Fic A Day, Day 16 - Here We Go Again
Aug. 17th, 2019 11:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grundyscribblingTitle: Here We Go Again
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: In early Fourth Age Aman, Tindomiel is antsy and ropes her best friend into a road trip.
Word Count: 1455
Note: I needed a change of pace, so we are skipping back in time a bit to some Tindomiel and Anairon hijinks. This is a prelude of sorts to Picking Up The Pieces. (Also, forgot to crosspost yesterday, oops!)
Anairon sighed.
It promised to be a long day.
He wasn’t quite sure what was motivating Tindomiel, but when she’d asked if he felt like going ‘exploring’ in the saltwater marshlands to the south of Alqualondë, he hadn’t thought it was a good idea for her to go on her own, so he’d agreed to accompany her.
He supposed it was bound to happen sooner or later – barring short trips to Tirion, Gondolin, Alqualondë, and Neldoreth, Tindomiel had been ensconced at Imlanthiriath since its completion seven years ago. As far as he knew, she hadn’t done much visiting with their dead relatives in the past year. Elrond was uncomfortable with the idea of Tindomiel wandering into Mandos from wherever she happened to be. (Actually, Anairon suspected that Elrond was uncomfortable with his daughter visiting there at all. He might have shared that discomfort had he not been there once himself.)
The fact that they’d gone in more or less the complete opposite direction of Mandos might have made most people suspect that Tindomiel was just curious about non-Noldorin lands as she’d said.
She probably was.
But he knew his best friend well enough to recognize that she was unsettled, and while she wasn’t what anyone would call devious, she was good at recognizing how to avoid trouble.
He held his peace all through the day, as they first walked and then eventually paddled in an increasingly westerly direction. By late afternoon, he was sure he was right.
He wondered if they were far enough away from everyone else to ask yet.
It paid to be cautious when so many of Tinwë’s grandparents were ridiculously adept at osanwë at distances. Her sister took the cake, of course, but Uncle Ara and Cousin Artanis were no slouches, nor were either of Tindomiel’s parents, come to that. And, of course, Melian could reach her granddaughter anywhere in Aman.
He waited until they were cooking dinner – well, until he was cooking dinner, and Tinwë was fetching anything he needed. (There was an upside to going new places, it gave him a chance to experiment with new ingredients. At least, with the ones Tinwë knew or anyone from the area had pointed out to them as safe. Some of the roots of the marsh plants were edible, which would never have occurred to him.)
“Tinwë, are you going to tell me what we’re actually doing?”
Her response was a blank look.
“What do you mean?”
He sighed.
“Usually when you feel like you need a change, we go to Formenos or Gondolin or Alqualondë. So tramping around in the southern estuary and going to visit the Kindi is a little…”
He trailed off, looking for a tactful way to say it.
Fortunately, Tindomiel spared him the need.
“Different? I know. I was hoping that would cure it.”
“Cure what?” he asked, spearing one of the tubers to see if it had roasted long enough yet.
“I’m don’t know,” she said slowly. “It’s like a sort of restlessness, impatience. Except I don’t actually know what I’m impatient about.”
She sounded rather annoyed about that part.
“It’s not Melian, is it?” he offered.
That had happened once before, in the days before Elrond had started construction of his new Homely House. Thingol and Melian’s politely suppressed eagerness for a visit from their descendants had accidentally communicated itself to Tindomiel, who had found herself with a sudden irresistible urge to go to Neldoreth.
“No, I asked her. She’d be happy if I come to visit, but no one’s agitating for it. It’s not like last time. And anyway, she’s being more careful about that now she knows I’m more like Gramma Elwing than Ada.”
Elrond had several interesting abilities that might conceivably trace back to Melian, but being in tune with her was apparently not one of them.
“Your sister and brothers?” Anairon asked cautiously, aware he was treading on shaky ground.
Curious and eager as the rest of their kin were to meet Anariel, Elrohir, and Elladan at long last, for Tindomiel it was more complicated – she was painfully aware that they would only be free to sail when her oldest sister had accepted the Gift of Men.
“No, I don’t think so. Whatever this is, it’s so subtle I can’t really get a handle on it. Anariel’s the only one who would be able to reach me from there, and subtle isn’t really her thing.”
