grundyscribbling

Title: Family Secrets
Author: Grundy
Rating: FR13
Summary: Secrets. Not-so-secrets. This family has plenty of both...
Word Count: 2185
Note: There was meant to be an Anariel bit before this, but I was short on writing time and was having trouble getting into her head today. Cross your fingers I have better luck tomorrow.

Carnistir was somewhat taken aback to find himself being firmly escorted elsewhere as his mother and two youngest brothers reunited.

Unlike Tindomiel, who’d wanted to be there to bask in the joy, Anariel apparently felt they needed privacy.

“Of course they do,” she sniffed, steering him onward. “I’ve had to fess up to my mother, too. Audiences are neither appreciated nor wanted.”

Carnistir supposed that was fair. He had just apologized on first sight of Ammë, but for the twins it might be slightly more complicated. He hadn’t been much worried about the audience either. Though it sounded rather like the girl spoke from her own experience…

“What were you fessing up to?” he asked, curious to see what she’d say.

“There’s been plenty over the years, take your pick,” Anariel shrugged, ticking things off on her fingers as she said them. “Mom, I’m the Vampire Slayer. Mom, a hellgod is trying to kill my little sister. Mom, ‘mortal’ is off the table because I kinda died for a little while in California, so you can stop worrying about that. Mom, that whole send me to Thranduil to avoid battles thing didn’t quite work out like you hoped. Mom, I went hiking through Mordor and I really hope you’re going to be the one normal person about a minor haircut because everyone else acted like someone died. Mom, there was a dragon, but my innards are back where they belong now so it’s fine. Look, Mom, no more Sauron! Mom, Morgoth kinda mugged me after Arwen died.”

She paused.

“I think that’s the greatest hits so far.”

Just as well, because Carnistir had gotten more than a bit hung up on several of them.

“So I know whereof I speak when I say it’s less painful to fess up in private.”

“Tinwë focused more on the happy reunion,” he pointed out.

“They’ll still be happy in an hour or two,” Anariel replied. “It’s not like you guys are running away tonight. You’ll be here a while. Maybe a season?”

She sounded rather hopeful about that.

Carnistir did agree that they’d likely be staying with Elrond for some time. He doubted Ammë was going to be in any particular hurry to take Ambarussa to Tirion. She’d most definitely appreciate Elrond’s presence when she did. But everyone knew Anariel needed time before taking her to Tirion again was advisable, and Elrond would hardly leave her here on her own.

He looked around in bemusement as Anariel shut a door behind them. The room they’d ended up in was not Elrond’s library as he’d expected. He hadn’t been in here before.

“This is my study,” Anariel explained. “I hear I have you to thank for that.”

She waved cheerfully at the hanging of the Two Trees. The first time he’d seen it again here in Aman, it had taken his breath away to find it had survived not just Beleriand but Middle-earth intact when nearly nothing else had. That it had been handed on to one of his youngest kin had rather warmed his heart. He’d firmly turned down Elrond’s slightly apologetic secondhand offer to return it – in truth, he’d tolerated the attempt only because the lad had promptly explained that it was straight from his daughter, who had no idea at all what to expect in Aman.

While Anariel spoke of it casually, Míriel’s work had pride of place here – which made him suspect the offer to give it up had not been made lightly.

“It’s Grandmother’s,” he informed her. “It’s her you should thank.”

He wondered if she and Indis knew where it was now.

“You brought it to Beleriand. And kept it safe. That seems like it wasn’t a small thing.”

“I wasn’t around by the time it was given to your father, so I can only suppose it’s either Kano or Maitimo you should be thanking, if you really feel we require it.”

“You could just say ‘you’re welcome’,” Anariel sighed. “Instead of trying to convince me it’s everyone else’s doing.”

Anariel settled herself in one of the cozy chairs, probably the one intended for her in particular, tucking her bare feet up beneath her. She waved at him to take a seat.

