Picking Up The Pieces by Grundy  

Dinner And A Show

Right, here it is finally, my challenge response to the Jumble Sale prompt For Sale: *censored* (inquire at the front desk)

(Consider the statement, "But I won't do that," and what "that" is for your character and what happens when the inevitable happens and your character must, in fact, do that. The fanwork should focus on the laws and customs of Arda (from the challenge Laws and Customs) and should include Turgon.)

You said include Turgon, anonymous prompter, and obviously for him 'that' is 'welcome Eöl civilly to my house'.

Turukano wasn’t fond of hosting at the best of times. This was not the best of times.. Never mind any other guests, there were already too many just counting his kin.

There was also no ‘waiting for guests to arrive’ when his parents, aunt and uncle, best friend and best friend’s family were all staying with him.

“Cheer up,” Ingo suggested in an undertone. “None of the people here will kick you in the shins.”

Turukano did not glare at him, tempting though it was.

Itarillë and Tuor were the first to arrive, with Aryo and Anairon close behind. He had expected Artanis to be with them, but if she wasn’t he wouldn’t look that gift horse in the mouth. He actually was pleased to see his younger brothers. Anairon for once did not look as if he were trying to hide, and Aryo was ready to laugh at anything and everything.

His brothers and Ingo’s brood were talking amongst themselves when Artanis appeared – oh, right, he should have expected she would show up with Irissë. He still wasn’t back in the habit yet of expecting that where one of them was, the other would be also. And of course, Irissë’s dratted husband was with them.

A nice holiday dinner, Elenwë reminded him as Artanis dropped back, smirking, to let Irissë be the first to greet him.

Turukano managed to keep his pleasant social smile firmly in place after Irissë hugged him. He extended a hand to him in Sindarin fashion.

“Law-brother,” Eöl drawled, apparently amused – and no doubt aware he was under orders to make nice.

“Law-brother,” Turukano replied with a polite and socially correct nod.

Neither of them were much inclined to make conversation beyond the handshake.

Well done, no bloodshed so far, Ingo snickered.

Turukano managed to get a good glare in at his best friend in before he and Artanis exchanged perfunctory and probably equally insincere pleasantries. At least she didn’t have the look in her eye that meant mayhem.

Ingo, surprisingly, had no commentary.

It was a blessed relief when Elenwë managed to hurry Artanis along on the pretext that they  needed to greet Elrond and Celebrían. (It didn’t help Turukano’s nerves that Irissë and Artanis were both giggling. That never boded well in his experience.)

“Rillë, darling, could you just go check everything is ready in the hall?” Elenwë asked. “I want to be sure the stewards did finish in time before we all go through.”

Good thinking. Aside from Laurë and Ecthelion, the lords and their immediate families were likely to arrive more or less in one large group. At which point they could all sit down and get this bloody dinner over with…

Such a cheerful approach to a festive meal!

You are not helping, Ingo.

I am so! It’s a holiday. You are allowed to have fun you know.

Not on this holiday, Turukano felt like telling him. He gritted his teeth and gave the expected dinner every year, because everyone else seemed to enjoy it.  Next year maybe he’d suggest Rillë host.

Next year we’ll all be in Tirion for the holiday, Ingo reminded him. Or your mother will do something dire.

Oh, right. In all the commotion he’d clean forgotten that his niece would be born just before the holiday. That was something to look forward to, at least. Even if it would mean spending more time around Eöl.

If it’s any help, I don’t think he’s expecting much of your time.

That was his father – and if Atto had heard them, Uncle had too.

He was saved from needing to reply by the entrance of his cousin, the girls, and Ecthelion. He didn’t get much time to fuss over Califiriel and Tasariel before Ingo’s daughter appeared at his elbow clearly waiting to talk to them.

“Go, go,” he chuckled. “I’m sure the Inglorions have been waiting for any fresh scraps of gossip!”

“It’s not gossip if it’s true, Uncle,” Lissë said, sounding as reproachful as Ingo. “It’s news.”

“Very well, go exchange the news,” he told them.

“My love, will you be able to manage on your own for a few minutes?” Elenwë murmured. “I know the lords are due at any moment, but there appears to be some last minute snarl in the great hall that needs my attention.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean someone has knocked over those flower arrangements you were so particular about,” Turukano sighed. “Of course I’ll manage.”

He was worried far more about family guests than his lords. They’d be a blessed relief.

Speaking of which, there came Tower of Snow and Pillar now.

Best hope no one else notices the smile for your friends is more sincere than the one for your kin, Ingo snickered – but quietly enough that his father wouldn’t hear.

---

Elenwë strode into the hall wondering what under the stars could have Rillë so worked up now that everything should be set, only to stop short at the unexpected sight of her grandson and his mate.

