Day 19 - It Runs In The Family
Aug. 19th, 2023 09:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grundyscribblingTitle: It Runs In The Family
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: Idril and Tuor meet Anariel.
Word Count: 1150
Itarillë was trying her best to sit still, but the suspense was getting to her. She’d been waiting so long…
“They’re liable to be put off by the sight of you vibrating from sheer excitement,” Maeglin pointed out drily.
“Easy enough for you to say,” she sniffed. “You already met them!”
He’d seen them before they even reached Elrond’s house. And been here in Tirion with them the past few weeks. Itarillë had grudgingly waited until her grandmother suggested they join Glorfindel and his daughters in travelling to Tirion for a dinner with nearly the whole family.
“Tinu’s told you all about them,” Tuor said soothingly, taking her hand. “Galadriel, too.”
“Oh, maybe we should have had her here as well? In case they’re nervous?”
She’d suggested Ammë join them for this meeting, but her mother had smiled and suggested it might be best to start with relatives they had heard more about. (And then added that unlike Itarillë, she could stand the wait. Grandmother had backed her, with that look that meant she had another surprise or two up her sleeve.)
“I don’t think Anariel is the nervous type, love,” Tuor replied, trying not to laugh. “Or if she is, she saves the nerves for the balrogs and dragons. She’d hardly have been tagged Slayer otherwise.”
She bit back her retort to that – Slayer, indeed! If she ever found out whose idea that epessë had been, they would be explaining themselves. Not that she wasn’t proud, of course. All Ondolindë knew how proud she was of her balrog-Slaying granddaughter. But just because she could handle them didn’t mean that Anariel had to personally see to every evil creature in Middle-earth.
Maeglin was biting his lip to hold back laughter. Itarillë sighed and sat down, only to spring back to her feet as she heard the children coming.
They paused outside the door. Maeglin stepped over, and probably would have opened it before they resolved what must have been a silent argument over who would knock, but someone thumped firmly on it just as he reached it. It was both louder and more forceful than a normal knock.
He looked surprised, but swung the door inwards.
The first one into the room was a large dog Itarillë hadn’t seen since Mithrim…
“Huan?” she asked in astonishment. “What are you doing here?”
Did that mean Uncle Tyelko was back?
Huan sat and wagged his tail enthusiastically, looking back toward Elrond’s elder children.
Anariel barely made it in the door before she halted so abruptly her brothers narrowly avoided running into her back.
She was staring at Tuor in something like shock.
What under the stars? Surely someone must have told the girl how much Eärendil resembled his father. Tuor had been pleased to discover the resemblance had continued with Anariel.
The twins were giving her puzzled looks, and Maeglin looked concerned.
“Do you by any chance look like your father?” Anariel asked him. “And your uncle?”
At Tuor’s bemused expression, she turned immediately to Maeglin, apparently aware that he would know.
“Does he?” she asked urgently.
“Yes, there is a strong family resemblance,” Maeglin replied. “But what-”
He stopped. He had to, because Anariel was laughing too hard to answer anything.
Itarillë was worried by the girl’s hysteria. Perhaps this had been too much too soon? She reached out, ready to soothe the child, but found the thought at the top of her mind utterly mystifying…
“House of Hador for the win?” she said quizzically.
That made the laughter even worse. Now the child was actually trying to stuff a fist into her mouth to control herself.
“I don’t suppose you care to share how we won, or what is that funny?” one of the twins – she thought it was Elrohir but wasn’t certain – sighed.
“Oh come on, you see it don’t you?” Anariel burbled. “This is awesome! I was even more annoying than I meant to be!”
The twins traded mystified looks.
“Use your eyes,” Anariel gasped between bouts of laughter, waving in Tuor’s general direction. “I look like him. He looks like his uncle – you know, Húrin?”
Aurë entuluva?
Itarillë abruptly sat down. At least she’d said it quietly this time. The last time anyone in the room had heard those words had been terrible. She’d had a headache the rest of the evening, to say nothing of the stomach-churning fear for her great-granddaughter.
Anariel apparently had no such reservations. She flopped onto the floor next to Huan, using him as a support as she did her best to settle.
