Picking Up The Pieces by Grundy  

Past, Present, and Future Tense

Maeglin waited expectantly, sure there must be some fascinating bit of history to explain how a Man could still be alive and thriving in Aman. There was no doubt in his mind that was the case – Rillë had showed no trace of grief or bereavement. Yet she had married in the full expectation that her husband would live no longer than any other mortal, and he was certain the loss would have left a mark.

Tindomiel sighed.

“It’s a good question, but I’m not actually sure,” she admitted. “Namo says he cheated. All he’ll say about it is that he found a loophole.”

He could feel her frustration – minor, but still undeniable – at not having a better answer for him. She was intensely curious about it herself.

“Surely Rillë must know?”

He had trouble believing Tuor would keep something so significant from her.

Tindomiel shook her head.

“I don’t think so. If she does, she’s kept it to herself – you’re not the first one who’s wondered. I could see her being too glad to have him back to have asked any questions. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.”

Maeglin forebore to mention that he would definitely look a gift horse in the mouth, and would expect that anyone else from Gondolin would as well.

“I figure Anariel can pry it out of him when she gets here,” Tindomiel shrugged. “If all else fails, she’ll suggest possible ways he might have done it until he either admits to one of them or tells he how he did it to get her to stop.”

Tindomiel looked so cheerful at this prospect that he didn’t have the heart to tell her he doubted it would work out that way. The Tuor he knew would likely just smile at every single idea proposed and agree that it sounded like it could work.

Unfortunately, if Tuor didn’t wish his granddaughter to know how he’d done it, he was unlikely  to share with Maeglin either.  Whatever his method, it must be very singular, given that no other Man had ever done the same, not even Tindomiel’s uncle. And from the sounds of it, her family did not lack for creativity...

They were not yet done with their breakfast, Maeglin still musing on the problem of Tuor, when there was a knock followed by the door opening before either of them could reply.

Maeglin had never seen the lady before, but there was something faintly familiar about her.

“Grandmama!” Tindomiel exclaimed. “We could have been…”

“Don’t be silly, darling, I’d have heard if you were not ready for visitors and not disturbed you. I thought Turvo might be here with you.”

Maeglin looked from one to the other in bemusement.

“Maeglin, this is my grandmother Elenwë. Itarillë’s mother.”

He blinked in astonishment. This woman was as warm and open as his uncle had been cold and closed off.

“And this is Lómion at last!” she beamed.

Maeglin found himself being hugged and kissed on the cheek as if she was an aunt he’d known for years.

“We’re so happy to have you back, dear boy,” she told him. “Everyone has been so worried about you all this time.”

Her warm tone implied she’d been among the worried, despite never having met him.

“I… thank you,” he stammered, more disarmed by such obvious partiality than he would have been by reticence.

Elenwë ruffled his hair fondly.

“Don’t fuss, darlings, I’ll not disturb you any longer. I’m sure it’s awkward enough having the whole family descend on you unexpectedly. If Turvo’s not with you, I suppose he must be with Irissë. I do hope he’s still in one piece.”

Tindomiel had opened her mouth to confirm Elenwë’s guess, but at that conclusion, she snickered.

“Yes, Ammë mentioned he had surprised her and they would be breakfasting together,” he said, trying to decide what address would be appropriate.

She’ll be happy with Aunt, but probably happier with Auntie, Tindomiel offered.

“Auntie,” he added tentatively.

Elenwë beamed and patted his hair back into place.

“I look forward to getting to know you,” she told him. “When you’re ready for company!”

She dropped a kiss on Tindomiel’s head and left as quickly as she’d come, leaving Maeglin slightly dazed.

“She’s just one,” Tindomiel pointed out with quiet mirth. “You’ve got lots more to meet.”

But not all today.

“I have to make a start sometime, I suppose,” he said thoughtfully.

Tindomiel paused a moment before she replied.

“It’s not kin you’ve never met before you want to spend time with,” she observed. “You want a confab with Gran.”

Maeglin nodded, unsure if that would bother her.

“Don’t be silly, why should it? She’s your best friend, same as Anairon is mine. I’d be upset if you couldn’t handle my best friend being your uncle, so I can’t very well fuss because your best friend happens to be my great-grandmother. Kinda curious how she’s taking all this, actually…”

Tindomiel trailed off.

Maeglin privately wondered the same, not to mention how Anairon was taking it. It wasn’t as though he could have been frank with Tindomiel the last time they’d seen him.

