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b2mem2017-03-03 09:08 pm
kayleelupin.livejournal.com) wrote in b2mem2017-03-03 09:08 pm
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At The Rose And Crown, by Kaylee Arafinwiel
B2MeM Prompt & Path: Red Path: Lost on the Road
Format: ficlet
Genre: family
Rating: PG
Warnings: A grown elf being referred to as “seldo” (boy) pejoratively because he annoys someone, so I suppose that could count as minor bad language. Not entirely sure.
Characters: Anairë, OCs
Pairings: Findis/OC, Ñolofinwë/ Anairë (though obviously Ñolofinwë’s not here)
Summary: Bringing together (and following) the tales “Milyeanyel” and “Daughter of the Golden Flower”, Valandur and Anairë prepare to discuss business. Valandur has never been so glad to see his wife’s sister-in-law…and Anairë definitely needs his help, too.
Lord Valandur Voronwion made his way down Tirion’s streets to the Rose and Crown, a favourite inn of his that he often frequented with his Noldorin otornor while on visits to Tirion. He wasn’t dressed as a lord today, however. Valandur had been attending a convocation of the lambengolmor, the loremasters of all three clans, and so he wore a loremaster’s robe with silver braid on the shoulder. If it was made of somewhat finer material than the robe he had worn at his first convocation, it still served its purpose, proclaiming him a Master of Languages to those who knew what the silver braiding meant.
The innkeeper gave him a low bow, offering him the best table, guaranteeing finest Tirion white, along with a plate of their best fish, and though Valandur would have liked nothing better than to get up to his room, bathe, and rest, he sighed and allowed the posturing until it became tiresome. “Master Calalindo, might I pass, please? You need not bow to me like that; I am not Ingwë, or even Arafinwë,” he muttered. “I only wish to rest, I will eat later.” The Noldo didn’t seem to hear him, until…
“Did you not hear my brother, seldo?” The elven woman who had come up behind Calalindo and Valandur made both jump with her remark, and Calalindo even took a step back, paling. Valandur castigated himself for being so tired as to not hear the former Noldotári’s footfalls. He turned and smiled wearily. “Anairë, sister, I have never been so glad to see you.”
Anairë snorted good-naturedly. “No doubt, hanno,” she retorted, shaking her head. “But doubtless you will be even gladder of a bath and a glass of wine at least. Laurelda, here, will need some food and rest herself.”
Valandur had seen the golden-haired young one by now, but hadn’t realised she was with Anairë. “Where did you find her, nettenya?” he asked.
“Huddling at the foot of Ingwe’s Tower, looking lost to the world. She says she is Laurefindil’s child.”
“She’s what?” Valandur’s eyes widened. “Yes, I think I will take you up on that Tirion white after all, Master Calalindo.” Ale would be even better, he thought.
“After a bath,” Anairë insisted, but she allowed Calalindo to take her and Glóredhel to a table at least. There was time enough to see the child fed before returning to the palace – and fed she was, feasting on flaky white fish in a creamy sauce, and peach juice. Anairë had the same, and made a point of eating the fresh vegetables that came with the fish as well. When Glóredhel balked, Anairë gave her a stern look.
“Laurelda, did thine atto never teach thee to eat thy vegetables?”
“My name is Glóredhel, Auntie, and ada didn’t like vegetables, I think,” was the reply. Anairë, remembering the Reborn Balrog-slayer, had to concede that was true. “And what said thine ammë of it?”
“Vegetables are stupid.”
“Enough, child,” Anairë replied. “You must eat them.”
“I hate them.”
“Laurelda.”
“I won’t! And you’re not my nana, you can’t make me.”
And who was Laurelda’s ammë, Anairë wondered. Well, that remained to be seen. She couldn’t wait for Valandur to return, so they could sort out the matter of this stubborn child.
Format: ficlet
Genre: family
Rating: PG
Warnings: A grown elf being referred to as “seldo” (boy) pejoratively because he annoys someone, so I suppose that could count as minor bad language. Not entirely sure.
Characters: Anairë, OCs
Pairings: Findis/OC, Ñolofinwë/ Anairë (though obviously Ñolofinwë’s not here)
Summary: Bringing together (and following) the tales “Milyeanyel” and “Daughter of the Golden Flower”, Valandur and Anairë prepare to discuss business. Valandur has never been so glad to see his wife’s sister-in-law…and Anairë definitely needs his help, too.
Lord Valandur Voronwion made his way down Tirion’s streets to the Rose and Crown, a favourite inn of his that he often frequented with his Noldorin otornor while on visits to Tirion. He wasn’t dressed as a lord today, however. Valandur had been attending a convocation of the lambengolmor, the loremasters of all three clans, and so he wore a loremaster’s robe with silver braid on the shoulder. If it was made of somewhat finer material than the robe he had worn at his first convocation, it still served its purpose, proclaiming him a Master of Languages to those who knew what the silver braiding meant.
The innkeeper gave him a low bow, offering him the best table, guaranteeing finest Tirion white, along with a plate of their best fish, and though Valandur would have liked nothing better than to get up to his room, bathe, and rest, he sighed and allowed the posturing until it became tiresome. “Master Calalindo, might I pass, please? You need not bow to me like that; I am not Ingwë, or even Arafinwë,” he muttered. “I only wish to rest, I will eat later.” The Noldo didn’t seem to hear him, until…
“Did you not hear my brother, seldo?” The elven woman who had come up behind Calalindo and Valandur made both jump with her remark, and Calalindo even took a step back, paling. Valandur castigated himself for being so tired as to not hear the former Noldotári’s footfalls. He turned and smiled wearily. “Anairë, sister, I have never been so glad to see you.”
Anairë snorted good-naturedly. “No doubt, hanno,” she retorted, shaking her head. “But doubtless you will be even gladder of a bath and a glass of wine at least. Laurelda, here, will need some food and rest herself.”
Valandur had seen the golden-haired young one by now, but hadn’t realised she was with Anairë. “Where did you find her, nettenya?” he asked.
“Huddling at the foot of Ingwe’s Tower, looking lost to the world. She says she is Laurefindil’s child.”
“She’s what?” Valandur’s eyes widened. “Yes, I think I will take you up on that Tirion white after all, Master Calalindo.” Ale would be even better, he thought.
“After a bath,” Anairë insisted, but she allowed Calalindo to take her and Glóredhel to a table at least. There was time enough to see the child fed before returning to the palace – and fed she was, feasting on flaky white fish in a creamy sauce, and peach juice. Anairë had the same, and made a point of eating the fresh vegetables that came with the fish as well. When Glóredhel balked, Anairë gave her a stern look.
“Laurelda, did thine atto never teach thee to eat thy vegetables?”
“My name is Glóredhel, Auntie, and ada didn’t like vegetables, I think,” was the reply. Anairë, remembering the Reborn Balrog-slayer, had to concede that was true. “And what said thine ammë of it?”
“Vegetables are stupid.”
“Enough, child,” Anairë replied. “You must eat them.”
“I hate them.”
“Laurelda.”
“I won’t! And you’re not my nana, you can’t make me.”
And who was Laurelda’s ammë, Anairë wondered. Well, that remained to be seen. She couldn’t wait for Valandur to return, so they could sort out the matter of this stubborn child.