Picking Up The Pieces by Grundy  

Gates of Summer

This was the most difficult standing silence Turukano could remember, ever.

At least it was difficult for a cheerful reason.

Absolutely everyone was having trouble holding their tongues. Uncle had been reprimanding anyone in the royal party who thought osanwë would get them around the ‘silence’ part. (By the sound of things, he was enjoying himself immensely.)

The lords had already been buzzing about Lómion’s return and marriage at dinner. Elenwë’s ingenuity with the seating had given them a good view, as she’d arranged the tables in a large square, with the lords filling in two opposite sides, their line and Irissë on one ‘royal’ side, and the rest of his kin on the other.

He’d been mildly disgruntled until she pointed out that they also had a good view and could gauge everyone’s reactions to Tinwë and Lómion. Not that he thought they were getting unvarnished reactions. His lords weren’t fools, and with him, Elenwë, Rillë, and Ardamírë all clearly signaling approval, they would tailor both their faces and words accordingly.

Salgant’s granddaughter had probably been the most honest – “that’s Prince Lómion?” she spluttered as they came into the hall. A swift whispered conversation with Artalissë and Laurë’s girls had ensued. The four girls had parted to their separate seats with mildly irritated expressions, but all were well-trained enough to know what was expected of them on such occasions and not complain aloud. 

Turukano saw Márindë speaking to her grandfather as they took their seats. While he knew it was for the best if Salgant had the truth – the man might enjoy harmless gossip but he detested vicious rumors and was quick to stamp them out – he doubted Lómion or Tinwë would be pleased that he was one of the first to hear it. Rog would have been Lómion’s first choice.

Actually, come to think of it, Laurë and Ecthelion probably knew all about the affair already. (And when were those two going to give up the pretense that they weren’t firmly a couple and exchange rings already? It was getting very difficult for him to hold his tongue about the matter. Lómion might have been a bit hasty, but that pair could take a page from his book!)

He had been too far away to overhear much of the lords’ dinner conversation. And of course, since the formal dinner ran right up until midnight, it wasn’t as though he could speak with them before the Silence started. Judging by the frequent looks at that section of the table, Tinwë and Lómion weren’t a main topic, they were the main topic.

Departing the House of the King in procession to the eastern gate to observe the Standing Silence had been rather like lighting the fuse on a bomb. It was clear the moment the front doors opened that word had already flown around the city that Lómion was back, if not about his marriage. The Square of the King was packed, with far more people than usually attended the official vigil.

The effect of seeing the Prince of the Mole stepping out behind his uncle with the youngest Princess of the Wing would normally have resulted in a roar of simultaneous approval, disapproval, and above all chatter. But it was midnight, so no one could make a peep.

Even Turukano, not the most skilled at osanwë in his family, could feel the background buzz of minds willing daybreak to hurry up and get there so they could talk already.

The rest of the city fell into step behind the king’s party, and they made their way to the city wall in a tense hush broken only by footfalls. The eastern gate was thrown open, so that those who chose to could await the dawn outside the wall rather than be packed too tightly in the streets within.

Turukano, his kin, and the lords ascended the stairs  of the eastern gatehouse to wait on the wall itself.  When the city had been designed, Itarillë had built this particular gate with the holiday in mind. But today was a larger group than she had reckoned for. Between their kin and the lords’ families having expanded over time, the royals and lords of the city took up not only the viewing platform but ranged someway down the wall in both directions.

Ardamírë had carried his point that he would stand next to Lómion, as he had the last time they were both present for the holiday. His phrasing had shocked Rillë into premature silence, which Turukano and Tuor then had to explain to Elenwë.

The order today was similar to how it had been that day. The changes were, to Turukano’s mind, very much for the better.

For one thing, Elenwë stood by his side, as she ought to have then. With his newfound forgiveness and desire to see Curvo, Turukano could admit now her absence had not been his cousin’s fault, or even his cousins’. (That didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted to take an example from his little sister and kick his other best friend in the shins whenever he next saw him.)

