Fic A Day, Day 15 - Dinner & A Show
Aug. 15th, 2021 09:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grundyscribblingTitle: Dinner & A Show
Author: Grundy
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: It was only to be expected that Anairë and Nolofinwë would stay for dinner.
Word Count: 1950
Note: Super tired and slightly punchy after a long day. Hopefully I didn't miss anything editing.
Celebrían sighed.
She supposed as introductions to the extended family went, it could have been worse.
It was plain to her that all Anariel really wanted right now was her family and quiet – and by ‘family’, her daughter was not including the many relatives she’d never met before. It was likely that even had she arrived in Aman healthy, she wouldn’t have been ready for the crowd that Tindomiel had enthusiastically plunged into when their ship had docked.
Anariel had been polite to a fault so far.
In front of an unfamiliar audience, she actually been a much better-behaved patient than usual, much to Elrond’s amusement. For the remainder of the afternoon, she had feigned interest in the conversation – quite well, in fact. She had answered questions readily enough when asked, though you would have to know her to recognize that they were superficial answers that she might have given to any random person that crossed her path in Ennor.
When asked to change for dinner, Anariel departed so promptly that Celebrían had no time to warn her about Noldorin – meaning Anairë’s – standards of modesty. The dress she came downstairs in was quite striking. The simple black silk sheath came up all the way to the neck front and back, but it was sleeveless, leaving her injured arm uncovered. Knowing how sensitive such healing wounds could be, Celebrían suspected that had been Anariel’s main motivation.
“Actually, it was on top in the first trunk in my room.”
Anariel’s smile was impish.
“I don’t recognize it,” Celebrían said.
She didn’t want to ask if it was one Arwen had made.
“I got the pieces in Far Harad, and some of the tailors in the Greenwood helped me assemble it.”
Celebrían couldn’t think why she’d needed help from Thranduil’s staff – probably the most skilled tailors left in Ennor at that point – given how simple it looked.
That lasted until Anariel walked out onto the porch they would be dining on ahead of her. The simple black was just the backdrop for a cascade of beautifully dyed and carefully worked silk that looked like her daughter had fire trailing down her back and onto the slight train behind her.
“Oh, how striking! Don’t you think, Nolo?”
Celebrían turned to find Anairë admiring the effect, and for a wonder saying nothing about Anariel’s bare shoulders.
“Indeed.”
Celebrían looked to him with some surprise, for Nolofinwë’s response was tense. She had expected if anything, it would be her aunt disapproving, not him.
“The effect is a bit too realistic for my taste, I fear,” he said wryly upon catching her glance.
“Ah,” she said sympathetically.
She was surprised Anariel hadn’t thought of that – but she wasn’t going to mention it now.
“Don’t worry yourself, darling,” Anairë sighed. “She looks lovely in it. And she should feel free to wear what she will in her own house.”
With that, she took her husband’s arm and marched him firmly out the door, no doubt hoping to snag a seat near Anariel.
If that had been the hope, she was disappointed – Anariel had already claimed a seat next to Elrond, and Elrohir was on her other side. She’d tucked her feet up on her seat, and was using the train to cover them.
Celebrían had been amused to note her children were all on good behavior for dinner, which while not as formal as it would have been in Tirion, was still very much ‘company manners’. The oldest three appeared to be unsure whether or not they could get away with osanwë without being overheard, so they were even politer than they would normally be.
Tindomiel, who had been in Aman long enough to have a good bead on all her grandparents, was holding out on her older siblings. She could certainly have told them that while Grandfather might catch them, Aunt Anairë wouldn’t, and Uncle Nolo relied as much on the little tells that gave them away as he did on hearing.
It was all but certain that Anariel and Tindomiel would have no problem speaking to each other without Nolofinwë or Anairë hearing. (They might guess, but they wouldn’t hear.) The twins would likewise have no difficulty with each other. Whether or not the boys could get away with speaking to the girls was an open question – though Celebrían suspected that after the best part of a yen with each other as the only family close at hand, the answer for Anariel and the twins would be ‘yes’.
