grundyscribbling (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
grundyscribbling) wrote2019-08-18 11:16 pm
grundyscribbling) wrote2019-08-18 11:16 pm
Entry tags:
Fic A Day, Day 18 - It's The Last Few Miles That Get You
Title: It's The Last Few Miles That Get You
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: Anariel and her brothers would like to just get there and get off this ship already.
Word Count: 1645
Anariel and her brothers stayed right where they were for the next hour or so. The hammock was comfortable, they weren’t hungry, and the day was warm and fair. (Basically, it was the best morning they’ve had since Minas Tirith. At least, as far as Anariel was concerned it was, and she suspected her brothers probably agreed.)
The twins reluctantly stood up when Celeborn reminded his grandchildren that if they wished to change before anyone on shore could see them, now was the time.
She was all set to do the same until he pinned her with a stern ‘not you, Anariel’ and told her brothers to bring her clothes.
That was a little annoying. She wasn’t that fragile.
“You, little one, are going to sit still while I do something about your hair,” Celeborn told her pleasantly. “You can change into whatever the boys decide is appropriate after.”
“The boys had better decide whatever Arwen picked out is appropriate if they know what’s good for them,” she muttered.
“I’m sure they will. And you’re old enough that I shouldn’t need to tell you this will go much faster if you sit still.”
She stuck her tongue out at thin air. Celeborn would still know about it, even if he was behind her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
She could tell that whatever it was, it wasn’t anything she’d worn before.
“Giving you the braid you properly deserve for today,” her grandfather replied.
Whatever that meant…
“Luthien wore her hair in this style braid after she returned from Angband with Beren,” he elaborated. “Any Lindar who see it – well, any Lindar of Beleriand at least – will recognize it and know you stood against Morgoth and were not defeated.”
Anariel smirked.
She liked the concept. Though she’d like it better if…
“I wasn’t just not defeated, I won.”
And her voice was firm when she said it that time. Take that, First Evil!
“True. But that would be two braids. As I’m not Thingol, you get one braid. He’ll snatch me baldheaded if he doesn’t get to do the other himself.”
Anariel tried not to giggle at the idea of her grandfather bald (and the immense fuss he’d kick up about it.)
The twins returned, both dressed like they were set to play the young lords of Imladris, and offered her the parcel Arwen had wrapped herself all those months ago.
None of them had any idea what she’d put in it. (Or the one she’d said was for Tirion, which Anariel wasn’t allowed to open until she was there.)
It was a bit bittersweet when Anariel opened the plain cloth to find Haradrin silk inside. She wasn’t sure if the color was that way naturally, or if it had been the work of a clever dyer to make it look like a tropical sea – not much different than the one around them. Arwen usually used stars in her embroidery, but this time she had gone for suns and little starfish.
“Very appropriate for Alqualondë,” Celeborn said.
His voice might have sounded brusque, but Anariel suspected it was only because he was feeling Arwen’s absence much as she and her brothers were.
Celeborn finished braiding, and her brothers hovered around her – ostensibly ‘helping’ but really acting like they expected her to fall over any second – while she changed.
“Do we have to stay sitting here?” Anariel demanded once she was dressed. “Can we go sit up front instead?”
Celeborn’s lips quirked.
“Yes,” he replied. “But only sitting. No jumping around, please.”
“Pfft. Who’s jumping?” Anariel waved that off. “I just want to sit where I can see.”
Elrohir swung her up onto his shoulders before she could take a step.
“Sorry, we’re still considering you breakable today,” he announced.
“You can carry me around all you want,” she shrugged. “Just as long as I get to walk off the ship on my own two feet.”
That got an instant protest from both brothers and her grandfather.
“I can say no just as loud and emphatic as you guys can, you know,” she pointed out, cutting through all their logic and concern and reasons why she should let everyone think she’s way worse off than she actually was.
“So here’s my no – no, I am not being carried off. I’m walking. Because I can. I didn’t get to walk on, either, which was totally unfair. And I get that was Morgoth’s fault, but he’s not here and even if he was, I would go through him if I had to as long as I got to get off the ship on my own!”
The twins stopped arguing at that.
Celeborn didn’t.
