Day 16 - Three To Make Ready
Aug. 16th, 2024 10:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grundyscribblingTitle: Three To Make Ready
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: The new trio are off on another whirlwind adventure.
Word Count: 1215 (I think. Word's being funny tonight. It swore the wordcount was 1108 for several paragraphs.)
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: The new trio are off on another whirlwind adventure.
Word Count: 1215 (I think. Word's being funny tonight. It swore the wordcount was 1108 for several paragraphs.)
“The bath is ready,” Elwing greeted them.
Anariel blinked.
“I need a bath?” she asked in bemusement, glancing to her cousins.
“I am not sending you to your first Lindarin festival covered in salt and sand,” Elwing said firmly. “And as I expect your fellow conspirators have dipped more than a toe in the water on the way here, they might as well wash up, too.”
Arador gave a half shrug. Sololindo didn’t say anything, but she caught a mental air of ‘what can you do?’ from him.
Anariel spared half a moment to reflect on what she would have thought if she’d come here directly from Sunnydale and her grandmother casually proposed bathing with a newly met cousin. (Male or female would hardly have mattered at that point.)
Now, of course, it sounded like a great idea. Just one thing…
“Festival?” she asked.
“It’s midsummer,” Sololindo said, looking mildly surprised. Apparently he was stating the obvious.
Anariel frowned. She’d lost track of time. How long had she been in Lorien anyway? Then again, in this latitude, the difference between seasons wasn’t as noticeable as it had been in Imladris.
“And that’s a big deal?” she said uncertainly.
It hadn’t been in the Greenwood, but everyone had been telling her she’d never known the Greenwood as it should be. By the time she had returned to Arda, it had already been under the Shadow for long-years.
“Yes!” the boys answered in unison.
“Bath,” Elwing reminded them. “You can argue about what to wear once you’ve cleaned up.”
“Who’s arguing?” Arador snorted as they headed bathwards down the hallway.
“The Lindar are not fussy like the Noldor,” Sololindo added. “Besides, she’s the Eluchil. She can wear whatever she wants!”
Anariel shrugged out of her clothes and plunged into the bathing pool, surfacing just in time to hear her grandmother’s sigh.
“You know perfectly well that first impressions matter, Sololindo Eärlindion,” Elwing reproved him. “For a start, she can’t go wearing anything from Tirion.”
“Didn’t Arwen send anything for the Lindar?” Anariel asked.
“No, she thought on Alqualondë and Tirion. She wouldn’t have known what else to expect,” Elwing replied. “The sea jasmine scrub you liked is on the shelf. And mind you get all the sand out of your hair.”
Anariel watched in bemusement as her grandmother bustled off.
“Is it me or is she nervous about this?” she asked.
“Maybe?” Arador said uncertainly. “I don’t see her often enough to be sure.”
“Possibly the stories of your first outing in Tirion preceded you,” Sololindo suggested.
“The Lindar approved of that!”
“Mmm, but you can see where someone hoping you’ll be a well-behaved little Eluchil may be disconcerted at the prospect of you emulating some of your grandfather or Oropher’s wilder moments.”
“I think you’ve heard better stories than I have,” Anariel prompted hopefully.
Sololindo obligingly launched into a tale he’d heard about her grandfather before Grandmother had ever heard of Doriath. When Elwing stuck her head in what she said was half an hour later, she found the three of them giggling like elflings.
“Here, darling, you should wear this,” Elwing said, once she’d herded them out of the water and into Anariel’s room to dress. “It’s not too dressy.”
Anariel recognized the circlet she held out, for it was one she’d worn to her first shindig in Thranduil’s hall. Celeborn had sent it for her, and probably for much the same reason Elwing thought it suited for tonight – it had been her great-grandmother’s once, and survived the fall of both Doriath and Beleriand itself to be handed down to her.
But this time she would be in charge of the rest of her outfit.
She tore through the closet until she found something Arwen had made, even if it hadn’t been for a specific occasion. It was in shades of green the Woodlanders had approved of, with gold accents. Put together with the niphredil and seregon circlet, she suspected the Lindar would approve.
As for her hair…
Her fingers flew as she worked her brag braids in, but smaller and more subtle than the ones Grandfather and Thingol had done. These braids could be slipped in among artfully tousled hair – there if anyone looked, but not in your face about it.
“May I?”