“Maybe it’s subtle because she doesn’t realize it’s coming through to you,” he suggested. “She’s restless for whatever reason, and you’re picking up on it.”
Tindomiel grimaced.
“Never did figure out if it was something she got from being the Slayer, or if it’s how her personality was always going to be either way, but if Anariel got restless, she’d just find something to hit until she burned it off. Maybe go hunt some orcs. I doubt it’s her.”
“That’s me all out of ideas,” Anairon shrugged. “But I think dinner’s ready.”
For a little while, they didn’t talk – the tubers were tasty, and while Anairon had been assured that once cooked, they would be just as palatable cold, they were so good hot and daubed with a bit of herb butter that neither he nor Tindomiel had the patience to wait for them to cool.
It was only once they’d eaten (all right, really more like devoured – it was a good thing his mother hadn’t been there to see) their meal and were contemplating possibilities for dessert that Anairon picked the conversation up again.
“So, when are we heading for Mandos?” he asked.
Tindomiel blinked in surprise.
“How did you know?” she demanded.
Anairon rolled his eyes.
“I’ve been getting into trouble with you for the last thirty-one years-”
“Thirty-two as of ten weeks ago,” Tindomiel pointed out.
“Fine, thirty-two years and counting. That’s long enough that I can tell when you’re looking for more of it.”
Tindomiel sighed.
“I’m not trying to get us in trouble,” she assured him. “And anyway, I figured you might want to visit your brother again. Or maybe your sister this time?”
Her expression was hopeful, but he could tell she was prepared to argue her case.
She really didn’t need to, though. He wouldn’t mind another visit with his brother. Or meeting his sister. The more people tell him about her, the more curious he got. Just as long as there was none of what Tindomiel termed ‘drama’ this time.
Not that he could really complain about the last time. It had resulted in his brother Turukano actually talking to him like a person more often and his brother Arakano walking into Tirion six months later, while both he and Tindomiel were still grounded. (Tindomiel had described it as him ‘getting one and a half brothers out of the deal’. At least, she had until his father heard. Nolofinwë was still a bit sensitive about the word ‘half’ when combined with the word ‘brother’.)
“Are we…visiting from here?” he asked cautiously.
He knew she could do that, but it seemed a bit more intimidating than just walking through the walls of Mandos.
“Nah, I figured whenever we decide we’re done here, I’d just walk us to the northern edge of Yavanna’s lands.”
“When you say ‘walk us’,“ Anairon said carefully, “do you mean the…well, your way?”
“You can say it,” Tindomiel said patiently. “The Key. Not only are we in Aman, there’s probably no one around for miles. No worry about fallen maiar trying to be the next Dark Lord here, and even if any elves overheard, they’d be either Lindar or Kindi. None of them are about to share anything with Morgoth. Yes, I’ll use the Key to get us there faster. Unless you really want to spend weeks trekking across Aman. I’ll get us close, and we can walk normally the rest of the way.”
As Tindomiel plans went, this one was pretty well thought. They could make their way back south using Tindomiel’s power when they were done visiting. Or maybe just wander to Gondolin or Neldoreth without anyone thinking anything of it.
No one would be the wiser.
At least, they wouldn’t as long as…
“You’re not bringing anyone out this time, are you?” he asked.
“Nope. Not in the plan. Just visiting. I've visited plenty of times without bringing anyone else back with me.”
“Good.”
“So you’re in?” she asked, brightening.
Apparently she’d expected him to say no, or at least to make her argue harder. Anairon decided not to tell her how easy it had been to agree this time. Not when he’d realized that if she expected him to be difficult, she thought harder about her plans.
“I’m in,” he confirmed.
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: In early Fourth Age Aman, Tindomiel is antsy and ropes her best friend into a road trip.
Word Count: 1455
Note: I needed a change of pace, so we are skipping back in time a bit to some Tindomiel and Anairon hijinks. This is a prelude of sorts to Picking Up The Pieces. (Also, forgot to crosspost yesterday, oops!)
Anairon sighed.
It promised to be a long day.
He wasn’t quite sure what was motivating Tindomiel, but when she’d asked if he felt like going ‘exploring’ in the saltwater marshlands to the south of Alqualondë, he hadn’t thought it was a good idea for her to go on her own, so he’d agreed to accompany her.
