Picking Up The Pieces by Grundy  

All Shook Up

Tindomiel returned shortly before noon. Maeglin watched, amused, while Rillë fussed over his mate as though she were a little girl. Tindomiel’s ease with the proceedings suggested this was perfectly normal.

Of course it is, she told him as they waved Rillë out the door – achieved only with a wholly unsubtle reminder from Tindomiel that if Rillë didn’t run, she’d be late for lunch at the Golden Flower. (Rillë wavered only a moment before deciding she didn’t want to miss any further interesting tidbits that might drop there, particularly given both Tindomiel’s parents and Maeglin’s would be present.)

Their midday meal was delivered by Elemmakil, who clearly had only been waiting to see Rillë leave. He darted out again too quickly to allow Tindomiel time for questions – she was bursting with curiosity about how he knew her father. Unfortunately for her, Elemmakil had no intention of indulging her if he could help it.

She frowned at the door closing firmly behind him.

“He can’t avoid me forever,” she said in a tone that implied it wouldn’t be long before she cornered him.

Maeglin wasn’t quite as curious as his mate, but he did wonder why Elemmakil seemed reluctant to be quizzed.

“Probably it’s embarrassing to Ada,” Tindomiel said cheerfully. “It’s always fun when I can get those stories. I’ve heard more of them about Nana than Ada. I’ll have to get Uncle Gildor to tell you about how Nana behaved when she first met Ada, that’s a good one.”

“Oh?” he asked, dishing her a generous portion of soup.

“Nana punched him when she thought Grandfather wasn’t looking,” Tindomiel snickered. “And that was after she’d almost tipped them both into the Bruinen and then stripped off in his boat. Ada apparently used to be much more Noldorin in his sensibilities…”

Skeptical as his mate sounded about the concept, Maeglin’s father had explained to him at a young age that the Noldor were generally not at ease about nudity as Ammë was. (Given how quickly his parents had married, he’d later concluded that wasn’t the only way Ammë’s attitude was more in keeping with his father’s people than her own.) But he hadn’t gotten the impression Tindomiel’s father was still so Noldorin in his attitudes. Clearly time had changed his mind – or at least accustomed him to Lindarin ways.

“I could always ask,” he suggested, handing her the bowl.

“Mmm, tomato-basil!” Tindomiel exclaimed, after a good whiff. “That will go well with the seed bread. Your kitchen staff are the best.”

“Our kitchen staff,” he correctly firmly, and basked in the grin that drew.

“Still the best,” she repeated, bestowing a kiss on him for good measure. “And don’t worry about Elemmakil. I’ll worm the story out of him eventually. Consider it part of him getting to know me.”

Maeglin decided in this case, sitting back and watching was the better part of valor. He accepted the thick slice of bread she passed him, wondering if he could get away with dipping the bread in the thick soup. It was only the two of them, after all…

“Of course you can,” Tindomiel grinned. “We only have to mind our manners in public. And maybe in front of Grandmama. No sense provoking further incidents.”

Maeglin gleaned from her mind that ‘Grandmama’ meant Aunt Elenwë. While he didn’t catch most of whatever had happened, Maeglin did gather the one most provoked had been Tindomiel.

“How did it go with Gran?” she asked.

Maeglin paused, trying to decide how best to sum up such a remarkable reunion.

“She doesn’t blame me,” he said at last.

“I’m not sure what exactly it is she’s not blaming you for, but I’m not surprised,” Tindomiel snorted, blithely dipping her own bread. “You’re her best friend, not to mention favorite cousin. And she’d already worked out for herself that the betraying the city thing wasn’t your fault.”

“That was what I meant,” he said softly.

Tindomiel put her spoon down with the sort of careful precision he associated with Ammë about to do something drastic.

“Of course she doesn’t blame you for that,” she said firmly. “Stop fretting so much about it. Anyone stupid enough to cast it up to you will wind up with Gran or Anariel coming down on them like a ton of bricks. Or both of them.”

She brightened at that prospect.

“Probably best not to phrase it that way to the Ondolindrim,” Maeglin murmured.

It was a fair guess that at least a few of them had died because a ton of bricks came down on them. He knew how much of the city had already been in ruins before he met his own end.

“I won’t, but you know what I meant,” Tindomiel sighed.

“I do,” he said, doing his best to savor Mastacarmë’s work. “But it is not so easy to stop worries one has spent several Ages with.”

“I know,” Tindomiel replied, her hand warm and reassuring on his. “Which is why I’ll keep reassuring you until it takes. Your battles are my battles now.”