Sololindo asked first, a wry acknowledgement that they had only just met that day, and among elves, touching hair was only for close friends and family.
She nodded, curious what he wanted to change.
He brushed back a lock here, pulled forward another there, thought about it, changed things just a bit again, then turned her to the mirror.
Now the circlet was still there, but just as cleverly worked in as her braids – it looked almost as if the flowers and leaves had simply grown on her head. It was less wearing a circlet than accenting her hair.
“Nice,” she grinned. “Score one for the scoundrel.”
“I do not like that I am the Chew-bock-a in this analogy,” Arador sighed.
“I’d say you could be Luke, but that would make me Leia, and that would be weird considering Luke turned out to be her brother and she hooked up with Han. Besides, he’s Han and Lando, so it’s clearly not a one to one.”
“No more war on the stars,” Solo said firmly. “We are going to have a good time tonight without any wars.”
Anariel grinned.
“Works for me,” she said.
“You should take less formal clothes also,” Arador suggested. “Just because everyone starts dressed up…”
“We always end up swimming at some point,” Solo clarified. “And no one ever wants to put their good things back on after and get them damp.”
“Also, it’s a decent walk back. Pick something you can put on after swimming and be happy tramping back from Three Brothers Beach in.”
“That would help so much more if I had any idea what or where Three Brothers Beach was,” Anariel grumbled.
But she added everyday clothes and a small towel to a pack that wouldn’t ruin the effect of her current outfit – which turned out not to matter at all since Arador informed her he was carrying everyone’s things. (She’d seen enough lost bets between Gildor and Erestor to know there had been one involved here. She’d worm the story out of one of them later.)
“Will we do, Aunty?” Arador asked Elwing.
She looked all three of them up and down.
“You might have worn a more practical color than white, Sololindo,” she said. “But yes, you’ll do.”
“I’d say she’ll more than do,” Solo snorted. “Come on, let’s go. We have to get you there before nightfall or you’ll miss the lighting of the bonfires. It would be a shame to have to wait until next midsummer to see it when you’re already here now.”
Anariel glanced at Elwing, but found her smiling.
“Enjoy yourselves,” she told them. “Your grandfather and I will want to hear all about it when you get back.”
“You’re not going?” Anariel asked, slightly surprised.
“You’re not a little one to need your gran holding your hand,” Elwing smiled. “Besides, it’s not as though you won’t find kin there. I’ll have a quiet night and you can tell me what a marvelous time you had tomorrow evening.”
"Right. Let's get this party started."
Anariel blinked.
“I need a bath?” she asked in bemusement, glancing to her cousins.
“I am not sending you to your first Lindarin festival covered in salt and sand,” Elwing said firmly. “And as I expect your fellow conspirators have dipped more than a toe in the water on the way here, they might as well wash up, too.”
Arador gave a half shrug. Sololindo didn’t say anything, but she caught a mental air of ‘what can you do?’ from him.
Anariel spared half a moment to reflect on what she would have thought if she’d come here directly from Sunnydale and her grandmother casually proposed bathing with a newly met cousin. (Male or female would hardly have mattered at that point.)
Now, of course, it sounded like a great idea. Just one thing…
“Festival?” she asked.
“It’s midsummer,” Sololindo said, looking mildly surprised. Apparently he was stating the obvious.
Anariel frowned. She’d lost track of time. How long had she been in Lorien anyway? Then again, in this latitude, the difference between seasons wasn’t as noticeable as it had been in Imladris.
“And that’s a big deal?” she said uncertainly.
It hadn’t been in the Greenwood, but everyone had been telling her she’d never known the Greenwood as it should be. By the time she had returned to Arda, it had already been under the Shadow for long-years.
“Yes!” the boys answered in unison.
“Bath,” Elwing reminded them. “You can argue about what to wear once you’ve cleaned up.”
“Who’s arguing?” Arador snorted as they headed bathwards down the hallway.
“The Lindar are not fussy like the Noldor,” Sololindo added. “Besides, she’s the Eluchil. She can wear whatever she wants!”
Anariel shrugged out of her clothes and plunged into the bathing pool, surfacing just in time to hear her grandmother’s sigh.
“You know perfectly well that first impressions matter, Sololindo Eärlindion,” Elwing reproved him. “For a start, she can’t go wearing anything from Tirion.”
“Didn’t Arwen send anything for the Lindar?” Anariel asked.
