Day 23 - Grey Hairs
Title: Grey Hairs
Author: Grundy (jerseyfabulous)
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Glorfindel finds out what Anariel has on the mind in Burning the Midnight Oil.
Word Count: 1190
Author's Note: This one called early on account of my extremely phobic self just having been caught unawares in a room with a hornet - and it was between me and the door. (Yes, at night.) Writing mood shattered.
The next morning, Elrond was unsurprised when Glorfindel complained that Anariel was late for her morning training session. Normally for such a complaint, he would have given Glorfindel permission to haul the offender out of bed - especially since Glorfindel was not only the most experienced warrior in Imladris, but also kin to Celebrian and his children - but he made an exception this time.
“She has been pushing herself too hard,” he told the mildly concerned Glorfindel. “I will allow her to sleep herself out today, and after this I shall start sending her brothers to chase her out of the library at a reasonable hour if I am not available to do so myself.”
“The library?” Glorfindel asked in bemusement, clearly not having expected to hear that was the problem. “I would have expected that of Tindomiel or Willow, not Anariel.”
“That is two of us, my friend,” Elrond admitted ruefully. “I mean to ask her later today just what is so urgent that she is driving herself so hard - and without asking for help.”
Glorfindel frowned, following Elrond’s logic immediately. If it were only about learning to read, Anariel could ask any elf in Imladris to aid her. Well, any elf except Erestor, whose patience had been sorely tried by her nearly non-existent progress before her trip to Lorien - though he might thaw if someone were to let slip that the child had actually been forgoing sleep to remedy her earlier lack of effort.
Anariel did not appear until afternoon, but when she did she was clearly ready for training. She also, for a wonder, was answering to her given name - not the mannish one - two days in a row. Glorfindel made a mental note to ask Elrond if he had any idea what was behind this sudden change in attitude.
While he knew Elrond meant to enquire about his daughter’s motivation, Glorfindel had already had charge of Anariel’s education in the art of combat long enough to realize that she would probably answer him without even thinking about it if the question were posed during a sparring session. He’d already discovered that unlike most elves, she liked talking while fighting. Bizarrely, she seemed to delight in the juxtaposition of wordplay with swordplay.
So he waited until they were well into a training match before starting in on his questions. If Elrond weren’t lurking somewhere just out of sight as he’d taken to doing more often than not since Anariel stopped holding back, then Glorfindel would just relay what he learned to him later.
“So, Anariel, what’s this I hear about late nights in the library?”
“Jeez, did ada tell the whole world about that?” she asked, mildly irritated - though he couldn’t tell if it was for her father telling others her doings, or for his attempt to trip her.
He’s not sure what exactly her first word means, but he’s learned to let the occasional California words go now that she mostly uses Sindarin. Her command of the language has been coming on by leaps and bounds once Glorfindel realized that she could train her tongue at the same time as her sword arm.
“I hardly count as the whole world,” he replied mildly. “Elrond was merely explaining why I should not go drag you out of bed as I would have your brothers had they been late for training this morning.”
“Oh-“ a slashing upwards blow that nearly caught him unaware- “I guess that’s fair. Yeah, I’m trying to catch up to everyone else on the literacy front. But it’s confusing. I thought I was making progress, and then I realized there’s a whole ‘nother language I’m going to need to learn, because the older books aren’t written in Sindarin.”
Glorfindel pauses before answering, mostly because he’s trying to keep up with her unorthodox footwork, which he would like to improve if he can only work out what exactly it is she’s doing, because it matches no form he’s ever seen. He’d think she were making it up as she went except that she never trips herself up.
“Yes, the older volumes would be written in Quenya. You’re dropping that shoulder again! But why would you need the older volumes?”
She shrugs - which is impressive, given that he’s just launched an attack that her brothers would probably have yielded to and she is parrying at the same time.
“Old books usually wind up being more useful when you’re looking up lore,” she said, rolling easily under a stroke he’d expected to connect. “It’s like a law of the universe or something.”