He supposed it was bound to happen sooner or later – barring short trips to Tirion, Gondolin, Alqualondë, and Neldoreth, Tindomiel had been ensconced at Imlanthiriath since its completion seven years ago. As far as he knew, she hadn’t done much visiting with their dead relatives in the past year. Elrond was uncomfortable with the idea of Tindomiel wandering into Mandos from wherever she happened to be. (Actually, Anairon suspected that Elrond was uncomfortable with his daughter visiting there at all. He might have shared that discomfort had he not been there once himself.)
The fact that they’d gone in more or less the complete opposite direction of Mandos might have made most people suspect that Tindomiel was just curious about non-Noldorin lands as she’d said.
She probably was.
But he knew his best friend well enough to recognize that she was unsettled, and while she wasn’t what anyone would call devious, she was good at recognizing how to avoid trouble.
He held his peace all through the day, as they first walked and then eventually paddled in an increasingly westerly direction. By late afternoon, he was sure he was right.
He wondered if they were far enough away from everyone else to ask yet.
It paid to be cautious when so many of Tinwë’s grandparents were ridiculously adept at osanwë at distances. Her sister took the cake, of course, but Uncle Ara and Cousin Artanis were no slouches, nor were either of Tindomiel’s parents, come to that. And, of course, Melian could reach her granddaughter anywhere in Aman.
He waited until they were cooking dinner – well, until he was cooking dinner, and Tinwë was fetching anything he needed. (There was an upside to going new places, it gave him a chance to experiment with new ingredients. At least, with the ones Tinwë knew or anyone from the area had pointed out to them as safe. Some of the roots of the marsh plants were edible, which would never have occurred to him.)
“Tinwë, are you going to tell me what we’re actually doing?”
Her response was a blank look.
“What do you mean?”
He sighed.
“Usually when you feel like you need a change, we go to Formenos or Gondolin or Alqualondë. So tramping around in the southern estuary and going to visit the Kindi is a little…”
He trailed off, looking for a tactful way to say it.
Fortunately, Tindomiel spared him the need.
“Different? I know. I was hoping that would cure it.”
“Cure what?” he asked, spearing one of the tubers to see if it had roasted long enough yet.
“I’m don’t know,” she said slowly. “It’s like a sort of restlessness, impatience. Except I don’t actually know what I’m impatient about.”
She sounded rather annoyed about that part.
“It’s not Melian, is it?” he offered.
That had happened once before, in the days before Elrond had started construction of his new Homely House. Thingol and Melian’s politely suppressed eagerness for a visit from their descendants had accidentally communicated itself to Tindomiel, who had found herself with a sudden irresistible urge to go to Neldoreth.
“No, I asked her. She’d be happy if I come to visit, but no one’s agitating for it. It’s not like last time. And anyway, she’s being more careful about that now she knows I’m more like Gramma Elwing than Ada.”
Elrond had several interesting abilities that might conceivably trace back to Melian, but being in tune with her was apparently not one of them.
“Your sister and brothers?” Anairon asked cautiously, aware he was treading on shaky ground.
Curious and eager as the rest of their kin were to meet Anariel, Elrohir, and Elladan at long last, for Tindomiel it was more complicated – she was painfully aware that they would only be free to sail when her oldest sister had accepted the Gift of Men.
“No, I don’t think so. Whatever this is, it’s so subtle I can’t really get a handle on it. Anariel’s the only one who would be able to reach me from there, and subtle isn’t really her thing.”
“Maybe it’s subtle because she doesn’t realize it’s coming through to you,” he suggested. “She’s restless for whatever reason, and you’re picking up on it.”
Tindomiel grimaced.
“Never did figure out if it was something she got from being the Slayer, or if it’s how her personality was always going to be either way, but if Anariel got restless, she’d just find something to hit until she burned it off. Maybe go hunt some orcs. I doubt it’s her.”
“That’s me all out of ideas,” Anairon shrugged. “But I think dinner’s ready.”
For a little while, they didn’t talk – the tubers were tasty, and while Anairon had been assured that once cooked, they would be just as palatable cold, they were so good hot and daubed with a bit of herb butter that neither he nor Tindomiel had the patience to wait for them to cool.