“Ardamírë?” she asked in astonishment, pulling him down to kiss his cheek. “I’m delighted, darling, but you might have given us more than five minutes’ notice!”

She suspected the mischievous streak in his children and grandchildren came from Ardamírë. Anariel carried it to extremes, of course. But they all had at least a dash of it. Rillë had never been any trouble as a child – or as an adult. Ardamírë had punched Eönwë. (Tindomiel had rather gleefully predicted Anariel would do the same at some point.)

“How are we to rearrange the seating, Ammë?” Rillë asked, giving her son as stern a look as she could muster.

Elenwë knew her daughter was far too thrilled to be actually stern with him. She also noted that Tinwë and Lómion were hovering near their own seats, and wondered if Tinwë had a hand in this late-breaking appearance.

“We were hoping to have them seated near us,” Lómion said. “As it’s the first Gates of Summer for either of us here.”

Oh.

Oh, dear.

She hadn’t thought on that at all, and now that it occurred to her, she should have. Goodness knew Turvo had tangled feelings about the holiday, and he had nearly a long-year’s worth of practice by now.

Maybe they were asking too much of Lómion. How had it not occurred to any of them sooner that he might have more worries tonight than just announcing his return and marriage? And was it really Ardamírë’s first one? Surely he’d been here at least once for the holiday?

“Ammë, what are we to do? You had everything arranged so nicely,” Rillë said ruefully. “Ardamírë, you really ought to have let us know you were coming! Now we have to rearrange with only a few minutes to do it!”

Elenwë sighed.

It had taken some time and trouble to work out the seating arrangements. The politics of having the High King, the former High King, the King of Gondolin, the Crown Prince (also a former king in Beleriand), Artanis and Irissë, and Elrond all present plus bearing in mind who ought not be near who had been enough to manage as it was.

The original plan had been for one long high table, centered on her and Turvo, Rillë and Tuor, Celebrían and Elrond, then Lómion and Tinwë, with the rest of the family radiating out on either side, doing her best to keep things balanced.

Now Ardamírë had gone and thrown himself and his wife – the former Queen of the Sindar – into the mix...

It didn’t help that more or less everyone in the family would want to sit next to Tinwë and Lómion or Elrond and Celebrían, and half of them would also plump for Ardamírë and Elwing.

Rillë was already frowning, no doubt trying to work out a solid case for why she should have Ardamírë on one side and Elrond on the other – and knowing her, also trying to work out a method by which she could somehow have three sides and snag Tinwë and Lómion as well.

Touching Turvo’s mind lightly, Elenwë determined that they were still five lords short. Happily, Egalmoth was one of the ones not yet present.

If Egalmoth hadn’t been the first to show, he’d be the last. He liked to make an entrance. And tonight in particular he had likely reckoned it would be easier to hold his tongue if everyone was just on the point of going into dinner by the time he arrived.

Good. That might give them just enough time…

“Get the stewards back in here now,” she said firmly to her daughter. She might now know how they were going to seat everyone, but she did know they were going to need more hands than they had to get it all done in time. “We’re going to have to work quickly. We can’t just tack them onto the end of the table or bump everyone on one side two seats down.”

Seeing her granddaughter about to attempt to help, she added, “Tinwë, don’t you dare try to move furniture around! None of us will ever hear the end of it if you damage that dress before Egalmoth’s seen you in it.”

Tinwë obligingly seated herself in her own chair.

That gave Elenwë a burst of inspiration.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” she announced as the head steward came pelting into the hall at a run, with the rest of his staff trailing behind him in alarm.

---

Turukano felt rather unsettled without Elenwë by his side, but he’d hosted several hundred of these dinners without her. She’d led even more of them without him prior to his return, so he couldn’t very well complain. He could certainly manage a few minutes knowing she was just in the great hall.

Besides, he had a puzzle to occupy his mind.

Egalmoth was up to something. He was the last one in, only just making his usual dramatic entrance now.  He also had the air he got when he was sitting on the juiciest of gossip. Whatever it was, he wasn’t sharing yet – his fellow lords had all noticed just as Turukano had, but no one wanted to be the first to ask.

To his surprise, once he greeted the king and the royal visitors, Egalmoth found an excuse to meander over to the Inglorion-Laurefindiel group – which he was heartened to see included Salgant’s granddaughter. He was always pleased to see the young ones finding a way to enjoy these formal occasions.

Whatever Egalmoth was sitting on, the girls either already knew, or knew enough for him to think it worth picking their brains.

He hoped it wasn’t anything about him and Irissë quarreling, or what had happened at the Mole.

