grundyscribbling

Title: Sugar and Spice
Author: Grundy
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: Breakfast after Anariel's sparring session gets interesting...
Word Count: 1375
Note: I made a plan this afternoon for what I was going to do for the rest of Fic-A-Day. It didn't even last the day. (I blame Celegorm.)

Carnistir looked up in bemused alarm as Ingo’s youngest boy walked Anariel to the table where he, his mother, his son, Finno, Elrond, and Celebrían had been enjoying a relatively peaceful brunch.

He’d seen elves with that particular punch-drunk look before, but he hadn’t expected to see it on any of his young kin, particularly not that one. And he finally got what she meant by Slayer healing – she’d been unmarked last night, but somehow had what he would have sworn were old bruises now.

Finno, Miryo, and Elrond started to rise, but Anariel waved them off.

“I’m-”

“Really not fine,” Elrohir snorted.

“And no one will believe you are,” Elladan added.

Carnistir watched in bafflement as Arador settled her into a chair before she could protest further.

Quite a statement of trust for her brothers to allow him be the one to walk her here, Miryo observed. I wonder if the boy realizes it?

Carnistir blinked. He hadn’t thought of it in those terms, but now that he had…

“Ok, I will be fine if I take it easy for a couple hours,” Anariel admitted.

“What happened?” Ammë demanded.

“Someone lost their temper when certain grandfathers interrupted her morning practice again,” Elladan said, shooting his sister a sour look.

“I didn’t lose my temper,” Anariel corrected immediately. “Though I was starting to lose my patience.”

“That does not explain your current state,” Elrond said.

Something in his tone persuaded all three of his children to settle at once.

“She decided to show us all what she could do,” Elrohir explained. “By picking a partner who can actually best her.”

“Oh?” Celebrían asked pointedly.

It was obvious she was wondering the same thing the rest of them were – who that might be. Anariel had so far shown complete confidence in her own abilities to beat anyone in the family.

“I hope you didn’t damage Nolofinwë’s pride too badly,” Miryo snickered.

Elrond’s expression clouded, suggesting he was concerned about more than just Uncle Nolo’s pride.

“She called on Lord Tulkas,” Arador put in.

He’d been largely staying out of it, instead quietly passing Anariel a glass of lemonade and a napkin full of ice.

“And how did that go?” Carnistir asked curiously.

“Pretty much how I thought it would,” Anariel replied.

Judging by the alacrity with which both the lemonade and ice had been put to use, she was feeling the aftereffects of whatever had gone on. But she looked far better than he would have expected for anyone with the temerity to demand Tulkas partner them.

For a start, she was still upright.

“Really? You expected to end up in the hedge?” Elrohir asked acidly.

Anariel started to shrug, only to wince and think better of it.

“I knew I wasn’t going to beat him yet,” she explained. “But the point was to show the nervous nellies among our grandparents that I really am fine training with Grandfather and Uncle Eöl. They weren’t going to believe it until they saw, and I wasn’t about to pick on any of them for the lesson. But I think they get it now.”

“I’m not sure they got much of anything,” Arador sighed. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I could barely see half of what you were doing because you were both moving too fast.”

“You’ll learn,” Elladan assured him, dragging a chair over for himself.

Carnistir gave the two oldest boys disapproving looks – Arador had seen to their little sister, but they’d left him to find his own seat.

Miryo rose without another word and remedied the twins’ lack of manners, not only pulling up a chair for the boy, but situating it closest to Anariel, which got him a glare from both her brothers.

“I really will be fine in an hour or so,” Anariel assured the table at large – and particularly Ammë, who looked horrified. “But they needed to see it, and Grandpa Nolo in particular needs to get that the Slayer doesn’t understand ‘nothing to slay’ and go away, and if I don’t do something productive with all that energy…”

“You will launch yourself to the stars,” Elrohir sighed, in a tone that indicated this wasn’t a brand new complaint. “Even if we have yet to understand exactly how that would work.”

“Sheer excess energy,” Anariel chirped, taking a blissful bite of the cinnamon pastry Ammë had just handed her. “Too much of it and boom! Like a rocket…”

She groaned, having clearly just realized that was something no one else at the table – except possibly her mother – had understood.

“Later, I’ll explain rockets later,” she said, sounding almost mournful.

“Only if you feel like it,” Celebrían told her. “I’m able for it. Though from the sounds of it, I should probably go speak to my grandfather.”

“You can stay here with us,” Anariel assured her, something like guilt crossing her expression for the first time. “Grandmother’s there. And Grandmother Indis and Grandmother Míriel sounded like they were about to start the scoldings.”

“Which is why you decided it was the opportune moment to make your escape,” Miryo said drily.

“Because you’d have stuck around for that part?” Anariel snorted, accidentally spraying herself with cinnamon sugar. (Much to her brothers’ mirth. Carnistir seriously considered whether she’d done it on purpose, given it seemed to dispel their mood.)

“I would not have been sparring with Lord Tulkas in the first place,” Miryo replied.

“You can watch next time,” Anariel said blithely.

Finno almost choked on his drink at the implication that there would be a repeat.

“Gildor is the one who would take you up on that,” Miryo said. “I’ve seen you being patched up often enough to have little interest in watching you get yourself into that state.”

“I’ll get better,” Anariel assured him.

No one asked whether she was talking about her current injuries or her fighting skills.

“Darling,” Ammë said, “you mentioned visiting Kano yesterday?”

That got a slightly puzzled look.

“She means Makalaurë,” Finno explained. “Kano is his short name, like I’m Finno and he’s Moryo.”

“Oh,” Anariel said, light dawning on her face. “I didn’t visit him yesterday. That was a couple months ago, when I was still in Lórien. I said I wanted to visit Grandfather B- Fëanáro and Namo didn’t want to outright tell me no, so he tried a diversion. I think his theory was that Haru would talk me out of it…”

She looked slightly mystified by that reasoning, and now that he knew her better, Carnistir could understand it. He was also impressed by her swerve from ‘Grandfather Butthead’ – one Tindomiel didn’t always bother with. His mother had gotten used to the idea that Atto still had some work to do before he got a less insulting grandpaternal title, but Anariel wasn’t to know that.

“Obviously that failed,” Miryo sighed.

Carnistir wondered if Anariel had caught the halfway guilty look on Finno’s face – he’d have to catch Finno later to ask. The girl probably didn’t know yet how much everyone in the Halls traded stories.

“Well, yeah,” Anariel nodded. “Why go through all the trouble to go to the Halls and not talk to the person I wanted to see in the first place?”

“Why indeed,” Elrond sighed.

“Was Kano well?” Ammë asked tentatively.

“I think so,” Anariel said slowly. “For being dead, I guess?”

That nearly set Finno off laughing. Carnistir found himself trying not to snicker.

Anariel might have said more, except for an abrupt WOOF and minor eclipse of fur that briefly hid her from sight.

When she was visible again, she was looking at the very large dog with his head in her lap in utter bemusement.

“What the…?”

Finno gave up on trying not to laugh at her expression.

Ammë tried to call Huan to her, no doubt intending to let Anariel finish her breakfast. But Huan could be as determinedly oblivious as Tyelko when he chose to be, and this was evidently one of those times.

“It seems Maitimo isn’t the only one of my older brothers who thinks you need a minder,” Carnistir said.

He decided not to mention that Huan would be considerably harder to shake off than Pelendur. Let her find that out for herself.