“Anariel, you may feel you are up to walking, but you are only just recovering, and still need to rest – and you know it as well as the rest of us.”
“I’ll rest the whole rest of the day just as long as I get to take this one little walk.”
“She can manage that much without any risk,” Elrohir spoke up.
“Yes, especially if we two walk near her,” Elladan put in. “If it looks like she will lose her footing or fall, we will be close enough that we can catch her.”
Anariel recognized a compromise when her brothers tossed her one, so she didn’t protest it.
Celeborn threw his hands up in frustration.
“As you will.”
Anariel wasn’t sure if the touch against her mind she recognized as her grandmother looking for her was because of the argument or just coincidence, but either way, she wasn’t taking any chances.
Later! she said firmly, and closed her mind. She’d gotten pretty good at that on this trip.
Celeborn kept an eye on their progress to the foredeck, but did not join them – possibly because he’d recognized that a grandmother they couldn’t avoid was already waiting for them there.
Melian had visited the ship several times, to the point where none of the elves on board were in the least bothered by her comings and goings, least of all her several-times great-grandchildren.
“Good, you are all awake,” she said, sounding relieved.
She looked them over, and smiled at the sight of the braid before patting Anariel’s head affectionately.
“That was well done on Celeborn’s part,” she smiled. “The Noldor will have no idea, of course, but the Lindar will be pleased to see it.”
Oh, goody. She’d forgotten all about that – Noldor vs Sindar would be a lot more interesting here where the numbers were more even.
You could always go hide out with the Vanyar, her brothers suggested in unison.
I’m going to remind you two you said that in a couple hours, she threatened.
“Look, there’s a boat coming alongside,” Elrohir grinned.
“Pilot?” Elladan suggested.
“Has to be.”
Anariel tried not to pout as Elrohir went charging off to investigate.
Give it another few weeks and then you can wander about as you like, Elladan soothed her. Annoying, I know, but you’re still healing faster than a normal elf, even if the Slayer is as exhausted as you say. Anyway, I don’t think you’re missing anything there.
“Anariel, now that the ship will shortly reach Alqualondë, we should discuss getting you to Lorien,” Grandmother Melian announced.
“Sure,” Anariel shrugged. That could actually be an excellent excuse to duck out if (probably more like when) the Noldor-Sindar feuding got awkward. “After I spend some time with Ada and Nana. And Tinu.”
“You still need much rest and healing,” Melian pointed out.
“Yep. And I will totally rest and heal and whatnot after I see my parents.”
“Our father is a healer,” Elrohir sniffed. “I think he can be trusted to make sure his own daughter is treated appropriately.”
“I agree,” Elladan said flatly, rejoining them.
A closer look at the pilot didn’t seem to have improved his mood.
“It would be much easier to take you directly from the ship to Lorien,” Melian protested.
“Why?” Anariel asked. “The few yards from ship to shore can’t make that much difference.”
“I meant to take you as I would travel,” Melian explained.
“You still can if you want. Just not right away,” Anariel replied with a frown. “Why are we still talking about this? I haven’t seen my parents and little sister in over a hundred years. I’m pretty sure a few hours with them before flitting off to Lorien isn’t going to kill me.”
They ended up going a few more rounds before Melian finally gave in and accepted she was going to have to wait her turn – and then they had to rehash the ‘walking off the ship’ discussion, because Melian was also against.
By the time she left, all three children of Elrond were slightly cranky.
I hope not all our elder kin are going to be like this, Elrohir grumped.
I don’t care if they are, Anariel shrugged. I am going to sit on that railing and watch Grandfather land his ship.
She giggled as she suddenly realized. How had she never caught it before now?
“His starship!”
Her brothers looked at her like she was slightly nuts, but it wasn’t her fault they didn’t get every California pop culture reference. (After all this time, all they did was sigh when they realized it was something from California.)
They did, however, carry her to the railing she pointed at and sit to either side of her so that none of them would be scolded by anyone else on the boat. And together, they watched as Vingilótë dropped lower and lower in the sky, gradually resolving into an actual ship rather than a light in the sky.
They could see elves on the other ship – elves who were grinning and waving at them. And one who looked a lot like a taller (also male) version of Anariel was absolutely beaming at them.