“No, she thought on Alqualondë and Tirion. She wouldn’t have known what else to expect,” Elwing replied. “The sea jasmine scrub you liked is on the shelf. And mind you get all the sand out of your hair.”
Anariel watched in bemusement as her grandmother bustled off.
“Is it me or is she nervous about this?” she asked.
“Maybe?” Arador said uncertainly. “I don’t see her often enough to be sure.”
“Possibly the stories of your first outing in Tirion preceded you,” Sololindo suggested.
“The Lindar approved of that!”
“Mmm, but you can see where someone hoping you’ll be a well-behaved little Eluchil may be disconcerted at the prospect of you emulating some of your grandfather or Oropher’s wilder moments.”
“I think you’ve heard better stories than I have,” Anariel prompted hopefully.
Sololindo obligingly launched into a tale he’d heard about her grandfather before Grandmother had ever heard of Doriath. When Elwing stuck her head in what she said was half an hour later, she found the three of them giggling like elflings.
“Here, darling, you should wear this,” Elwing said, once she’d herded them out of the water and into Anariel’s room to dress. “It’s not too dressy.”
Anariel recognized the circlet she held out, for it was one she’d worn to her first shindig in Thranduil’s hall. Celeborn had sent it for her, and probably for much the same reason Elwing thought it suited for tonight – it had been her great-grandmother’s once, and survived the fall of both Doriath and Beleriand itself to be handed down to her.
But this time she would be in charge of the rest of her outfit.
She tore through the closet until she found something Arwen had made, even if it hadn’t been for a specific occasion. It was in shades of green the Woodlanders had approved of, with gold accents. Put together with the niphredil and seregon circlet, she suspected the Lindar would approve.
As for her hair…
Her fingers flew as she worked her brag braids in, but smaller and more subtle than the ones Grandfather and Thingol had done. These braids could be slipped in among artfully tousled hair – there if anyone looked, but not in your face about it.
“May I?”
Sololindo asked first, a wry acknowledgement that they had only just met that day, and among elves, touching hair was only for close friends and family.
She nodded, curious what he wanted to change.
He brushed back a lock here, pulled forward another there, thought about it, changed things just a bit again, then turned her to the mirror.
Now the circlet was still there, but just as cleverly worked in as her braids – it looked almost as if the flowers and leaves had simply grown on her head. It was less wearing a circlet than accenting her hair.
“Nice,” she grinned. “Score one for the scoundrel.”
“I do not like that I am the Chew-bock-a in this analogy,” Arador sighed.
“I’d say you could be Luke, but that would make me Leia, and that would be weird considering Luke turned out to be her brother and she hooked up with Han. Besides, he’s Han and Lando, so it’s clearly not a one to one.”
“No more war on the stars,” Solo said firmly. “We are going to have a good time tonight without any wars.”
Anariel grinned.
“Works for me,” she said.
“You should take less formal clothes also,” Arador suggested. “Just because everyone starts dressed up…”
“We always end up swimming at some point,” Solo clarified. “And no one ever wants to put their good things back on after and get them damp.”
“Also, it’s a decent walk back. Pick something you can put on after swimming and be happy tramping back from Three Brothers Beach in.”
“That would help so much more if I had any idea what or where Three Brothers Beach was,” Anariel grumbled.
But she added everyday clothes and a small towel to a pack that wouldn’t ruin the effect of her current outfit – which turned out not to matter at all since Arador informed her he was carrying everyone’s things. (She’d seen enough lost bets between Gildor and Erestor to know there had been one involved here. She’d worm the story out of one of them later.)
“Will we do, Aunty?” Arador asked Elwing.
She looked all three of them up and down.
“You might have worn a more practical color than white, Sololindo,” she said. “But yes, you’ll do.”
“I’d say she’ll more than do,” Solo snorted. “Come on, let’s go. We have to get you there before nightfall or you’ll miss the lighting of the bonfires. It would be a shame to have to wait until next midsummer to see it when you’re already here now.”
Anariel glanced at Elwing, but found her smiling.
“Enjoy yourselves,” she told them. “Your grandfather and I will want to hear all about it when you get back.”
“You’re not going?” Anariel asked, slightly surprised.
“You’re not a little one to need your gran holding your hand,” Elwing smiled. “Besides, it’s not as though you won’t find kin there. I’ll have a quiet night and you can tell me what a marvelous time you had tomorrow evening.”
"Right. Let's get this party started."
