grundyscribbling (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
grundyscribbling) wrote2019-08-19 10:01 pm
grundyscribbling) wrote2019-08-19 10:01 pm
Fic A Day, Day 19 - Journey's End
Title: Journey's End
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: The pilot sent to bring Buffy's ship in is keeping a few secrets.
Word Count: 1640
Eärwen took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
They were nearly there.
She had won the toss to be the one who would pilot her great-grandchildren’s ship in. (Her brothers would hotly deny to anyone that they were sulking about it…)
It was just as well.
She was the better sailor, thanks to her extra years of experience. (Admittedly she’d also been practicing in the waters off Alqualondë and in the harbor itself for a the last few decades just to be prepared. And also so her brothers wouldn’t have a leg to stand on when they tried to claim she didn’t know the harbor as it was now as well as they did.)
Aunt Melian had said that the swifter Anariel was brought to Lorien, the better. So this ship needed to be brought in as quickly as possible.
Much of her extended family were braced for the worst.
The young elf manning the pinnace carrying her jerked his head east-nor’east.
Yes, there it was.
She smiled as she caught sight of the name on the bow.
Cirdan had named the ship that finally bore him West for his sister. Her mother would be so pleased.
She grabbed the signal pennant from the bench next to her and slung the pack with the freshly baked morning bread on her back, then stood at the ready as the pinnace closed the distance, drawing alongside the larger ship without requiring it to slow or alter its course.
One of Cirdan’s people tossed a line down, and the next moment the pinnace was falling away as she swung up and over the rail.
“Greetings, kinsman!” she hailed the sailor who offered her a hand to steady her. "It is time and past we returned the favor."
“Well met, kinswoman,” he replied. "We long trusted you would."
“This must fly from the masthead,” she ordered, holding out the vivid orange banner that warned all other ships approaching or already in the harbor the incoming vessel had priority. “Above all other banners.”
“It can go below my sister’s banner,” a cool voice interrupted. “Nothing flies above her standard today.”
She turned slightly to take in the speaker. She didn’t know which of Celebrían’s boys she was looking at, but the resemblance to her nephew took her breath away – it was as if someone had meshed Turukano with the portraits she’d seen of her cousin Lúthien.
“Very well,” she told him evenly. “I haven’t time to argue with you on the subject if you wish your sister ashore promptly.”
He took the pennant from her with a curt nod and turned to the mainmast.
She strode to the wheel, nodding to Cirdan when she reached him.
“Uncle,” she said with a smile.
He embraced her warmly, and gratefully accepted the still-warm roll she offered him.
“It is good to see you again, little one. It has been some years.”
That was one way to put it. ‘Two Ages’ would have been slightly more accurate.
“Should I tell them?” Cirdan asked, with a twinkle in his eyes as he gestured toward the one twin running the priority signal up, and the other minding his little sister on the foredeck.
She shook her head as she took the wheel, adjusting their heading ever so slightly. They just might set a new speed record getting in.
“No, there will be time enough for that later.”
She glanced upward to find the pennant streaming below Anariel’s banner. At least her great-grandson was efficient.
“You might give them some of the bread, though. Mother baked it fresh this morning. I should think after so long at sea, they’ll appreciate it.”
She shrugged out of the pack, leaving it to her uncle.
“Yes, I suspect they will,” Cirdan agreed with a smile. “I certainly do.”
Up ahead, she could see other ships altering course to give them a clear path into the roads.
She kept one eye on the waters in front of them, the other on her grandchildren, who appeared to be having a heated discussion with Aunt Melian.
She could hear it quite clearly, and tried not to laugh – all the more so when her law-son joined them with a sigh.
They hadn’t met during the War, so she was unsurprised that there was no recognition in his face as he spoke.
“I wonder how many of their grandparents they intend to butt heads with today,” he sighed.
Eärwen narrowly missed laughing out loud, as from the sound of it, one or more of the children had been at odds with Celeborn before she came aboard.
“What can they have found to argue about?” she asked.
Celeborn gave her a look that didn’t quite rebuke her for insolence – not that it would have worked – but did answer.
“Anariel is determined that she will walk off the ship when it docks,” he explained. “Her brothers, of course, support her despite knowing perfectly well that it is a foolish idea.”
“I take it you’ve already had words with them on the subject?” Eärwen said.
Celeborn nodded.