He looked around. The room was considerably less martial than he might have expected – not a weapon in sight. Not even a map. Aside from the Trees, the decorations were more woodland Sindarin inspired. Her chair was close to the fireplace, but there were a few others and a couch also clustered around.

After a moment’s thought, he picked one of the individual chairs, the one directly opposite her.

“You’re my first visitor in here,” she informed him. “Nana and Ada set it all up for me, and Tinu says she helped some, too. I think they did a good job.”

“Ah, this is where you’re hiding!”

Anariel looked surprised for a split second. Then again, perhaps with so many kin about, she hadn’t been paying attention to who was where…

Artanis closed the door behind her, smirking at having startled both of them.

“Who’s hiding? It’s my study.”

Anariel sounded slightly nettled.

“So I see, darling. They improved on the one in Imladris, the view here is even nicer – a waterfall of your own. And more shelves as well… I hadn’t realized you had so many books, you never had them all out at once.”

“I never had some of them out at all,” Anariel said evenly.

If Carnistir had caught that she had been hoping for time with just him, Artë surely had also. But she dropped onto the couch with the air of one not going anywhere anytime soon.

“I’m surprised you’re joining us,” Carnistir snorted. “Shouldn’t you and Irissë be off wreaking havoc?”

Anariel grinned. From what Carnistir had seen, she wasn’t at all intimidated by Irissë, who her older brothers had dubbed ‘Aunt Trouble’ with equal parts respect and healthy caution.

“Irissë wanted some time with Tinu and Maeglin,” Artë shrugged. “So I thought I’d come see what light this one could shed on Ambarussa’s sudden appearance. She’s been doing a good job of avoiding questions about it thus far.”

She looked at Anariel expectantly.

“That was nothing to do with me,” the girl assured them. “I was in Neldoreth same as everyone else.”

“Tindomiel’s been known to dart to the Halls ‘just for a little while’,” Artë observed.

“That’s her, not me,” Anariel said firmly. “All I was doing was getting away from Grandma Grumpy.”

Judging by her face, ‘Grandma Grumpy’ was the tactful version of whatever she was privately calling whoever she meant.

“Nimloth did not mean to upset you,” Artë sighed. “But she’s had a hard time of it. You’re going to have to be patient with her.”

“Only if I’m anywhere near her,” Anariel muttered.

By the sounds of it, she didn’t intend to be. Her expression suddenly turned mock-innocent. Carnistir had seen the same expression on Artanis often enough to know whatever came next would be entertaining.

“But as long as you’re here,” Anariel said brightly, “what was the deal with you and Curufin? I’ve been wondering.”

Artanis couldn’t quite stifle her reaction. Carnistir was surprised as well, though less because of Artanis than because Anariel sounded truly neutral about his little brother – unlike Tinwë, who openly detested him.

“Why do you ask, darling?” Artanis wanted to know.

Carnistir was sure that was a stall tactic, and wondered why she was putting off answering. He didn’t think she’d get away with it long.

“Conflicting reports and all that,” Anariel said. “Plus the whole you killing him thing, which somehow was never mentioned…”

Carnistir managed to keep silent, but Artanis glared at him as though he were somehow responsible all the same.

“Did you put her up to this?” she demanded.

“Nope,” Anariel answered before he could. “Entirely my own curiosity.”

“How did you find out?” Artanis asked, still looking suspiciously at her older cousin.

Carnistir thought that a bit rich, given he’d warned her Anariel had seen Menegroth.

“Slayer dream,” Anariel shrugged.

Now Artanis’ full attention was on her granddaughter.

“When, darling? I thought those had stopped some time ago.”

“There’s no rhyme or reason to Slayer dreams,” Anariel shrugged. “They still happen sometimes. This one was in Tirion. But I didn’t see enough to know if killing him was intentional or not.”

Carnistir couldn’t quite keep quiet at that, though he did manage to turn it into a cough.

“Something to add, Moryo?” Artanis asked frostily.