Anariel was repressing her frustration quite well.
As they rose from the table after dinner, Elrond extended an invitation to his grandparents to stay the night rather than make the journey back to Tirion at such a late hour. Celebrían raised an eyebrow.
If they go back tonight, do you really think we won’t have more company tomorrow? he asked, his mental voice resigned.
Ah. So he had noticed.
It’s rather difficult to miss, he replied. Our sunshine child has many fine qualities, but subtlety is not generally counted among them. Fortunately, they do not know her well enough yet to realize it.
Nolofinwë accepted with alacrity – not that he would have had much choice. Celebrían suspected that one would have to be blindfolded to miss the eagerness on Anairë’s face. Nor could Celebrían truly blame her – the last of her elven descendants from the Hither Lands had finally arrived safely home in Aman, where to her mind they had belonged all along.
I’ll show them to their room, husband, Celebrían offered.
Elrond gave her one of those looks that let her see that even if he didn’t know what she had in mind, he knew she was up to something. But he knew better than to interfere.
“Come, Aunt, Uncle, we have a room usually reserved for my grandparents. I think you’ll be quite comfortable there,” she said, taking Anairë by the arm. “Unfortunately, it has one drawback, it has no bathing room of its own…”
“Are you sure about this, my love?” Nolofinwë asked.
“Celebrían would hardly have offered if she thought it would be a problem!” Anairë told him impatiently. “Now come, we cannot retire for the evening without bathing.”
Nolofinwë stifled a sigh.
He was fairly sure that there was a detail his mate – his utterly proper Noldorin beloved – was unaware of when it came to how the Sindar handled bathing. He had never mentioned it to her, and he doubted Irissë had either. (She was the child most likely to have said anything. He knew perfectly well that if they couldn’t avoid the subject entirely, his sons would approach it with the same caution once reserved for dragons. Even Anairon had contrived never to mention it in his mother’s hearing, despite having talked over his own surprise at Sindarin mores with his father.)
But he also knew that when the love of his life got that look on her face, there was no arguing with her.
He braced himself and knocked.
“No need to stand on formality, Aunt, come in,” Celebrían called.
He opened the door slowly, and ignored the quiet mental spluttering from Anairë’s direction as she caught sight of the scene inside.
Nolofinwë Arakano! You knew about this!
Elrond and his family were far more at their ease in the bathing room than they had been in the study or over dinner.
The twins were lounging on one side of the pools with Celebrían washing their hair, fussing over her sons in much the same way Anairë had fussed over first Turvo then Aryo when they returned. Lomion was in quiet conversation with his law-father. Little Anariel was half listening to them and half following Tindomiel’s instructions. Anariel’s hair was evidently already clean, for Tindomiel was experimenting with several styles of braid.
Not a single one of them was wearing a blessed thing.
You were the one insistent that we take Celebrían up on her invitation, dearest!
To his surprise, Anairë managed to enter the room without showing any sign she thought there was anything amiss.
“I do hope we’re not disturbing, Celebrían – we didn’t realize the room was in use. We can come back when you’ve finished…”
Celebrían waved off that notion.
“Of course not, Aunt. Join us – the children will make space.”
Nolofinwë waited to see what Anairë would do next. He couldn’t imagine she would be comfortable bathing Sindarin style.
But he underestimated her, for she was removing her robe as coolly as if she did this all the time.
“You don’t need to strip off entirely if you would rather not,” an amused voice offered.
To his surprise, it was Anariel speaking – and to him, not to Anairë.
“That’s quite alright, darling,” Anairë replied before he could. “He’s been to Endorë, he can adapt. Can’t you, Nolo?”
Blast. He was under orders now.
“Of course, dearest. I was just…”
“Taken by surprise?” Tindomiel offered with a smirk. “We could tell. Now I know where Anairon gets it from.”
From the way Anariel was biting her lip, Nolofinwë knew that there had been a silent addendum, but he suspected Ara would have been the only one with a hope of catching it – or Mother.
“It’s fairly safe over here, Grandfather,” Lomion offered wryly.
