Day 28 - Ups and Downs
Aug. 28th, 2023 09:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grundyscribblingTitle: Ups and Downs
Author: Grundy
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: Some things go better than expected. Others are worse.
Word Count: 1610
Anariel had thorougly enjoyed dinner.
She’d initially worried Grandma Rilmë would knock herself out trying to do something elaborate, but what she’d brought out was nothing fancy, just delicious and filling.
An herb bread, bite-sized medallions of glazed meat with a salad to match them, and a vegetable medley composed mostly of things she didn’t recognize but smelled good enough not to ask before digging in. It was a nice change from all the fanciness of the palace, where if Anairon wasn’t trying to impress, the kitchen staff were.
You could always just tell them simple is fine by you, Arador suggested with a snicker.
Would they believe me?
Probably not.
Come to that, she wouldn’t mind putting together a perfectly normal meal for herself.
“Are you children staying the night?” Rilmë asked hopefully.
Anariel hoped she wasn’t about to disappoint a set of grandparents she’d decided she really liked.
“I would, but we kinda didn’t tell anyone where we were going…”
Now she knew where Gramma Nerdanel got that expression from.
“This all sounds familiar,” Mahtan chuckled.
“You’d better get back, then,” Rilmë sighed. “Wait, you haven’t had dessert. I’ll just give you a little something for the road.”
Anariel knew better than to argue with grandparents trying to feed her. That never ended well. Though she decided it was actually for the best when Rilmë returned with what looked like spice cookies.
She’s certainly got your number, Arador observed.
“Now, Huan, make sure they go straight back to wherever they are supposed to be,” Rilmë said sternly.
Anariel tried not to look indignant. She was an adult!
Arador’s silent laughter echoed in her head.
You’re supposed to be on my side!
I am, he replied in amusement. But you’re enjoying being out and about far too much to hurry back. And remembershe knew Tyelko as a kid…
Anariel was officially ignoring all comparisons between her and Aunt Nerdanel’s third son, even from her new best friend. (The sole exception was if it came from Aunt Nerdanel, in which case the comparison was grudgingly tolerated.) Tindomiel was finding the whole thing hilarious. So was Uncle Moryo.
“We’ll be back soon,” she assured Mahtan and Rilmë. “And I’ll bring a notebook next time.”
Mahtan ruffled her hair, and Rilmë hugged her before they stood in the doorway to see them off.
Anariel was certain they’d been watched until the road curved around toward the city.
“Do you blame them?” Arador snorted. “You do realize if elves could have heart attacks like Men, quite a few relatives would have had multiple on your account?”
“Why?” Anariel asked. “What did I do?”
The mental snort was louder and more sarcastic than the physical one.
“For the zillionth time, the dragon thing was not my fault!”
“You definitely went looking for the dragon,” he pointed out. “And the balrogs. And a trip through Mordor was also your idea, and Arwen made the mistake of writing about the haircut…”
Anariel groaned.
Elves had a thing for hair, and cutting it was taken as seriously as a severe injury. The most she’d ever seen any elf do was trim the occasional split ends, which apparently counted like clipping fingernails. But actual cutting? No way. Haircutter was an insult among elves, as was hairless. (Miryo had explained to her when she got back to Imladris from that trip that a cut as severe as the ones she and Anya had given themselves would only be inflicted as a punishment. He’d had no answer to her entirely reasonable question about how he would have gotten the stench out.)
“I don’t know what trouble anyone thinks I can find here. There is a notable dearth of dark creatures around.”
“Thankfully,” Arador agreed. “So where are we actually going?”
Anariel grinned.
The question implied that going back to Finwë’s House – and slightly overwhelming concentration of relatives there – was optional.
“How do you feel about visiting Gramma Nerdanel?” she suggested. “I need to pick up some stuff there. And maybe figure out if Grandfather Butthead has anything like a whiteboard in his workshop. Notebooks are all well and good, but sometimes a girl needs to brainstorm.”
Arador gave her a slight mental nudge, and she did not sigh as she explained brainstorming. And whiteboard, which apparently had not been mentioned, or at least not under that name, in any of Arwen’s letters or Tindomiel’s time in Tirion.
She was slightly surprised by that. She’d have thought her little sister would have insisted on one in her own workspace.
The city walls were in sight when she finished.
“So, which way from this gate?” she asked.
You’re just asking to see if you’re right, aren’t you?