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: Anariel and her brothers would like to just get there and get off this ship already.
Word Count: 1645
Anariel and her brothers stayed right where they were for the next hour or so. The hammock was comfortable, they weren’t hungry, and the day was warm and fair. (Basically, it was the best morning they’ve had since Minas Tirith. At least, as far as Anariel was concerned it was, and she suspected her brothers probably agreed.)
The twins reluctantly stood up when Celeborn reminded his grandchildren that if they wished to change before anyone on shore could see them, now was the time.
She was all set to do the same until he pinned her with a stern ‘not you, Anariel’ and told her brothers to bring her clothes.
That was a little annoying. She wasn’t that fragile.
“You, little one, are going to sit still while I do something about your hair,” Celeborn told her pleasantly. “You can change into whatever the boys decide is appropriate after.”
“The boys had better decide whatever Arwen picked out is appropriate if they know what’s good for them,” she muttered.
“I’m sure they will. And you’re old enough that I shouldn’t need to tell you this will go much faster if you sit still.”
She stuck her tongue out at thin air. Celeborn would still know about it, even if he was behind her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
She could tell that whatever it was, it wasn’t anything she’d worn before.
“Giving you the braid you properly deserve for today,” her grandfather replied.
Whatever that meant…
“Luthien wore her hair in this style braid after she returned from Angband with Beren,” he elaborated. “Any Lindar who see it – well, any Lindar of Beleriand at least – will recognize it and know you stood against Morgoth and were not defeated.”
Anariel smirked.
She liked the concept. Though she’d like it better if…
“I wasn’t just not defeated, I won.”
And her voice was firm when she said it that time. Take that, First Evil!
“True. But that would be two braids. As I’m not Thingol, you get one braid. He’ll snatch me baldheaded if he doesn’t get to do the other himself.”
Anariel tried not to giggle at the idea of her grandfather bald (and the immense fuss he’d kick up about it.)
The twins returned, both dressed like they were set to play the young lords of Imladris, and offered her the parcel Arwen had wrapped herself all those months ago.
None of them had any idea what she’d put in it. (Or the one she’d said was for Tirion, which Anariel wasn’t allowed to open until she was there.)
It was a bit bittersweet when Anariel opened the plain cloth to find Haradrin silk inside. She wasn’t sure if the color was that way naturally, or if it had been the work of a clever dyer to make it look like a tropical sea – not much different than the one around them. Arwen usually used stars in her embroidery, but this time she had gone for suns and little starfish.
“Very appropriate for Alqualondë,” Celeborn said.
His voice might have sounded brusque, but Anariel suspected it was only because he was feeling Arwen’s absence much as she and her brothers were.
Celeborn finished braiding, and her brothers hovered around her – ostensibly ‘helping’ but really acting like they expected her to fall over any second – while she changed.
“Do we have to stay sitting here?” Anariel demanded once she was dressed. “Can we go sit up front instead?”
Celeborn’s lips quirked.
“Yes,” he replied. “But only sitting. No jumping around, please.”
“Pfft. Who’s jumping?” Anariel waved that off. “I just want to sit where I can see.”
Elrohir swung her up onto his shoulders before she could take a step.
“Sorry, we’re still considering you breakable today,” he announced.
“You can carry me around all you want,” she shrugged. “Just as long as I get to walk off the ship on my own two feet.”
That got an instant protest from both brothers and her grandfather.
“I can say no just as loud and emphatic as you guys can, you know,” she pointed out, cutting through all their logic and concern and reasons why she should let everyone think she’s way worse off than she actually was.
“So here’s my no – no, I am not being carried off. I’m walking. Because I can. I didn’t get to walk on, either, which was totally unfair. And I get that was Morgoth’s fault, but he’s not here and even if he was, I would go through him if I had to as long as I got to get off the ship on my own!”
The twins stopped arguing at that.
Celeborn didn’t.
“Anariel, you may feel you are up to walking, but you are only just recovering, and still need to rest – and you know it as well as the rest of us.”
“I’ll rest the whole rest of the day just as long as I get to take this one little walk.”
“She can manage that much without any risk,” Elrohir spoke up.