“Yes. But unlike my aunt, I remember their father making similarly foolish decisions in his youth, and thus know it’s easier to let her suffer the consequences of her pride than to debate with her about it. She can find out for herself what healing looks like when it isn’t assisted by what she calls ‘the Slayer’.”
That certainly implied there was a story or two no one has told them yet, at least not in Tirion. She wondered if she should be asking her daughter, or if Ingo or Moryo’s boys would be more likely to ‘spill the beans’ as Tinwë would put it.
“Well, she won’t have long to wait to take her walk,” Eärwen said. “We’ll be entering the harbor proper in a few minutes, and from there, it should be clear sailing.”
If it wasn’t, whatever master disregarded the pennant would answer to her father. And her mother.
“Foolish or not, she’ll be standing on the quay within the hour,” Eärwen concluded.
“Here,” Cirdan said, holding out a roll to Celeborn. “Our pilot brought more than just her expertise with her.”
“I thank you, lady,” Celeborn replied with a respectful bow. She picked up from the thought directed at her that he meant both her piloting and the thoughtful gesture of fresh bread. “As, I hope, will my grandchildren when they are in a less obstinate mood.”
“Oh, they will,” Cirdan laughed. “I’m sure our good pilot isn’t going to hold their current state against them. I suspect she’s seen a good many elves suffering last-minute nerves about their arrival.”
Eärwen gave him the mildest of looks, warning him not to give the game away. Her law-son couldn’t very well complain, not when he and Nerwen had avoided Balar for so long despite knowing perfectly well she and Ara were there.
Besides, it took no great wisdom to see that this was not the moment to introduce herself to Nerwen’s grandchildren. They were tired, heartsick, and in Anariel’s case, still fragile in both fëa and hröa from their ordeal. She could see for herself that they were here and safe, and that was sufficient for today.
There was all the time in Arda for introductions when they were all feeling more their usual selves.
Cirdan ambled forward, to share the bounty with the children. Perhaps that would improve their mood.
She held the ship at speed, as fast as she dared as they made their way into the roads and toward the lesser used dock reserved for emergencies. Elrond, she knew, would be brought there. Celebrían would be there as well, she hoped. Her parents might have had to resort to subterfuge to keep it to just Anariel’s parents, but Eärwen trusted they would have thought of something.
They were nearly at their destination when Nerwen’s frustration rippled across her mind.
Not now, my daughter, she said firmly. I need to concentrate, lest I ram the dock and throw your little Anariel into the water. I don’t think she would appreciate it.
The three youngest elves had settled themselves on the railing, and appeared to be waving at Eärendil, whose Vingilótë was nearly down to water level – but taking care to keep far enough aport to make it clear their course would not intersect. She suspected he meant to put in at one of the southernmost docks, the better to make his way home for a private meeting with his grandchildren.
Aunt Melian had made herself scarce – whether in a tactful retreat, or out of pique at a rare lost argument, Eärwen didn’t know.
She called orders to Cirdan’s crew as they approached the inner harbor, needing to shed speed that they might safely dock.
Nerwen was not entirely surprised that they weren’t putting in at the usual berths for arriving ships, but she wasn’t pleased – nor, she let her mother know, would the rest of the gathered relatives be.
Eärwen ignored that.
Her parents had known perfectly well since the prior afternoon what the plan was, and if the Tirion crowd hadn’t had the sense to remain at her parents’ house, they would have to bear their disappointment as best they could. These children were not equal to such a scene as Nerwen’s ship had met with on arrival.
Sensibly, young Tindomiel hadn’t even bothered coming to Olwë’s house with the rest, retreating instead to Elwing’s. She had shown no inclination to join the relatives awaiting the ship quayside.
As the ship slowed, Eärwen angled it toward its berth, timing it so that they were all but at a stop as the ship reached the quay, letting the dockworkers and sailors settle it the last few yards with the mooring lines.
“Nicely done, niece,” Cirdan murmured.
Celebrían’s children had arrived.
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: The pilot sent to bring Buffy's ship in is keeping a few secrets.
Word Count: 1640
Eärwen took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
They were nearly there.
She had won the toss to be the one who would pilot her great-grandchildren’s ship in. (Her brothers would hotly deny to anyone that they were sulking about it…)
It was just as well.