“Yeah, I have a vague notion where it is, but I might have mixed up the direction.”
“Fair. Left and then uphill.” He paused. “Are you going to cover your hair again?”
She shook her head.
“Nah. The Noldor have to get used to me coming and going at some point. Now’s as good a time as any to make a start. Besides, how subtle can we really be with Huan with us?”
“Woof.”
“Exactly,” she agreed.
Arador didn’t say out loud he didn’t think it would go well, but he didn’t have to.
But Huan took the lead once they were inside the city gate, and most people cleared out of his way. Anariel did her best to note landmarks while not obviously staring at anything. Did the Noldor not believe in street signs? How did people find their way around when they weren’t from here?
Tinwë said something similar when she first arrived, Aarador snickered.
They did occasionally wave or even bow, but Anariel was mostly taking her cue from Arador on that front.
She got totally distracted by one shopfront though. Those wind-up toys were even better than anything she’d seen in Dale…
“I thought we were going to Aunt Nerdanel’s?” Arador prompted.
“We could stop for just a few minutes,” she said hopefully. “If it’s open?”
“For you, I imagine Master Yúlon will open at any time,” Arador muttered, holding the door open.
“No, really!” she protested. “If it’s not open…”
“We are open,” a voice assured her from inside.
She glared at Arador for a split second before she was utterly distracted by everything inside that she hadn’t been able to see from the window.
“Whoa…”
Something like an armillary sphere had an incredibly intricate model of stars, planets, sun, and moon rotating around both Aman and Middle-earth. And if she didn’t miss her guess, they were mostly made of jewels.
“Did you have something particular in mind?” the shopkeeper asked briskly.
“We’re just looking, Master,” Arador replied when Anariel was too busy gaping to reply.
I know who I’m asking if I have trouble with the windup part!
“There’s a windup part?” Arador asked in bemusement.
“A windup part to what, if I may inquire?” the shopkeeper asked.
“The thing like a music box I’m going to put on a certain fountain,” she grinned.
Hm. If music boxes were known here…
They’re nothing like what you explained earlier.
“You wouldn’t be speaking of King Fëanáro’s fountain, surely?”
“She very much is,” Arador sighed. “But please keep that to yourself. She’s nowhere near ready for volunteers yet. Or detractors.”
Way to go, he added silently. Odds are half the city hears about it by morning.
“It’s meant to be a surprise for him,” Anariel explained. “Master…?”
“Yúlon,” the man replied, looking her up and down with curiosity. “And you are?”
She smirked at Arador.
So much for everyone knowing me.
“Anariel,” she answered, offering a hand.
That got a momentary look of confusion before it was accepted.
Is there backstory here I should know? she asked Arador.
No, I think he’s just never encountered a handshake before. It’s not a Noldorin custom.
That was in fact a form of backstory, in Anariel’s mind, but now wasn’t the time.
And clearly the whole city did not know who she was, because Yúlon hadn’t so much as batted an eyelid.
“I shall be patient, then, Anariel, but I hope you will remember me when it comes time to unveil your fountain music box.”
“Definitely,” she grinned.
“I believe you’re a woman of your word. So you may take that little trifle with you – you’re far more interested in it than most.”
“Oh, I couldn’t, you must have put so much work into it…”
“Work appreciated is its own reward,” Yúlon shrugged. “I’ll just pack it for you.”
The marvel of a windup was boxed and being handed to her before she could argue further.
“Woof!” Huan said imperiously from the door.
“Don’t you dare,” Yúlon said sternly. “You, sir, are still banned!”
Anariel turned to her dog.
“What did you do?” she asked in curiosity. “But stay outside while you explain.”
“If he obeys you, lady, kindly ask him to explain elsewhere,” Yúlon said in a tone that was not quite begging.
“Of course,” she assured him. “I’m sorry, he didn’t say before we came in. Next time I’ll have him wait elsewhere.”
Yúlon ushered them out so quickly it didn’t register until the door had shut firmly behind her that he’d called her “princess” on the way out.
Just when she thought she’d gotten away with being normal people…
On the bright side, the rumor won’t be that you’re preparing to prank Uncle Fëanáro, Arador said resignedly.
“You sound like it’s worse than that,” Anariel prompted cautiously.
Yes, because I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re Cousin Tyelko’s daughter.
Anariel’s outrage at that lasted all the way to her grandmother’s house.