“You two are slow,” Anariel sighed at her brothers. A valiant effort on her part stopped the laughter, but it was clear it wouldn’t take much to set it off again. “You have to see how much it must have chapped Morgoth’s hide to hear me saying the same thing Húrin did – and then having the nerve to punch him in the face right after.”
Stars of Varda! She had punched Morgoth in the face?
“I imagine it probably upset him,” Tuor said carefully.
“And it’s not like he could park me on a mountain to watch the next however many years,” Anariel concluded merrily. “So. House of Hador for the win.”
She did an odd sort of dance while sitting on the floor.
Itarillë did not let her consternation show on her face.
Tindomiel had been warning them for years she was nowhere near as much trouble as her older sister. It was disconcerting to find she’d been understating the case.
“Right, trouble,” Tuor sighed, pulling the girl to her feet and steering her toward one of the chairs. “How’s about sitting on the furniture instead of the floor?”
“Ok,” Anariel chirped.
Huan followed in her wake, plopping down at her feet with a slightly reproachful look.
“What do we call you?” the girl asked Tuor curiously. “I’ve lost track of all the names Tinu’s been telling us for everyone. She’s already complaining I’m mixing all the grandparents up.”
“I’m Pop-Pop, and she’s Gran,” Tuor sighed.
“As you’ve already noticed, she’s trouble,” the nearest twin replied. “I’m Elrohir.”
“I thought you called my mother Trouble,” Maeglin snorted.
Itarillë raised an eyebrow. There was definitely a story there.
“Your mother is Aunt Trouble,” Elladan corrected, taking Maeglin’s elbow to pull him to the chair on the other side of the twins. “She’s just trouble.”
“Don’t be fooled by the size and cuteness,” Elrohir advised Itarillë and Tuor gravely.
“Get them, Huan!” Anariel ordered.
Huan turned to gaze at her with an expression that was so clearly ‘No’ that Itarillë couldn’t help the giggle.
“Woof,” he said reprovingly.
“You’re supposed to be on my side!” the girl protested.
“No, he’s supposed to be making sure you behave,” Elladan snickered. “So, Gran, we assume you have questions for us that have nothing to do with Huan or the House of Hador?”
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: Idril and Tuor meet Anariel.
Word Count: 1150
Itarillë was trying her best to sit still, but the suspense was getting to her. She’d been waiting so long…
“They’re liable to be put off by the sight of you vibrating from sheer excitement,” Maeglin pointed out drily.
“Easy enough for you to say,” she sniffed. “You already met them!”
He’d seen them before they even reached Elrond’s house. And been here in Tirion with them the past few weeks. Itarillë had grudgingly waited until her grandmother suggested they join Glorfindel and his daughters in travelling to Tirion for a dinner with nearly the whole family.
“Tinu’s told you all about them,” Tuor said soothingly, taking her hand. “Galadriel, too.”
“Oh, maybe we should have had her here as well? In case they’re nervous?”
She’d suggested Ammë join them for this meeting, but her mother had smiled and suggested it might be best to start with relatives they had heard more about. (And then added that unlike Itarillë, she could stand the wait. Grandmother had backed her, with that look that meant she had another surprise or two up her sleeve.)
“I don’t think Anariel is the nervous type, love,” Tuor replied, trying not to laugh. “Or if she is, she saves the nerves for the balrogs and dragons. She’d hardly have been tagged Slayer otherwise.”
She bit back her retort to that – Slayer, indeed! If she ever found out whose idea that epessë had been, they would be explaining themselves. Not that she wasn’t proud, of course. All Ondolindë knew how proud she was of her balrog-Slaying granddaughter. But just because she could handle them didn’t mean that Anariel had to personally see to every evil creature in Middle-earth.
Maeglin was biting his lip to hold back laughter. Itarillë sighed and sat down, only to spring back to her feet as she heard the children coming.
They paused outside the door. Maeglin stepped over, and probably would have opened it before they resolved what must have been a silent argument over who would knock, but someone thumped firmly on it just as he reached it. It was both louder and more forceful than a normal knock.
He looked surprised, but swung the door inwards.
The first one into the room was a large dog Itarillë hadn’t seen since Mithrim…
“Huan?” she asked in astonishment. “What are you doing here?”
