Aug. 20 - Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost
Title: Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost
Author: Grundy (jerseyfabulous)
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss Whedon & JRR Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Lost? Why would you think Dawn is lost?
Word Count: 1125
Note: Rushed, so this is going to have to do. It's been a long day, and I have an early start tomorrow. :/
The sun was sinking below the tops of the trees by the time Anairon stated the obvious.
“We’re lost, aren’t we?”
The glare he got in return wasn’t unexpected.
“We’re not lost,” Tindomiel replied firmly.
Anairon snorted.
“Ok,” he shot back. “So where are we then?”
“In Aman, duh,” was Tindomiel’s instant comeback.
Anairon sighed and clipped his paddle neatly into its holder.
It had all sounded so reasonable this morning when Tindomiel obtained permission from both their parents to go paddling on the river further upstream from Tirion. She was used to the small one-person boats they were using, as they were common among the Sindar.
Anairon hadn’t ever been in a long outing in one, but he did know enough of the basics to keep up, not that they’d been moving at a particularly strenuous pace.
He hadn’t reckoned with Tindomiel’s ability to complicate things. They’d been out all day, and with all the turns they’d taken - only ever on a whim, since Tinwë had no definite destination in mind - he was certain he wouldn’t be able to pick his way back to their starting point.
“Care to be any more specific?” Anairon said drily, knowing perfectly well she couldn’t.
“Somewhere southwest of Tirion,” Tindomiel muttered with a glare.
She paused, then because she was her, took up the main point again.
“But we’re not lost. I just don’t know exactly where we are.”
“Really?” Anairon asked. “I thought ‘lost’ was what it was called when you don’t know where you are or where you’re going.”
She would have crossed her arms had she not needed both hands for her own paddle.
“You were more fun before you got sarcasm,” she announced crossly.
Anairon laughed.
“It’s your own fault for teaching me,” he couldn’t resist pointing out.
It was true. Tindomiel had been a revelation. He’d learned a lot from his cousin/grand-niece and best friend. He’d in her words “lightened up” considerably. However…
“My mom’s going to have kittens when we don’t come back before dark,” he told her with a sigh. “This is probably the last trip like this we’ll get to take.”
Tindomiel rolled her eyes.
“She’s going to have to suck it up and deal at some point. We’re ninety-seven. In three more years we’ll be of age and be able to take all the trips we want. Besides, your brothers and sister were all tearing around Aman unsupervised way younger than either of us.”
Anairon grimaced. That was definitely not the best argument to use with his mother.
“Given that they all took a trip to Beleriand and died, so I doubt she’ll want to hear that, Tinwë.”
Tindomiel was looking all around as she steered into a quieter section, with a break in the trees where they might be able to pull the boats up.
“It’s not Beleriand that was the problem with that trip so much as getting there and then the minor little Morgoth detail once they did,” she pointed out, landing her boat and gesturing for Anairon to do the same. “But we’re still in Aman. The Undying Lands. And definitely no Morgoth. So Gramma Anairë’s got nothing serious to worry about. The worst we’re going to do is break a leg.”
Tindomiel had already broken her leg on one occasion, which meant Anairë would not find such an idea at all reassuring. Anairon had been there when she fell, and had no wish to witness another such mishap. After seeing Tinwë’s leg at that sickening angle, not to mention watching it set, he had no idea how his brothers had managed to intentionally injure other elves, let alone kill them. He couldn’t imagine wanting to cause that kind of harm.
“Or our necks,” Anairon muttered. “Or drown. Drowning could still happen.”
“Whatever, Mr. Sunshine. That’s the whole point of these,” Tindomiel scoffed, pointing at the vests both of them were wearing. As casual as she usually was about danger, she hadn’t protested wearing one. “Even if you hit your head and get knocked out, it’ll keep you above the water.”
“Just pointing out that things could still go wrong,” Anairon said stiffly.
“Yeah, I know,” Tindomiel grunted, helping Anairon pull his boat further up from the water.
