Day 4 - War Stories
Aug. 4th, 2024 07:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grundyscribblingTitle: War Stories
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 and her grandparents get to know one another.
Word Count: 1510
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 and her grandparents get to know one another.
Word Count: 1510
“No, no, no, you can’t complain about that, you started it!”
“How did I start you dragon hunting, little sun?”
“You killed Ancalagon. I was only following in your footsteps… figuratively speaking, seeing you’re banned from setting foot on Middle-earth and I lack a flying ship.”
Elwing had managed not to laugh so far, but it had come close at several points.
Breakfast hadn’t been exactly quiet, but two out of three people at the table had been applying themselves to eating, and Elwing herself had thought as long as food was on her mind, it was a good time to find out some of Anariel’s likes and dislikes. She dared to hope her granddaughter wouldn’t be a stranger in this house.
After breakfast, they'd moved outside to the seaward veranda, where Anariel had introduced Huan – unlike his master, he had never figured in Elwing’s childhood nightmares – and admitted the full story in so far as she knew it of how he’d come to be keeping an eye on her.
Elwing was surprised to discover the great hound was just that – a hound, albeit an immortal Valinorean one. She’d always thought he must be a maia.
With their granddaughter finally here and conversation now possible in both directions, Eärendil was catching up on Anariel’s entire life. (From her perspective, at least. They’d both heard from Elrond, Celebrían, and Tindomiel over the years. And Eärendil had seen a fair amount of it from the skies.)
Not California, though. Though they had learned that Sunny Dale, the town where Anariel and Celebrían had lived, was close to the sea – Anariel might not have been known as a sea-lover in Middle-earth, but watching her eyes light up at the view from the veranda, Elwing suspected there was every chance she’d happily visit here or with other Lindarin kin in Alqualondë often.
It took no great skill to discover that Anariel found the formality of Tirion off-putting. Eärendil didn’t much enjoy it himself, but he at least had the ready excuse of Vingilot’s voyages. Though he had already announced that he would not sail tonight – at least, not in the skies. Elwing suspected he might be persuadable for a more normal cruise on the sea. They didn’t get to do that nearly often enough.
Anariel’s eyes had widened.
“You can do that? Is that a thing you’re allowed to do?”
Eärendil had laughed and asked a nearby bird to carry word to his crew of the unexpected down time.
Ever since, the two rays of sunshine had been trading war(ish) stories while sipping lemonade. Forewarned by multiple elders, Eärendil knew well enough to steer clear of balrogs and Gondolin. The balrog hunt and King Turgon were both sore subjects for Anariel. She wouldn’t be able to avoid the latter forever, but happily he was unlikely to turn up here. And certainly not so quickly, when most of her kin probably had no idea where the girl was yet.
Somehow they had come round to dragons.
“Smaug?” Eärendil asked pointedly.
“I had nothing to do with that!” Anariel protested. “That was a Man of Dale and Thorin and company! I didn’t even meet most of them until after the battle.”
“You were in the battle, though,” Elwing observed.
“Which also wasn’t my idea,” Anariel shrugged. “Dwarven stubbornness plus orcish opportunism equals throwdown. I was just along for the ride. If you really want to blame someone, Thranduil was in charge.”
An impish smirk and a brush against the girl’s mind revealed that Thranduil had shouldered the blame so far as Elrond was concerned.
“Plus he trussed me into that awful dress afterwards,” Anariel added, wrinkling her nose. “Crime against fashion.”
“He evened the account after the dragon incident in the Withered Heath you’re so keen to avoid talking about,” Eärendil observed, all for the world as if he wouldn’t have loved hearing his son tell off Thranduil.
“How many dragons was it in all, darling?” Elwing asked, wanting to come back to the original point.
“Two cold-drakes and one fire-drake,” Anariel sighed. “The fire-drake was the easy one. He was young and stupid and figured fire would take care of everything. Which I guess had worked on the few Men who had tried to deal with him up until then, but didn’t work so well with us. Easy peasy. The cold-drakes were older and smarter.”
