heading into the lower gardens, a section Anariel hadn’t seen yet with floral sculptures, when they came face to face with someone Anariel had never seen in person. But she recognized him from some of her Morgoth dreams. Just when she’d been looking forward to a few quiet days in a row…
She turned to Arador, set to ask if he’d known.
“I’m not sure who he is either,” he admitted.
“I’m hurt that one of Ingo’s wouldn’t recognize me,” the newcomer snorted. “She at least has an excuse.”
“She actually knows who you are, she’s just confused because she thought you were still in the Halls,” Anariel informed him. “Isn’t that what Anairon and Aryo said? Did I start mixing people up already?”
“Your father will be so disappointed in you, young one,” Findekano informed Arador, whose mouth dropped open.
“But…”
He’s been refusing to leave the Halls without Maitimo!
“Oh. Well that makes sense, I guess,” Anariel nodded. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised Namo has questionable timing.”
Both of them looked at her - and she slipped a few details into private parts of her mind just in time, as she realized discovering-his-sense-of-humor Uncle Namo had apparently done his part about keeping quiet regarding their little deal. Words might still be had at some later date, though - he could have given her a few days of decent sleep. It wasn’t like he couldn’t work out exactly how Tirion would go.
Findekano raised an eyebrow, and she waited, curious to see how long he could hold it.
Arador’s snickers rather ruined the effect, and Findekano glared at him.
“Definitely your father’s son,” he grumbled. “Where is Ingo, anyway?”
“Right behind you,” Uncle Finrod answered. “You might have sent word. I’m not sure it’s fair to blame Lord Namo, but somebody has abominable timing. Your mother was all set for a nice, quiet dinner with just your father.”
“If you think it would help if I dine elsewhere…”
Anariel and Arador snorted in unison.
“There’s your answer,” Uncle Finrod told Findekano. “And he’s Uncle Finno, you two. Oh, wait, possibly not to you, Anarya. Or were you waiting to hear what Elrond thought first?”
Anariel blinked.
“Would someone like to explain for the confused?” she asked.
“Didn’t you know he’s Maitimo’s mate?” Arador asked in astonishment.
“No,” Anariel replied slowly. “Was I supposed to know that? Were we supposed to know that? Because I don’t think my brothers do either…”
“Perhaps they thought you might have objections? There were some Mannish groups that would have disapproved,” Finrod suggested tactfully.
“My mortal sister Willow was bonded to another woman,” Anariel reminded him. “Which was obvious from day one in Imladris.”
“I haven’t the foggiest then,” Uncle Finrod sighed. “Finno, your parents’ rooms are where Grandmother’s office used to be.”
“Used to be?” Uncle Finno asked in confusion.
“Wait, which grandmother?” Anariel wanted to know.
“Perhaps I should give Ammë and Atto that quiet dinner first?” Uncle Finno said fretfully. “I’d just as soon know right away if Elrond…”
He trailed off.
So much for Findekano the Valiant, Arador said quietly.
It’s easier to be brave with people you don’t ever have to see again, Anariel informed him. Dealing with dragons isn’t nearly as complicated as dealing with family.
“If Elrond what?” Anariel prompted.
“Disapproves is what he’s afraid to say, I think,” Uncle Finrod sighed. “I rather doubt that’s an issue, Finno.”
“Why would Ada disapprove? I would think the only real question is what he’s going to call you. Ada, Atto, and Atya are all taken already. And Atar would be awfully stuffy...”
Uncle Finrod looked rather bemused, but Uncle Finno no longer looked nervous.
“Where would I find young Elrond?” he asked.
For Anariel, hearing ‘young Elrond’ from anyone but Thranduil in moments of exasperation was still new enough to give her the giggles.
“He’s dining with Aunt Nerdanel - and Moryo, his boy-”
“Moryo has a boy?” Uncle Finno gaped.
“That way,” Anariel announced, pointing. “They’re that way. So are your brothers. Go find them. I just told Tinu and Maeglin to meet you halfway, in… what’s the one we were in this morning before all the crankiness?”
“The blue garden,” Uncle Finrod supplied.
She saw the shake of his had at Uncle Finno, but held off on glaring at him for it until a still rather bemused looking Findekano had been persuaded to set off in the right direction. The enticement of getting to see his nephew for the second time ever had helped. (It had still taken longer than expected, because he’d gotten slightly hung up on ‘Maeglin married Elrond’s youngest daughter’.)
“Finno’s just back from the Halls, that means he’s hardly up to the story of your morning,” Uncle Finrod chided her gently, steering both her and Arador in the direction of where dinner was hopefully not getting cold. “Give him a few days before you start in on him.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Anariel protested half-heartedly.
“Atto and Uncle think otherwise,” Finrod replied with a laugh. Then his face softened as it always did when Amarië spoke to him. “Sorry, my darling, we were slightly delayed.”
“What didn’t you do this time?” Gildor asked cheerfully, to laughter from his siblings.