“Nothing,” he got out. “I didn’t say a word until she brought it up. She’s already giving you the benefit of doubt, more than I expected. You’re all forever telling me how strongly against kinslaying the Sindar are...”

Anariel was actually giving Curvo the benefit of the doubt, far more so than he’d expected. Even Elrond held Menegroth against him, and couldn’t quite conceal that he didn’t care for ‘Curufin’, though he did his very best around Ammë.

“Darling, you’ve had enough mishaps yourself to understand that sometimes when you play with swords, things don’t go according to plan,” Artanis sighed.

“Yeah, accidents happen. But you could have said sooner,” Anariel frowned. “Everyone thinks he was trying to kill kids. And almost killed you.”

“That part is accurate, even if it wasn’t by design,” Artanis said quietly. “It was supposed to not much more than a scratch. Just serious enough to look bad. I thought that’s all it was. But it wouldn’t stop bleeding.”

“Well duh, he nicked the vein,” Anariel said. She refrained from rolling her eyes, but plainly the severity of the wound had been obvious to her. “If you didn’t stop to deal with it then and there…”

“She was a little busy running away,” Carnistir felt compelled to point out. “If she’d stuck around, someone other than me would have found out what happened.”

“Which would also have ended badly,” Anariel nodded. “But like everyone’s always telling me, you have to take care of yourself, even when you think something’s not that big a deal.”

Carnistir looked from one to the other, bemused at the combination of smugness and glee from Anariel.

Artanis shook her head.

“She’s thinking of the dragon incident,” she explained. Turning to her granddaughter, she added, “you’re enjoying this far too much, darling.”

“Getting to tell someone else they should have known things were more serious, and probably should have gotten stitches? Of course I am,” Anariel smirked. “Though I would think you could have told Grandfather it was an accident. He’d have believed you.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Artanis said doubtfully. “Not after the kinslaying.”

There was something odd in her expression that put Carnistir in mind of her childhood, when she’d confess to a minor infraction to get away with something more serious. But he couldn’t think what under the stars she’d think a more serious matter than kinslaying, accidental or not.

“Does this mean you’re going to restore my brother’s name?” Carnistir asked.

“Good one,” Anariel snickered. “He was still involved in two Kinslayings. Also, my sister threatened to disown me over the suggestion that your older brother might not have been in his right mind by Menegroth. That was back in Imladris, and as far as I know, she hasn’t changed her mind on that. So taking up for both of them is a bridge too far.”

Carnistir supposed that hadn’t been helped by him repurposing Tyelko’s tunic for her. Though it wasn’t Tindomiel’s reaction he’d had in mind when he did.

“So what exactly were the pair of you doing playing with swords in the middle of what was already a kinslaying by that point?” he asked Artanis.

She sighed.

“If you must know, Curvo had the notion that if he had the children, Dior would give up the Silmaril. I suspected he’d try something like that, so I was guarding the nursery.”

Carnistir spluttered at that.

“Had I known Dior had already sent the blasted stone away with Elwing and Celeborn, I’d have told him and been done with it. But Dior kept that from all of us.”

“Ah,” Anariel nodded. “Make it look like he got past you to get the boys, because you didn’t actually give a rat’s behind about the Silmaril, just about keeping everyone safe. Good thinking, except for the part where the sword ended up in his chest. Oh, and the part where things probably would have gone wrong some other way if he had gotten them. Because Doom of the Noldor.”

Artanis flinched, but Anariel didn’t seem bothered in the least.

“I suppose given some of your plans…” Artanis sighed.

“Why, what has your littlest one done?” Carnistir asked, more to lure her into thinking he hadn’t noticed anything suspicious than out of real curiosity.

“Oh, did she not tell you what upset Atto and Uncle so much that she high-tailed it out of Tirion?” Artanis asked with an entirely too satisfied grin.

Anariel rolled her eyes and slumped back against the cushions of her chair in resignation as Artanis gleefully took her revenge