Picking Up The Pieces by Grundy  

Finding Her Feet

It took quite a while before her family settled enough to sit down around the fire to eat.

Irissë was torn between sitting with Artë and making sure her little brother was at her side. Eöl’s silent chuckle didn’t offer much help – but he did leave enough space between them for someone else to sit. That saved her having to make a choice. Artë settled in on her right, with Uncle Ara beyond her. So Irissë maneuvered Anairon between her and Eöl.

She would have liked to have a heart-to-heart with Artë – she had so many questions – but she knew better than to attempt that with their parents all present.

They’re unlikely to let us alone, Artë informed her wryly.

That’s what happens when you get caught trying to sneak out, Aryo informed them smugly.

She understood perfectly well why her brother would enjoy the situation, but it wasn’t like Artanis to be so careless.

“Children,” Uncle said mildly.

“Manners,” Ammë added reflexively.

They might not be in Tirion – not yet, at least – but Irissë felt right at home, and all the more so when she tucked into the plate handed her. This was no camp cooking!

“This is delicious!” she exclaimed. “Atto, did you bring Cook with you?”

“I did not,” her father replied, a smile playing at his lips.

“Darling, did you not tell your sister about your craft yet?” Ammë asked, a note of pride in her voice.

Irissë was startled at the realization that her words were directed to Anairon. This was as fine as anything served at feasts in grandfather’s hall! And her baby brother had made it?

“I do not believe he did,” Eöl replied as she turned to her baby brother in astonishment.

“Nor,” Eöl continued, “did he have a chance to tell everyone that he not only prepared the meat, it is his own harvest.”

“Yonya! The deer was your doing?”

Atto was as surprised as she was, and she took the opportunity to ruffle her brother’s hair and poke him subtly to make him sit up straight instead of ducking bashfully.

Be proud of yourself! she told him. Atto certainly is!

“From start to finish,” Eöl confirmed. “We came across them just as they were wrapping the meat to carry back.”

“Not entirely from start to finish,” Aryo put in.

“Showing him how to clean doesn’t count, it was still his,” Artë snorted. “Stop spoiling Anairon’s moment.”

Irissë had to stifle a laugh at the reproving look their mother turned on her older brother.

“Aryo, dear, you must set your younger siblings a better example. Particularly as we both know your sister is not the best model for Anairon.”

There were coughs that sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter from both Atto and Uncle, and Aunt Eärwen smiled.

“Well done, lad,” Uncle said, smoothly staving off any further protests – hers included. “Though I think it should be someone else’s turn to hunt tomorrow – it seems a bit unfair to ask you to bring in the meat and cook it.”

Irissë was certain the straightening of her brother’s back wasn’t her imagination.

Don’t worry, sweetie. Once we’re all settled, Eöl can take you out to practice whenever you wish. He’s taught enough younger kin to be very good at it. And you won’t be the first one who isn’t terribly interested in hunting.

She felt her mate’s silent assent – and that he thought it would be a good way to get to know the boy better without anyone else trying to speak for him.

Anairon brightened, and began to explain to everyone about the rest of the meal, for the meat was but the first course.  Irissë thought it very impressive, and told him so several times – and was delighted when he began to quiz her, at first tentatively and then with more confidence about her likes and dislikes.

She would not mind at all if tomorrow’s meals were designed with her in mind – and told Artanis quite firmly to shush with the laughter, silent or otherwise. Maybe Artë was used to this, seeing as she’d gotten to be around the baby for the last few decades, but she wasn’t!

It was probably strategic on his part that Uncle waited until dessert – when Irissë was dying to know how her brother had managed such a perfectly frothy berry foam out here without the full compliment of kitchen tools to work with – to ask what Irissë intended to do when they reached Gondolin.

“See Lomion, of course,” she replied immediately. “And Tindomiel!”

She was quite sure Uncle didn’t want to hear ‘and punch my idiot brother for mucking everything up’. Also, she wasn’t sure quite how much damage she wanted to inflict on Turukano. It would depend in large part on what Lomion had to say. So she focused on her excitement to meet her son’s mate properly.

She’d seen the girl a time or two in the Halls, of course, but she hadn’t paid overly much attention then.

“Celebrían and Elrond will join us before we reach the city,” Artë added, neatly diverting her father from inquiring further. “So I imagine between the lot of us, we can work out some small ceremony to quell any gossip and see to it that no one’s reputation suffers permanent damage.”

“It is surprising that Tinwe would be so impulsive,” Ammë murmured. “She might have had a proper wedding wherever she chose.”

Irissë noticed Artë was not the only one who smiled or outright snickered. Not entirely out of character for her new daughter-in-law, then?

“Yes, the girl that finally succeeded in flying has never before surprised us all,” Atto said drily. “Also, Turvo may want some say in this ceremony, being as it’s his city. Perhaps you should defer your plotting until he and Elenwë are present.”