Author: Grundy
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: Some things go better than expected. Others are worse.
Word Count: 1610
Anariel had thorougly enjoyed dinner.
She’d initially worried Grandma Rilmë would knock herself out trying to do something elaborate, but what she’d brought out was nothing fancy, just delicious and filling.
An herb bread, bite-sized medallions of glazed meat with a salad to match them, and a vegetable medley composed mostly of things she didn’t recognize but smelled good enough not to ask before digging in. It was a nice change from all the fanciness of the palace, where if Anairon wasn’t trying to impress, the kitchen staff were.
You could always just tell them simple is fine by you, Arador suggested with a snicker.
Would they believe me?
Probably not.
Come to that, she wouldn’t mind putting together a perfectly normal meal for herself.
“Are you children staying the night?” Rilmë asked hopefully.
Anariel hoped she wasn’t about to disappoint a set of grandparents she’d decided she really liked.
“I would, but we kinda didn’t tell anyone where we were going…”
Now she knew where Gramma Nerdanel got that expression from.
“This all sounds familiar,” Mahtan chuckled.
“You’d better get back, then,” Rilmë sighed. “Wait, you haven’t had dessert. I’ll just give you a little something for the road.”
Anariel knew better than to argue with grandparents trying to feed her. That never ended well. Though she decided it was actually for the best when Rilmë returned with what looked like spice cookies.
She’s certainly got your number, Arador observed.
“Now, Huan, make sure they go straight back to wherever they are supposed to be,” Rilmë said sternly.
Anariel tried not to look indignant. She was an adult!
Arador’s silent laughter echoed in her head.
You’re supposed to be on my side!
I am, he replied in amusement. But you’re enjoying being out and about far too much to hurry back. And remembershe knew Tyelko as a kid…
Anariel was officially ignoring all comparisons between her and Aunt Nerdanel’s third son, even from her new best friend. (The sole exception was if it came from Aunt Nerdanel, in which case the comparison was grudgingly tolerated.) Tindomiel was finding the whole thing hilarious. So was Uncle Moryo.
“We’ll be back soon,” she assured Mahtan and Rilmë. “And I’ll bring a notebook next time.”
Mahtan ruffled her hair, and Rilmë hugged her before they stood in the doorway to see them off.
Anariel was certain they’d been watched until the road curved around toward the city.
“Do you blame them?” Arador snorted. “You do realize if elves could have heart attacks like Men, quite a few relatives would have had multiple on your account?”
“Why?” Anariel asked. “What did I do?”
The mental snort was louder and more sarcastic than the physical one.
“For the zillionth time, the dragon thing was not my fault!”
“You definitely went looking for the dragon,” he pointed out. “And the balrogs. And a trip through Mordor was also your idea, and Arwen made the mistake of writing about the haircut…”
Anariel groaned.
Elves had a thing for hair, and cutting it was taken as seriously as a severe injury. The most she’d ever seen any elf do was trim the occasional split ends, which apparently counted like clipping fingernails. But actual cutting? No way. Haircutter was an insult among elves, as was hairless. (Miryo had explained to her when she got back to Imladris from that trip that a cut as severe as the ones she and Anya had given themselves would only be inflicted as a punishment. He’d had no answer to her entirely reasonable question about how he would have gotten the stench out.)
“I don’t know what trouble anyone thinks I can find here. There is a notable dearth of dark creatures around.”
“Thankfully,” Arador agreed. “So where are we actually going?”
Anariel grinned.
The question implied that going back to Finwë’s House – and slightly overwhelming concentration of relatives there – was optional.
“How do you feel about visiting Gramma Nerdanel?” she suggested. “I need to pick up some stuff there. And maybe figure out if Grandfather Butthead has anything like a whiteboard in his workshop. Notebooks are all well and good, but sometimes a girl needs to brainstorm.”
Arador gave her a slight mental nudge, and she did not sigh as she explained brainstorming. And whiteboard, which apparently had not been mentioned, or at least not under that name, in any of Arwen’s letters or Tindomiel’s time in Tirion.
She was slightly surprised by that. She’d have thought her little sister would have insisted on one in her own workspace.
The city walls were in sight when she finished.
“So, which way from this gate?” she asked.
You’re just asking to see if you’re right, aren’t you?
“Yeah, I have a vague notion where it is, but I might have mixed up the direction.”
