Picking Up The Pieces by Grundy  

Fair Warning

Enerdhil didn’t like this one bit, but he saw no alternative.

He sighed and knocked on the door.

Lord Egalmoth looked downright smug when he opened it.

“If you’ve come to see the progress, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” he said jovially. “Come in!”

Enerdhil waited only until the door had closed behind him.

“Can you have them finished today?” he asked, letting some of his desperation bleed into his voice.

Egalmoth’s brows rose.

“You said there was no urgency,” he reminded Enerdhil.

“There wasn’t,” Enerdhil sighed. “Not until we got word that royal visitors are expected imminently. I think they will expect the Prince and Princess to receive them. And I would as soon have them wearing something appropriate for the occasion.”

“As well for you things are as far as they are, then, isn’t it?” Egalmoth chuckled.

He pulled the cloths covering the two tailor’s forms at one end of his studio aside.

Both outfits were very close to complete – could even be called that now, Enerdhil thought, if one overlooked the lack of embroidery or other embellishment that would normally grace something intended for a prince and princess of the city.

“How urgently do you need them?”

Enerdhil turned to the Lord of the Heavenly Arch, who now had the smug look of a man who knew he would be owed a favor when all was said and sifted.

“How soon can you have them done?” he replied.

“That depends on how many assistants I can have working with me,” Egalmoth shrugged. “Until now, I’ve been limiting it to those whose discretion I trust.”

“I think you can safely call in a few more,” Enerdhil sighed. “Their discretion won’t need to last more than a few hours.”

Hang secrecy, he wasn’t about to present Princess Tindomiel to Prince Lómion’s parents in a borrowed tunic or something that didn’t match the prince. And those were his only other options at this point!

“Send someone over at lunchtime,” Egalmoth replied. “I trust you’re seeing to circlets and other accessories?”

Enerdhil did his best not to look affronted, though he was privately not happy on that score. He’d had precious little craft time these past few weeks, to the point that he had no circlet complete for the princess. Yet. But he wasn’t about to admit that. Everyone had their limits.

Instead, he let Egalmoth usher him out. He heard the Lord of the Heavenly Arch calling for several other masters as the door of the House closed behind him.

If he worked quickly, perhaps he might yet salvage the situation.

---

Tindomiel smiled drowsily.

At some point she was going to have to thank all the Moles. She knew Maeglin had expected they’d have privacy here, but she’d thought they’d be lucky to get a week undisturbed. This was twice that, and the kitchen staff had spent much of it doing their level best to spoil them.

She had no idea how they’d found out about pizza, much less gotten it right. Yes, she’d told Maeglin about it, but any description he’d relayed couldn’t possibly have been accurate enough even for an elven cook with long-years of experience.

More than that, they’d served up enough things she hadn’t even told him about yet to prove they were getting information somewhere else.  (Maybe Tas and Cali had explained burritos?) Maeglin had been surprised several times as well, including a few dishes he said he hadn’t seen since his youth and had no idea his cook knew how to make.

When she opened her eyes, she found Maeglin reading, with a slight frown on his face. He didn’t need to sleep as much as she did, so he had taken to reading history while she slept. He had initially wanted to catch up on advances in craft, but she had pointed out that catching up on history might be slightly more urgent.

He was thus slightly reluctantly reading Pengolodh’s Rise and Fall of Numenor, which was far and away the best account of late Numenor and the lead-up to the Last Alliance. Tindomiel had added that request to the list for Enerdhil several days ago – she was happy to catch him up on the First and Third Ages personally, but the Second Age had never really been her jam.

“You’re looking grumpy,” she observed.

Maeglin looked up from the book, scowling.

“I do not understand how a kingdom founded by people who had fought and defeated Sauron came to trust him,” he said. “Much less concluded it was wise to bring him back with them.”

“There were almost twenty-three long-years and twenty-five of their kings between the one and the other,” she reminded him gently. “Ada says by the time of the Downfall, Elros was viewed by most Numenoreans more as a legend than a real person. So if they thought their first king was just a story, I don’t imagine they took Sauron very seriously either.”

Maeglin did not say fools out loud, but she could hear the thought so clearly he might as well have.

“You don’t call him Uncle?” he asked softly. “If I have understood correctly, he was your father’s brother?”

Tindomiel winced.