Better to get everyone seated and dinner started. It was odd that Elenwë hadn’t come back before all their guests were assembled, when it was time to lead them through to sit down for dinner. Usually they did this together.

As she hadn’t told him he shouldn’t, she must be expecting him to shepherd everyone in and she would rejoin him there.

“My lords and ladies, I hope you’ve come with a good appetite, for the kitchen has been hard at work all day, and I do believe they’ve outdone themselves.”

“You say that every year,” Rog groaned.

“It’s true every year,” Salgant retorted. “When have you ever been disappointed by one of these dinners?”

“Only the year you hosted!” Rog laughed.

“My head cook hadn’t returned yet!”

“Then why did you volunteer to host?”

“My lords,” Turukano said pointedly. “This is a holiday, a happy occasion.”

Rog chuckled and let it drop. Salgant’s glare suggested Rog would hear about it more later.

Some irony in you being the one to say that, Ingo observed. I was expecting Atto or Uncle to trot that one out – probably at you and either your sister or mine.

It would have been at me, since when do our fathers say anything to your sister or mine?

The only response he got from Ingo was mental laughter.

Turukano did not spare a glance at him as he led the way into the great hall, only to stop short.

He probably ought to have been irritated at the whispering he could hear starting up behind him, for he was surely not the only one taken completely by surprise. But he was far too astonished to care.

Tinwë and Lómion were there – and so was Ardamírë.

His nephew and his grandson! (And his grandson’s granddaughter.)

Someone gave him a slight shove.

If you don’t move, we’re going to have to squeeze past you single file on either side, his father said unrepentantly. You’re standing smack in the middle of the doorway.

That did restore the power of motion to him. Though he decided it was probably best, given how everyone had been at him about keeping his distance from Lómion, to go to his mate first.

“Did you know about this?” he murmured when he reached Elenwë’s side.

“Only five minutes or so before you did,” she sighed. “You should have a word with your grandson later.”

Ah. That would explain why the seating arrangements were entirely different than what she’d shown him that morning.

“I didn’t think you’d mind sharing the attention,” Elenwë smiled. “And as it’s the closest that pair will get to a wedding dinner…”

“Normally one would have the happy couple’s parents seated to either side,” he pointed out.

“Well, yes, but Lómion and Ardamírë were determined to sit near each other, and as Elrond doesn’t mind where he’s seated, I thought as king and host, you would be next to Tinwë.”

Turukano chose not to mention to her that it was rather a throwback to the days of his city in Beleriand, when Rillë on one side and Lómion on his other had been the norm everyone was used to and expected to see at such occasions.

I hadn’t thought on that, it was more that if Elrond and Celebrían weren’t on one side of the couple, I had an excellent excuse to place Irissë at a safer distance from you!

Turukano kissed his mate’s hand.

“You are as wise as you are beautiful,” he assured her.

Irissë was at the end of the high table with her husband, appropriate given both her years in Gondolin and being Lómion’s mother. Elrond and Celebrían were between them and Rillë and Tuor.

She also has a sense of humor, Ingo informed him. Emmë, Atto, Auntie, Uncle, your brothers, and my family are at the long table opposite. Which means if you and Irissë do get into it, you’ll have quite the audience.

More like if his sister insisted on making a scene, at least Ingo’s sister would be far enough away not to join in.

Stop it, both of you, Elenwë said firmly. We are going to all sit down and have a peaceful holiday dinner.

Look at it this way, Ingo the irrepressible suggested. At least your mind’s no longer on Eöl.

Turukano would have glared at him again, but Ingo was right about the audience.

He wasn’t used to improvising at moments like this, but clearly he couldn’t just go straight to his seat. So he went to greet Tinwë and Lómion first – not in keeping with normal protocol, perhaps, but they were the newlyweds, and one of them newly returned.

Besides, he hadn’t gotten to see them yet!

Tindomiel, unsurprisingly, wore her best ‘get out of trouble’ smile – which, he had to admit, worked more often than not. Though if she should be in trouble, Atto and Uncle could handle that.

She also wore what could only be Egalmoth’s work, which explained what he’d been keeping quiet about.

“I was not expecting to see you this evening,” he said to them both. “Lómion. Welcome back. It is good to see you looking well.”

He wasn’t sure whether or not a hug would be welcome, but Tinwë gave him the slightest of mental nudges, which he took as permission. Given Elenwë’s more enthusiastic greeting, he supposed it would have looked odd if he held back. It was the thinnest of excuses, but he’d take it.

“Thank you, uncle. I am happy to be back and well. I believe you know my bride?”

Turunkano’s thoughts nearly ground to a halt. Lómion, joking?

Stars, his nephew truly had been intimidated by him. He’d taken it for granted the boy was simply of a serious turn of mind and quiet by nature.

