Picking Up The Pieces by Grundy  

No One Expects

Tuor marched them briskly to Anairon’s usual room – at least, the room that was usually his when he could contrive to avoid staying at his brother’s house.

“Congratulations, by the way, on managing to not spill the beans early,” Tuor said conversationally as he opened the door for them. “I imagine Tinu will be quite proud of you when she hears.”

“She’ll be the only one,” Anairon muttered.

“I doubt that,” Tuor chuckled. “You have a sibling or two who will also look on the bright side, even if they haven’t had the opportunity to tell you so yet.”

Anairon was unused to having enough living siblings for such a statement to need clarification, but Tuor didn’t leave him an opening.

“Rillë will be busy supervising Hendor packing up Tinu’s things,” Tuor continued before Anairon could say anything. “So while she’s otherwise occupied, what say you tell me the story of how we all got here – the unexpurgated version, as opposed to whatever you told your parents and hers. And Maeglin’s, come to that. Though from what I saw, Irissë’s unlikely to be upset with any of you.”

Anairon sighed.

It would be just as well to tell someone everything – and at least he could trust Tuor wouldn’t be cross with him over any of their sillier decisions, like not thinking to ask for Queen Melian’s help sooner. He might not even tell anyone else…

“It isn’t a trial, lad,” Tuor said, taking the window seat and waving for Anairon to settle himself wherever.

By the time he finished telling the whole tale – including the part where he’d had to try to keep Tinwë and Lómion fed when neither of them had the least bit of sense of time or been paying attention to anything outside of each other, the part where Aryo had been the least helpful help possible, and the part where he still wasn’t really sure if Galadriel and Irissë meant it about liking his cooking – Tuor was chuckling.

“Ease up, lad. I think it’s safe to say they like it well enough. Galadriel isn’t going to eat food she can’t stand every night for a week straight just to humor her kid cousin. And from all I’ve heard, your sister isn’t the type to even pretend to eat it. If she didn’t like it, she’d say so flat out, no matter how hellbent she is on spoiling you.”

“You think?” Anairon asked hopefully. “And you’re not upset?”

Tuor laughed.

“Stars above, why would I be? If anyone’s displeased, it will be solely with Tinwë for not being more careful with someone newly returned. She’s been read that lecture before. But I think I can leave the refresher to her parents. Elrond’s disapproval will make far more impression on her than anything else but harm to Maeglin himself in the case that she’s actually done any. I doubt she has, though. I’m sure the Moles would have found a way to discreetly send for backup if Maeglin seemed unwell to them. Instead, they’ve been keeping everyone away trying to guard his privacy.”

That was a bracing thought.

“She didn’t bring him back, though.”

He wanted Tuor to be absolutely clear on that point. They might have been suspicious, but not only had Tinwë fiercly denied it, on reflection he had concluded she would not have left someone she just brought back wandering around on their own for any length of time. Maybe the adults could believe that, but he didn’t. She wasn’t careless with people.

“If you’re convinced, that’s good enough for me,” Tuor shrugged. “Maeglin wouldn’t be the first in the family to carry on doing things his own way upon return, and I doubt he’ll be the last.”

Anairon breathed a sigh of relief. At least there’d be one elder inclined to take her side.

And as long as they were talking about troublesome issues…

Anairon laid out his concerns about his sister and his cousin intending to have it out with his brother, parents or no.

“…and now is the worst time for it. Elrond and Celebrían never come here at all, and Elenwë really wants them to. If we could just get through one festival, it would make her so happy. And then it might get better,” he finished. “Is there anything you can do?”

Tuor did sigh at that.

“I appreciate the confidence. But you’ve overestimated me considerably if you think I’m capable of stopping Galadriel and Irissë doing exactly as they please. I doubt I could do much about Galadriel on her own, her and your sister together is beyond me. Besides, between what we already knew and what you’ve just told me, someone laying into your brother without respect for manners or his royal dignity might just give him enough of a kick to finally patch things up properly. Assuming he can, that is.”

“That means we’re all stuck for it,” Anairon said glumly. “Tinwë and Lómion may be able to dodge it, they’ve got an excuse no one’s going to argue with. But they’re going to expect the rest of us to all do dinner, aren’t they? The last time someone thought that was a good idea…”

Tuor definitely remembered that as well as Anairon did, given the drama that had ensued.