“And one of them tossed people into racks of spears,” Eärendil put in, his eyes dancing.
“If it hadn’t been for that, nobody but us would have even known about it,” Anariel grumbled. “Nobody knew about the other one.”
“I still would have,” Eärendil pointed out. “I just would have worried less. That was a very long several days.”
Anariel blushed.
“Sorry. It didn’t seem that long at the time.”
“Probably because you were unconscious for the last day and a half. I wasn’t sure you were going to make it to the Greenwood.”
“You lighting up your ship in red helped,” Anariel admitted. “Xander told me Legolas met them with an advance party, Thranduil had his people scouting in all directions trying to find out what was wrong.”
“Yes, that was why I illuminated it,” Eärendil sighed. “I’m just glad Thranduil took the hint.”
“That misadventure seemed to settle everyone down a bit,” Elwing observed.
“Not knowing of any more dragons helped,” Anariel sighed. “But yeah, right after we patched me up in the dragon’s lair, Willow looked at Tara and said ‘baby, I want to have babies’, and really the only hold up after that was figuring out the logistics of it.”
Having young kin to look after had kept Anariel at Imladris and out of trouble far longer than she otherwise would have been. It had been several years after the dragon incident that Willow and Tara’s daughters were born, and then another few years before Xander and Anya’s children came into the light. After that, Anariel hadn’t strayed far from Elrond’s valley until the Ring War was upon them.
Of course, when she had finally gone forth…
Elwing was diverted from that thought by Eärendil asking Anariel how good she was with boats.
“Don’t know,” Anariel replied, wrinkling her nose. “I’ve never gone sailing. And I missed most of the voyage west.”
Eärendil’s shocked surprise shading into outrage that one of his descendants didn’t know her way around a boat was what finally tipped Elwing into laughter.
“But… how?” he spluttered. “Surely Círdan –“
“We didn’t actually visit him all that often,” Anariel shrugged. “And he never offered to take us out on the water when we did. For all I know, Ada didn’t want us going on boats lest we get ideas about sailing without him. Besides, it seemed like there would be plenty of time for it here. And look, boat!”
She waved in the direction of the dock. Eärendil had not brought Vingilot to their dock – he usually didn’t, mooring it on a quay further up the coast more convenient for most of his crewmates. But in addition to the dinghy he used to get back and forth, the smaller boat they used for daytrips and family parties was there.
“That’s an excellent idea, darling. Why don’t you two take a nap?” Elwing suggested. “While you’re resting I’ll put a few things together and pack a picnic dinner. We can take the ketch down the coast, and Eärendil can start teaching you to sail.”
“Oh, I don’t need a nap,” Anariel told her, as earnest as Elros at five assuring her he was not at all tired, just blinking a bit longer than usual.
“You might not,” Eärendil said ruefully. “But I do. One shouldn’t take a ship out tired, even when the sea is friendly. Conditions can change quickly and you need to be sharp.”
“There’s your first lesson already,” Elwing chuckled. “Go on, rest, both of you. Huan, you’re allowed inside as long as you stay out of the kitchen and don’t damage the furniture. Break those rules, and I’ll change my mind.”
“Sounds like as good a deal as you’re going to get,” Anariel advised the dog. Turning to her grandfather, she added, “Is he allowed on the boat?”
Eärendil eyed the Hound of Valinor (also of a Feanorion not to be mentioned in his wife’s presence.)
“I don’t see why not. You say he’s supposed to keep you out of trouble. And Rôthinzil is big enough not to sink under his weight.”
Huan huffed indignantly at the jibe, but Anariel scratched between his ears and he quieted.
“He’s only teasing. You won’t sink the boat. Anyway, naptime. Can I sleep out here? It’s nice in the shade.”
“I’ll bring you a pillow and a blanket, darling,” Elwing replied, shooing her husband inside ahead of her.
She was unsurprised to see Eärendil peek out the window almost at once. It would take some time to sink in that the girl was finally here.