“That’s why we wear the vests. But things are not that wrong. We’re fine. Our parents would know if we weren’t. So your mom can freak out if she wants to, but I bet your dad isn’t that worked up. And mine definitely isn’t.”
“How do you know?” Anairon asked, looking around with some dismay.
The clearing was nice enough if they wanted to picnic, but it didn’t look particularly comfortable for sleeping.
“I just do,” Tindomiel replied, opening the storage compartment of her boat. “Here.”
He caught the pack she tossed him in some surprise.
“What is this?”
“I brought supplies just in case.”
He looked suspiciously at her.
“No, I did not plan this!” she said defensively, knowing perfectly well what he was thinking.
“It’s just good practice to be prepared in case things go wrong. I’ve got hammocks, bedrolls, food, and extra clothes. It won’t be fancy, but it won’t be as bad as you thought.”
He sighed and cast around for a pair of trees suitable to hang his hammock. He only knew how to set it up in the first place because Tinwë had convinced his mother to let them camp out in the palace gardens a few times.
“I still want to know how you know your dad isn’t worried,” he said, and this time he waited patiently, making it clear that she could dodge all she liked, but he was going to keep at it until she gave him a real answer.
“Because if he was, he’d have spoken to Elwing and she’d speak to Melian,” she muttered. “And Grandmother Melian can find me no matter where I am. She’s not here, so they’re not worried.”
Anairon paused.
Tindomiel spoke with such resigned certainty that it meant this wasn’t theory, but something that had actually happened at least once…
“Don’t tell Artalissë,” Tindomiel added, her face red, before he could say anything else.
He snorted.
“As if I would.”
The list of things they don't tell Finderato’s only daughter was fairly lengthy. It covered everything from how Anairon’s first time swimming in the ocean had gone to Tindomiel’s secret routes in and out of the palace gardens to just what exactly had happened to that obnoxious grandson of a certain very important royal counsellor who had insinuated that he was better friends with Tindomiel than he actually was. (Anairon’s not sorry about that, even if his father did find out. And given how light his punishment was, his father’s not too sorry about it, either.)
So what's one more?
Author: Grundy (jerseyfabulous)
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss Whedon & JRR Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Lost? Why would you think Dawn is lost?
Word Count: 1125
Note: Rushed, so this is going to have to do. It's been a long day, and I have an early start tomorrow. :/
The sun was sinking below the tops of the trees by the time Anairon stated the obvious.
“We’re lost, aren’t we?”
The glare he got in return wasn’t unexpected.
“We’re not lost,” Tindomiel replied firmly.
Anairon snorted.
“Ok,” he shot back. “So where are we then?”
“In Aman, duh,” was Tindomiel’s instant comeback.
Anairon sighed and clipped his paddle neatly into its holder.
It had all sounded so reasonable this morning when Tindomiel obtained permission from both their parents to go paddling on the river further upstream from Tirion. She was used to the small one-person boats they were using, as they were common among the Sindar.
Anairon hadn’t ever been in a long outing in one, but he did know enough of the basics to keep up, not that they’d been moving at a particularly strenuous pace.
He hadn’t reckoned with Tindomiel’s ability to complicate things. They’d been out all day, and with all the turns they’d taken - only ever on a whim, since Tinwë had no definite destination in mind - he was certain he wouldn’t be able to pick his way back to their starting point.
“Care to be any more specific?” Anairon said drily, knowing perfectly well she couldn’t.
“Somewhere southwest of Tirion,” Tindomiel muttered with a glare.
She paused, then because she was her, took up the main point again.
“But we’re not lost. I just don’t know exactly where we are.”
“Really?” Anairon asked. “I thought ‘lost’ was what it was called when you don’t know where you are or where you’re going.”
She would have crossed her arms had she not needed both hands for her own paddle.
“You were more fun before you got sarcasm,” she announced crossly.
Anairon laughed.
“It’s your own fault for teaching me,” he couldn’t resist pointing out.
It was true. Tindomiel had been a revelation. He’d learned a lot from his cousin/grand-niece and best friend. He’d in her words “lightened up” considerably. However…
“My mom’s going to have kittens when we don’t come back before dark,” he told her with a sigh. “This is probably the last trip like this we’ll get to take.”