“Nothing,” Anariel insisted.
“Gilya, stop baiting her,” Aunt Amarië instructed. “Have a seat, darlings, we’ve just been waiting on you before we start. I hope you’ll like dinner.”
“She will,” Gildor assured her. “And even if she didn’t, she’d still enjoy the company.”
“You could just say you’ve missed me,” Anariel sighed.
“Anairon tells us this macaroni-cheese is a California delicacy,” Aunt Amarië continued, in a tone so even it gave away that she was well used to dealing with shenanigans from Inglorions of all ages.
“He tested out half a dozen different variations on Tinu, and she declared this one the best,” Artalissë said excitedly. “She says it’s even better than the one you had as children.”
Anariel beamed.
She was perfectly happy to put up with all the fussing over sparring if it meant she got mac and cheese made by someone she knew had taken the time to really figure out what he was doing.
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 is looking forward to a quiet evening.
Word Count: 1610
Anariel followed Arador curiously.
Tonight wasn’t some grand family dinner. Apparently even when the whole Finwean clan - and this wasn’t even all of them yet, there were still more who hadn’t arrived yet from Alqualondë and Valimar and… other cities - gathered in one place, dinner with everyone together every night was judged a bit much.
So this evening everyone was eating in smaller clusters throughout the gardens and terraces. Uncle Finrod and Aunt Amarië had elected not to join anyone else, but to host their own small dinner with their children in one of the gardens. She’d expected Grandmother would want to come too, but Grandmother had decided to eat with her own parents - and Aunt Irissë and Uncle Eöl were joining them.
The Inglorions seemed like the low-pressure option. Her brothers had been willing to play diplomat and split the difference between Nolofinwë and Arafinwë until they learned Ada was joining Gramma Nerdanel for dinner. Anariel wondered who was going to tell Anairë and Eärwen that Gramma Nerdanel had all the peredil but one tonight…
“I don’t know about Auntie, but I’m sure Grandfather will tell Grandmother,” Arador grinned. “Besides, I don’t know that he’s too sorry you’re all somewhere else. I think he means to have a conversation with Uncle Celeborn and Uncle Eöl.”
Anariel stopped.
“More telling off?” she demanded.
“I doubt it, but I can’t answer for what Grandmother will say to them,” Arador shrugged. “Come on, you don’t want to disappoint Ammë, do you? She wheedled a few things out of Anairon especially for you…”
Anariel couldn’t help but snicker.
She’s only been in Tirion a couple days, but she already wondered how long it was going to be before her grandparents collectively ran out of new things or ‘I hear it’s your favorite’ to try out on her.
“Oh, they’ll just start recycling them, or serving them in different combinations. But I doubt it will get to that point for a while. It’s not as though they’re going to give you just chocolate all the time.”
“You say just chocolate like it’s a bad thing,” she informed him. “Chocolate is always good.”
“You’ll never get tired of it?” he asked.
“Nope,” she replied airily. “Maybe if it was the same exactly form of chocolate all the time, but why would anyone do that? Especially when they can make it as fancy as some of the chocolate I’ve seen here.”
She had already figured out that elves in Aman love new things. She’s dying to find out if they’re as faddy as teenagers, because that’s what Tinu made it sound like.
“I don’t know much about teenage mortals, but surely elves in Middle-earth also enjoyed discovering fun new things?” Arador said, sounding faintly puzzled.
“Don’t look at me,” Anariel shrugged. “Most elves were already sailing by the time we came to Imladris. I spent almost a hundred years hearing that no matter how amazing it was there, or Lothlorien, or the Greenwood, they used to be so much better and this was their autumn.”
“Autumn is a beautiful season,” Arador observed. “Though somewhat different in Tirion than in Imladris, I think. But it is difficult to compare it to other seasons if that is all you have ever seen.”
“Exactly,” she nodded. “And anyway, the fads there would have been totally different. You’d never coax the Sindar into wearing those shiny shoes.”
“I didn’t say all our novelties made sense.”
They were heading into the lower gardens, a section Anariel hadn’t seen yet with floral sculptures, when they came face to face with someone Anariel had never seen in person. But she recognized him from some of her Morgoth dreams. Just when she’d been looking forward to a few quiet days in a row…
She turned to Arador, set to ask if he’d known.
“I’m not sure who he is either,” he admitted.
“I’m hurt that one of Ingo’s wouldn’t recognize me,” the newcomer snorted. “She at least has an excuse.”
“She actually knows who you are, she’s just confused because she thought you were still in the Halls,” Anariel informed him. “Isn’t that what Anairon and Aryo said? Did I start mixing people up already?”
“Your father will be so disappointed in you, young one,” Findekano informed Arador, whose mouth dropped open.
“But…”
He’s been refusing to leave the Halls without Maitimo!
“Oh. Well that makes sense, I guess,” Anariel nodded. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised Namo has questionable timing.”