Beyond Elenwë, Tuor and Rillë stood side by side. But where on that fateful day little Ardamírë had stood, his wife now took her place. Elwing visiting the city, so far inland, was novel and he dared to hope it might happen more often. She was the epitome of Sindarin elegance in her sea blue dress and feathered cape, an intentional reference to the wings she’d flown from Beleriand on. She was also, oddly, one of the few who seemed to think the Silence an excellent notion, both in general and today in particular.

Ardamírë himself stood shoulder to shoulder with Lómion. If Turukano’s eyes didn’t deceive them, the two were taking it in turns to keep one eye on the north, just in case. Clearly he was not the only one haunted by the fall of their city, on this day in particular.

Tindomiel looked as serene as she ever got, awaiting what she occasionally laughingly called ‘her time’ untroubled by any worries of fire on the northern horizon.

Relax, all of you, she said – possibly quietly enough to evade Uncle’s sharp ears. In the unlikely event anything happens, I will follow long standing precedent and scream for my sister. She’ll handle it.

Screaming for her sister wouldn’t do much good from here.

Oh, I can do more than just scream for her. And I bet she would love a chance to work out her Sauron- and Morgoth-related issues on deserving targets. Pretty sure not getting to actually hit Sauron at the Morannon is one of her biggest regrets.

Turukano sighed. So much for silence.

Sorry. We now return you to your regularly scheduled brooding.

She wasn’t sorry in the least – nor had she been joking about her sister. He was fairly confident the ‘we’ was a play on some California thing. He’d have to ask some other time.

He wasn’t sure if Elrond had done anything to inspire her lapse into quiet. The lad stood on his daughter’s other side, another welcome presence Turukano hoped would visit more often. He’d even put up with Artanis if it meant he got to see more of his great-grandson.

He also hoped to see Irissë visit regularly. He was under no delusion she’d make her home in the city. He doubted she would settle permanently in Tirion either, now that Sindarin settlements were an option for her. But he knew perfectly well the Moles had a room designed expressly for their prince’s parents. This city wasn’t a secret, and she could come and go as she pleased.

He was sure the Silence didn’t usually feel this long.

---

Tindomiel was doing her best not to ruin the traditional silence by laughing, but it was so hard.

The entire city – her royal grandfather included – was ready to burst from biting their tongues and knowing everyone around them was also biting their tongues.

Grandfather Arafinwë was doing his best to keep everyone actually quiet, not just cheating with osanwë. Though she was pretty sure he was only extending that to his kin. (Which was a shame, because she suspected the reactions to other people being shushed by the High King during the Standing Silence would be hilarious.) She’d definitely caught a few stray remarks from Ondolindrim, ranging from delight to scandal.

She wondered if she was going to have to confess to the city in general who was responsible for their prince marrying so quickly after leaving the Halls. She didn’t really want to, but it might be the only way to quell the ones inclined to see scandal and echoes of Aunt Aredhel. It would be embarrassing, but if she had to, she’d do it in the most mortifying way possible for the rumormongers.

She was betting they didn’t want to hear that Maeglin was just that good…

A gentle squeeze to her hand reminded her that her mate was also valiantly attempting not to ruin the Silence by laughing out loud, and her contemplating the most scandalous way possible to refute scandal wasn’t helping.

Sorry.

You are not.

Between them holding hands and them being mates, even Grandfather Arafinwë couldn’t hear if they spoke to each other.

Ok, I’m really not. But they can’t seriously think you’d somehow live up to the worst of the rumors about your father two whole days after leaving the Halls. And if they do, they deserve a bit of a shock!

They don’t know, remember? Which means they don’t know when I left the Halls or when I met you.

Tindomiel pouted.

You can’t have it both ways, my heart – if they knew everything, it wouldn’t have been a surprise, would it?

You and your logic, she sniffed. Next thing you’ll be telling me I should be pleased at how well this evening’s gone.

You aren’t?

I’m mostly pleased. But someone definitely let it slip to Rog ahead of time.

How do you figure? Maeglin asked in bemusement. Ammë said the city in general didn’t know. She walked to the King’s House, so she would have heard if it was general knowledge.

