Day 7 - We Didn't Start The Fire
Aug. 7th, 2024 10:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grundyscribblingTitle: We Didn't Start The Fire
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: It was supposed to be a quiet evening. But things have a way of happening...
Word Count: 1120
Note: Sorry to break off just when it was getting good, but if I kept going, I have a feeling it was going to barrel over the wordcount limit.
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: It was supposed to be a quiet evening. But things have a way of happening...
Word Count: 1120
Note: Sorry to break off just when it was getting good, but if I kept going, I have a feeling it was going to barrel over the wordcount limit.
Elwing tried not to laugh.
Anariel had been not quite pouting all afternoon at hearing that Eärendil felt bound to take Vingilot out. After several days on the ground, he had reluctantly said he ought to sail tonight. (Though for all her sighs, Anariel had not actually asked him not to go. Elwing suspected the same sense of duty motivating her husband hid beneath their granddaughter’s light-hearted exterior.)
Huan had been whuff’ing reproachfully at her whenever her mournful looks threatened to cross the line from disappointment into undue guilt. But now that Eärendil had actually headed out and could no longer see, there was definite moping happening. Huan was leaving her to it – he’d plopped himself down in what seemed to be his favorite spot in the garden, beneath a curtain of flowering jasmine and gone to sleep.
Anariel, deprived of her canine audience, flopped onto the lounge on the veranda.
“I'm still here, you know, darling,” Elwing called through the open window.
“I know,” Anariel sighed. “I just… it was nice seeing both of you. At once. You’re so adorable together.”
Elwing couldn’t help the smile.
“You may want to go freshen up, we’re expecting company for dinner.”
That got a grumble, but Anariel did get herself moving.
“Not like lots of company, right?” she asked on her way through the kitchen.
“No, just a few people,” Elwing assured her.
If Eärendil hadn’t resumed his usual routine, she wouldn’t have offered, but as he was gone, she’d judged Anariel could do with a spot of novelty. And really, they’d been so patient she felt she owed them the invitation.
Her aunt and uncle are as keen as any other relatives on Anariel’s Lindarin side to meet her, all the more so for knowing Grandfather and Grandmother already had.
“Do I need to be fancy?” Anariel called from her room, where she was doubtless surveying her wardrobe.
The girl hadn’t brought much with her, but Elwing had had years to prepare for her granddaughter’s arrival – and the connivance of her son, law-daughter, and youngest granddaughter for the last few decades.
She was curious to see what Anariel would pick.
When Anariel came back into the kitchen half an hour later, she’d gone for grey leggings, a shimmery green top, and a light blue sweater slung over her shoulders, ready for when the sun had been down longer and the night turned brisk.
The sweater would please her aunt. Speaking of which..
“I’ve got dinner nearly ready, darling, and it would be a shame for you to get anything on your lovely new top. Why don’t you go wait for our guests at the dock?”
There was a split second of faint confusion on Anariel’s face before she made the connection that more people in these parts would sail than walk any distance.
“Are you sure you don’t want any help?”
“Eärendil did most of the work earlier,” Elwing assured her. “All I’m really doing now is warming things up and assembling. He’s the better cook. He claims it’s because I spent too much time studying and doing paperwork while other people cooked.”
He had half a point, but she’d had a good many years in Aman to learn. She was fairly good at it these days, even if she’d never quite caught up on that head start her mate had gotten learning from his parents and any other survivors of Ondolindë as a child.
Besides, her husband seized every opportunity to cook for his son and grandchildren. He liked taking care of them. Elwing didn’t see the point to objecting. She wasn’t the one stuck sailing the skies regularly, taking her away from them. She had other opportunities to fuss over her nearest and dearest.
Anariel gave the culinary proceedings an interested once over before she ambled down to the dock, calling for Huan to come keep her company while she waited for company.
Elwing couldn’t help the giggle. They probably deplored her Sindarin lack of formality, but the Noldor must love the ready wordplay.