It was only once they’d eaten (all right, really more like devoured – it was a good thing his mother hadn’t been there to see) their meal and were contemplating possibilities for dessert that Anairon picked the conversation up again.
“So, when are we heading for Mandos?” he asked.
Tindomiel blinked in surprise.
“How did you know?” she demanded.
Anairon rolled his eyes.
“I’ve been getting into trouble with you for the last thirty-one years-”
“Thirty-two as of ten weeks ago,” Tindomiel pointed out.
“Fine, thirty-two years and counting. That’s long enough that I can tell when you’re looking for more of it.”
Tindomiel sighed.
“I’m not trying to get us in trouble,” she assured him. “And anyway, I figured you might want to visit your brother again. Or maybe your sister this time?”
Her expression was hopeful, but he could tell she was prepared to argue her case.
She really didn’t need to, though. He wouldn’t mind another visit with his brother. Or meeting his sister. The more people tell him about her, the more curious he got. Just as long as there was none of what Tindomiel termed ‘drama’ this time.
Not that he could really complain about the last time. It had resulted in his brother Turukano actually talking to him like a person more often and his brother Arakano walking into Tirion six months later, while both he and Tindomiel were still grounded. (Tindomiel had described it as him ‘getting one and a half brothers out of the deal’. At least, she had until his father heard. Nolofinwë was still a bit sensitive about the word ‘half’ when combined with the word ‘brother’.)
“Are we…visiting from here?” he asked cautiously.
He knew she could do that, but it seemed a bit more intimidating than just walking through the walls of Mandos.
“Nah, I figured whenever we decide we’re done here, I’d just walk us to the northern edge of Yavanna’s lands.”
“When you say ‘walk us’,“ Anairon said carefully, “do you mean the…well, your way?”
“You can say it,” Tindomiel said patiently. “The Key. Not only are we in Aman, there’s probably no one around for miles. No worry about fallen maiar trying to be the next Dark Lord here, and even if any elves overheard, they’d be either Lindar or Kindi. None of them are about to share anything with Morgoth. Yes, I’ll use the Key to get us there faster. Unless you really want to spend weeks trekking across Aman. I’ll get us close, and we can walk normally the rest of the way.”
As Tindomiel plans went, this one was pretty well thought. They could make their way back south using Tindomiel’s power when they were done visiting. Or maybe just wander to Gondolin or Neldoreth without anyone thinking anything of it.
No one would be the wiser.
At least, they wouldn’t as long as…
“You’re not bringing anyone out this time, are you?” he asked.
“Nope. Not in the plan. Just visiting. I've visited plenty of times without bringing anyone else back with me.”
“Good.”
“So you’re in?” she asked, brightening.
Apparently she’d expected him to say no, or at least to make her argue harder. Anairon decided not to tell her how easy it had been to agree this time. Not when he’d realized that if she expected him to be difficult, she thought harder about her plans.
“I’m in,” he confirmed.
no subject
Date: 2019-08-17 04:26 pm (UTC)Writing this makes me wonder about the first time Tinwe encounters Feanor :-)
I am also wondering if that persistent little itch of impatience is related/connected with Maeglin...
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Date: 2019-08-17 04:36 pm (UTC)Ding ding ding, we have a winner! :)
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Date: 2019-08-17 06:18 pm (UTC)I also hope Tinwe has a plan for when Feanor falls completely apart, because that’s coming. Though I can see him holding it together by the barest skin of his teeth as it were until she leaves, because he’s that emotionally messed up, and then falling apart. At least he’ll have virtual pillows now? And he will put himself back together, because she has given him all kinds of new data and ideas and things to process, which will in fact help with that. Still, not going to be easy, not at all. All, will probably be iterative, certainly not one & done. Though I suspect the the very biggest/most important penny will have dropped by the time Tinwe is done talking this visit.
She’s done more for his rehabilitation in a couple of hours than anyone else has in 7k+ years.
no subject
Date: 2019-08-17 09:28 pm (UTC)Thank you for all of the wonderful updates, I've really missed reading these the last few days.
no subject
Date: 2019-08-19 03:29 am (UTC)They're always fun to write. This time they really are going to stick to just visiting, though. Maeglin's still hiding out.