Picking Up The Pieces by Grundy  

The Newlyweds

Tindomiel smiled as she drowsed against Maeglin’s chest. Since Melian’s departure, they had passed the day in a haze of intense talk interspersed with lovemaking. They’d had a few more snacks in between, just enough to keep them going.

She had never felt so simultaneously tired and energized in her life.

Among other things, she’d been trying to catch her mate up on all the history he’d missed, starting with everything else that had gone on in Beleriand after the Nirnaeth. (And a few things before, actually. Gondolin hadn’t exactly kept up with the news.) They hadn’t gotten as far as the War of Wrath yet, because he had so many questions.

Actually, they weren’t even to the Second Kinslaying, which she considered slightly more important. She was hoping they’d get to that soon – she thought it was kind of important to explain her immediate family, seeing at they were now his in-laws.

Maeglin had things to tell her too, things history hadn’t bothered to record, like meeting his extended family right before the Nirnaeth, and how if things had gone just slightly differently, he might have returned with Fingon to Hithlum. And now that he could remember it, he had tons of stories to tell about his youth in Nan Elmoth and visits to Doriath. She would listen to as many of those as he wanted, given that not only did it seem to be helping him, his whole fëa lit up when he talked about it.

She roused when she heard Anairon’s tentative Are you two decent?

“By Noldorin standards, not in the least,” she replied aloud with a grin he wouldn’t see but was probably imagining from her tone. “If you meant are we singing marriage song, no, not right now. But be warned, there is still full nudity.”

She deliberately went with one of the politest Noldorin euphemisms. She was surprised Anairon had disturbed them at all and didn’t want to make the moment any more awkward than she knew it already was for him.

She would have put clothes on if she had any idea where most of them had ended up.

“I come bearing food,” Anairon announced, setting down a fragrant stew in two bread bowls. “I thought you might be ready for it by now.”

“And if we weren’t?” Tindomiel asked impishly.

“Then I would have resorted to stronger measures than asking nicely,” Anairon replied, a hint more of his father showing than usual. “The pair of you haven’t eaten a proper meal in over a week.”

And he really ought to be eating more often than usual right now, he added reproachfully to Tindomiel. Those little things I’ve been bringing are not adequate for someone newly returned. Your timing is atrocious!

“Not one of your better jokes,” Tindomiel snorted, though her stomach was growling at the scent wafting up from the bowls. By the looks of it, he’d gone hunting at least once – and as usual been perfectly fine once he wasn’t worried about an audience. “But thanks.”

“Good, seeing as I wasn’t joking,” Anairon said drily. “I call it wedding stew, by the way. I didn’t have everything I’d need to make the traditional wedding soup, and improvising only goes so far.”

Tindomiel was stuck on the ‘over a week’ part, and gearing up to protest as soon as she could martial any sensible argument. She hadn’t been paying attention to the time, but she was sure it hadn’t been that long.

“He’s probably correct,” Maeglin pre-empted her gently. “It would not be unusual. We thank you, kinsman.”

Tindomiel blinked, more at her mate’s easy agreement with Anairon’s preposterous timeline than at him tactfully calling Anairon ‘kinsmen’ to save himself the knotty problem of whether to address the other man as ‘uncle’ or ‘cousin’.

“But…”

She had no real standard to judge by, having not known any elven couples getting married. Glorfindel and Ecthelion’s engagement was still an informal understanding only, and looked set to remain so until Tas and Cali came of age. They hadn’t figured out yet whether it was Glorfindel or Ecthelion being old-fashioned, but somebody definitely was, to general frustration on the part of both the Laurefindiel and their grandparents. (And possibly Ecthelion’s parents as well, but Tindomiel didn’t know them well enough to be privy to their thoughts on the matter.)

The only weddings she’d ever attended had all been back in Ennor. First had been Willow and Tara’s and Xander and Anya’s – all Men, not elves, and Men of California at that. There had also been Arwen and Estel’s wedding, of course, but that had been very much a Mannish ceremony, not an elven one, and a couple that weren’t both elves. Plus the circumstances of their wedding hadn’t allowed for a proper honeymoon, what with a city and kingdom to rebuild…

Actually, now that she was experiencing the elven version of newly married for herself, Tindomiel really had to wonder how Estel had been able to keep up. She wasn’t so sheltered that she didn’t know there were certain physiological differences between elves and Men, and Estel hadn’t exactly been a spring chicken by the time of the wedding. (Unlike the rest of their siblings, Arwen had waited until marriage – Gramma Anairë would definitely approve. So her older sister had probably been a little more enthusiastic than most… Why was she only realizing this now that there was an inconvenient ocean between her and her sisters?)

“Oh,” she said weakly. “Um, sorry?”

Maeglin didn’t laugh out loud, but his amusement echoed in her fëa.