“Flying?” Irissë demanded in delight, electing to ignore the part about her brother having any say entirely. It was her son and Artë’s granddaughter. Elenwë she might allow, for Irissë was fond of her law-sister, but her idiot brother got no say in it whatsoever. Anyway, flying was much more interesting. There was a story there!

“Yes,” Artë said smugly. “As it turns out, elves can in fact fly if they approach the problem properly. Tinu and Anairon proved that quite convincingly.”

The glint in Artanis’ eye suggested that while she was proud of her granddaughter and younger cousin, she also wanted another crack at the approach they’d taken with Ambarussa – particularly now that there was proof flight could be achieved.

After that nothing would do but for Irissë hear the story, even though everyone assured her and Eöl that they really should hear it from Aunt Eärwen’s parents, seeing as it had been their boat that returned the flyers and their ingenious devices to shore.

---

Artanis waited until their parents had dropped off to sleep before slipping away. Irissë waited a short interval before following. With everyone else asleep, they might actually get a chance to talk. No one would bother them as long as Eöl remained among those at the campsite.

It only took a few moments before she found her heart-sister lounging on a low tree branch far enough away from the camp that they wouldn’t wake anyone talking.

We should speak silently, Irissë warned. Just because your father is asleep now…

Not all of what they would speak of was for anyone else. Perhaps their own mates, but no one else.

We are of one mind in Turvo having no say, Artë told her. But do not make a thing of it with Atto. Elrond will probably make the case better than either of us could. Assuming, of course, Elenwë and Idril let Turvo get a word in edgewise in the first place.

Irissë couldn’t help the laughter at that – though she did also wonder why Elrond would be so against it.

He has his reasons, among them your brother maligning your mate for so many years, Artanis assured her.

Irissë raised an eyebrow, and let Artë fill her in on what her brother had told the world about her death and her mate. She’d known about the execution, of course – Eöl had tried to spare her the knowledge, but she’d caught him fairly quickly because it made no sense at all that he would leave their son in Turgon’s keeping – but not what excuse he’d given for it.

She didn’t see at all how her idiot brother had ever thought he’d get away with that tale, even if he’d believed it himself. But she supposed he’d thrown in just enough truth to muddy the waters – it would not have been acceptable to either her or her husband that Maeglin remain in Ondolindë unless it was by his own will. (And Eöl probably would have refused to allow him the choice until he came of age.)

That would have been bad enough on its own, but it seemed that her brother had compounded it by deliberately needling Maitimo about Finno’s death – and she couldn’t imagine that had endeared him to either of them. She could tell Artë was holding back something more about that part, but perhaps that needed more privacy. Or perhaps Artë was, as usual, choosing her moment carefully.

What of Celeborn? Irissë asked urgently.

She hadn’t been able to account for his absence.

He stayed behind when we sailed – someone had to mind our older grandchildren. Tindomiel sailed with us, but the others did not.

It was easy enough for someone who had known her as well as Irissë did to see the shadow of pain and loss behind the light and joy associated with her grandchildren.

“Tell me of your Arwen?”

This, at least, they could speak about aloud.

The tale that spilled from Artë’s lips was not only of Arwen, but also of Lúthien, for the one was impossible to understand without the other. Irissë felt the pain of not only the grandniece she would never meet, but also the loss of Lúthien, who had been so much at the heart of her family.

“How long, Artë?” she asked at last, when she’d had time to absorb the enormity of it all. “And how could you leave before she did?”

“There was no choice,” Artanis whispered. “To stay was to fade. We’ll speak of the rings another day. There’s more grief bound up with that tale. For now, I’ll say only that neither Elrond nor I had the option to stay, greatly though we desired it. We might not have lasted long enough to see her depart – worse, we might have hastened it with grief. As to how long…she can have no more than another hundred years, I think. Blessing of Numenor or not, Men do not live so long.”

Foremost in Artë’s mind was the thought that at least the remaining three children had already chosen their fates – she could lose only the one to mortality. And they would be a comfort to each other when the day of grief inevitably arrived.

Which, of course, brought them neatly to the granddaughter Irissë was most curious about.

And the littlest one? What happened?

Tindomiel might be one of Artë’s line, but she was not the bride Irissë had foreseen for her son. Nor had the girl she had seen been so small as the glimpses of her in Artë’s memories.

Sauron happened, Artanis told her grimly, opening her mind to let Irissë see the threat grown to deadly grudge that had long stood between her and the fallen maia – and the promise that he would destroy her child. The promise had been all the more fearsome given what had happened to her brothers. Artë’s mind shied away from Ingo’s fate even now, three Ages after his return.

Sauron had not succeeded, nor had he destroyed her granddaughter, but it was clear that Anariel was no longer the girl she had seen, the future she and Artë had both awaited. California had changed her.

You never told me this before! Irissë exclaimed. You might have mentioned it when we were in Doriath!