Her father’s brother was not something often discussed in his household. Maeglin had so many sore spots of his own to get over that she’d been reluctant to spring too many of her family’s on him too soon. But there was no getting around this one now…

“His twin, actually. But he died almost two Ages before I was begotten,” she explained quietly. “I never met him. My siblings never met him. Heck, even Nana never met him – he died when she was just a little girl, before she was old enough to make the trip to the island. And Ada doesn’t talk about him much. So he’s our uncle, but…”

I am sorry.

“You don’t have to be. You didn’t know. And it wasn’t your genius idea for him to pick ‘Man’ when the Valar decided it was a great plan to make him and Ada choose a kindred.”

“I don’t think we talked about that part yet,” he said cautiously.

“No,” she sighed. “I was trying not to dump too much of the not nice stuff on you at once.”

She was trying to figure out where to begin when there was a firm knock on the bedroom door.

“My prince, my princess, would you please join me in the sitting room?”

She looked at Maeglin, but he was just as puzzled as she was as to why Enerdhil would require their presence.

Only one way to find out, he told her reluctantly.

She pulled on a dressing gown, and tried not to giggle at her mate’s mock glare as that left him little choice but to dig through his wardrobe until he found an informal tunic that didn’t offend his sensibilities. (The one he settled on was a fairly natural shade of green, and warm enough that he didn’t look sallow in it, leading Tindomiel to suspect someone had taken great care in picking it.)

“For someone who is famous for having dressed in black as often as possible, your closet is surprisingly colorful,” she pointed out with a grin.

“I wasn’t present to argue with anyone about it,” he sighed. “I am relieved to see they didn’t seize the opportunity to go wild with more garish colors.”

Tindomiel tried and failed to picture him wearing some of the bright hues she’d seen both here and in Tirion. Whoever had been responsible for his wardrobe had clearly known what they could and couldn’t get away with.

He held out a hand to her, and they entered the sitting room together to find Enerdhil and another man Tindomiel didn’t recognize.

“Elemmakil!” Maeglin exclaimed.

“Felicitations on your marriage, my prince,” Elemmakil replied. “Greetings, princess.”

Tindomiel couldn’t tell from his tone what he really thought about it – for all she knew, she had some work to do to get on his good side. He might only know her by hearsay about her prank war with Rog…

“What’s the what, Enerdhil?” she asked.

“I had hoped to leave the pair of you undisturbed several days longer,” he replied, “but I must warn you that is unlikely. There was an excess of high spirits this morning.”

Elemmakil’s snort indicated that was an understatement, so Tindomiel turned to him expectantly.

“Some apprentices with more nerve than sense ran the prince’s standard up,” he said.

“Oh, dear,” Tindomiel murmured.

“Unfortunately,” Enerdhil said slowly, clearly still looking for the right words.

“Gran saw it, didn’t she?” Tindomiel groaned. “How did you keep her from busting in on us? Or did Pop-Pop take pity on me and talk her down?”

Maeglin looked utterly bemused.

“Gran?” he murmured.

“Yes, my princess,” Enerdhil said. “But it’s not just that...”

She blinked.

“Grandpa too?” she asked worriedly.

She was now astonished they had gotten any advance notice at all before the relatives descended. How long had the stupid banner been up?

“I imagine the King has been informed by now,” Elemmakil muttered, drawing an odd look from Maeglin.

“We have been warned that a party from Tirion is arriving even now,” Enerdhil said with an air of slight desperation. “The High King is among them, as well as the King’s parents and brothers, your mother’s mother, and your parents.”

Tindomiel’s jaw dropped.

“All of them?” she asked, stunned.

She’d expected Anairon would admit it to his parents and hers, not that he’d bring a sizable chunk of their extended family!

“Prince Tuor instructed me to warn you the prince’s parents are among them,” Enerdhil finished.

“Ammë and Ada?” Maeglin asked in astonishment.

Tindomiel felt his emotions veer abruptly from complete bewilderment to wild hope, and his hand tightened on hers.

“Yes, my prince,” Enerdhil replied. “Which is why I thought, under the circumstances, I had best throw myself on the mercy of Lord Egalmoth…”

He handed over two neatly wrapped packages stamped with the Heavenly Arch and a card.

“He accepts that it is not an opportune moment for a congratulatory visit, but charged me to pass on his best wishes.”

“Thank Nienna for small mercies,” Maeglin muttered. “But – my parents? You are sure?”

“I have not seen them myself, my prince, but I see no reason to doubt Prince Tuor’s word.”

“If Pop-Pop said they’re coming, they’re coming,” Tindomiel snorted. “I take it we should get dressed and behave like we’re expecting incoming?”