“It wasn’t the most pleasant evening, but as I recall it did lead to getting a bit of the ugliness out into the open to be dealt with,” he said slowly. “If there’s still more Turukano hasn’t admitted to yet, now’s probably the time. I don’t see where putting it off until Elrond’s older three arrive will help matters in the least. He’s going to have a difficult enough time with them as it is.”

Anairon had to admit that was probably true. Tindomiel’s reaction had been fairly restrained all things considered. From what he knew of Anariel, restraint wasn’t in her vocabulary. Also, the process of getting ‘the ugliness’ out hadn’t been entirely smooth even with Tindomiel the only one of her siblings present.

“I’ll leave you to freshen up before lunch,” Tuor said. “Cheer up, lad, most of Rillë’s questions won’t be directed at you.”

Anairon waited until Tuor had left before deciding that he might just borrow another page from Tinwë’s book – he really wanted to check in with Califiriel and Tasariel about what had been going on in Gondolin.

He eyed the stonework next to the window. It wouldn’t have been his first choice, but if Tindomiel could use it to get down, so could he…

---

Arakano beamed genially at his niece. He was enjoying being the fun uncle.

Actually, he was having a hard time not laughing.

Itarillë’s expressions were so close to Turvo’s that it was hilarious to watch her try to pout without being obvious about it.

Galadriel had been given Tindomiel’s usual room, which was currently being packed up by a small army of Wingers – far more than strictly necessary, but Hendor had found a large number of willing assistants hoping they might have the opportunity to hear what exactly was going on that had their normally unflappable Princess in such a tizzy.

He could have told them that was a vain hope – everyone present knew how to hold their tongue when it was necessary. Between them, Rillë and Artë were being so discreet that no one had gleaned anything yet. They hadn’t even mentioned where Tinwë’s things were to be sent, only that they were to be boxed up.

“You could stay in the House of the King, uncle,” Rillë pointed out for the third time.

He wasn’t sure if she was hoping he might be backup for her father, a spy for her, or just that Galadriel would be more talkative without him present. He reckoned she’d be disappointed on all counts. He was firmly on Irissë’s side, and knew perfectly well that Galadriel was enjoying the situation far too much to give anything away just yet. (She was trying very hard not to laugh behind Rillë’s back.)

“I doubt Turvo has room,” he replied cheerfully. “He is also hosting Ingo and his brood, after all.”

It was very convenient to have a ready excuse. It saved him having to invent something he could say in front of Hendor and the rest of the staff. Anairon wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be any closer to the explosion than strictly necessary.

Besides, he might well catch more from Artë. Rillë was so used to looking up to her as an elder kinswoman that she’d miss little tells.

Interestingly enough, she was also missing a few other details.

He could have mentioned to her that his younger brother appeared to have gotten surprisingly good at climbing down stonework – or at least good enough that he didn’t slip until he was close enough to street level for it not to matter. (Arakano had definitely noticed that last part immediately and hadn’t panicked at all. He was sure he hadn’t ever given his older brothers such a bad few seconds.)

Anairon would be back for lunch, he was sure.

In the meantime…

“Niece, I hadn’t realized we’d be here for the festival – do you suppose your tailors could help me assemble something that doesn’t look like it was put together at the last minute?”

He couldn’t help the smile at Rillë’s look of exasperation. It was a carbon copy of his older brother’s.

Galadriel’s smirk said she was thinking the same thing.

---

Anairon was relieved to reach the street without getting caught – or injuring himself. It had been a near thing, but he didn’t lose his footing until he was nearly all the way down and managed to jump the remaining distance without much trouble.

That just left the difficulty of getting into the Golden Flower unobserved. With any luck if he slipped in by way of the kitchens…

“And here he is,” Ecthelion said, sounding entirely unsurprised.

Anairon jumped.

“I…”

“Were just coming to see the other two who have some explaining to do?” his cousin Laurefindil suggested.

Normally Anairon would have wilted under the combined force of their stern expressions and crossed arms, but channeling Tindomiel had been working well enough so far today that he saw no reason to stop now.

“Why are you both in the kitchen?” he demanded without any attempt to explain himself whatsoever. “Shouldn’t you be upstairs somewhere?”

“They caught us trying to sneak out,” Califiriel informed him regretfully, looking as chagrined as he felt.

“It was me,” Tasariel sighed. “And yes, I should have been the distraction like you said. It would have worked much better. But I wanted to talk to him, too!”