“It should be easy enough to get Gran to come here to talk to you,” Tindomiel said thoughtfully. “We can be all formal and send someone to invite her if you want, but it’s probably easier if I just tell her.”

“What will you do while she’s here?” Maeglin asked.

Both of them knew perfectly well Rillë wouldn’t speak freely if her granddaughter was close by.

“I’ll go catch up with Tas and Cali – and Anairon, if he’s there, which he probably will be.”

She grinned.

“He can tell me all about the reaction.”

“It would probably be more discreet if you tell Rillë directly,” Maeglin mused. “I’m surprised there aren’t more people curious what’s going on at the Mole, what with both the King and Queen turning up before breakfast…”

“And all the people we had to dinner last night,” Tindomiel giggled. “I’ll be shocked if most of the city doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“If they knew, it wouldn’t be nearly as quiet,” Maeglin muttered.

“I think your Moles would make sure it stayed quiet in here, no matter how crazy it might be out there,” Tindomiel observed. “Anyway, we should get properly dressed before I tell Gran. She’ll probably break a speed record getting here as soon as I tell her you’re asking for her.”

---

Tindomiel might have exaggerated, but not by much. It was less than 5 minutes from Tindomiel’s Gran? There’s someone here who would like to talk to you without all the other grandmothers in the room. to Rillë being shown in by a determinedly neutral and definitely not at all cowed Elemmakil.

She waited only until the door shut behind her to grab him in a hug that tried to make up for two full Ages in a scant minute.

“I’m sorry,” Rillë gasped.

Maeglin was entirely lost.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” he asked in bewilderment. “You’re not the one who got themselves captured, made to betray the city, and turned into Sauron’s plaything.”

“Quite  few things,” Rillë sighed as he steered her to the chair he knew would be hers. Once she sat down, he could see her visiting often – and Tindomiel not needing to make herself scarce for most of the visits. “For a start, I never once realized how you felt about Atto.”

Maeglin hoped he didn’t look as mortified as he felt.

“That was no fault of yours. I was doing my best not to let anyone see it.”

“Yes, but I was the one who was supposed to be your friend! I should have noticed it even if no one else did. Though…”

She broke off with a frown.

“What?” he prompted.

“I wonder if Auntie didn’t guess,” she said, her voice giving away that she was only just putting it together as she spoke. “She was against you staying in Atto’s house, and I know she and Atto had a dreadful fight that led to her going to the Golden Flower. She didn’t speak to him again for months.”

“If she did, she never said,” he replied quietly. “I knew they had quarrelled, but I thought it was because she didn’t agree with him having Ada killed. I was too intimidated by Laurefindil to spend more time in the Golden Flower, though.”

“Before you ask, she’s not here,” Rillë sighed. “She spends most of her time in Valimar or Tirion. She has Tasariel and Califiriel to visit as often as she can persuade Laurefindil, but she comes here only if she has no other choice.”

“You don’t mean to do the same?” Rillë asked nervously after a pause.

“Auntie doesn’t have a House here in the city,” he replied, not wanting to admit that he hadn’t yet thought on it. It was not a simple matter. “She can do as she pleases without disappointing others.”

“You don’t have to live here if you don’t want to,” Rillë replied quietly. “No one would insist on it. Not even Atto.”

“It is not your father’s feelings I am concerned with. The Moles did so much in the hopes of my return – and since my return – that I cannot in any decency be here only rarely. But it is not my decision alone.”

“Oh, Lómion,” Rillë sighed. “Tindomiel?”

He couldn’t help the blush.

“It was impulsive, but I have no regrets,” he replied.

I know which one of Galadriel’s granddaughters you dreamed of and your mother saw. And I’m sure they’ve made the connection as well! Rillë shot back.

She is not a fallback or a consolation prize, Maeglin informed her flatly. And I would not have her know.

“You can speak freely on the subject,” he added aloud.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Tindomiel is not here to over hear,” he reassured her. “She’s gone to catch up with her closest friend.”

“Thank Nienna for that,” Rillë muttered. “But do you really think you can keep it from her? Aunt Irissë and Aunt Galadriel may not be the only ones – for all we know, Anariel may well have had dreams or foresight! They say she’s prone to it, and not the nice sort. There’s already some form of bond between you…”

“Tindomiel told me about the sword,” he interrupted. “I don’t think that’s a bond so much as fate. The sword was made with her in mind, and I am pleased to hear it somehow found its way to the hand it was meant for. But it wasn’t a betrothal or even a courting gift, and foresight isn’t a promise.”