Elrond seemed to be stifling laughter, though whether at that remark or at whatever else his children were no doubt adding was impossible to say.
“Oh my stars!”
Anairë was gaping at Anariel.
Where only hours before there had been a serious wound on the girl, there was little more than a vivid pink line of newly healed flesh.
Anariel looked puzzled, though also doing her level best to be polite about it.
“Your mangled arm, dork,” Tindomiel told her helpfully, tapping it for good measure. “They haven’t seen a recovering Slayer before.”
“That? It’s fine. It’s been fine. Whatever’s left will be gone by morning,” Anariel shrugged. She fixed her sister with a mild glare. “That doesn’t mean you have to poke at it like that to see if the nerves are working normally again.”
Lomion had flushed slightly, either still feeling guilty or no more at ease with his law-sister’s uncanny healing than Nolofinwë was. Or possibly both.
“Nolo, do you intend to bathe or not?” Anairë demanded with a hint of exasperation.
Nolofinwë managed not to blush as he slipped out of his robe and into the warm water, thankful that his granddaughters had at least pretended not to notice.
“It takes some getting used to,” Anariel said conversationally. “I was weirded out at first, too.”
“Oh?” Anairë asked, managing to do a magnificent job of staying casual.
“Yeah, this wouldn’t have flown in California either. At least, not in our part of California,” Anariel amended. “These two thought it was hilarious I was horrified about getting naked in front of my brothers.”
She hit one of the twins with a squirt of water – though Nolofinwë was uncertain which one. With their sister so gravely injured, the boys had not felt themselves equal to family gatherings until now.
“It was funny,” her brother replied, unrepentant.
“Yes, many things were when you were getting used to being home,” his twin agreed. “Trying to get you to bathe like a normal person, trying to get you to speak like a normal person, trying to get you to-”
He was cut off by another well-aimed squirt of water that caught him full in the face. The look on his face promised retaliation.
“Children,” Elrond said mildly. “No splash fights, please. At least, not until your grandparents have had a chance to bathe in peace and remove themselves from the line of fire.”
Author: Grundy
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: It was only to be expected that Anairë and Nolofinwë would stay for dinner.
Word Count: 1950
Note: Super tired and slightly punchy after a long day. Hopefully I didn't miss anything editing.
Celebrían sighed.
She supposed as introductions to the extended family went, it could have been worse.
It was plain to her that all Anariel really wanted right now was her family and quiet – and by ‘family’, her daughter was not including the many relatives she’d never met before. It was likely that even had she arrived in Aman healthy, she wouldn’t have been ready for the crowd that Tindomiel had enthusiastically plunged into when their ship had docked.
Anariel had been polite to a fault so far.
In front of an unfamiliar audience, she actually been a much better-behaved patient than usual, much to Elrond’s amusement. For the remainder of the afternoon, she had feigned interest in the conversation – quite well, in fact. She had answered questions readily enough when asked, though you would have to know her to recognize that they were superficial answers that she might have given to any random person that crossed her path in Ennor.
When asked to change for dinner, Anariel departed so promptly that Celebrían had no time to warn her about Noldorin – meaning Anairë’s – standards of modesty. The dress she came downstairs in was quite striking. The simple black silk sheath came up all the way to the neck front and back, but it was sleeveless, leaving her injured arm uncovered. Knowing how sensitive such healing wounds could be, Celebrían suspected that had been Anariel’s main motivation.
“Actually, it was on top in the first trunk in my room.”
Anariel’s smile was impish.
“I don’t recognize it,” Celebrían said.
She didn’t want to ask if it was one Arwen had made.
“I got the pieces in Far Harad, and some of the tailors in the Greenwood helped me assemble it.”
Celebrían couldn’t think why she’d needed help from Thranduil’s staff – probably the most skilled tailors left in Ennor at that point – given how simple it looked.
That lasted until Anariel walked out onto the porch they would be dining on ahead of her. The simple black was just the backdrop for a cascade of beautifully dyed and carefully worked silk that looked like her daughter had fire trailing down her back and onto the slight train behind her.