“If you would be so good, my princess,” Elemmakil said sardonically. “And recall that the incoming are your royal kin, not the lord of the Hammer.”

“I was already clear on that part,” she sighed. “Give us a heads up before anyone actually busts in on us, please. If you can.”

“I will be standing guard myself,” Elemmakil replied seriously.

He bowed and left.

“I am going to bring up food,” Enerdhil said. “Please be ready when I return.”

Maeglin waited until the door closed behind him, then turned to Tindomiel.

“Pop-Pop?” he asked.

“It’s a California word for grandfather,” Tindomiel explained absently, most of her attention unwrapping her new clothes. “It’s also reasonably close to his childhood word for it, so that’s what I call him. I have so many grandparents it would get confusing real quick if I called them all the same thing.”

“Yes, but Tuor is your grandfather?” Maeglin persisted.

She lifted her eyes to him with a slight frown.

“You knew that.”

“I did not,” Maeglin said, trying for reasonable. “But that would mean Rillë…”

“Is my grandmother. We covered this. I’m sure I told you. I must have.”

“I would have definitely remembered if you had. And how can Rillë be your grandmother?” Maeglin asked in confusion. “You told me your mother is Galadriel’s daughter, and your father is the son of Elwing of Doriath.”

“Yes. And her husband Eärendil,” Tindomiel pointed out.

Maeglin sat down abruptly.

“That part you failed to mention,” he said, sounding slightly faint.

Tindomiel immediately dropped her fancy new outfit in favor of making sure he wasn’t going to keel over, reaching for him body and spirit.

“I thought I told you about that. I’m sure I told you! It was … nevermind. Yeah, Eärendil’s my grandfather. I’m just not the one who looks like him. Anariel’s almost a carbon copy, except for the shortness.”

Maeglin was too dazed to even query what carbon had to do with it. She could hear only one coherent thought – what will Rillë say?

“She’ll probably be joining Ada in the ‘wait, which one married Maeglin?’ confusion corner,” Tindomiel told him wryly. “And if she saw the banner, I’m kinda surprised she isn’t here already to tell you herself. Enerdhil and Elemmakil must have some fortitude.”

That, more than anything, seemed to reassure Maeglin she did know what she was talking about.

It is true Rillë can be quite forceful when the occasion calls for it, he agreed as he began removing the wrapping from his own outfit.

Tindomiel retrieved hers from the floor. She hoped she hadn’t done any damage dropping it.

“What did Egalmoth write?” he continued in his best attempt at a normal tone, as if his world hadn’t just been knocked for a loop.

“It sounds like standard congratulations,” Tindomiel offered tentatively.

“Sounds like?”

“I’m not really sure, I’ve never actually been to an elven wedding. I have no idea what is usually said.”

---

Turukano stared at his wife in disbelief.

It was little consolation that Ingo looked just as startled as he felt.

“My parents are coming here?”

He tried not to glare at Ingo. It had been some time since they’d both said the same thing at the same time. And that had been a far less aggravating situation…

Elenwë looked far too delighted at them speaking in chorus.

“Why?” Turukano managed to say – this time without accompaniment from Ingo.

“And why is Artë with them?” Ingo added suspiciously.

Turukano tried not to audibly react to that.

Artanis never came to his city. He wasn’t sure she was even allowed to – he suspected her parents had put a private stricture on her after that ruling several years back. It was the only way he was able to account for his having lived so long in peace.

They didn’t, Ingo informed him. Though I imagine they would have had words had she headed in this direction. She just hasn’t seen fit to come torture you until now.

That was in no way helpful.

“My love, I thought you’d be pleased to host everyone for the holiday,” Elenwë said reproachfully. “Oh, and Irissë is with them.”

Ingo whacked him on the back as he choked.

It may not be too late for us to run away to Formenos, Ingo suggested quietly.

Oh, yes, that will definitely improve matters, Turukano snorted. I feel so much better knowing you’re expecting the worst too.

I was mostly thinking of you, Ingo retorted. I’m pretty sure no one is aiming at me.

A glance at Ingo showed one of his most infuriating grins.

Cheer up, you’re not on your own this time, Ingo added more seriously.

“Thank you, Elenwë,” Ingo said aloud. “Have you told Amarië and the children yet? I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to hear the news.”

Elenwë gave them a piercing look, then sighed.

“I shall go tell them now,” she said. “Why do I feel like this won’t be a peaceful holiday?”

Before she could go, Itarillë came barreling in.

“Ammë, Atto,” she said breathlessly. “Did you know Lómion has returned?”