“Yes, especially if we two walk near her,” Elladan put in. “If it looks like she will lose her footing or fall, we will be close enough that we can catch her.”
Anariel recognized a compromise when her brothers tossed her one, so she didn’t protest it.
Celeborn threw his hands up in frustration.
“As you will.”
Anariel wasn’t sure if the touch against her mind she recognized as her grandmother looking for her was because of the argument or just coincidence, but either way, she wasn’t taking any chances.
Later! she said firmly, and closed her mind. She’d gotten pretty good at that on this trip.
Celeborn kept an eye on their progress to the foredeck, but did not join them – possibly because he’d recognized that a grandmother they couldn’t avoid was already waiting for them there.
Melian had visited the ship several times, to the point where none of the elves on board were in the least bothered by her comings and goings, least of all her several-times great-grandchildren.
“Good, you are all awake,” she said, sounding relieved.
She looked them over, and smiled at the sight of the braid before patting Anariel’s head affectionately.
“That was well done on Celeborn’s part,” she smiled. “The Noldor will have no idea, of course, but the Lindar will be pleased to see it.”
Oh, goody. She’d forgotten all about that – Noldor vs Sindar would be a lot more interesting here where the numbers were more even.
You could always go hide out with the Vanyar, her brothers suggested in unison.
I’m going to remind you two you said that in a couple hours, she threatened.
“Look, there’s a boat coming alongside,” Elrohir grinned.
“Pilot?” Elladan suggested.
“Has to be.”
Anariel tried not to pout as Elrohir went charging off to investigate.
Give it another few weeks and then you can wander about as you like, Elladan soothed her. Annoying, I know, but you’re still healing faster than a normal elf, even if the Slayer is as exhausted as you say. Anyway, I don’t think you’re missing anything there.
“Anariel, now that the ship will shortly reach Alqualondë, we should discuss getting you to Lorien,” Grandmother Melian announced.
“Sure,” Anariel shrugged. That could actually be an excellent excuse to duck out if (probably more like when) the Noldor-Sindar feuding got awkward. “After I spend some time with Ada and Nana. And Tinu.”
“You still need much rest and healing,” Melian pointed out.
“Yep. And I will totally rest and heal and whatnot after I see my parents.”
“Our father is a healer,” Elrohir sniffed. “I think he can be trusted to make sure his own daughter is treated appropriately.”
“I agree,” Elladan said flatly, rejoining them.
A closer look at the pilot didn’t seem to have improved his mood.
“It would be much easier to take you directly from the ship to Lorien,” Melian protested.
“Why?” Anariel asked. “The few yards from ship to shore can’t make that much difference.”
“I meant to take you as I would travel,” Melian explained.
“You still can if you want. Just not right away,” Anariel replied with a frown. “Why are we still talking about this? I haven’t seen my parents and little sister in over a hundred years. I’m pretty sure a few hours with them before flitting off to Lorien isn’t going to kill me.”
They ended up going a few more rounds before Melian finally gave in and accepted she was going to have to wait her turn – and then they had to rehash the ‘walking off the ship’ discussion, because Melian was also against.
By the time she left, all three children of Elrond were slightly cranky.
I hope not all our elder kin are going to be like this, Elrohir grumped.
I don’t care if they are, Anariel shrugged. I am going to sit on that railing and watch Grandfather land his ship.
She giggled as she suddenly realized. How had she never caught it before now?
“His starship!”
Her brothers looked at her like she was slightly nuts, but it wasn’t her fault they didn’t get every California pop culture reference. (After all this time, all they did was sigh when they realized it was something from California.)
They did, however, carry her to the railing she pointed at and sit to either side of her so that none of them would be scolded by anyone else on the boat. And together, they watched as Vingilótë dropped lower and lower in the sky, gradually resolving into an actual ship rather than a light in the sky.
They could see elves on the other ship – elves who were grinning and waving at them. And one who looked a lot like a taller (also male) version of Anariel was absolutely beaming at them.
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Compromise? Only if they absolutely have to... :)
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And who is the pilot? Elrohir's grumpiness makes me wonder.
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She will indeed. :)
The answer to your question lies in today's story... (Which is now posted.)
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