“Fair. Left and then uphill.” He paused. “Are you going to cover your hair again?”
She shook her head.
“Nah. The Noldor have to get used to me coming and going at some point. Now’s as good a time as any to make a start. Besides, how subtle can we really be with Huan with us?”
“Woof.”
“Exactly,” she agreed.
Arador didn’t say out loud he didn’t think it would go well, but he didn’t have to.
But Huan took the lead once they were inside the city gate, and most people cleared out of his way. Anariel did her best to note landmarks while not obviously staring at anything. Did the Noldor not believe in street signs? How did people find their way around when they weren’t from here?
Tinwë said something similar when she first arrived, Aarador snickered.
They did occasionally wave or even bow, but Anariel was mostly taking her cue from Arador on that front.
She got totally distracted by one shopfront though. Those wind-up toys were even better than anything she’d seen in Dale…
“I thought we were going to Aunt Nerdanel’s?” Arador prompted.
“We could stop for just a few minutes,” she said hopefully. “If it’s open?”
“For you, I imagine Master Yúlon will open at any time,” Arador muttered, holding the door open.
“No, really!” she protested. “If it’s not open…”
“We are open,” a voice assured her from inside.
She glared at Arador for a split second before she was utterly distracted by everything inside that she hadn’t been able to see from the window.
“Whoa…”
Something like an armillary sphere had an incredibly intricate model of stars, planets, sun, and moon rotating around both Aman and Middle-earth. And if she didn’t miss her guess, they were mostly made of jewels.
“Did you have something particular in mind?” the shopkeeper asked briskly.
“We’re just looking, Master,” Arador replied when Anariel was too busy gaping to reply.
I know who I’m asking if I have trouble with the windup part!
“There’s a windup part?” Arador asked in bemusement.
“A windup part to what, if I may inquire?” the shopkeeper asked.
“The thing like a music box I’m going to put on a certain fountain,” she grinned.
Hm. If music boxes were known here…
They’re nothing like what you explained earlier.
“You wouldn’t be speaking of King Fëanáro’s fountain, surely?”
“She very much is,” Arador sighed. “But please keep that to yourself. She’s nowhere near ready for volunteers yet. Or detractors.”
Way to go, he added silently. Odds are half the city hears about it by morning.
“It’s meant to be a surprise for him,” Anariel explained. “Master…?”
“Yúlon,” the man replied, looking her up and down with curiosity. “And you are?”
She smirked at Arador.
So much for everyone knowing me.
“Anariel,” she answered, offering a hand.
That got a momentary look of confusion before it was accepted.
Is there backstory here I should know? she asked Arador.
No, I think he’s just never encountered a handshake before. It’s not a Noldorin custom.
That was in fact a form of backstory, in Anariel’s mind, but now wasn’t the time.
And clearly the whole city did not know who she was, because Yúlon hadn’t so much as batted an eyelid.
“I shall be patient, then, Anariel, but I hope you will remember me when it comes time to unveil your fountain music box.”
“Definitely,” she grinned.
“I believe you’re a woman of your word. So you may take that little trifle with you – you’re far more interested in it than most.”
“Oh, I couldn’t, you must have put so much work into it…”
“Work appreciated is its own reward,” Yúlon shrugged. “I’ll just pack it for you.”
The marvel of a windup was boxed and being handed to her before she could argue further.
“Woof!” Huan said imperiously from the door.
“Don’t you dare,” Yúlon said sternly. “You, sir, are still banned!”
Anariel turned to her dog.
“What did you do?” she asked in curiosity. “But stay outside while you explain.”
“If he obeys you, lady, kindly ask him to explain elsewhere,” Yúlon said in a tone that was not quite begging.
“Of course,” she assured him. “I’m sorry, he didn’t say before we came in. Next time I’ll have him wait elsewhere.”
Yúlon ushered them out so quickly it didn’t register until the door had shut firmly behind her that he’d called her “princess” on the way out.
Just when she thought she’d gotten away with being normal people…
On the bright side, the rumor won’t be that you’re preparing to prank Uncle Fëanáro, Arador said resignedly.
“You sound like it’s worse than that,” Anariel prompted cautiously.
Yes, because I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re Cousin Tyelko’s daughter.
Anariel’s outrage at that lasted all the way to her grandmother’s house.
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Date: 2023-08-29 03:38 am (UTC)no subject
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