Day 10 - Older And Far Away
Title: Older And Far Away
Author: Grundy (jerseyfabulous)
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Arwen may have chosen the fate of Men, but that doesn't mean she doesn't still worry about her little sisters.
Word Count: 1160
Note: I will get to more of the pre-Ring War Scooby stories, but I'm travelling this week and didn't think to scan the timeline I sketched out. So I'm playing it safe and going for something in the Fourth Age, before Buffy departs Middle Earth...
Arwen’s attention was caught by Anariel’s sudden movement. Watching her younger sister closely, she was unsurprised when an expression of frustration crossed her face, gone again in a split second.
“Tindomiel,” she said, smiling ruefully at her older sister. “I think she’s in some mischief again. But whatever she has done this time, there is great joy in it.”
She grasped at her sister’s hand, letting Arwen feel the echoes of what she had gleaned from their younger sister.
Arwen had expected that it would be something to do with their baby sister - even now, there was an ache in her heart that unlike Anariel, she will never know what it is that Tinu has done that her mirth reached their sister even across the vastness of the Sundering Sea.
Her bonds to her parents and her youngest sister have been irrevocably sundered. She could feel nothing of Tindomiel now, no matter how she might grasp for the connection that was once as natural to her as breathing.
It was no comfort to know that it was the same for the twins - for they had volunteered the information, the first time Anariel had turned to the West with a faraway look on her face in her oldest sister’s presence.
Whether the reason might be that the bond between Anariel and Tindomiel was stronger than Tindomiel’s bonds with her elder siblings due to their time in California, or some talent of the line of Finarfin or Luthien striking true in Anariel where it had not in any other child of Elrond, they did not know.
They knew only that sometimes, Anariel had brief moments in which she connected, however fleetingly, with their baby sister as though the Sea was no barrier. The twins say she knew when their parents’ ship had arrived in Aman. She had also known when Tinu had officially celebrated her coming of age, and been confused and intrigued by the whirl of faces as she danced. Anariel was able to tell her older siblings that their father has built a new Imladris beyond the Sea, for she saw it through Tinu’s eyes, and happily shared with them the glimpses she had caught of it. She gleaned occasional moments of triumph or frustration, but could only rarely articulate what it was that triggered them.
Anariel had already turned her attention back to Elimmirë and Nolondil, who she had been helping with the book of lore they have been laboring on as a birthday gift for their father.
Her nephews and nieces were the sun that lit Anariel’s face these days. Arwen treasured every smile, every gleam of happiness, for she recalled all too well the days when her sister had not smiled.
Arwen still shuddered when she thought back on her first glimpse of her sister in Lothlorien after the Ring War. Anariel had been pale, gaunt in a way that betrayed she ate only when others made her do so, and looked almost lost without Xander, Willow, and Anya. While she had smiled at the sight of her parents and sisters arriving, it did not reach her eyes. Mother had called her Buffy for the first time in many years, and held her for a long time, unwilling to let go. Father had kept Anariel by him the entire journey to Minas Tirith, doing what he could to heal the deep wounds to her fëa despite being weakened himself by the failure of Vilya.
Anariel had smiled on Arwen’s wedding day, true, but Arwen had seen the shadow behind the merriment, the haunting knowledge that this joy could only be fleeting. It was a truth that Arwen never allowed herself to linger on, that after a lifetime that was beyond count to most mortals, she would have only this brief handful of years with her beloved and their children.
She still wrote to her family beyond the Sea - she lacked not for messengers, not when even the Avari were taking ship, having discovered that the pain of watching mortals bend the land to their will was greater than the pain of leaving it. She has as yet said little of her concerns about her sister, for her parents and their kin could do nothing but worry while Anariel lingered still on the Hither Shores, but there would come a time when Arwen will commit that too to paper.
Anariel’s attention returned to her older only once she was certain her niece and nephew were fully occupied with copying the next tale they wished to add to their book. She had contributed a yarn or two from California that she promised neither Arwen nor Estel had heard before, but most of the stories were ones the children had found on their own, either in the archives of Minas Tirith, or in speaking to their people and listening to folk tales.
“You are melancholy, sister mine,” she said softly.
Arwen nodded.
“I was just thinking that you will someday find out why it is that our sister’s joy is so great it reaches you even across the Sea,” she said. “But I will not.”
Anariel’s embrace was fierce, as if she could stave off the parting they both know lies yet before them by the strength that was in her.
“She has grown to adulthood,” Arwen continued quietly. “She has friends I will never know, and dwells with kin I will never meet. She may even have married by now!”
The amanyar, they had often been told, tended to marry early, unlike the elves of Middle Earth, who might wait yeni or even ages before finding their match. Arwen could easily picture her youngest sister having found love with a lord of the Sindar or Teleri, or perhaps even one of the Noldor. (She felt quite certain from what she has heard from her grandmother and Glorfindel over the years that her free-spirited baby sister would find the Vanyar far too stuffy. The only thing that seemed less likely than Tindomiel marrying a Vanya was Anariel marrying one.)
Anariel smothered a laugh.
“If this was her marrying, then there is something about it that will shock the calaquendi,” she said, sounding absolutely certain. “There was definitely mischief involved.”
Arwen smiled. Though she was often teased for being the most Noldorin of all her parents’ children, she could easily imagine that Tindomiel would consider shocking the elves who had never ventured outside the Blessed Lands a bonus.
But it was not just Tindomiel’s joys she would never know.
She knew in her fëa, still elven despite having chosen the fate of Men, that Anariel would find not only healing but eventually joy in the Undying Lands. Her kin awaited her with open arms, and Arwen felt certain that somewhere beyond the Sea there also waited an ellon whose heart would beat in time with her sister’s. She would have given much to know his name, and to have his word that he would cherish and protect her sister as she deserved.