“We’ve met,” Turukano managed to say drily. “Tinwë, I trust there are no more of your little surprises in store tonight?”

“Nope,” she said cheerfully, accepting a kiss on the cheek as though she’d done nothing more remarkable than show up unexpectedly as Ardamírë had. “Though I did miss Rog’s reaction, so I hope someone in the family caught it and shares later.”

“I suspect he’ll want a chat with the pair of you on the subject,” Elenwë said. “No pranks until after the holiday, please?”

“If you insist,” Tinwë said, sounding much put upon.

“Grandson, I was not expecting to see you either,” Turukano said, moving up the line.

“It was a spur of the moment decision,” Ardamírë said lightly. “But I trusted Uncle Lómion would plead for me if you tried to send me away in disgrace.”

“Ridiculous boy,” Elenwë sniffed. “As if your grandfather or I would ever you away.”

“Sorry, grandmother,” the boy said with a cheeky grin. “I won’t do it again?”

“I hope you will – just with more notice next time. We are always happy to see you, especially at holidays.”

That brought them neatly to their own seats – with Rillë and Tuor just beyond. His daughter was beaming fit to burst.

“Isn’t it wonderful, Atto?” she whispered. “Everyone here at last?”

It wasn’t quite everyone, but he supposed the ones who were still missing hadn’t been in Gondolin so it was natural she didn’t notice their absence.

“It is,” he replied quietly enough that most of the room wouldn’t hear it. “Though I suspect you didn’t think so while you and your mother were rearranging the room.”

“It was no trouble,” Elenwë and Rillë assured him in the same breath.

Turgon smiled before pitching his voice to be heard by everyone in the hall.

“My Kings, my lords, my family and friends – as we stand before the Gates of Summer once more, I give you in place of the usual holiday toast Princess Tindomiel and Prince Lómion of the Mole!”

That got a hearty round of ‘hear hear’ and cheers from the assembled. (Though one or two were still gaping in surprise. Tinwë should enjoy that. He was also keen to hear how she’d persuaded the normally gossipy Lord of the Heavenly Arch to keep quiet.)

---

You see, love? Everything has turned out just fine without you fussing over them.

Elrond’s lips quirked but he did not laugh at Nolofinwë’s remark to Anairë. Beside him, Celebrían did laugh, but it probably looked to anyone else like a response to whatever his uncle had just said to her.

“I’m not sure what’s more impressive – that she’s pulled this off so easily, or the sheer amount of explaining she’ll have to do when her brothers arrive,” she murmured.

If his daughter was in any way put out at being so far removed from Anairon or Glorfindel’s daughters, her usual accomplice at occasions like this, it didn’t show. She gave every appearance of enjoying dinner. She had bent etiquette on occasion – it wasn’t strictly speaking polite manners for her to be jibing with Rog – but on the whole had done nothing to shock the lords of Gondolin.

Well, aside from being presented as the Princess of the Mole. That might be enough for one day.

Combined with the delightful thought that they’re about to have to stand in silence for several hours and can’t say boo to her about it? She’s probably been giggling to herself the entire evening.

Elrond had accustomed himself to both his ancestor Nolofinwë and Celebrían’s grandfather Arafinwë having the same sharp ‘hearing’ Galadriel did, but it still threw him when they responded to the unspoken as readily as the spoken.

“I used to chide my children for doing that,” he sighed.

It doesn’t seem to have made much impression, Nolofinwë chuckled. Tinwë and Anairon spend as much time talking to each other at most state occasions as they do paying attention to anything else. And we haven’t been listening in much, but the silent conversation of the rest the head table has been quite entertaining.

“Oh?”

Turvo is ignoring most of it, but Eärendil, Tinwë, and Lómion are having a grand time, to the point that Rillë’s in a bit of a sulk at being on the opposite side of the table even if she does understand the reasoning.

Elrond couldn’t help the laugh – and looked over to find his mother smiling happily, her eyes darting from the granddaughter a few seats down to him.

Your father argued you’d enjoy the view better from there, Elwing told him. Also, he didn’t say it to Idril or her mother, but he thought you’d have better conversation there as well!

Elrond turned his laugh into a cough lest he be asked to explain.

He was enjoying Eöl’s company, and Celebrían found Aredhel amusing. He probably would have enjoyed the view from the other royal table equally, but he felt certain Elenwë hadn’t been about to seat any of her descendants elsewhere. This was a rare chance for her to gather as much of her line as possible at one table.

“It will be rather interesting to see what configuration she comes up with once Anariel and the boys are thrown into the mix,” Celebrían murmured mischievously.

The sip of wine he had just taken nearly went the wrong way at that thought.

His beloved wife laughed softly and mentally blew him a kiss.