I could get used to this, Eärendil told her quietly.
Elwing could, too. Even with the dog.
“How did I start you dragon hunting, little sun?”
“You killed Ancalagon. I was only following in your footsteps… figuratively speaking, seeing you’re banned from setting foot on Middle-earth and I lack a flying ship.”
Elwing had managed not to laugh so far, but it had come close at several points.
Breakfast hadn’t been exactly quiet, but two out of three people at the table had been applying themselves to eating, and Elwing herself had thought as long as food was on her mind, it was a good time to find out some of Anariel’s likes and dislikes. She dared to hope her granddaughter wouldn’t be a stranger in this house.
After breakfast, they'd moved outside to the seaward veranda, where Anariel had introduced Huan – unlike his master, he had never figured in Elwing’s childhood nightmares – and admitted the full story in so far as she knew it of how he’d come to be keeping an eye on her.
Elwing was surprised to discover the great hound was just that – a hound, albeit an immortal Valinorean one. She’d always thought he must be a maia.
With their granddaughter finally here and conversation now possible in both directions, Eärendil was catching up on Anariel’s entire life. (From her perspective, at least. They’d both heard from Elrond, Celebrían, and Tindomiel over the years. And Eärendil had seen a fair amount of it from the skies.)
Not California, though. Though they had learned that Sunny Dale, the town where Anariel and Celebrían had lived, was close to the sea – Anariel might not have been known as a sea-lover in Middle-earth, but watching her eyes light up at the view from the veranda, Elwing suspected there was every chance she’d happily visit here or with other Lindarin kin in Alqualondë often.
It took no great skill to discover that Anariel found the formality of Tirion off-putting. Eärendil didn’t much enjoy it himself, but he at least had the ready excuse of Vingilot’s voyages. Though he had already announced that he would not sail tonight – at least, not in the skies. Elwing suspected he might be persuadable for a more normal cruise on the sea. They didn’t get to do that nearly often enough.
Anariel’s eyes had widened.
“You can do that? Is that a thing you’re allowed to do?”
Eärendil had laughed and asked a nearby bird to carry word to his crew of the unexpected down time.
Ever since, the two rays of sunshine had been trading war(ish) stories while sipping lemonade. Forewarned by multiple elders, Eärendil knew well enough to steer clear of balrogs and Gondolin. The balrog hunt and King Turgon were both sore subjects for Anariel. She wouldn’t be able to avoid the latter forever, but happily he was unlikely to turn up here. And certainly not so quickly, when most of her kin probably had no idea where the girl was yet.
Somehow they had come round to dragons.
“Smaug?” Eärendil asked pointedly.
“I had nothing to do with that!” Anariel protested. “That was a Man of Dale and Thorin and company! I didn’t even meet most of them until after the battle.”
“You were in the battle, though,” Elwing observed.
“Which also wasn’t my idea,” Anariel shrugged. “Dwarven stubbornness plus orcish opportunism equals throwdown. I was just along for the ride. If you really want to blame someone, Thranduil was in charge.”
An impish smirk and a brush against the girl’s mind revealed that Thranduil had shouldered the blame so far as Elrond was concerned.
“Plus he trussed me into that awful dress afterwards,” Anariel added, wrinkling her nose. “Crime against fashion.”
“He evened the account after the dragon incident in the Withered Heath you’re so keen to avoid talking about,” Eärendil observed, all for the world as if he wouldn’t have loved hearing his son tell off Thranduil.
“How many dragons was it in all, darling?” Elwing asked, wanting to come back to the original point.
“Two cold-drakes and one fire-drake,” Anariel sighed. “The fire-drake was the easy one. He was young and stupid and figured fire would take care of everything. Which I guess had worked on the few Men who had tried to deal with him up until then, but didn’t work so well with us. Easy peasy. The cold-drakes were older and smarter.”
“And one of them tossed people into racks of spears,” Eärendil put in, his eyes dancing.