Author: Grundy (jerseyfabulous)
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Arwen may have chosen the fate of Men, but that doesn't mean she doesn't still worry about her little sisters.
Word Count: 1160
Note: I will get to more of the pre-Ring War Scooby stories, but I'm travelling this week and didn't think to scan the timeline I sketched out. So I'm playing it safe and going for something in the Fourth Age, before Buffy departs Middle Earth...
Arwen’s attention was caught by Anariel’s sudden movement. Watching her younger sister closely, she was unsurprised when an expression of frustration crossed her face, gone again in a split second.
“Tindomiel,” she said, smiling ruefully at her older sister. “I think she’s in some mischief again. But whatever she has done this time, there is great joy in it.”
She grasped at her sister’s hand, letting Arwen feel the echoes of what she had gleaned from their younger sister.
Arwen had expected that it would be something to do with their baby sister - even now, there was an ache in her heart that unlike Anariel, she will never know what it is that Tinu has done that her mirth reached their sister even across the vastness of the Sundering Sea.
Her bonds to her parents and her youngest sister have been irrevocably sundered. She could feel nothing of Tindomiel now, no matter how she might grasp for the connection that was once as natural to her as breathing.
It was no comfort to know that it was the same for the twins - for they had volunteered the information, the first time Anariel had turned to the West with a faraway look on her face in her oldest sister’s presence.
Whether the reason might be that the bond between Anariel and Tindomiel was stronger than Tindomiel’s bonds with her elder siblings due to their time in California, or some talent of the line of Finarfin or Luthien striking true in Anariel where it had not in any other child of Elrond, they did not know.
They knew only that sometimes, Anariel had brief moments in which she connected, however fleetingly, with their baby sister as though the Sea was no barrier. The twins say she knew when their parents’ ship had arrived in Aman. She had also known when Tinu had officially celebrated her coming of age, and been confused and intrigued by the whirl of faces as she danced. Anariel was able to tell her older siblings that their father has built a new Imladris beyond the Sea, for she saw it through Tinu’s eyes, and happily shared with them the glimpses she had caught of it. She gleaned occasional moments of triumph or frustration, but could only rarely articulate what it was that triggered them.
Anariel had already turned her attention back to Elimmirë and Nolondil, who she had been helping with the book of lore they have been laboring on as a birthday gift for their father.
Her nephews and nieces were the sun that lit Anariel’s face these days. Arwen treasured every smile, every gleam of happiness, for she recalled all too well the days when her sister had not smiled.
Arwen still shuddered when she thought back on her first glimpse of her sister in Lothlorien after the Ring War. Anariel had been pale, gaunt in a way that betrayed she ate only when others made her do so, and looked almost lost without Xander, Willow, and Anya. While she had smiled at the sight of her parents and sisters arriving, it did not reach her eyes. Mother had called her Buffy for the first time in many years, and held her for a long time, unwilling to let go. Father had kept Anariel by him the entire journey to Minas Tirith, doing what he could to heal the deep wounds to her fëa despite being weakened himself by the failure of Vilya.
Anariel had smiled on Arwen’s wedding day, true, but Arwen had seen the shadow behind the merriment, the haunting knowledge that this joy could only be fleeting. It was a truth that Arwen never allowed herself to linger on, that after a lifetime that was beyond count to most mortals, she would have only this brief handful of years with her beloved and their children.
She still wrote to her family beyond the Sea - she lacked not for messengers, not when even the Avari were taking ship, having discovered that the pain of watching mortals bend the land to their will was greater than the pain of leaving it. She has as yet said little of her concerns about her sister, for her parents and their kin could do nothing but worry while Anariel lingered still on the Hither Shores, but there would come a time when Arwen will commit that too to paper.
Anariel’s attention returned to her older only once she was certain her niece and nephew were fully occupied with copying the next tale they wished to add to their book. She had contributed a yarn or two from California that she promised neither Arwen nor Estel had heard before, but most of the stories were ones the children had found on their own, either in the archives of Minas Tirith, or in speaking to their people and listening to folk tales.
“You are melancholy, sister mine,” she said softly.
Arwen nodded.
“I was just thinking that you will someday find out why it is that our sister’s joy is so great it reaches you even across the Sea,” she said. “But I will not.”
Anariel’s embrace was fierce, as if she could stave off the parting they both know lies yet before them by the strength that was in her.
“She has grown to adulthood,” Arwen continued quietly. “She has friends I will never know, and dwells with kin I will never meet. She may even have married by now!”
The amanyar, they had often been told, tended to marry early, unlike the elves of Middle Earth, who might wait yeni or even ages before finding their match. Arwen could easily picture her youngest sister having found love with a lord of the Sindar or Teleri, or perhaps even one of the Noldor. (She felt quite certain from what she has heard from her grandmother and Glorfindel over the years that her free-spirited baby sister would find the Vanyar far too stuffy. The only thing that seemed less likely than Tindomiel marrying a Vanya was Anariel marrying one.)
Anariel smothered a laugh.
“If this was her marrying, then there is something about it that will shock the calaquendi,” she said, sounding absolutely certain. “There was definitely mischief involved.”
Arwen smiled. Though she was often teased for being the most Noldorin of all her parents’ children, she could easily imagine that Tindomiel would consider shocking the elves who had never ventured outside the Blessed Lands a bonus.
But it was not just Tindomiel’s joys she would never know.
She knew in her fëa, still elven despite having chosen the fate of Men, that Anariel would find not only healing but eventually joy in the Undying Lands. Her kin awaited her with open arms, and Arwen felt certain that somewhere beyond the Sea there also waited an ellon whose heart would beat in time with her sister’s. She would have given much to know his name, and to have his word that he would cherish and protect her sister as she deserved.