“Oh, how striking! Don’t you think, Nolo?”
Celebrían turned to find Anairë admiring the effect, and for a wonder saying nothing about Anariel’s bare shoulders.
“Indeed.”
Celebrían looked to him with some surprise, for Nolofinwë’s response was tense. She had expected if anything, it would be her aunt disapproving, not him.
“The effect is a bit too realistic for my taste, I fear,” he said wryly upon catching her glance.
“Ah,” she said sympathetically.
She was surprised Anariel hadn’t thought of that – but she wasn’t going to mention it now.
“Don’t worry yourself, darling,” Anairë sighed. “She looks lovely in it. And she should feel free to wear what she will in her own house.”
With that, she took her husband’s arm and marched him firmly out the door, no doubt hoping to snag a seat near Anariel.
If that had been the hope, she was disappointed – Anariel had already claimed a seat next to Elrond, and Elrohir was on her other side. She’d tucked her feet up on her seat, and was using the train to cover them.
Celebrían had been amused to note her children were all on good behavior for dinner, which while not as formal as it would have been in Tirion, was still very much ‘company manners’. The oldest three appeared to be unsure whether or not they could get away with osanwë without being overheard, so they were even politer than they would normally be.
Tindomiel, who had been in Aman long enough to have a good bead on all her grandparents, was holding out on her older siblings. She could certainly have told them that while Grandfather might catch them, Aunt Anairë wouldn’t, and Uncle Nolo relied as much on the little tells that gave them away as he did on hearing.
It was all but certain that Anariel and Tindomiel would have no problem speaking to each other without Nolofinwë or Anairë hearing. (They might guess, but they wouldn’t hear.) The twins would likewise have no difficulty with each other. Whether or not the boys could get away with speaking to the girls was an open question – though Celebrían suspected that after the best part of a yen with each other as the only family close at hand, the answer for Anariel and the twins would be ‘yes’.
Anariel was repressing her frustration quite well.
As they rose from the table after dinner, Elrond extended an invitation to his grandparents to stay the night rather than make the journey back to Tirion at such a late hour. Celebrían raised an eyebrow.
If they go back tonight, do you really think we won’t have more company tomorrow? he asked, his mental voice resigned.
Ah. So he had noticed.
It’s rather difficult to miss, he replied. Our sunshine child has many fine qualities, but subtlety is not generally counted among them. Fortunately, they do not know her well enough yet to realize it.
Nolofinwë accepted with alacrity – not that he would have had much choice. Celebrían suspected that one would have to be blindfolded to miss the eagerness on Anairë’s face. Nor could Celebrían truly blame her – the last of her elven descendants from the Hither Lands had finally arrived safely home in Aman, where to her mind they had belonged all along.
I’ll show them to their room, husband, Celebrían offered.
Elrond gave her one of those looks that let her see that even if he didn’t know what she had in mind, he knew she was up to something. But he knew better than to interfere.
“Come, Aunt, Uncle, we have a room usually reserved for my grandparents. I think you’ll be quite comfortable there,” she said, taking Anairë by the arm. “Unfortunately, it has one drawback, it has no bathing room of its own…”
---
“Are you sure about this, my love?” Nolofinwë asked.
“Celebrían would hardly have offered if she thought it would be a problem!” Anairë told him impatiently. “Now come, we cannot retire for the evening without bathing.”
Nolofinwë stifled a sigh.
He was fairly sure that there was a detail his mate – his utterly proper Noldorin beloved – was unaware of when it came to how the Sindar handled bathing. He had never mentioned it to her, and he doubted Irissë had either. (She was the child most likely to have said anything. He knew perfectly well that if they couldn’t avoid the subject entirely, his sons would approach it with the same caution once reserved for dragons. Even Anairon had contrived never to mention it in his mother’s hearing, despite having talked over his own surprise at Sindarin mores with his father.)
But he also knew that when the love of his life got that look on her face, there was no arguing with her.
He braced himself and knocked.