Maeglin appreciated the sentiment, but he was very thankful that Tindomiel only knew of battles at secondhand, not from personal experience.

I may not, but Anariel does, she informed him. And she’s not about to shy away from telling people off in your defense when balrogs and dragons didn’t bother her. She already didn’t want to hear anything against the guy who made her favorite sword. And that was before she finds out you’re her law-brother.

“What did Gran have to say?” she continued out loud as though she had said nothing out of the ordinary.

“A good deal about impatience,” Maeglin managed to reply in something like a normal tone. “And a thing or two along the lines of I should have told her about Sauron before Morgoth took the city instead of wasting time on swords.”

“Because that would have gone well,” Tindomiel snorted.

Her mind reflected a similar assessment to his own of how that would have gone – utter disaster that might well have ended with her and her siblings never existing on account of Eärendil being dead before the city fell.

“You might mention that to her,” he suggested.

“Wouldn’t do any good,” she snorted. “I’ll smile, nod, and keep the conversation moving on to other things. If you want someone to talk her out of that notion, leave it for Anariel.”

Who not only knows more about battles than I do, but more about Sauron too.

Maeglin did his best not to flinch at her words. He knew Tindomiel hadn’t meant it so, but it was still a painful reminder that it was not only himself who had paid the price for his foolishness.

---

Irissë smothered a grin as her niece’s eyebrows flew up at the unlikely sight of the group that met her at the staircase.

Now Turvo was well enough to walk more or less under his own power, he and Elenwë needed to return to their own house, while she, Eöl, and Elrond made their way to the Golden Flower. Laurë was showing a gratifying willingness to get to know her husband on his own merits rather than Turvo’s nonsense.

Rillë was still uncertain about Eöl, and clever enough to realize that her father still detested his law-brother. Also, sharp enough to spot that her father was not well at the moment.

I believe she’s worried we’re all lunching together, Eöl informed her with some amusement. Elrond adds that she’s likely dismayed at the thought of Glorfindel trying to wrangle his daughters with your bad influence and your brother’s sniping.

“Hello, darling, are you coming to the Golden Flower too?” Irissë said brightly. “We could walk over together.”

“I did not realize Ammë and Atto were to attend,” Rillë managed weakly.

“We are not,” Elenwë replied firmly. “It would be poor hosts indeed who accepted an invitation leaving their guests to dine alone. We’ll take luncheon with your grandparents and the High King and Queen.”

Rillë did not quite manage to hide her relief.

“Which is a nice way of saying you can relax, there will be no ugliness at table,” Irissë added, ignoring her law-sister’s noise of dismay.

Or at least, not at this meal. She supposed she’d have to sit down to eat with her brother the ass at some point.

“Behave yourselves, all of you,” Elenwë said firmly, shooting Irissë a stern look before maneuvering a still dazed Turvo down the stairs ahead of them.

“Come along,” Irissë chirped, taking her niece’s hand. “We can have a bit of a chat on the way. Or would you prefer to walk with Elrond? He’s such a sweet boy.”

Her mate helpfully shared that the ‘sweet boy’ had managed to conceal his surprise at being described thus, but only just. He also managed to keep from laughing.

Rillë demurred, instead seizing the opportunity to monopolize her grandson, which left Irissë with Eöl as she’d intended in the first place.

Sneaky, Eöl chuckled as he settled an arm around her.

She wanted to compare notes with him anyway, Irissë said. They’ll put their heads together on the way to Laurë’s and she’ll be calmer by the time we arrive.

She didn’t blame Rillë being concerned about her father, but Irissë wanted someone else to explain to her that Eöl hadn’t had a blessed thing to do with it. And also that the part that was her hadn’t been on purpose this time.

---

Elrond sighed internally.

While he wasn’t in any hurry to spend more time with his great-grandfather, he couldn’t help the feeling that the meal at the King’s House would be a good deal calmer than the gathering at the Golden Flower. Possibly even safer.

Idril hadn’t made up her mind about Eöl yet, and while she might not be quite as extreme in defense of her family as his daughter would be, he didn’t entirely trust his grandmother wouldn’t do anything drastic.

But this promises to be a good deal more amusing, my love, Celebrían offered. The children are all so excited…

Her silent warning was just in time for him to pull his grandmother to one side to allow the group of excited girls that erupted from the main entrance of the Golden Flower to swarm Aredhel and Eöl.

Under normal circumstances, he knew Tasariel and Califiriel normally shared Tinu’s wariness about Lissë. But today the usual distrust had apparently been set to one side in the face of newly returned kin and newly married cousins. There was no telling how long this truce of sorts might last, but for the moment all three were eager to make Eöl’s acquaintance.