She was the better sailor, thanks to her extra years of experience. (Admittedly she’d also been practicing in the waters off Alqualondë and in the harbor itself for a the last few decades just to be prepared. And also so her brothers wouldn’t have a leg to stand on when they tried to claim she didn’t know the harbor as it was now as well as they did.)
Aunt Melian had said that the swifter Anariel was brought to Lorien, the better. So this ship needed to be brought in as quickly as possible.
Much of her extended family were braced for the worst.
The young elf manning the pinnace carrying her jerked his head east-nor’east.
Yes, there it was.
She smiled as she caught sight of the name on the bow.
Cirdan had named the ship that finally bore him West for his sister. Her mother would be so pleased.
She grabbed the signal pennant from the bench next to her and slung the pack with the freshly baked morning bread on her back, then stood at the ready as the pinnace closed the distance, drawing alongside the larger ship without requiring it to slow or alter its course.
One of Cirdan’s people tossed a line down, and the next moment the pinnace was falling away as she swung up and over the rail.
“Greetings, kinsman!” she hailed the sailor who offered her a hand to steady her. "It is time and past we returned the favor."
“Well met, kinswoman,” he replied. "We long trusted you would."
“This must fly from the masthead,” she ordered, holding out the vivid orange banner that warned all other ships approaching or already in the harbor the incoming vessel had priority. “Above all other banners.”
“It can go below my sister’s banner,” a cool voice interrupted. “Nothing flies above her standard today.”
She turned slightly to take in the speaker. She didn’t know which of Celebrían’s boys she was looking at, but the resemblance to her nephew took her breath away – it was as if someone had meshed Turukano with the portraits she’d seen of her cousin Lúthien.
“Very well,” she told him evenly. “I haven’t time to argue with you on the subject if you wish your sister ashore promptly.”
He took the pennant from her with a curt nod and turned to the mainmast.
She strode to the wheel, nodding to Cirdan when she reached him.
“Uncle,” she said with a smile.
He embraced her warmly, and gratefully accepted the still-warm roll she offered him.
“It is good to see you again, little one. It has been some years.”
That was one way to put it. ‘Two Ages’ would have been slightly more accurate.
“Should I tell them?” Cirdan asked, with a twinkle in his eyes as he gestured toward the one twin running the priority signal up, and the other minding his little sister on the foredeck.
She shook her head as she took the wheel, adjusting their heading ever so slightly. They just might set a new speed record getting in.
“No, there will be time enough for that later.”
She glanced upward to find the pennant streaming below Anariel’s banner. At least her great-grandson was efficient.
“You might give them some of the bread, though. Mother baked it fresh this morning. I should think after so long at sea, they’ll appreciate it.”
She shrugged out of the pack, leaving it to her uncle.
“Yes, I suspect they will,” Cirdan agreed with a smile. “I certainly do.”
Up ahead, she could see other ships altering course to give them a clear path into the roads.
She kept one eye on the waters in front of them, the other on her grandchildren, who appeared to be having a heated discussion with Aunt Melian.
She could hear it quite clearly, and tried not to laugh – all the more so when her law-son joined them with a sigh.
They hadn’t met during the War, so she was unsurprised that there was no recognition in his face as he spoke.
“I wonder how many of their grandparents they intend to butt heads with today,” he sighed.
Eärwen narrowly missed laughing out loud, as from the sound of it, one or more of the children had been at odds with Celeborn before she came aboard.
“What can they have found to argue about?” she asked.
Celeborn gave her a look that didn’t quite rebuke her for insolence – not that it would have worked – but did answer.
“Anariel is determined that she will walk off the ship when it docks,” he explained. “Her brothers, of course, support her despite knowing perfectly well that it is a foolish idea.”
“I take it you’ve already had words with them on the subject?” Eärwen said.
Celeborn nodded.
“Yes. But unlike my aunt, I remember their father making similarly foolish decisions in his youth, and thus know it’s easier to let her suffer the consequences of her pride than to debate with her about it. She can find out for herself what healing looks like when it isn’t assisted by what she calls ‘the Slayer’.”
That certainly implied there was a story or two no one has told them yet, at least not in Tirion. She wondered if she should be asking her daughter, or if Ingo or Moryo’s boys would be more likely to ‘spill the beans’ as Tinwë would put it.
“Well, she won’t have long to wait to take her walk,” Eärwen said. “We’ll be entering the harbor proper in a few minutes, and from there, it should be clear sailing.”