“If it hadn’t been for that, nobody but us would have even known about it,” Anariel grumbled. “Nobody knew about the other one.”
“I still would have,” Eärendil pointed out. “I just would have worried less. That was a very long several days.”
Anariel blushed.
“Sorry. It didn’t seem that long at the time.”
“Probably because you were unconscious for the last day and a half. I wasn’t sure you were going to make it to the Greenwood.”
“You lighting up your ship in red helped,” Anariel admitted. “Xander told me Legolas met them with an advance party, Thranduil had his people scouting in all directions trying to find out what was wrong.”
“Yes, that was why I illuminated it,” Eärendil sighed. “I’m just glad Thranduil took the hint.”
“That misadventure seemed to settle everyone down a bit,” Elwing observed.
“Not knowing of any more dragons helped,” Anariel sighed. “But yeah, right after we patched me up in the dragon’s lair, Willow looked at Tara and said ‘baby, I want to have babies’, and really the only hold up after that was figuring out the logistics of it.”
Having young kin to look after had kept Anariel at Imladris and out of trouble far longer than she otherwise would have been. It had been several years after the dragon incident that Willow and Tara’s daughters were born, and then another few years before Xander and Anya’s children came into the light. After that, Anariel hadn’t strayed far from Elrond’s valley until the Ring War was upon them.
Of course, when she had finally gone forth…
Elwing was diverted from that thought by Eärendil asking Anariel how good she was with boats.
“Don’t know,” Anariel replied, wrinkling her nose. “I’ve never gone sailing. And I missed most of the voyage west.”
Eärendil’s shocked surprise shading into outrage that one of his descendants didn’t know her way around a boat was what finally tipped Elwing into laughter.
“But… how?” he spluttered. “Surely Círdan –“
“We didn’t actually visit him all that often,” Anariel shrugged. “And he never offered to take us out on the water when we did. For all I know, Ada didn’t want us going on boats lest we get ideas about sailing without him. Besides, it seemed like there would be plenty of time for it here. And look, boat!”
She waved in the direction of the dock. Eärendil had not brought Vingilot to their dock – he usually didn’t, mooring it on a quay further up the coast more convenient for most of his crewmates. But in addition to the dinghy he used to get back and forth, the smaller boat they used for daytrips and family parties was there.
“That’s an excellent idea, darling. Why don’t you two take a nap?” Elwing suggested. “While you’re resting I’ll put a few things together and pack a picnic dinner. We can take the ketch down the coast, and Eärendil can start teaching you to sail.”
“Oh, I don’t need a nap,” Anariel told her, as earnest as Elros at five assuring her he was not at all tired, just blinking a bit longer than usual.
“You might not,” Eärendil said ruefully. “But I do. One shouldn’t take a ship out tired, even when the sea is friendly. Conditions can change quickly and you need to be sharp.”
“There’s your first lesson already,” Elwing chuckled. “Go on, rest, both of you. Huan, you’re allowed inside as long as you stay out of the kitchen and don’t damage the furniture. Break those rules, and I’ll change my mind.”
“Sounds like as good a deal as you’re going to get,” Anariel advised the dog. Turning to her grandfather, she added, “Is he allowed on the boat?”
Eärendil eyed the Hound of Valinor (also of a Feanorion not to be mentioned in his wife’s presence.)
“I don’t see why not. You say he’s supposed to keep you out of trouble. And Rôthinzil is big enough not to sink under his weight.”
Huan huffed indignantly at the jibe, but Anariel scratched between his ears and he quieted.
“He’s only teasing. You won’t sink the boat. Anyway, naptime. Can I sleep out here? It’s nice in the shade.”
“I’ll bring you a pillow and a blanket, darling,” Elwing replied, shooing her husband inside ahead of her.
She was unsurprised to see Eärendil peek out the window almost at once. It would take some time to sink in that the girl was finally here.
I could get used to this, Eärendil told her quietly.
Elwing could, too. Even with the dog.