Elrond’s idea of Eöl – largely based off of the version of events given by Turgon – had already taken a serious hit when he discovered his kinsman to be the sort of uncle he remembered Celeborn as during his childhood. The damage only increased in light of the discovery that the man was good with children and well able for the high-energy, rapid-fire interrogation about Beleriand, how he’d met Aunt Aredhel, what he thought of Aman, his son’s marriage, Tinu…

“It may work better if you girls put one question to him at a time,” he suggested, trying not to laugh. “And give him a chance to answer it!”

“Indeed, I believe you’ve time enough, unless it has become the fashion in this new age to rush through meals,” Eöl said with a smile.

Glorfindel’s daughters were urging the guests toward the small hall before any other curious Golden Flowers could stop them to make conversation. The remaining adults followed in the girls’ wake.

Elrond found it surprising that the younger generation were making the adjustment so much quicker than his grandmother. Though in fairness, he supposed Idril had lived with her notions of Maeglin’s father considerably longer.

There was a minor scuffle among the girls over who would get to sit by Aredhel and Eöl, which his aunt resolved by declaring with three girls and two of them, the solution was perfectly obvious. Glorfindel’s expression when Tasariel claimed the spot between the pair, leaving Califiriel on Eöl’s left and Lissë on Aredhel’s right was priceless. (Finrod appeared considerably more sanguine about it. Then again, Lissë was the calmest of the three and more likely to be alarmed than enthusiastic at Aredhel’s wilder notions.)

He couldn’t help drawing his grandmother’s attention to the reactions, though to his surprise there was an undercurrent of alarm beneath her amusement.

Tasariel gets into sufficient mischief without Auntie’s encouragement!

They can’t do much at table, Elrond reassured her. Besides, I understood Aunt and Uncle meant to go on to Neldoreth and then to Tirion for the birth? The girls must get their time with them in before they depart.

I expected you would be more help, Idril sniffed.

And here I thought it was well-established that I was quite ineffective at controlling children, at least by Noldorin standards, he grinned. Take heart, Ecthelion is here, and from what I’ve seen he does better at scolding Tasariel when the occasion calls for it than Glorfindel.

The balrog-slayer had been too long in Middle-earth during the years when young elves became rarer and rarer, to be a strict father.

She’s wearing him down, Idril sighed. He started out quite well but the girls learn quickly where the weak spots are and how to exploit them!

He was unsurprised to find his grandmother chose to sit next to him, or that she beckoned young Anairon to take the seat on her other side.

The better to pick his brain without interruptions, Celebrían chuckled, taking his hand as she filled him in on what he’d missed. She’d been there most of the morning. He’s done an excellent job of exonerating his partner in crime and her new partner. Though I suppose if he truly wanted to dodge, he could have gone to the House of the King.

Actually, I think it’s for the best he and Argon are here, Elrond said.

He was quite certain his forefather needed more time without younger kin underfoot – and possibly parental care. But explaining the morning to his mate could wait until they were alone.

---

Anairë hadn’t had such a blissfully carefree morning in a long time.

Four children safe and well, three grandchildren safe (and mostly well), Tinwë and Lómion married… And her husband all to herself for an uninterrupted morning in a proper bed.

They’d decided to have a lie-in. She’d have felt slightly guilty about that had she not been certain Eärwen and Ara were doing much the same, and that all her children and her grandchildren had plenty to keep them amused and out of trouble.

Nolo kissed the back of her neck as she snuggled into him.

“We could stay like this all day,” he murmured hopefully. “The kids are all more or less behaving, and there’s nothing we must do today…”

It was tempting, but she wasn’t about to stick Eärwen and Ara with minding Turvo at dinner.

Actually, I was very much hoping we might dine with Lómion and Tinwë…

“You’ve been marvelously patient, my heart,” she assured him.  

She would have said more, but for the gentle warning from Ara.

“We need to dress,” she sighed. “I think Irissë and Turvo had words again.”

At least, she hoped it was only words. Knowing her daughter, fists were also an option. Or feet.

“We could just let them fight it out,” Nolo suggested, trying his best to keep them both right where they were.

Anairë propped herself up on one elbow so she could face him.

“Nolofinwë Arakano, we cannot let them ‘fight it out’ if you would like to ever enjoy peace in your own family. You know perfectly well your daughter does not worry about concepts like ‘fair’ or ‘restraint’ when fighting.”