“No need to stand on formality, Aunt, come in,” Celebrían called.
He opened the door slowly, and ignored the quiet mental spluttering from Anairë’s direction as she caught sight of the scene inside.
Nolofinwë Arakano! You knew about this!
Elrond and his family were far more at their ease in the bathing room than they had been in the study or over dinner.
The twins were lounging on one side of the pools with Celebrían washing their hair, fussing over her sons in much the same way Anairë had fussed over first Turvo then Aryo when they returned. Lomion was in quiet conversation with his law-father. Little Anariel was half listening to them and half following Tindomiel’s instructions. Anariel’s hair was evidently already clean, for Tindomiel was experimenting with several styles of braid.
Not a single one of them was wearing a blessed thing.
You were the one insistent that we take Celebrían up on her invitation, dearest!
To his surprise, Anairë managed to enter the room without showing any sign she thought there was anything amiss.
“I do hope we’re not disturbing, Celebrían – we didn’t realize the room was in use. We can come back when you’ve finished…”
Celebrían waved off that notion.
“Of course not, Aunt. Join us – the children will make space.”
Nolofinwë waited to see what Anairë would do next. He couldn’t imagine she would be comfortable bathing Sindarin style.
But he underestimated her, for she was removing her robe as coolly as if she did this all the time.
“You don’t need to strip off entirely if you would rather not,” an amused voice offered.
To his surprise, it was Anariel speaking – and to him, not to Anairë.
“That’s quite alright, darling,” Anairë replied before he could. “He’s been to Endorë, he can adapt. Can’t you, Nolo?”
Blast. He was under orders now.
“Of course, dearest. I was just…”
“Taken by surprise?” Tindomiel offered with a smirk. “We could tell. Now I know where Anairon gets it from.”
From the way Anariel was biting her lip, Nolofinwë knew that there had been a silent addendum, but he suspected Ara would have been the only one with a hope of catching it – or Mother.
“It’s fairly safe over here, Grandfather,” Lomion offered wryly.
Elrond seemed to be stifling laughter, though whether at that remark or at whatever else his children were no doubt adding was impossible to say.
“Oh my stars!”
Anairë was gaping at Anariel.
Where only hours before there had been a serious wound on the girl, there was little more than a vivid pink line of newly healed flesh.
Anariel looked puzzled, though also doing her level best to be polite about it.
“Your mangled arm, dork,” Tindomiel told her helpfully, tapping it for good measure. “They haven’t seen a recovering Slayer before.”
“That? It’s fine. It’s been fine. Whatever’s left will be gone by morning,” Anariel shrugged. She fixed her sister with a mild glare. “That doesn’t mean you have to poke at it like that to see if the nerves are working normally again.”
Lomion had flushed slightly, either still feeling guilty or no more at ease with his law-sister’s uncanny healing than Nolofinwë was. Or possibly both.
“Nolo, do you intend to bathe or not?” Anairë demanded with a hint of exasperation.
Nolofinwë managed not to blush as he slipped out of his robe and into the warm water, thankful that his granddaughters had at least pretended not to notice.
“It takes some getting used to,” Anariel said conversationally. “I was weirded out at first, too.”
“Oh?” Anairë asked, managing to do a magnificent job of staying casual.
“Yeah, this wouldn’t have flown in California either. At least, not in our part of California,” Anariel amended. “These two thought it was hilarious I was horrified about getting naked in front of my brothers.”
She hit one of the twins with a squirt of water – though Nolofinwë was uncertain which one. With their sister so gravely injured, the boys had not felt themselves equal to family gatherings until now.
“It was funny,” her brother replied, unrepentant.
“Yes, many things were when you were getting used to being home,” his twin agreed. “Trying to get you to bathe like a normal person, trying to get you to speak like a normal person, trying to get you to-”
He was cut off by another well-aimed squirt of water that caught him full in the face. The look on his face promised retaliation.
“Children,” Elrond said mildly. “No splash fights, please. At least, not until your grandparents have had a chance to bathe in peace and remove themselves from the line of fire.”