Rog took a good look at you when he first came in to see if you looked ok, then he immediately switched to watching everyone else’s reactions! Wasn’t startled in the least.

Which meant he’d been expecting to see them.

Before you go plotting revenge on poor unsuspecting Egalmoth, I’m sure it wasn’t him.

Tindomiel didn’t need to ask. She got from him an impression of Rog dealing with Egalmoth when he had to, but unlikely to seek out his company if left to his own devices.

Are you sure? Rog had new clothes for the holiday like everyone else. And it’s not like I need to be told the Heavenly Arches are a bunch of gossips…

Yes, he got new clothes, but he’ll have done that by sending a note. Probably something short and to the point. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it just said ‘Gates of Summer, don’t get carried away’.

Are you sure you’re talking about him, not you?

That sounded to her like something Maeglin would do if he thought he could get away with it.

I would have gone in person to make sure of the ‘don’t get carried away’, because with me he would, Maeglin sighed. He’s less inclined to push boundaries with the lord of the Hammer. Rog knows how to set the mechanisms on the looms so they look like they’re working properly but the patterns come out muddled. And he avoids the Heavenly Arch unless there’s no other choice. I heard him compare them to a bunch of chattering magpies more than once.

Tindomiel managed not to laugh out loud, but it was a close call. It sounded like there were stories there.

Besides, Egalmoth may have known, but he wouldn’t blab it about if he knew you didn’t want it to be common knowledge yet, and I’m sure Rillë told him. He wants to be your new tailor in the worst way. He wouldn’t do anything to foul up his chances.

Egalmoth was in for disappointment – Tindomiel was very fond of her Uncle Moryo, who happened to be a pretty amazing master tailor. Not only did he have some years’ head start on Egalmoth, he’d made her and Anairon both look bloody amazing for their coming of age. She planned on seeing what he’d do for her and Maeglin as soon as possible.

You liked what Egalmoth sent us, Maeglin reminded her gently.

Yes, but you don’t like him!

No, but I do see it being politic to… throw him a bone? Was that your phrase?

She was so not going to make it through without laughing if he kept it up.

Yes, though that analogy makes Egalmoth a dog.

Fine, but he’s a dog of the city, so going to him at least sometimes is polite.

If you say so. What kind of dog would he be?

The debate on what sort of dog first Egalmoth and then various other lords of Gondolin would be kept them safely occupied and silent for the remaining time until sunrise.

---

Eärendil hadn’t expected to enjoy the Silence. Too many bad memories of the last time he’d experienced it. Though, in fairness, there were really only two Silences he remembered, and the first one hadn’t been that bad.

The third was proving less painful than he’d anticipated.

He wasn’t good enough at osanwë to hear what Tindomiel and Uncle were talking about but he did know they were speaking silently. Judging by her expression, it was even odds if his granddaughter was going to be able to keep herself from spoiling the Silence with laughter.

It wouldn’t be the first time that happened at one of the Silences he’d been to. Though last time, it had been him laughing. (In fairness, he’d been three.)

Elwing was finding Ondolindë interesting. She didn’t see anything odd in the Silence – if anything, she thought it rather more Sindarin than she had expected from the Noldor. She was also highly entertained by Tindomiel’s antics, and had at one point dissolved into silent giggles, though she informed him he probably didn’t want to know what Tinu had said to provoke it.

Having his uncle marry his granddaughter was a bit odd.

I don’t see why you’re so surprised, Elwing said. Though I admit to being startled that it was Tinu given Anariel has been his fiercest defender in Middle-earth.

Wonderful.

Cheer up, love. So long as he’ll make her more knives, swords, and creative weaponry, I suspect she’ll be entirely at peace with the situation.

Their second youngest granddaughter did not need any more weapons – or any more incentive to find trouble. She would probably be disappointed to have missed the current drama.

Yes, but think how you’ll enjoy telling her when she arrives.

Actually, Eärendil was thinking how much he’d enjoy watching her deal with some of his grandfather’s lords. Salgant, for example. Who was currently trying not to burst with the sheer effort of holding his tongue about the prince of the Mole turning up with the young Princess of the Wing. 