She just hoped Huan’s presence didn’t come as a shock to her aunt and uncle. As far as she knew, Celegorm’s dog hadn’t set foot in Alqualondë since the Kinslaying.
He didn’t so much as bite anyone, Anariel informed her indignantly. He actually tried to get certain stupid maybe kinda kinsmen of mine to stop being stabbity and start being reasonable.
That sense of foreboding Elwing had gotten the first night came back full force.
“Darling, I know you mean well, but you ought to be careful about calling Celegorm Feanorion any kind of kinsman in front of some of our kin. Particularly my mother.”
She didn’t have to see her granddaughter’s face to know there was a moue of distaste on it at the mention of that particular grandmother.
“She and Tindomiel have come to a trace,” Elwing added. “I’ll ask you to remember the same thing I told Tinu – my mother is bereft in a way few in Aman are. My father chose mortality, and she did not get any warning or even a farewell before he departed the circles of the world.”
Anariel was back inside so swiftly Elwing had to remind herself that ainur could move between places just as easily as Tinu could.
“Wait, what now?”
There was a distinct edge to Anariel’s voice – and the suppressed anger didn’t seem to be directed at Nana.
“I thought the choice of the peredhil started with you and Granddad.”
“Apparently it was offered to my father and brothers as well,” Elwing said quietly. “I don’t know that my brothers understood it in the least, young as they were. They wanted Nana…”
“And Namo took that as their Choice?”
Elwing nearly recoiled. That had passed anger and boiled into rage – tightly controlled, but definitely rage – so swiftly she wasn’t certain how best to react.
“Did he actually explain anything to your dad?” Anariel demanded.
Elwing shrugged helplessly. No one knew what Lord Badhron had or hadn’t said to Dior Eluchíl before he left the world for all time.
Anariel must have gleaned that straight from her mind, because the fury somehow went up a notch.
GRANDMOTHER.
Fortunately, the girl had focused her shout entirely at Grandmother – for she had meant Melian, not Elwing.
The next second, Elwing was looking at an empty kitchen, and an anxious Huan prancing nervously in the doorway.
“I don’t suppose you have any idea where she went?” she asked the dog wearily.
A sharp bark indicated he didn’t.
“I guess under the circumstances you’d better lay down right there. I don’t know if she’ll be back before our guests arrive, and I don’t think meeting you first without her will improve anyone’s evening.”
Anariel had been not quite pouting all afternoon at hearing that Eärendil felt bound to take Vingilot out. After several days on the ground, he had reluctantly said he ought to sail tonight. (Though for all her sighs, Anariel had not actually asked him not to go. Elwing suspected the same sense of duty motivating her husband hid beneath their granddaughter’s light-hearted exterior.)
Huan had been whuff’ing reproachfully at her whenever her mournful looks threatened to cross the line from disappointment into undue guilt. But now that Eärendil had actually headed out and could no longer see, there was definite moping happening. Huan was leaving her to it – he’d plopped himself down in what seemed to be his favorite spot in the garden, beneath a curtain of flowering jasmine and gone to sleep.
Anariel, deprived of her canine audience, flopped onto the lounge on the veranda.
“I'm still here, you know, darling,” Elwing called through the open window.
“I know,” Anariel sighed. “I just… it was nice seeing both of you. At once. You’re so adorable together.”
Elwing couldn’t help the smile.
“You may want to go freshen up, we’re expecting company for dinner.”
That got a grumble, but Anariel did get herself moving.
“Not like lots of company, right?” she asked on her way through the kitchen.
“No, just a few people,” Elwing assured her.
If Eärendil hadn’t resumed his usual routine, she wouldn’t have offered, but as he was gone, she’d judged Anariel could do with a spot of novelty. And really, they’d been so patient she felt she owed them the invitation.
Her aunt and uncle are as keen as any other relatives on Anariel’s Lindarin side to meet her, all the more so for knowing Grandfather and Grandmother already had.
“Do I need to be fancy?” Anariel called from her room, where she was doubtless surveying her wardrobe.