Did that mean Uncle Tyelko was back?
Huan sat and wagged his tail enthusiastically, looking back toward Elrond’s elder children.
Anariel barely made it in the door before she halted so abruptly her brothers narrowly avoided running into her back.
She was staring at Tuor in something like shock.
What under the stars? Surely someone must have told the girl how much Eärendil resembled his father. Tuor had been pleased to discover the resemblance had continued with Anariel.
The twins were giving her puzzled looks, and Maeglin looked concerned.
“Do you by any chance look like your father?” Anariel asked him. “And your uncle?”
At Tuor’s bemused expression, she turned immediately to Maeglin, apparently aware that he would know.
“Does he?” she asked urgently.
“Yes, there is a strong family resemblance,” Maeglin replied. “But what-”
He stopped. He had to, because Anariel was laughing too hard to answer anything.
Itarillë was worried by the girl’s hysteria. Perhaps this had been too much too soon? She reached out, ready to soothe the child, but found the thought at the top of her mind utterly mystifying…
“House of Hador for the win?” she said quizzically.
That made the laughter even worse. Now the child was actually trying to stuff a fist into her mouth to control herself.
“I don’t suppose you care to share how we won, or what is that funny?” one of the twins – she thought it was Elrohir but wasn’t certain – sighed.
“Oh come on, you see it don’t you?” Anariel burbled. “This is awesome! I was even more annoying than I meant to be!”
The twins traded mystified looks.
“Use your eyes,” Anariel gasped between bouts of laughter, waving in Tuor’s general direction. “I look like him. He looks like his uncle – you know, Húrin?”
Aurë entuluva?
Itarillë abruptly sat down. At least she’d said it quietly this time. The last time anyone in the room had heard those words had been terrible. She’d had a headache the rest of the evening, to say nothing of the stomach-churning fear for her great-granddaughter.
Anariel apparently had no such reservations. She flopped onto the floor next to Huan, using him as a support as she did her best to settle.
“You two are slow,” Anariel sighed at her brothers. A valiant effort on her part stopped the laughter, but it was clear it wouldn’t take much to set it off again. “You have to see how much it must have chapped Morgoth’s hide to hear me saying the same thing Húrin did – and then having the nerve to punch him in the face right after.”
Stars of Varda! She had punched Morgoth in the face?
“I imagine it probably upset him,” Tuor said carefully.
“And it’s not like he could park me on a mountain to watch the next however many years,” Anariel concluded merrily. “So. House of Hador for the win.”
She did an odd sort of dance while sitting on the floor.
Itarillë did not let her consternation show on her face.
Tindomiel had been warning them for years she was nowhere near as much trouble as her older sister. It was disconcerting to find she’d been understating the case.
“Right, trouble,” Tuor sighed, pulling the girl to her feet and steering her toward one of the chairs. “How’s about sitting on the furniture instead of the floor?”
“Ok,” Anariel chirped.
Huan followed in her wake, plopping down at her feet with a slightly reproachful look.
“What do we call you?” the girl asked Tuor curiously. “I’ve lost track of all the names Tinu’s been telling us for everyone. She’s already complaining I’m mixing all the grandparents up.”
“I’m Pop-Pop, and she’s Gran,” Tuor sighed.
“As you’ve already noticed, she’s trouble,” the nearest twin replied. “I’m Elrohir.”
“I thought you called my mother Trouble,” Maeglin snorted.
Itarillë raised an eyebrow. There was definitely a story there.
“Your mother is Aunt Trouble,” Elladan corrected, taking Maeglin’s elbow to pull him to the chair on the other side of the twins. “She’s just trouble.”
“Don’t be fooled by the size and cuteness,” Elrohir advised Itarillë and Tuor gravely.
“Get them, Huan!” Anariel ordered.
Huan turned to gaze at her with an expression that was so clearly ‘No’ that Itarillë couldn’t help the giggle.
“Woof,” he said reprovingly.
“You’re supposed to be on my side!” the girl protested.
“No, he’s supposed to be making sure you behave,” Elladan snickered. “So, Gran, we assume you have questions for us that have nothing to do with Huan or the House of Hador?”