He was rather surprised to find Ammë not in the least disturbed.

She’s had several days to reconcile herself to it, Elwing pointed out. Besides, I think she’s too excited to have her best friend back to fuss about small details.

Getting married was not a small detail.

They seem well-matched. Uncle Eöl thinks so too. Elwing paused. He’s hoping to let them make their escape once the silence is over.

Eärendil would be happy to help with that effort. He just wasn’t sure how. He doubted Tinu wanted to show her abilities off to the whole city.

Definitely not, Elwing said decisively.

I haven’t met your uncle, he suggested. If we were to be introduced immediately after the singing…

Elwing smiled.

And if Galadriel and Elrond also move closer to speak with us, we might get them safely into one of the nearby houses, at which point they can go directly back to the Mole without walking or the whole city knowing. Clever, love!

And timely – Tindomiel had just started to sing. Elrond and Elwing joining in only a note behind. The rest of the watchers on the wall joined in as they spotted the early rays, with taller elves like his grandfather and great-grandfather coming in before shorter ones like Duilin or Salgant’s lady.

He wondered if it was just his imagination, his relief that no dragons or balrogs had showed up, or if the singing was genuinely more spirited this year than the first time he’d hear it as a young boy.

The prospect of being released from the Silence is definitely infusing the song, Elwing told him with a giggle. I think Maeglin shares your relief that this year’s holiday is quite different than the last one you both attended.

Maybe, just maybe, he could be convinced to come for the holiday more often.

I would not mind either. At least, so long as Tinu is here. And perhaps Elrond as well.

As the singing came to an end, so did the silence. Behind them, half the city started talking at once.

“The Mole!”

“…married!”

“Princess Tindomiel!”

“Just as well we have a plan,” Elwing murmured. “That sounds like rather a lot to me, and I am not newly come from Badhron’s halls.”

---

Nolofinwë fought the urge to laugh as the Silence wound down. Between him and Ara, he suspected they’d heard most everything aside from perhaps Eärendil, Elrond, and Tinwë speaking to their own mates.

Not coincidentally, the line of Lúthien were also the first ones to spot the rising sun, Tinwë in the lead.

It is her time, Anairë pointed out.

Has anyone given any thought to how we’re going to get them back to Lómion’s house without them being mobbed?

Though he didn’t doubt Tindomiel would handle anything that proved too stressful for Lómion decisively, he suspected a plan would be preferable to her improvising. Even if her tactics would probably be slightly more sedate than her older sister’s…

I wouldn’t bet on that. Not if she feels her mate’s safety at stake, Eärwen told them, with Ara’s complete agreement.

The worst Tinwë will do is whisk them away her way, Anairë replied sharply. I think Anariel would be somewhat more direct.

Fortunately, she is not here, Ara said.

Still more fortunately, as the singing drew to a close, it became apparent they had not been the only ones thinking on the subject.

Elrond, Celebrían, Eöl, Irissë, Ardamírë, and Elwing closed ranks around the newlyweds, looking all for the world as though Ardamírë had simply been impatient to make the acquaintance of Lómion’s parents. Artë, Ingo, Laurë, and Ingo and Laurë’s children also crowded round.

With so many other royals around them, it was easy enough for Tinwë and Lómion to be shepherded directly to Laurë’s house as though that had been the intention all along.

“Atto, Ammë, all the houses open their great halls for both the morning and midday meals,” Turvo told them. “It looks as though Laurefindil invited everyone to begin at his house, but if you don’t wish to make the rounds, you are very welcome to return to my house.”

“Rounds?”

Anairë spoke for all of them.

“People will circulate most of the day, only going to either their own house or one they have been specifically invited to for the evening meal. As Laurë has managed to snag the Moles, I suspect much of the city will try to start with the Golden Flower.”

“The cleverer among them may make for the Fountain first,” Elenwë added, her eyes dancing. “Given the connection between the houses.”

That was unlikely to help them.  It was all but certain Tinwë meant to take herself and Lómion back to the Mole using her abilities.