Anairon looked as he usually did whenever she’d accidentally gotten them both in trouble – a mixture of resigned and exasperated. Usually her comeback would be ‘I didn’t do it on purpose!’ but that seemed a little wrong under the circumstances.

Say it if you wish. I know you do not mean you regret your actions, Maeglin offered. It may set him more at ease.

She didn’t regret a darn thing, as it happened. But she wasn’t going to say it even so.

“Anyway,” Anairon said firmly, leaving no space for any attempt at explanation on her part. “Tas and Cali went home as originally planned, the day after you married.”

“So everyone knows?” Tindomiel asked, not sure whether she should be aghast or relieved that someone else had already spilled the beans.

“Unless things went wrong, no one knows,” Anairon corrected at once. “We agreed that if asked, they would say only that you were heading for Neldoreth when last they saw you.”

Tindomiel couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up.

That statement was technically true, yet leaving out so much that it was going to result in Tas and Cali getting quite the lecture from Ecthelion whenever the full truth came to light. But neither her Gondolin grandparents nor Glorfindel and Ecthelion would see through it. Even Aunt Irimë was unlikely to spot the omission if she happened to be in town.

After all, neither ‘she ran into Maeglin’ nor ‘she married him’ would seem like reasonable possibilities to pretty much anyone.

“Are you sure?” Maeglin asked, adding carefully, “I do not mean to impugn her, but Tasariel seems to me unlikely to keep such interesting news to herself indefinitely.”

Tindomiel could feel his concern that he was about to spark a quarrel, and silently reassured him.

“Tas won’t say anything,” Anairon said wryly. “I can’t blame you not trusting her discretion. But you can trust her self-interest. The explanation that would be required if she let this news slip is so involved and would land her in sufficient trouble that it’s far better for her to keep silent. I’m sure she’s looking forward to the reaction when the news comes out. But I’m also sure she would prefer her role in that event to be ‘gleeful bystander’, not ‘person everyone is looking to for answers’. She’ll be quite happy to leave that to Tinwë.”

“Reasonable,” Maeglin chuckled.

“You’ll be right there with me,” Tindomiel pointed out slightly grumpily. She wouldn’t have entirely minded the initial fuss happening without her.

I was not the one who said the Name first, Maeglin retorted privately. But he wouldn’t be telling anyone else that. It was something of a leap of faith for him to say it even to her, and she shot him a smile and a wave of affection.

I’ll tell them, she sighed. Because otherwise everyone will assume. The Noldor, anyway – they’re weird about women.

That he wholeheartedly agreed with.

At least I know I won’t have to admit it to my older brothers for some time, Tindomiel added.

She tried not to shudder at the thought of how that would go. She was betting the twins would try to do mental gymnastics to somehow make it his doing rather than hers. It was safe to say they were not fans of Maeglin, and finding out their least favorite lord of Gondolin had married their baby sister so quickly was unlikely to improve their opinion of him.

I will be at your side when you do, Maeglin assured her, with a look that sent interesting tingles down her spine.

Anairon cleared his throat loudly.

“Should I leave you two?” he asked uncertainly, looking prepared to cover his eyes if necessary.

“No, you can stick around a little while longer,” Tindomiel replied. “We can behave. And even if we couldn’t, I’d give you enough warning to run away.”

She ignored Anairon’s snort of ultimate skepticism – and tried not to be annoyed at her mate’s silent laughter at it.

“If Tas and Cali went home, then it’s really up to Maeglin where we go. There’s still Neldoreth, but there’s also Ondolindë, Tirion, Imlanthiriath…”

“Um, Tinwë,” Anairon broke in carefully, cutting off a list that would have gotten considerably longer given all her relatives. “I don’t think the pair of you are ready to travel any distance yet.”

He sounded halfway apologetic but surprisingly firm. It was rare for him to take charge, but Tindomiel had seen it just often enough to recognize it.

“I’m sure you’d make it to Ondolindë, it’s not even a full day once you’re on the road. Neldoreth you can manage, if you take it in stages - and I imagine your grandparents will throw a party. Elwë will probably be rather smug at getting to host your wedding, even after the fact. But there’s no way you would reach Tirion, much less get into the city, without sparking an outright scandal. I doubt you’d make it to your parents’ house either – just because you can keep off the roads doesn’t mean there won’t be people around.”

And before you suggest travelling your way, he added silently, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not only is it probably best not to dump that on him just yet, you’re not exactly clear-headed right now. I don’t want to find out what it looks like if your way goes wrong!

“I fear he is right, beloved,” Maeglin told her after a moment’s thought. He hadn’t heard Anairon’s mental addendum, but apparently the verbal part made sense enough for him. “I’m sure we can behave well enough for polite company for a few hours. Beyond that…”

Yes, ok, so her best friend might have a point – Tindomiel was starting to understand the reasoning behind leaving newlyweds to themselves for the first month. Having to ‘behave’ for very long would get annoying fairly quickly. Actually, now that she thought about it, ‘behaving’ by Noldorin standards was probably outright impossible.