Tindomiel rolled her eyes.
“She’s going to have to suck it up and deal at some point. We’re ninety-seven. In three more years we’ll be of age and be able to take all the trips we want. Besides, your brothers and sister were all tearing around Aman unsupervised way younger than either of us.”
Anairon grimaced. That was definitely not the best argument to use with his mother.
“Given that they all took a trip to Beleriand and died, so I doubt she’ll want to hear that, Tinwë.”
Tindomiel was looking all around as she steered into a quieter section, with a break in the trees where they might be able to pull the boats up.
“It’s not Beleriand that was the problem with that trip so much as getting there and then the minor little Morgoth detail once they did,” she pointed out, landing her boat and gesturing for Anairon to do the same. “But we’re still in Aman. The Undying Lands. And definitely no Morgoth. So Gramma Anairë’s got nothing serious to worry about. The worst we’re going to do is break a leg.”
Tindomiel had already broken her leg on one occasion, which meant Anairë would not find such an idea at all reassuring. Anairon had been there when she fell, and had no wish to witness another such mishap. After seeing Tinwë’s leg at that sickening angle, not to mention watching it set, he had no idea how his brothers had managed to intentionally injure other elves, let alone kill them. He couldn’t imagine wanting to cause that kind of harm.
“Or our necks,” Anairon muttered. “Or drown. Drowning could still happen.”
“Whatever, Mr. Sunshine. That’s the whole point of these,” Tindomiel scoffed, pointing at the vests both of them were wearing. As casual as she usually was about danger, she hadn’t protested wearing one. “Even if you hit your head and get knocked out, it’ll keep you above the water.”
“Just pointing out that things could still go wrong,” Anairon said stiffly.
“Yeah, I know,” Tindomiel grunted, helping Anairon pull his boat further up from the water.
“That’s why we wear the vests. But things are not that wrong. We’re fine. Our parents would know if we weren’t. So your mom can freak out if she wants to, but I bet your dad isn’t that worked up. And mine definitely isn’t.”
“How do you know?” Anairon asked, looking around with some dismay.
The clearing was nice enough if they wanted to picnic, but it didn’t look particularly comfortable for sleeping.
“I just do,” Tindomiel replied, opening the storage compartment of her boat. “Here.”
He caught the pack she tossed him in some surprise.
“What is this?”
“I brought supplies just in case.”
He looked suspiciously at her.
“No, I did not plan this!” she said defensively, knowing perfectly well what he was thinking.
“It’s just good practice to be prepared in case things go wrong. I’ve got hammocks, bedrolls, food, and extra clothes. It won’t be fancy, but it won’t be as bad as you thought.”
He sighed and cast around for a pair of trees suitable to hang his hammock. He only knew how to set it up in the first place because Tinwë had convinced his mother to let them camp out in the palace gardens a few times.
“I still want to know how you know your dad isn’t worried,” he said, and this time he waited patiently, making it clear that she could dodge all she liked, but he was going to keep at it until she gave him a real answer.
“Because if he was, he’d have spoken to Elwing and she’d speak to Melian,” she muttered. “And Grandmother Melian can find me no matter where I am. She’s not here, so they’re not worried.”
Anairon paused.
Tindomiel spoke with such resigned certainty that it meant this wasn’t theory, but something that had actually happened at least once…
“Don’t tell Artalissë,” Tindomiel added, her face red, before he could say anything else.
He snorted.
“As if I would.”
The list of things they don't tell Finderato’s only daughter was fairly lengthy. It covered everything from how Anairon’s first time swimming in the ocean had gone to Tindomiel’s secret routes in and out of the palace gardens to just what exactly had happened to that obnoxious grandson of a certain very important royal counsellor who had insinuated that he was better friends with Tindomiel than he actually was. (Anairon’s not sorry about that, even if his father did find out. And given how light his punishment was, his father’s not too sorry about it, either.)
So what's one more?