Both of them looked at her - and she slipped a few details into private parts of her mind just in time, as she realized discovering-his-sense-of-humor Uncle Namo had apparently done his part about keeping quiet regarding their little deal. Words might still be had at some later date, though - he could have given her a few days of decent sleep. It wasn’t like he couldn’t work out exactly how Tirion would go.
Findekano raised an eyebrow, and she waited, curious to see how long he could hold it.
Arador’s snickers rather ruined the effect, and Findekano glared at him.
“Definitely your father’s son,” he grumbled. “Where is Ingo, anyway?”
“Right behind you,” Uncle Finrod answered. “You might have sent word. I’m not sure it’s fair to blame Lord Namo, but somebody has abominable timing. Your mother was all set for a nice, quiet dinner with just your father.”
“If you think it would help if I dine elsewhere…”
Anariel and Arador snorted in unison.
“There’s your answer,” Uncle Finrod told Findekano. “And he’s Uncle Finno, you two. Oh, wait, possibly not to you, Anarya. Or were you waiting to hear what Elrond thought first?”
Anariel blinked.
“Would someone like to explain for the confused?” she asked.
“Didn’t you know he’s Maitimo’s mate?” Arador asked in astonishment.
“No,” Anariel replied slowly. “Was I supposed to know that? Were we supposed to know that? Because I don’t think my brothers do either…”
“Perhaps they thought you might have objections? There were some Mannish groups that would have disapproved,” Finrod suggested tactfully.
“My mortal sister Willow was bonded to another woman,” Anariel reminded him. “Which was obvious from day one in Imladris.”
“I haven’t the foggiest then,” Uncle Finrod sighed. “Finno, your parents’ rooms are where Grandmother’s office used to be.”
“Used to be?” Uncle Finno asked in confusion.
“Wait, which grandmother?” Anariel wanted to know.
“Perhaps I should give Ammë and Atto that quiet dinner first?” Uncle Finno said fretfully. “I’d just as soon know right away if Elrond…”
He trailed off.
So much for Findekano the Valiant, Arador said quietly.
It’s easier to be brave with people you don’t ever have to see again, Anariel informed him. Dealing with dragons isn’t nearly as complicated as dealing with family.
“If Elrond what?” Anariel prompted.
“Disapproves is what he’s afraid to say, I think,” Uncle Finrod sighed. “I rather doubt that’s an issue, Finno.”
“Why would Ada disapprove? I would think the only real question is what he’s going to call you. Ada, Atto, and Atya are all taken already. And Atar would be awfully stuffy...”
Uncle Finrod looked rather bemused, but Uncle Finno no longer looked nervous.
“Where would I find young Elrond?” he asked.
For Anariel, hearing ‘young Elrond’ from anyone but Thranduil in moments of exasperation was still new enough to give her the giggles.
“He’s dining with Aunt Nerdanel - and Moryo, his boy-”
“Moryo has a boy?” Uncle Finno gaped.
“That way,” Anariel announced, pointing. “They’re that way. So are your brothers. Go find them. I just told Tinu and Maeglin to meet you halfway, in… what’s the one we were in this morning before all the crankiness?”
“The blue garden,” Uncle Finrod supplied.
She saw the shake of his had at Uncle Finno, but held off on glaring at him for it until a still rather bemused looking Findekano had been persuaded to set off in the right direction. The enticement of getting to see his nephew for the second time ever had helped. (It had still taken longer than expected, because he’d gotten slightly hung up on ‘Maeglin married Elrond’s youngest daughter’.)
“Finno’s just back from the Halls, that means he’s hardly up to the story of your morning,” Uncle Finrod chided her gently, steering both her and Arador in the direction of where dinner was hopefully not getting cold. “Give him a few days before you start in on him.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Anariel protested half-heartedly.
“Atto and Uncle think otherwise,” Finrod replied with a laugh. Then his face softened as it always did when Amarië spoke to him. “Sorry, my darling, we were slightly delayed.”
“What didn’t you do this time?” Gildor asked cheerfully, to laughter from his siblings.
“Nothing,” Anariel insisted.
“Gilya, stop baiting her,” Aunt Amarië instructed. “Have a seat, darlings, we’ve just been waiting on you before we start. I hope you’ll like dinner.”
“She will,” Gildor assured her. “And even if she didn’t, she’d still enjoy the company.”
“You could just say you’ve missed me,” Anariel sighed.
“Anairon tells us this macaroni-cheese is a California delicacy,” Aunt Amarië continued, in a tone so even it gave away that she was well used to dealing with shenanigans from Inglorions of all ages.
“He tested out half a dozen different variations on Tinu, and she declared this one the best,” Artalissë said excitedly. “She says it’s even better than the one you had as children.”
Anariel beamed.
She was perfectly happy to put up with all the fussing over sparring if it meant she got mac and cheese made by someone she knew had taken the time to really figure out what he was doing.