grundyscribbling (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
grundyscribbling) wrote2020-08-25 10:39 pm
grundyscribbling) wrote2020-08-25 10:39 pm
Entry tags:
Fic a Day, Day 25 - Ripples
Title: Ripples
Author: Grundy
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Disclaimer: All belongs to Whedon & Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Anariel bringing Finduilas out of the Halls has some interesting aftereffects.
Word Count: 600
Note: I would like to have worked on this more, but I need to get off to sleep, so here it is and writing the rest will have to wait for another day.
Also, I am starting to suspect I am not going to get Anariel home to her parents this month. Drat.
Angarato wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when he opened his eyes.
Waking from the dead should feel different than waking from sleep, shouldn’t it?
But it didn’t.
He wasn’t sure if he should feel disappointed. Perhaps it was because he’d been so long in the Halls. Unlike his brother, no one could say he wasn’t ready to return.
He’d only stayed as long as he had for his granddaughter’s sake. She couldn’t very well be left all on her own.
Resto and his Merilin had gone some time ago, when Gil-galad – the grandson he hadn’t even met while alive – had returned. Not that Gil particularly needed them. He’d had more than enough time to get used to living without them, all of them. He was more eager to see Elrond and Celebrían than concerned about what his parents might choose to do. In fact, he’d seemed to expect that they would stay with his sister.
Findë hadn’t asked them to stay. In fact, she’d asked the exact opposite. She’d encouraged them to go. She’d encouraged him to go, as well. But he wasn’t about to return to explain to Lótë why he’d left her. Not that explaining to her why she’d met her law-daughter and grandson without him would be much better, but he expected it would be slightly easier.
Namo seemed downright pleased to be rid of him. It wasn’t entirely flattering.
He might have told him where he was supposed to go once he woke up.
Oh, well. At least he could be reasonably sure there were no dragons.
He stood up and made his way out.
His first thought was that something was wrong with his new eyes – and possibly ears. But Namo ought to know what he was about by now. He’d been putting fëar back in new bodies since the First Age, and they said it was the Fourth now.
Thankfully, both color and sound became more normal as he walked, and eventually he reached a place he recognized – he was in Lorien, not far from Lorellin.
He heard the girls before he saw them – and when he did, he had to stop to marvel at the sight.
His granddaughter, and Artë’s. Two golden heads, and a lot of giggling.
His was the one that was right side up. Artë’s girl was standing on her hands.
At least, she was until Findë gasped, at which point she flipped up and into a defensive position almost too fast to follow.
Slayer, indeed.
“No, everything’s all right – that’s my grandfather!”
And in the blink of an eye, the warrior was gone and he was looking at a girl who had somehow never managed to grow beyond elfling height. It was difficult to believe so tiny a girl could be from Turukano and Thingol on the one side and Artë and Celeborn on the other.
I heard that.
The eye color might be completely different – that green must come from Thingol’s side somewhere, because he’s certainly never seen it any of their relatives in Aman – but the irritated expression was entirely familiar.
“I’m sure Tinu told all and sundry about my height, so it can’t be that much of a surprise.”
“We all thought she was joking,” Findë informed her in an urgent whisper.
“We used to tease Artë about being the shortest as well,” Angarato shrugged.
“That might have had something to do with her being the youngest,” Anariel snorted.
“True,” he agreed.
“And just in case you have as little sense as your older brother, do not even think of asking what my excuse is.”
Author: Grundy
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Disclaimer: All belongs to Whedon & Tolkien. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Summary: Anariel bringing Finduilas out of the Halls has some interesting aftereffects.
Word Count: 600
Note: I would like to have worked on this more, but I need to get off to sleep, so here it is and writing the rest will have to wait for another day.
Also, I am starting to suspect I am not going to get Anariel home to her parents this month. Drat.
Angarato wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when he opened his eyes.
Waking from the dead should feel different than waking from sleep, shouldn’t it?
But it didn’t.
He wasn’t sure if he should feel disappointed. Perhaps it was because he’d been so long in the Halls. Unlike his brother, no one could say he wasn’t ready to return.
He’d only stayed as long as he had for his granddaughter’s sake. She couldn’t very well be left all on her own.
Resto and his Merilin had gone some time ago, when Gil-galad – the grandson he hadn’t even met while alive – had returned. Not that Gil particularly needed them. He’d had more than enough time to get used to living without them, all of them. He was more eager to see Elrond and Celebrían than concerned about what his parents might choose to do. In fact, he’d seemed to expect that they would stay with his sister.
Findë hadn’t asked them to stay. In fact, she’d asked the exact opposite. She’d encouraged them to go. She’d encouraged him to go, as well. But he wasn’t about to return to explain to Lótë why he’d left her. Not that explaining to her why she’d met her law-daughter and grandson without him would be much better, but he expected it would be slightly easier.
Namo seemed downright pleased to be rid of him. It wasn’t entirely flattering.
He might have told him where he was supposed to go once he woke up.
Oh, well. At least he could be reasonably sure there were no dragons.
He stood up and made his way out.
His first thought was that something was wrong with his new eyes – and possibly ears. But Namo ought to know what he was about by now. He’d been putting fëar back in new bodies since the First Age, and they said it was the Fourth now.
Thankfully, both color and sound became more normal as he walked, and eventually he reached a place he recognized – he was in Lorien, not far from Lorellin.
He heard the girls before he saw them – and when he did, he had to stop to marvel at the sight.
His granddaughter, and Artë’s. Two golden heads, and a lot of giggling.
His was the one that was right side up. Artë’s girl was standing on her hands.
At least, she was until Findë gasped, at which point she flipped up and into a defensive position almost too fast to follow.
Slayer, indeed.
“No, everything’s all right – that’s my grandfather!”
And in the blink of an eye, the warrior was gone and he was looking at a girl who had somehow never managed to grow beyond elfling height. It was difficult to believe so tiny a girl could be from Turukano and Thingol on the one side and Artë and Celeborn on the other.
I heard that.
The eye color might be completely different – that green must come from Thingol’s side somewhere, because he’s certainly never seen it any of their relatives in Aman – but the irritated expression was entirely familiar.
“I’m sure Tinu told all and sundry about my height, so it can’t be that much of a surprise.”
“We all thought she was joking,” Findë informed her in an urgent whisper.
“We used to tease Artë about being the shortest as well,” Angarato shrugged.
“That might have had something to do with her being the youngest,” Anariel snorted.
“True,” he agreed.
“And just in case you have as little sense as your older brother, do not even think of asking what my excuse is.”
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I love the image of Anariel and Finduilas horsing around.
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I am happy to read whatever you have time to write, whether it's this month or - hopefully? - another month. But I always look forward to the otherwise chaotic month of August, thanks to your DoC 'verse!
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