“Did you want to go to Ondolindë, though?” she asked Maeglin skeptically.

Even if he hadn’t said so, she got the distinct impression he was in no hurry to see Turukano again. Not that she blamed him, given what she knew about his arrival in original Gondolin. Good thing most of the family had already had a go at Turukano about that. (He was still due a reckoning with Anariel, though.)

“I would not mind seeing Rillë again,” he replied.

She thought, but did not say, that Itarillë was one person out of tens of thousands. Her pick would have been Neldoreth. Even Grandpa Thingol would save the ridiculousness until they felt like company. Actually, he’d probably shoo everyone else away for them.

“Besides, did you not tell me all twelve houses were rebuilt?” Maeglin continued thoughtfully. “Unless my own House believe me a traitor as the folk of Ennor do, I think we could trust them to keep visitors at bay for the next few weeks.”

“They’re probably the people most firmly convinced in your innocence,” Tindomiel replied.

Any variant of the “vile calumny” she had learned in Ennor of what happened to Gondolin was fighting words as far as the Moles were concerned. Given that the king and princess of the city held similar views, newcomers arriving from the Hither Shores had a bit of a learning curve on the subject.

“They’ll definitely guard your privacy once you reach them,” Anairon nodded. “But how do you mean to get into the city unnoticed?”

Tindomiel chuckled.

“That part should be fairly easy,” she said.

“You can’t just barge into the House of the Mole, or even get into the city your way,” Anairon protested, throwing caution on that subject to the wind and drawing a curious raised eyebrow from Maeglin. “That would raise too many questions you don’t want to answer publicly.”

“Not what I had in mind,” she grinned. “I was just going to ask if Maeglin could borrow your cloak.”

“Why – oh.”

Anairon knew well enough how her mind worked to have grasped the plan.

“Oh what?” Maeglin asked in confusion, looking from one to the other.

“Tinwë means to time your arrival so you arrive at the city in the evening, ideally after dark,” Anairon said with a resigned sigh. “It’s still early enough in the year to be cool at night, at least by Tirion standards, which is what I’m used to. So it won’t look at all odd if you have your cloak on and hood up when arriving. Unless the gate guards get a good look at your face, they’ll assume you’re me and that Tinwë and I are trying to get into the city without attracting attention. Probably think we’re trying to avoid getting in trouble for something – which I suppose is halfway accurate. As long as it’s not Harps or Hammers on the gate, they’ll let you in without any bother.”

“Why would the Harps and Hammers-” Maeglin began.

“The Harps would rat me out because Salgant thinks we need to be on a tighter leash,” Tindomiel sniffed, gesturing at herself and Anairon. “And the Hammers would enjoy watching us get in trouble.”

Maeglin frowned. That sounded odd to him.

“Which wouldn’t be the case if someone hadn’t pranked Rog and his deputy last time we were there…” Anairon muttered.

Or perhaps not so odd. Maeglin had to stifle a laugh. He hoped Rog wouldn’t hold back merely because Tindomiel was his mate. He suspected a prank war between the two of them would be quite entertaining.

“I didn’t know then that I was going to need to sneak into the city the next time, did I?” Tindomiel asked reasonably. “But they’re unlikely to be on watch duty right now. And I don’t think the Harps would be either, shouldn’t it be Pillar or Swallow? Anyway, even if it is them, they’d wait until the end of their watch to tattle – it’s not like they’re going to detain me, is it? So we’d get in either way.”

“Let’s hope so,” Anairon said, his tone suggesting that might be more optimism than sound analysis on Tindomiel’s part.

“Then we just go straight to the Mole,” Tindomiel concluded. “It’s brilliant. And if the Moles will keep everyone else away…”

“They will,” Maeglin said confidently.

“Then we’re set,” Tindomiel beamed.

“At least until your grandparents find out you’re in town and where you are,” Anairon sighed. “Which they will.”

“Hush,” she said firmly, before Maeglin could ask. “What are you going to do while we’re sneaking in the southwest gate? Are you going around to a different gate?”

“No,” Anairon snorted. “I’m heading home, to break the news to Mother and Father that they should pack for a trip to Turukano’s city.”

“You’re going to tell them?” Tindomiel gasped.

“I’m going to tell them Lomion’s back,” Anairon replied. “At which point you will likely hear Mother’s reaction all the way from Ondolindë. The pair of you can explain the rest for yourselves, thank you very much.”

“Chicken,” Tindomiel murmured.

“I’m now firmly convinced poultry are more sensible than you are,” Anairon sniffed. “They definitely have better self-preservation instincts.”

Maeglin hadn’t a clue what poultry had to do with anything, but it seemed he could look forward to spending the night – and quite a few nights thereafter – in his own house, in an actual bed, with his mate, undisturbed. That was more than enough for him.