He saw the shadow in Rillë’s eyes at that.

“No,” she said quietly. “It isn’t. Lómion, you were supposed to live!”

“Given how things turned out, I greatly doubt that living would have improved matters,” he said soberly.

It had bad enough when he had only thought he lived. If Gorthaur had managed to actually hold him to life, to take him back to Angband…

“You should have told me what was happening when I was so stupid as to not notice,” Rillë replied reproachfully. “I still can’t believe I never… But don’t you see, we might have done something to break Sauron’s hold on you! You might have escaped with us.”

He suspected that was the other thing she’d had in mind as requiring apologies. But he couldn’t see anything she might have done to change the course of events. Gorthaur was a maia, beyond the power of any elf, even her. And he hadn’t wanted the evil creature anywhere near her or his nephew.

“Or I might have doomed you with me,” he replied quietly. “I had to choose how best to use what little strength I had left. I did not wish to draw his attention to you. Not when he already had his eye on you and your son. He nearly killed Eärendil as it was. I had only just enough to break his concentration, for a moment only.”

Rillë leaned forward and caught his hand.

“That was enough,” she assured him. “Ardamírë knows it was not you. He will be thrilled to hear you live! Though possibly slightly confused at you marrying his granddaughter…”

The last had a hint of mischief to it.

“I never told him about any of that, you know,” she continued.

“I should hope not!” Maeglin snorted. “It promises to be awkward enough as it is.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Rillë said thoughtfully. “It might have been more awkward for him had you followed the original plan. Anariel looks very like him…”

“I hear she is like him in other ways also,” Maeglin said reluctantly.

Rillë looked startled.

“Do tell?”

“Sauron also took an interest in her at a young age.”

Rillë’s face crumpled.

“Oh, Lómion, it was terrible! I’d say you can’t imagine, but after what you went through, you might be the only one who actually can…”

It took some time for her to tell him what Tindomiel was clearly unaware of – how Anariel and Celebrían’s disappearance had been experienced by their Amanyar kin.

First had come the sheer terror of what could have ripped an elf out of Arda, for while Elrond’s daughter might be half-elven, his wife was not. That was followed by the long years of not knowing what had become of them – and the assumption that they were both dead in the way of mortals, never to return, and the devastation that awaited Elrond and his surviving children whenever they might arrive in the West. Then the unexpected return, but with it grave concerns about what had been done to Anariel, who would by all account now always be ‘little Anariel’.

Their kin hadn’t learned until Tindomiel and Elrond were here in Aman the true circumstances of Tindomiel’s ‘begetting’, or how old she had appeared when she arrived in Imladris. (Everyone had until then assumed that Tindomiel was the natural outcome of Elrond and Celebrían’s joyful reunion – and given what Tindomiel had told him, he didn’t doubt Elrond and Celebrían had been happy for them to think so.)

He couldn’t help but wonder how much of this she’d spoken about with Elrond or Tindomiel.

Maeglin suspected Elrond’s thoughts would likely be different than his daughter’s. (Or daughters’ thoughts, come to that. No doubt Anariel had her own version of events.) But while Tindomiel’s California had clearly had its dangers, it hadn’t been nearly as devastating to those who experienced it as Rillë’s version. And Tindomiel’s tale of the Slayer made it a power her sister wielded, not something that had been done to her – one she had leveraged to go toe to toe with Sauron himself. She had come out of the encounter alive, which was more than most could claim.

He thought it might help Rillë to hear that. He wasn’t sure this was the time to say so, though.

Fortunately, Rillë happened to mention Sauron again as she worked her way through the Ring War. (He did now understand why even the Noldor might be sensitive about certain smiths making rings.)

“I think he has seen the error of his ways,” he said drily.

Rillë gave him a Look.

“You’re nearly as bad as Tindomiel,” she said severely. “She doesn’t take it seriously enough either. I expected better from you!”

“I assure you I take Sauron seriously,” he replied, suppressing a smile. He had thought it would take much longer for her to get over treating Gorthaur as a delicate subject around him. “But it does sound as if he has good reason for concern when it comes to Anariel. I had understood his power to be so broken now that he cannot hope to rise again, let alone threaten any of your grandchildren.”

Rillë looked sufficiently annoyed for him to ring for food to be brought up. If they were going to hash over everything that had happened since they last had a good heart to heart, there needed to be baked goods and hot beverages.