The girl hadn’t brought much with her, but Elwing had had years to prepare for her granddaughter’s arrival – and the connivance of her son, law-daughter, and youngest granddaughter for the last few decades.
She was curious to see what Anariel would pick.
When Anariel came back into the kitchen half an hour later, she’d gone for grey leggings, a shimmery green top, and a light blue sweater slung over her shoulders, ready for when the sun had been down longer and the night turned brisk.
The sweater would please her aunt. Speaking of which..
“I’ve got dinner nearly ready, darling, and it would be a shame for you to get anything on your lovely new top. Why don’t you go wait for our guests at the dock?”
There was a split second of faint confusion on Anariel’s face before she made the connection that more people in these parts would sail than walk any distance.
“Are you sure you don’t want any help?”
“Eärendil did most of the work earlier,” Elwing assured her. “All I’m really doing now is warming things up and assembling. He’s the better cook. He claims it’s because I spent too much time studying and doing paperwork while other people cooked.”
He had half a point, but she’d had a good many years in Aman to learn. She was fairly good at it these days, even if she’d never quite caught up on that head start her mate had gotten learning from his parents and any other survivors of Ondolindë as a child.
Besides, her husband seized every opportunity to cook for his son and grandchildren. He liked taking care of them. Elwing didn’t see the point to objecting. She wasn’t the one stuck sailing the skies regularly, taking her away from them. She had other opportunities to fuss over her nearest and dearest.
Anariel gave the culinary proceedings an interested once over before she ambled down to the dock, calling for Huan to come keep her company while she waited for company.
Elwing couldn’t help the giggle. They probably deplored her Sindarin lack of formality, but the Noldor must love the ready wordplay.
She just hoped Huan’s presence didn’t come as a shock to her aunt and uncle. As far as she knew, Celegorm’s dog hadn’t set foot in Alqualondë since the Kinslaying.
He didn’t so much as bite anyone, Anariel informed her indignantly. He actually tried to get certain stupid maybe kinda kinsmen of mine to stop being stabbity and start being reasonable.
That sense of foreboding Elwing had gotten the first night came back full force.
“Darling, I know you mean well, but you ought to be careful about calling Celegorm Feanorion any kind of kinsman in front of some of our kin. Particularly my mother.”
She didn’t have to see her granddaughter’s face to know there was a moue of distaste on it at the mention of that particular grandmother.
“She and Tindomiel have come to a trace,” Elwing added. “I’ll ask you to remember the same thing I told Tinu – my mother is bereft in a way few in Aman are. My father chose mortality, and she did not get any warning or even a farewell before he departed the circles of the world.”
Anariel was back inside so swiftly Elwing had to remind herself that ainur could move between places just as easily as Tinu could.
“Wait, what now?”
There was a distinct edge to Anariel’s voice – and the suppressed anger didn’t seem to be directed at Nana.
“I thought the choice of the peredhil started with you and Granddad.”
“Apparently it was offered to my father and brothers as well,” Elwing said quietly. “I don’t know that my brothers understood it in the least, young as they were. They wanted Nana…”
“And Namo took that as their Choice?”
Elwing nearly recoiled. That had passed anger and boiled into rage – tightly controlled, but definitely rage – so swiftly she wasn’t certain how best to react.
“Did he actually explain anything to your dad?” Anariel demanded.
Elwing shrugged helplessly. No one knew what Lord Badhron had or hadn’t said to Dior Eluchíl before he left the world for all time.
Anariel must have gleaned that straight from her mind, because the fury somehow went up a notch.
GRANDMOTHER.
Fortunately, the girl had focused her shout entirely at Grandmother – for she had meant Melian, not Elwing.
The next second, Elwing was looking at an empty kitchen, and an anxious Huan prancing nervously in the doorway.
“I don’t suppose you have any idea where she went?” she asked the dog wearily.
A sharp bark indicated he didn’t.
“I guess under the circumstances you’d better lay down right there. I don’t know if she’ll be back before our guests arrive, and I don’t think meeting you first without her will improve anyone’s evening.”