If it wasn’t, whatever master disregarded the pennant would answer to her father. And her mother.
“Foolish or not, she’ll be standing on the quay within the hour,” Eärwen concluded.
“Here,” Cirdan said, holding out a roll to Celeborn. “Our pilot brought more than just her expertise with her.”
“I thank you, lady,” Celeborn replied with a respectful bow. She picked up from the thought directed at her that he meant both her piloting and the thoughtful gesture of fresh bread. “As, I hope, will my grandchildren when they are in a less obstinate mood.”
“Oh, they will,” Cirdan laughed. “I’m sure our good pilot isn’t going to hold their current state against them. I suspect she’s seen a good many elves suffering last-minute nerves about their arrival.”
Eärwen gave him the mildest of looks, warning him not to give the game away. Her law-son couldn’t very well complain, not when he and Nerwen had avoided Balar for so long despite knowing perfectly well she and Ara were there.
Besides, it took no great wisdom to see that this was not the moment to introduce herself to Nerwen’s grandchildren. They were tired, heartsick, and in Anariel’s case, still fragile in both fëa and hröa from their ordeal. She could see for herself that they were here and safe, and that was sufficient for today.
There was all the time in Arda for introductions when they were all feeling more their usual selves.
Cirdan ambled forward, to share the bounty with the children. Perhaps that would improve their mood.
She held the ship at speed, as fast as she dared as they made their way into the roads and toward the lesser used dock reserved for emergencies. Elrond, she knew, would be brought there. Celebrían would be there as well, she hoped. Her parents might have had to resort to subterfuge to keep it to just Anariel’s parents, but Eärwen trusted they would have thought of something.
They were nearly at their destination when Nerwen’s frustration rippled across her mind.
Not now, my daughter, she said firmly. I need to concentrate, lest I ram the dock and throw your little Anariel into the water. I don’t think she would appreciate it.
The three youngest elves had settled themselves on the railing, and appeared to be waving at Eärendil, whose Vingilótë was nearly down to water level – but taking care to keep far enough aport to make it clear their course would not intersect. She suspected he meant to put in at one of the southernmost docks, the better to make his way home for a private meeting with his grandchildren.
Aunt Melian had made herself scarce – whether in a tactful retreat, or out of pique at a rare lost argument, Eärwen didn’t know.
She called orders to Cirdan’s crew as they approached the inner harbor, needing to shed speed that they might safely dock.
Nerwen was not entirely surprised that they weren’t putting in at the usual berths for arriving ships, but she wasn’t pleased – nor, she let her mother know, would the rest of the gathered relatives be.
Eärwen ignored that.
Her parents had known perfectly well since the prior afternoon what the plan was, and if the Tirion crowd hadn’t had the sense to remain at her parents’ house, they would have to bear their disappointment as best they could. These children were not equal to such a scene as Nerwen’s ship had met with on arrival.
Sensibly, young Tindomiel hadn’t even bothered coming to Olwë’s house with the rest, retreating instead to Elwing’s. She had shown no inclination to join the relatives awaiting the ship quayside.
As the ship slowed, Eärwen angled it toward its berth, timing it so that they were all but at a stop as the ship reached the quay, letting the dockworkers and sailors settle it the last few yards with the mooring lines.
“Nicely done, niece,” Cirdan murmured.
Celebrían’s children had arrived.
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What’s this I see about ‘without the Slayer’? Could that aspect not come to Aman (plausible if unexpected); the Slayer was too badly wounded/defeated herself by Morgoth (wounded/drained I could see, actual defeat is more troublesome); Anariel Choosing Maia is somehow incompatible with also being/having the Slayer (very plausible now that it’s occurred to me); something else entirely?
I’m sure the answer will be interesting when you share it!
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The Slayer's very much still there. But the Slayer is as tapped out as Anariel herself is at this point, and it's pretty impossible for anyone to miss that Anariel isn't healing as the same rate she usually does - right now her recovery is more like a normal elf.
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Does Moryo have "boys," in which case something very exciting has happened, or are we talking about both Ingo's sons and Moryo's to-date single son? (Or is that meant to be *Nolo's* sons? He does have several who are, in different ways, close to Tindomiel.)
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Moryo has just one boy - I meant Gildor and Erestor. They're the ones who have been around long enough to have any dirt worth having on Elrond. :)
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