Melian’s protection would have made it impossible for Sauron to eavesdrop – and had she known, Irissë would not have pressed Artanis so about a child. She had cherished hopes of their children growing up together. It had seemed only natural in light of that vision…

There was a sudden hesitancy in Artanis’ mind, something Irissë had never before encountered. They trusted one another with everything. It cost her not to draw back, hurt by this sudden chill just when she was ready to apologize wholeheartedly for the unknowing harm.

It is not a chill, Artanis told her. It is… there are things that touch more than just myself. And even here, I have kept silent about them. Celeborn alone knows all of it.

Here meant Aman. Artanis was still keeping secrets?

Artanis hesitated a moment more before offering her hand. Whatever it was she had withheld, not even Uncle knew of it.

Now it was Irissë who hesitated. A secret so long held, what if she inadvertently revealed it?

You will not, Artanis said wryly. Though I am not sure anyone would believe you even if you did. I promise I will not be angry with you in any case.

With that fascinating inducement, she took Artë’s hand. She gasped when the full dimensions of the threat – and all that her dearest friend had hidden for the sake of protecting others – were revealed.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked at Artanis, who had carried all this so very long.

“Oh, Artë,” she gasped, opening her arms.

She held her cousin while she wept, understanding that it was not just tears falling, but years of tension,  finally being able to tell someone who understood in a way even Celeborn could not. And witnessing Artë’s pain, she renewed the vow of vengeance in her heart – no longer was it just for her son she would see Sauron unmade.

---

Arakano tried not to swear when he awoke at sunrise to find both his sister and Galadriel missing.

“Relax, lad, they won’t have run off.”

He looked up to find his law-brother watching him from the comfort of his sleep roll. By the looks of it, he’d slept alone.

“That easily read, am I?” he asked ruefully.

“The thought was plain on your face,” Eöl chuckled. “But I am assured that Elrond and Celebrían are currently travelling without stopping to join us, so I doubt very much Aredhel and Galadriel would go running off on their own. Aredhel is far too curious to see Galadriel’s daughter and Lúthien’s grandson.”

“You worry too much, Aryo,” Anairon yawned.

His little brother’s hair was in magnificent disarray from having pulled his blanket close about his head overnight, but he was awake enough to start gathering things for breakfast. In a matter of moments, he was passing both of them bread and setting small crocks of butter and jam where they could both reach before plunking himself back down.

“Irissë won’t go far without Eöl, will she?” Anairon asked practically. “So they’re around somewhere.”

No, that was true. He’d forgotten about that. Irissë wasn’t flighty enough to risk her daughter’s health to hurry on ahead, much less run off to do whatever she and Artanis had originally intended.

“They have several Ages to catch up on,” Eöl said equably. “We haven’t seen Galadriel since Oropher’s wedding. We should probably be grateful they took themselves far enough away not to keep the rest of us awake.”

The half of the Fearsome Foursome in question chose that moment to come sashaying out of the trees, laughing as merrily as children. Though as children, if Arakano had heard them laughing like that, he’d have asked what they were plotting…

“We brought some things for breakfast, and possibly lunch,” Irissë announced cheerfully.

Galadriel set down the fruit she’d been carrying, as Irissë handed over half a dozen eggs to Anairon.

Their little brother did a quick tally of heads and turned toward their still-sleeping parents.

“Do you think I have time to cook the eggs before everyone’s awake? They’d make a decent frittata with some of the leftovers from last night. If we don’t stop for lunch, we can make good time today...”

Arakano suspected that with no one dragging their feet anymore, and the news out, they’d make their best time yet. The girls would make sure of it. The question would be if the rest of them could keep up.

“Of course you have time, sweetie,” Irissë proclaimed, planting a kiss on the top of his head. “We won’t wake them up until you say everything’s ready. It will be a lovely surprise!”

“You think they’ll sleep that long?” Anairon asked, glancing at his parents with a look of bemusement.

By his expression, Arakano guessed he’d only ever known their parents as early risers. While his mother did rise early most days, it wasn’t unheard of for his parents to sleep in and enjoy a lazy morning together on a day when they had nothing in particular to do. At least, it hadn’t been in his youth. Had they changed so much?

“No doubt.”

All of them except Eöl jumped as Aunt Eärwen joined the conversation. Arakano managed not to glare at his law-brother for not warning them when he had clearly seen her coming. The half-concealed smirk made him think that it was possible the man was more like his sister than he’d first thought.

“Irissë and Eöl back, Lomion back, Tindomiel married, and a new granddaughter? Your mother hasn’t been so happy since the Darkening. With so much weight off her mind, she’ll likely sleep the whole day if you let her.”

All three of Anairë’s children reached the instant silent agreement that would be exactly what happened.

“Right,” Anairon said quietly, looking from their sleeping parents to what Irissë and Galadriel had just handed over and visibly re-assessing. “In that case, we’ll throw together something simple for lunch for the rest of us, but I’ll do something very nice for dinner. As long as people are willing to help with the foraging?”

“I daresay we can do that,” Aunt Eärwen replied cheerfully in a tone that meant the younger generation had little choice in the matter. “Just tell us what you’re after.”