She glared at her sister as if this was somehow Califiriel’s fault.

I won at rock, paper, scissors, Cali said wryly.

“Don’t we all,” Laurefindil said before the girls could quarrel. “I’ve a feeling the three of you know a good deal more about what’s been going on than the rest of us.”

“Fine,” Anairon said. “You can ask us whatever you like – so long as you remember I have to be back at the Wing in time for lunch.”

Ecthelion raised an eyebrow, and Cali looked startled.

Not being as adept at osanwë as the girls, Anairon had no good way to let them in on his logic – that didn’t give them nearly long enough to get the whole story, particularly if the girls played their part and interrupted with tangents. He’d have a built-in reason to cut things short, and possibly even spring Tas and Cali with him. He couldn’t technically invite them to lunch, but he could hint that Itarillë and Galadriel would want to see them…

“I have a better idea,” Ecthelion said smoothly. “Why don’t we all take lunch at the Wing? I suspect we are not the only ones who have questions for the three of you.”

It was a really good try, Tasariel told him, sounding impressed. Definitely way better than you usually do.

Even if it did end up making it worse, Cali said regretfully. You don’t have a hope of holding anything back with all of them in the room at once.

Not just him, Tas pointed out, sounding resigned. Ecthelion knows perfectly well Aunt Galadriel will be there.

Anairon reflected that he was right back to where he’d started, depending on Aryo to haul him out of trouble.

---

“I don’t see what you’re finding so amusing about all this.”

Turukano glared at his best friend – or glared as well as he could around the ice he was holding to his jaw. His little sister’s left was still every bit as wicked as he remembered it. He’d been lucky to remain upright.

“It was a little funny,” Ingo chuckled, as immune to the glare as ever.

They’d retreated to his office as soon as their parents were shown up to their rooms. (This was the most visitors he’d had at once since he returned, which would have been enough to put him on edge all on its own. Happily, the lack of sufficient rooms had given him an excellent excuse to house Aryo and Anairon with Rillë in the Wing – the fewer of his younger brothers in the audience for this, the better.)

“It was not,” Turukano grumbled. “And Atto and Ammë won’t say a thing about it!”

“Probably not,” Ingo agreed cheerfully. “But look on the bright side – they only let her have one free swing.”

“And two kicks,” Turukano pointed out sourly.

He knew even without looking there would be matching bruises on each shin. Irissë hadn’t held back with the kicks any more than she had with the punch.

“They may have felt she deserved one for each?” Ingo offered.

Turukano glared again, winced, adjusted the ice, and reflected it was just as well Irissë had caught him on the jaw. He’d look ridiculous presiding over Tarnin Austa with a black eye.

“If it’s one free hit each, she has one more coming.”

Turukano and Ingo both turned to face the door, Turukano somewhat faster. Ingo might have heard him coming, but Turukano hadn’t known his father was there until he spoke.

“Glad to see you had the sense to ice it. Perhaps we can have Elrond take a look at it later.”

“The punch was for Lómion, plus a kick each for herself and Eöl,” Ingo observed, sounding as puzzled as Turukano felt.  

“Knowing Irissë, I’d say she’s holding back a punch for her daughter,” Atto said, taking the empty seat behind Turukano’s desk – something he usually didn’t do. “I suspect she’s hoping to get that one in without witnesses.”

“Her daughter?”

Atto chuckled as Turukano and Ingo spoke in chorus for the second time that day.

“I’d forgotten how charming it is when you boys do that,” he said. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? But yes, her daughter. Had you been slightly less precipitous in demonstrating your disdain for her husband the first time you met him, she might have had a chance to share the news.”

Turukano met his father’s eyes square on for two heart beats before walking over to the basket by the fireplace meant for scrap paper no longer fit for anything but burning and vomiting into it.

Ingo looked from cousin to uncle, for once startled into both silence and indecision.

“I thought it would be best if I broke it to you in private,” his father continued. “We really would prefer that you and your sister use your words, not your fists – and I think it would be best for all if you could reach a place that doesn’t involve one or both of you holding grudges.”

Irissë’s going to kill you, Ingo helpfully informed him.

You don’t say? he replied acidly as he wiped his mouth. Your sister’s going to help.

Don’t be ridiculous, Artë won’t kill you. But she will help hide your body…

“I’ll just leave you boys to it, then,” Atto said.