“Are you looking for something in particular?” Glorfindel asked, trying to keep his attention on both her and the conversation. He’s not sure how she does this so easily, and has started to wonder about the methods of her masters in that other world that she’s learned to fight like a champion while talking the entire time. He’s begun to think nothing short of a balrog will stop her joking around during a fight.
“Well, to start with, I want to know more about rings.”
Glorfindel blocks her blow, then taps the ground with a fist, indicating he is calling time. He feels the beginning of a headache coming on, because he has a bad feeling about where this is going.
“Anariel.”
He paused.
“What do you want with rings?” he asked, his tone one that usually warns the warriors of Imladris - even the twins at their most reckless - that they tread on dangerous ground.
Her eyes meet his easily.
“I want to know more about Bilbo’s ring. It’s definitely not of the good, and I don’t want to wait around for it to do something bad to him,” she explained. “So I need to find out what it is, and how to destroy it if I need to.”
Glorfindel knows a little more about rings than she does, enough to know that Elrond would want his daughter nowhere near them. Especially if - Valar forbid - she gets it into her head that her halfling friend has found the One Ring. He wouldn’t put it past her to go traipsing off to try to destroy it.
Celebrian will hit the roof if Anariel goes running off on another adventure, particularly if it’s a poorly planned one bound to land her in a worse situation than at Erebor. They need to go find Elrond, now. He doesn’t want this idea lingering without someone with parental authority telling her categorically that she is not to touch the ring, no matter what she thinks it is.
He wondered privately if this is what Uncle Arafinwë had in mind when he begged him before his return to Middle Earth to look after his ‘baby’ cousin. Galadriel herself is no trouble - she’s been looking after herself quite well since before the War of Wrath. It’s her grandchildren that are doing their best to see if elves can get grey hairs as the Edain do.
“Come, pitya,” he sighed. “Let’s go find your father. You might as well explain it just the once, and I know he will have words for you on this subject.”
Author: Grundy (jerseyfabulous)
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Glorfindel finds out what Anariel has on the mind in Burning the Midnight Oil.
Word Count: 1190
Author's Note: This one called early on account of my extremely phobic self just having been caught unawares in a room with a hornet - and it was between me and the door. (Yes, at night.) Writing mood shattered.
The next morning, Elrond was unsurprised when Glorfindel complained that Anariel was late for her morning training session. Normally for such a complaint, he would have given Glorfindel permission to haul the offender out of bed - especially since Glorfindel was not only the most experienced warrior in Imladris, but also kin to Celebrian and his children - but he made an exception this time.
“She has been pushing herself too hard,” he told the mildly concerned Glorfindel. “I will allow her to sleep herself out today, and after this I shall start sending her brothers to chase her out of the library at a reasonable hour if I am not available to do so myself.”
“The library?” Glorfindel asked in bemusement, clearly not having expected to hear that was the problem. “I would have expected that of Tindomiel or Willow, not Anariel.”
“That is two of us, my friend,” Elrond admitted ruefully. “I mean to ask her later today just what is so urgent that she is driving herself so hard - and without asking for help.”
Glorfindel frowned, following Elrond’s logic immediately. If it were only about learning to read, Anariel could ask any elf in Imladris to aid her. Well, any elf except Erestor, whose patience had been sorely tried by her nearly non-existent progress before her trip to Lorien - though he might thaw if someone were to let slip that the child had actually been forgoing sleep to remedy her earlier lack of effort.
Anariel did not appear until afternoon, but when she did she was clearly ready for training. She also, for a wonder, was answering to her given name - not the mannish one - two days in a row. Glorfindel made a mental note to ask Elrond if he had any idea what was behind this sudden change in attitude.