Particularly not when it was on behalf of her children…

“There are no swords involved, love, they’ll figure it out.”

Nolo was halfway baiting her, but half serious.

He had little understanding for the lies Turvo had so willfully spread about his law-brother, and had been furious when they had initially come to light. Finding out for certain that Lómion had lived in quiet fear for the best part of a long-year before spending nearly his entire time in the Halls in utter terror had set him off all over again.

“Get up, love,” Anairë ordered, ruthlessly stripping the covers from the bed as she rose. “We are going to sort this out once and for all! I will not have them still quarreling when Irissë goes into labor. They’re both more than stubborn enough for it to come to that.”

Nolo knew better than to keep baiting her when the look on her face meant she’d turn him out of the bed next if need be. He also knew not to grumble too loudly as he rummaged around for his underclothes.

They were both dressed in time to meet Elenwë bringing Turvo into the entrance hall.

Turvo was very pale, with a fresh bruise blooming on one side of his face. But the bruise didn’t explain why he looked so shaken.

“I can guess what you’re thinking, but Irissë didn’t actually mean it this time,” Elenwë informed them wearily.

“She rarely does,” Anairë sighed, well aware of her daughter’s tendency to speak (or punch) first and worry about consequences – and any regrets – later.

“I’m not sure we’re equal to dining with you,” Elenwë began.

“You made lunching with them our excuse to not go to the Golden Flower,” Turvo protested, his desire to avoid company at odds with both his training in good manners and his usual honesty.

“Turukano, do you really feel yourself well enough to sit at table at the moment?” Elenwë demanded in exasperation.

“Perhaps an alternative?” Anairë cut in smoothly. “We might take an informal lunch in Turvo’s study.”

Letting her son try to stand on his royal dignity right now was unlikely to improve matters.

“Ingo, his children, Irissë, Anairon, and Arakano are all at the Golden Flower,” she continued. “So it is only us, Ara, and Eärwen. Turvo will be more at ease in the study. And we’ll be able to speak freely.”

Elenwë looked dubious, but Turvo nodded gratefully, so she slipped out from under his arm to go inform her staff of the change in plan.

Anairë made to take her place supporting Turvo, but he waved her off.

“I can walk, thank you, Ammë.”

His tone was trying for polite but was only just contained.

Ara and Eärwen met them at the door to Turvo’s study, which drew a quiet huff from him – he’d apparently been hoping they wouldn’t show. Ara ignored the huff and held the door for Eärwen.

Eärwen and Ara might have been first in, but Turvo was the first to sit down, practically throwing himself into his favorite chair by the fireplace. That also had the happy side effect of limiting the number of people who could be seated close to him, as there were only four chairs in that cluster.

Anairë took the chair that was usually Tuor’s, leaving Rillë’s for Nolo. The slight squirm on Turvo’s part gave away that he’d rather not have been facing his parents just now, but he must realize that if they didn’t sit there, Eärwen and Ara would.

Eärwen, after a glance at Anairë, settled on the sofa with Ara, and waited expectantly.

Elenwë arrived with the servers bearing the meal before just as the silence stretched to awkward.

“Just set everything down on the desk, we’ll serve ourselves,” she instructed. “I’ll send word if we need anything more.”

Turvo’s shoulders sagged slightly at that last part, though who or what he’d imagined might offer a diversion Anairë couldn’t think.

Nolo brought her a well-laden plate before returning to the desk to get one for himself. Elenwë brought food for both herself and her mate before settling in next to Turvo, still radiating concern.

Anairë decided it was probably best to let him eat a bit first. Once they started talking, he was likely to forget all about food. Nolo started to say something, but she shook her head at him.

Let him have his lunch first. If this doesn’t go well, he’ll skip dinner.

Nolo would have rolled his eyes had he thought no one else would notice.

And you used to tweak me about being too easy on Irissë!

Irissë’s mischief was far simpler than this, Anairë sighed. Much like Tinwë’s, now I think on it. But it seemed more vexing because it was novel in those days.

Also because you can always leave Tinwë’s for her parents to deal with.

She glanced sideways at her husband and found him trying not to laugh.

Nolo, you’ve been perfectly happy to look the other way at some of the girl’s tricks, too!

If anything, she suspected he’d been quietly egging Tinwë and Anairon on in their handling of Linyaríma’s grandson. The boy might have a genuine partiality for Tinwë, but he’d gone about matters entirely the wrong way.

I think we both can stop worrying on that score. She’s well and truly put a stop to it this time, Nolo chuckled.

Anairë did not dignify that with a reply.