While he knew Elrond meant to enquire about his daughter’s motivation, Glorfindel had already had charge of Anariel’s education in the art of combat long enough to realize that she would probably answer him without even thinking about it if the question were posed during a sparring session. He’d already discovered that unlike most elves, she liked talking while fighting. Bizarrely, she seemed to delight in the juxtaposition of wordplay with swordplay.
So he waited until they were well into a training match before starting in on his questions. If Elrond weren’t lurking somewhere just out of sight as he’d taken to doing more often than not since Anariel stopped holding back, then Glorfindel would just relay what he learned to him later.
“So, Anariel, what’s this I hear about late nights in the library?”
“Jeez, did ada tell the whole world about that?” she asked, mildly irritated - though he couldn’t tell if it was for her father telling others her doings, or for his attempt to trip her.
He’s not sure what exactly her first word means, but he’s learned to let the occasional California words go now that she mostly uses Sindarin. Her command of the language has been coming on by leaps and bounds once Glorfindel realized that she could train her tongue at the same time as her sword arm.
“I hardly count as the whole world,” he replied mildly. “Elrond was merely explaining why I should not go drag you out of bed as I would have your brothers had they been late for training this morning.”
“Oh-“ a slashing upwards blow that nearly caught him unaware- “I guess that’s fair. Yeah, I’m trying to catch up to everyone else on the literacy front. But it’s confusing. I thought I was making progress, and then I realized there’s a whole ‘nother language I’m going to need to learn, because the older books aren’t written in Sindarin.”
Glorfindel pauses before answering, mostly because he’s trying to keep up with her unorthodox footwork, which he would like to improve if he can only work out what exactly it is she’s doing, because it matches no form he’s ever seen. He’d think she were making it up as she went except that she never trips herself up.
“Yes, the older volumes would be written in Quenya. You’re dropping that shoulder again! But why would you need the older volumes?”
She shrugs - which is impressive, given that he’s just launched an attack that her brothers would probably have yielded to and she is parrying at the same time.
“Old books usually wind up being more useful when you’re looking up lore,” she said, rolling easily under a stroke he’d expected to connect. “It’s like a law of the universe or something.”
“Are you looking for something in particular?” Glorfindel asked, trying to keep his attention on both her and the conversation. He’s not sure how she does this so easily, and has started to wonder about the methods of her masters in that other world that she’s learned to fight like a champion while talking the entire time. He’s begun to think nothing short of a balrog will stop her joking around during a fight.
“Well, to start with, I want to know more about rings.”
Glorfindel blocks her blow, then taps the ground with a fist, indicating he is calling time. He feels the beginning of a headache coming on, because he has a bad feeling about where this is going.
“Anariel.”
He paused.
“What do you want with rings?” he asked, his tone one that usually warns the warriors of Imladris - even the twins at their most reckless - that they tread on dangerous ground.
Her eyes meet his easily.
“I want to know more about Bilbo’s ring. It’s definitely not of the good, and I don’t want to wait around for it to do something bad to him,” she explained. “So I need to find out what it is, and how to destroy it if I need to.”
Glorfindel knows a little more about rings than she does, enough to know that Elrond would want his daughter nowhere near them. Especially if - Valar forbid - she gets it into her head that her halfling friend has found the One Ring. He wouldn’t put it past her to go traipsing off to try to destroy it.
Celebrian will hit the roof if Anariel goes running off on another adventure, particularly if it’s a poorly planned one bound to land her in a worse situation than at Erebor. They need to go find Elrond, now. He doesn’t want this idea lingering without someone with parental authority telling her categorically that she is not to touch the ring, no matter what she thinks it is.
He wondered privately if this is what Uncle Arafinwë had in mind when he begged him before his return to Middle Earth to look after his ‘baby’ cousin. Galadriel herself is no trouble - she’s been looking after herself quite well since before the War of Wrath. It’s her grandchildren that are doing their best to see if elves can get grey hairs as the Edain do.
“Come, pitya,” he sighed. “Let’s go find your father. You might as well explain it just the once, and I know he will have words for you on this subject.”